#and i always think making myself write something longer than i usually would is a good exercise so im proud of that

[vviltrumite]

— teenage fantasy ୭ˎˊ˗

⚛ mark grayson x you

wc :: 4,316 ( 23,442 char . )

rating :: nsfw

synopsis :: your brother started hanging out with this new kid—mark, you think his name is? you wondered why this new person was seemingly always around your brother, and tonight when he sleeps over you finally find out why.

contents :: brothers best friend , riding , slight age gap , sub mark , little plot , reader pov , mark is a little weirdo with a crush on u......

a/n :: I LOVE SUBMISSIVE MARK GRAYSON!!!!!!pushed the timeline of this back for the sole purpose of creating an age gap between u and mark. why? because i freaking felt like it ok maybe i like em younger. he's a sophomore, ur a senior. also for the sake of convenience were just gonna pretend that ur on the pill. ok? ok.

edit: Lol tumblr being stupid and deleted 3 paragraphs of writing but it's ok we fixed it😅ahaha😅😅I'm gonna shoot myself😅

Your brother had never been too ecstatic about friends. Not that he didn't want them, it was the actually keeping them part that he struggled with. Seemed like he could never keep the company of a friend for longer than a few months before they fell out with eachother, and whenever you would try to ask about it he would dismiss your attempt by simply saying something along the lines of "We just don't have time to talk as much anymore." or, "They're busy with sports and crap."

But more recently you've noticed that your brother was hanging out with someone new, and this time it was different. He would never fail to show up at your house during the weekends, always finding his way to your living room to play video games with your brother or making room for himself to fit in with whatever your family might have had going on that day, whether it be a dinner out at a restaurant, or even a trip to the movies, he always found time to tag along. He was practically part of the family, and it seemed like him and your brother were actually getting along quite nicely. You'd hear them from his room laughing about something unbeknownst to you just one wall over, or yelling about a game they were playing on his console and it made you glad to know that your brother finally had someone to confide in.

The boy seemed sweet with good intentions. Mark, you think his name is? Black hair with a few strands that never fail to stray from the combed back neatness of the rest of his hair and brown eyes that remind you of a warm coffee on a Saturday morning that you sip when your eyes are still tired and droopy, still on the edge of sleep but not quite. It would be a lie to say he wasn't handsome, but you never really gave him much more thought than that. You go to the same school as him, he's just two grades below you in his sophomore year with grades that aren't yet failing but theres still potential for them to be a lot better, but you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt since you heard from multiple sources that his father died in a car crash at the start of the year, so who knows how he's coping with that.

But that's not the point. the point is, Mark is now practically best friends with your brother and tonight, since your parents are away on a date, he's invited Mark to sleep over. Not that you really cared, you didn't pay him too much mind whenever he would come over since he wasnt your friend anyways. You mostly occupied the time in your room, but you never failed to notice the way he would try extra hard not to look at you whenever you made an appearance and still finding himself unsuccessful. Always stealing quick glances over to you and whatever you were doing. Always noticing the way he suddenly adorned a stutter—something which he had never had before, whenever he'd speak to your brother, pitching his voice an octave louder enough for you to hear.

Your day went on as it usually did, aside from those quick glances that Mark prayed you didn't notice. You always did, but never thought much of it. Maybe he was just intimidated by you, or something? You called your friends, made plans for the following morning, and before you knew it, the smell of food downstairs caught your attention. Glancing at the clock on your phone, it was now six, so you assume the smell downstairs is dinner.

Heading to your kitchen you realize that your brother and Mark had made french fries and were sharing them on a big plate on the counter. You help yourself to a fry, quickly snatching one from the plate before your brother has the opportunity to swat your hand away.

You crack a smile when he almost chokes on the fry he popped into his mouth when he turns to see you, and that only seems to make his cheeks redden. he tries making an attempt at playing it off by pressing the crook of his shoulder against his mouth and coughing into the faded blue of his cotton sweater sleeve, trying to disguise the malfunction, but any attempt he makes at hiding his embarrassment only points it out further.

"Get outta here! Those aren't even for you, make your own." He protests, stopping himself from extending his arm to push you back once he realizes he acted too late and that you've already succeeded in stealing a fry.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you retort. "You literally made the whole bag, you're not even gonna eat all that." You point out, grinning only because you find pleasure in annoying him.

He grumbles out a defeated "Whatever," only because Mark is here, and he doesn't want to cause a scene. But obviously you know your brother well enough to make the assumption that if Mark wasn't here, the stolen fry would be a much bigger deal than it is right now. But instead of taking advantage of this, you raise your white flag in surrender and instead make your way to the fridge, grabbing your leftovers from the fast food place you ordered takeout at a day and a half ago, reheating it before you head up to your room and feeling Mark's eyes on you the entire time.

You've just finished your shower by the time Mark and your brother are retired to his room for the night. It's late, probably eleven, but maybe closer to twelve, you're not sure because haven't checked the time. Your phone is in the bathroom, but you figure that you can just grab it when you're done changing since it isn't on the top of your list of priorities right now.

What is on the top of that list though, is changing into pajamas. Back turned from your bedroom door, you rummage through the top drawer of your dresser, trying to find that one tanktop you own, the black one. The one you have probably ten carbon copies of, but for some reason you want that tanktop in particular. Just as you set your eyes on it and move to pick it up, a noise at your bedroom door alerts you.

It's Mark. And you can tell by his expression that his heart lurches in his chest until it bobs in his throat when he sees you in nothing but a towel that clings loosely to your frame, the creak of the door in protest as he opens it had given you a split second to acknowledge his presence. It blows his cover and interrupts you just as you were about to let the towel fall down to your ankles. You to gasp as you whip your head around fast enough to see his face flush bright red and his hands that shoot up to cover his eyes immediately.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't even realize you were— Jeez, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, I was just trying to bring you your— I'll go, sorry." He rushes, stumbling over his words that spew out from past his lips at a mile a minute, faster than he can comprehend despite his Viltrumite capabilities. He quickly turns on his heel and sheepishly reaches for the doorknob to walk himself out.

Your eyes meet his hand, where your phone rests in his palm and you know you should just let him leave it in the hall, but something in you, some unstoppable force that acts for you before the rational thought to stop and let him go even crosses your mind, and you step forward, then again, and the one more time until your hand is curled over his shoulder, effectively causing him to freeze in place. "Wait," you pause, tone sounding pitched and hesitant like you were holding something back, carefully pausing your breath between each word as if one wrong move could ruin the moment and send him off.

Until he doesn't. He doesn't leave, he doesn't brush you off and close the door behind him like he knows he should. He doesn't even say anything. Wordless as he turns to face you, and you realize he isn't scaring away anytime soon. He was cute, you admit, and the smile he lets tug at the corners of his mouth after his eyes graze over your almost naked form is contagious. He's younger, but stands taller than you by just a few inches and you figure.. Why not? He's clearly interested, and this obviously wasn't an accident. So why not let him indulge in this fantasy, if only for just one night? What do you have to lose?

"Is he...?" Tilting your head, letting your eyes flit behind you to the door, opened just a crack to let the strands of light from the hallway shed into your bedroom and bounce off of Marks shoulder, painting a thin line of hazy yellow against the carpet and walls of your bedroom.

He nods, shaking breath exhaled from his lips in a quick uneven sigh, his hand reaches behind him to click the door shut softly behind you both before bringing them back and letting the palm of his hands find home around the dip in your waist, skin warm against the cool of the towel that drapes around you. "Yeah, he's.. yeah."

Taking his hand and intertwining your fingertips with his, you guide him to your bed where he sits. Mark looks dazed and dreamy, like he can't tell if he's awake or not, can't believe this stupid teenage fantasy of his is actually happening, and that makes you giggle. You tell him to lay back and he does, the erection that strains from under his clothes becoming evident when he looks up at you from where his head rests on your pillow. He's unable to help it when his eyes rake over you again, greedily taking in the way your towel hangs loosely around you, threatening to slip at any second, and your hair falls messily over your shoulders. Perfectly unkempt and knotted in some places where you hadn't combed through it with a brush, but still somehow retaining some of its neatness in the mess.

It would be a lie to say he didn't roughly sketch this whole scenario out in his head. He knew when you got out of the shower and intentionally made his way to the bathroom when you left, only to realize you had forgotten your phone. Originally, he was just going to return it to you when you were done changing, find an excuse to talk to you even just briefly. But then the thought of maybe getting to see you bare crossed his mind, and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He didn't want to wait. He didn't mean to open the door that much, didn't know it would creak in response to his weight when he leaned into it. And the last thing he expected was for you to reciprocate whatever it was he felt in that moment when you saw him. But... he wasn't against it, either.

You join him on your bed, letting your hand stroke over his pajama pants for a quick moment before you bring one leg over his and adjust yourself until you're comfortable on top of him, straddling with both of your legs at either side of his body. You don't miss the way his breath hitches when you suddenly lean in, supporting your weight with a hand that plants itself on his chest and folds underneath you when you close some of the distance between your faces. He looks about ready to kiss you, lips parted in a mix of what's probably both preperation and shock. but when you don't, he regards you curiously, the question unspoken but obvious in the air between you.

"You're sure you want to do this?" You ask, just to be safe, and he nods again. If your brother finds out about this, he'll be crushed, and Mark is old enough to know that he shouldn't be doing something like this. And so are you, to be fair. But it's obvious to the both of you that no one cares what you should or shouldn't be doing right now, too lost in the heat of your bodies as you press into one another and eventually finding your way to his lips, meeting him with a kiss.

It's slow at first, hesitant and experimental and filled with nervousness, but the action of your lips molding over his becomes more steady, more sure as his hands trace your sides in a caressing up and down movement, fervorous and quickly desperate for more. And after a moment he hooks his fingers around the top of your towel. A question, and when you pull back from him just to give him a smile that never fails to make him trip, an answer.

You hear it when his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you fully exposed once the towel is discarded on the floor next to your bed. He lets his eyes travel down your body, taking all of you in. Mark looks almost awestruck, nervous to touch you the wrong way as if you were a porcelain statue to be displayed in a museum. You take his obvious hesitation as an invitation to guide him instead, and place the palm of his hand on one of your breasts before leaning in to take his lips in another kiss. He lets out a muffled noise against your mouth that you swallow up in response, and you feel his obvious erection pressing against you through his pants.

in a beat, the kiss becomes sloppy, messy and quickly not enough. You find yourself starved for more in an instant and before either of you realize, you're already fumbling with the drawstring that loops through his pants, working to untie them while his hands remain on your chest, preoccupied with molding the soft skin like puddy in his palm, an action that makes you moan softly, only really audible over the sound of your own breathless panting when you draw back from his lips to breathe.

"I don't think i should be the only naked one here." you suggest, your tone teasing. the sentence makes his eyes look over your body once again until he brings his gaze back up to you, and it's then that you notice his cheeks marooning once again, a small action that makes you grin.

"Yeah, probably." He agrees with a breathy, nervous laugh, shrugging your hands off of his chest for a moment so that he can lift his shirt off with ease, one hand pulling it over his head while the other remains firm on your waist. And it joins your towel on the ground seconds later.

His chest rises and falls unevenly, but thats not the thing that shocks you the most. You never would have guessed it since hes always wearing loose fitting clothes whenever you see him, but he's a lot more muscular than you imagined. Tracing over his defined stomach with your fingertips as you lean in to kiss him again is like charting over unexplored territory, grazing along each curve and dip in his abs.

And then you traverse lower across his skin until you're met with the fuzzy cotton of his plaid pajama pants once again and this time you don't falter. your index and middle finger curl to make room for themselves around the waistband and you shift just enough to tug them down to his knees. Mark doesn't protest and allows the action, lifting his hips slightly to help you.

Once his pants have been shrugged off, the hardness in his boxers is all the more evident, and it takes minimal effort to have them shrugged down as well. in moments his cock is exposed and you glance back up at him when you hear Mark suck in a breath through his teeth as the cool air of your bedroom envelops him.

"Still sure you want to?" You ask, glaring down at him through your eyelashes. There's still time for him to back out of this, if he really wants to. But it's clear that he doesn't when he nods and wraps his hands around your waist at either side. Not holding you down, but the action makes it clear that he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

"Yeah, I'm sure, just.. please," His voice comes out a hoarse whisper, pleading and more desperate than he would've liked. He looks dazed, lidded eyes glazed over with something akin to need in the pupil and something about the way he says it, asks you so nicely, so sweetly despite the husky tone in the undercurrent of his words makes your stomach knot with a heat that begs to be untangled.

You look back down at his cock, flushed tip weeping and dewy with pre. your hand makes way to his shaft, offering a few slow strokes down to the base and back up to his tip where your thumb grazes over his hole, coating your fingertip in a sticky substance that smudges off when you bring your hand back down. the action makes him gasp like he clearly didn't expect you to move so suddenly, and he can't help but thrust lightly against the movement, his arousal evident when he whimpers through his bitten lip.

But when you pause yet again, he looks confused. mouth popped open, just slightly agape while his eyebrows pinch together. The silent question of "Whyd you stop?" on the edge if his lips, but he doesn't say it out loud. The air between you two is thick with want and a licentious desire to have your needs fulfilled hangs heavy in the space around you, in the darkness of your room.

The question doesn't remain unanswered for long, because in a second you're shifting to lift your hips up, hovering there for a quick, fleeting moment before lining the tip of him with your entrance. It takes him a second to realize what you're doing, but you give him time for the gears turning in his head to spin clearly. And once they do, his tongue flits out to lick over the edge of his lips and in an instant you've planted yourself down on top of him again, adjusted this time so that he fills you instead, and you feel his length twitch inside you at the sudden but certainly not unwelcome action.

Marks hands which had parted from your waist when you lifted yourself quickly find their way back home and he lets out a noise similar to a groan when you roll your hips against him, feeling the way your walls expand and clench around him and letting his gaze fall back to your bedroom ceiling, basking in the warmth of your body on top of him, rising and falling as you grind above him.

The whole ordeal is rather silent save for your ragged breaths and whimpers you muffle through bitten lips and stolen kisses. It's almost transactional, and you both have a clear understanding of what you're here for. This, the guilty pleasure you derive from mark inside you, and you around him. and nothing more. But still there's something that swims in the small amount of light reflecting in his eyes. Something that flickers for a brief moment, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Something that suggests their could be more to this, if you're willing to take that risk.

Mark looks back up at you, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut simply because the sight of your body, the way your tits bounce with each rise and fall of your movements, it's something he doesn't want to miss a second of. And in fact it's almost too much—and if he wasn't trying as hard as he was to restrain himself right now, he would have came already. He keeps his hands on you the entire time, following the natural curve of your waist as he carefully slides up your side to knead at the soft flesh of your boobs once again.

You lean down until you're pressed flush againsthim once again, mouth on his partially to silence him, but mostly just to taste his lips. You're drinking up the sound of each quiet moan he can't help but pour out into you, feeling the way you rock your hips against him and getting lost in the rhythm. Carefully, you bring your mouth lower, sloppily pressing kisses deep enough to leave hickies into his collarbone and chest. The action is quick, hungry and almost primal as if you cant decide whether to bite softly at his skin or kiss him. Or if there was even a way to differentiate the two at this point. He lets a hand free from your side simply to find his way to your hair, pressing you impossibly closer in order to keep you there, clinging to you like if he let himself get too lost in the feeling then youd vanish.

Bringing yourself back up to admire your work, you let your eyes examine the hickies you placed carelessly on his body. You were merciful enough to not leave any in plain sight, lord knows how furious your brother would be if he woke up and saw Mark's neck riddled hickies that border on bruises. They mostly decorate where the neck of his shirt would start, easily able to be hidden away with a shirt overtop of them.

Soon, you find Mark holding you down against him, making the action of rolling your hips on his cock a challenge. But he takes the liberty of doing that for you, hands at your sides to guide you as he desperately thrusts deep enough into your pussy to hit your cervix and you arch closer to him as he pulls out, tip dragging over that spot that makes your stomach flutter and eyes roll back only to press into you again and again each time.

"Mark, I—" Your words are cut off by a moan that he quickly moves to cover with his mouth, hand grasping in your hair and tugging lightly to more easily bring you to his lips. He parts from you when the sound has faded and gone, and you bite your lip to prevent anything more from slipping.

"Shh," He hushes you, glancing for a split second to your bedroom door. Still shut, but your walls are thin, so the fact that you both need to be as quiet quiet as possible is non-negotiable right now. "I know, I know." He whispers against the side of your neck, kissing lightly at the sensitive skin there. The hand previously at your side wraps around you and runs over your back, curving as he feels over the way you arch into him in order to help his length fuck deeper into you.

In a moment, his voice is in your ear, whispering what almost sounds like nonsense, too drunk off the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with each thrust inside you that grows more rapid, more intense with each passing second. But you quickly decipher his words, despite the fact that they're short, breathy and would be inaudible if he weren't pressed so close against you. "Fuck, I.. I can't, I'm gonna.." He whispers the words like a mantra. You've never heard him curse before, so the fact that he is only serves to encourage your movements as you roll your hips with him inside you.

The action seems to push him over the edge with one final moan that causes a shiver to snake its way through your entire body, and soon after you feel the warmth of the white-hot ropes that are his come filling you, his hips stuttering, continuing to work his way through the orgasm with lazy thrusts as everything pumps out of him and into you. You follow suit soon after, the feeling of his release inside you being just enough to coax out a much needed orgasm of your own, the knot that had been tangling and building itself up inside you quickly dissolving as a blinding euphoria causes everything around you to dissolve for what feels like forever.

You're reduced to a boneless heap on top of him, unmoving with his cock still inside you. What remains of his semen dripping out of you like hot lava that oozes out of you, sticky and all too overwhelming. You both lay like that for a while, until eventually the time comes where Mark needs to leave. Return to your brothers room before he notices the disappearance. You're lifted off of him with ease and he lays you back on your bed with all the care in the world, making sure to leave you with a final kiss on your lips once his clothes are back on and you've both collected yourselves.

Once he leaves, and you hear the door to your brothers room click shut with a sense of finality, you realize one of two things is going to happen now. This could become a regular thing, one that you'll have to try and hide from your brother as well as sneak past your family, or this could be a one time thing. A spurr of the moment decision that will be glossed over and soon forgotten in a week's time. Some part of you, deep down, hopes for the latter.

[waitingona-mirabel]

Saturday, November 23 — The Final Labor: Based on the final task for the labors, write an AU featuring all your characters in a role. Choose an AU, set out a list of goals for yourself based on tropes within that AU (ex. a red shirt has to die if you’re doing Star Trek or someone in the group gets bitten by a zombie and doesn’t tell the rest if you’re doing an apocalypse), then write to your heart’s content! To count, each character must have a role and your tropes must be laid out beforehand.

SPORTS MOVIE AU

Inspired by High School Musical, Challengers, Miracle, that football book I read recently, that other amazing baseball romcom I read it's called You Should Be So Lucky, A League of Their Own TV Show, you get the idea

ROLES

Phineas: The announcer 

Tiana: Veteran of the team

Aquata: The scary opponent 

Annie: The sidekick

Mirabel: The underdog/protagonist

Lightning: The parent who doesn’t understand!

Smee: The opposing team’s asshole coach

Roz: The reluctant coach

Giselle: The love interest of the protagonist

TROPES

Down and out underdogs

For The Love Of The Game

Reluctant coach

Old rivalry

Unconventional coaching methods

Motivational speech

Star player gets injured

Rookie has a natural gift they never realized

The Game Winner

It’s Not My Dream, Dad, It’s Yours

Told with the framing device of a single game

Warnings: a minor injury, me TRULY messing up sports/soccer rules and terminology plz don't come for me, uhh complete lack of a setting is this high school is it college is it professional sports is it an adult rec league truly who knows!, anyway enjoy

LET'S GO!

Coin toss

The coin somersaulted through the air, almost as though in slow motion. 

“Tails!” called Aquata Triton, earlier than she was really supposed to, but Mirabel didn’t expect the Sharks to play fair.

The coin landed on Heads. Out of the corner of her eye, Mirabel could see the smallest hint of a smile from Tiana.

Luck had never really been on the Phoenixes’ side. And Coach Roz always said that was a good thing, because it meant they didn’t have to be reliant on it. But today, Mirabel was going to take every smidge of luck she could get.

180 Days Before The Big Game 

“No! Absolutely not. I’m retired,” Roz insisted, already rising out of her seat. 

Headmaster Chairmouse sighed and rubbed his temples. “Please, Coach. If you still blame yourself for what happened in ‘99…”

“It’s not about ‘99! But yes, that was entirely my fault-”

“It wasn’t, Coach. You took a calculated risk. That’s what coaches do. Just because it failed doesn’t negate twenty years of great work. A lot of that is luck. And besides— I’m not asking you to win a championship this year. I’m just asking you to give these kids a coach that gives a shit. Which I know you’ve got in you. Teach ‘em some skills, get ‘em trained up for the next year, and maybe by the time that rolls around, I can find someone to step in who actually wants to be there. Six months. Just give me six months.”

Roz didn’t really believe him. She was certain he was only asking out of desperation. But, even after all these years, it was hard to resist the call of the game that had once been her whole life…

“And I’ll throw in a bonus,” Chairmouse added. “Money that I’m sure you could use right now.”

“Chairmouse!” Roz said hotly, but his expression remained neutral. 

Chairmouse had her there, unfortunately. Two kids in uni…

“Fine,” Roz grumbled. “I’ll do it.”

Kickoff

“Aaaand, the Phoenixes will start off with possession, with Truitt taking the ball forward, now to Madrigal…”

Mirabel tried her best to block out the sound of Phineas Flynn, the ever-bombastic announcer. She knew he meant well, but his commentary always seemed to get her in her head. Mirabel just needed to focus. This was just like any passing drill. Just like practice.

“Madrigal passes back to Sommers on the left wing!”

Just like practice.

90 Days Before the Big Game

Mirabel didn’t really know what she was doing here. She wasn’t a soccer player, that was for sure. These weren’t even her cleats— they were Annie’s, and Annie had much bigger feet than her. Mirabel had to wear two extra pairs of socks just to keep them somewhat on her feet, and she was starting to think they might cut off her circulation.

WHEEEET!

The whistle pierced through the thick August air, and everyone jogged over to center field where Coach was waiting with her clipboard. She was an imposing woman, despite her short stature, in a pantsuit with a faded Phoenixes shirt. Annie had filled Mirabel in— she used to be the school soccer coach in the nineties, but after the team got completely walloped in the semifinals, she announced her retirement for good.

Apparently, she was back. Mirabel didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. But it didn’t matter much either way, because Mirabel didn’t expect to actually play for her. With any luck, Annie would. But Mirabel was just here for moral support.

“Alright, we’re going to start off with a simple passing drill. Pass and weave, pass and weave, you should all know this by now. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded. Even Mirabel nodded, though she had no idea what “pass and weave” meant. And she was too afraid to ask at this point. Again, she reminded herself. You’re not actually trying to make the team. Just don’t embarrass yourself too badly.

Thankfully, Mirabel was able to meander toward the back of the pack, since there were other girls much more eager to show off their skills. The drill didn’t look too complicated— one player would pass the ball to another, then they would switch places while the receiver passed to a third player. As long as Mirabel followed the other two, she would be alright.

Finally, it was Mirabel’s turn. Pass. Weave. Pass. Weave.

It only occurred to Mirabel by the third rotation that she was… kind of having a blast?

WHEEET!

“Okay, we’re going to try something new,” Coach interrupted. “We’re going to add in defenders.”

05 minutes

Mirabel, Tiana, and Anna didn’t maintain their momentum for long— within a few minutes, the Sharks had possession again, and Triton was charging down the field. Annie approached from her position behind the strikers, chasing Triton down and leaning into her to slide-tackle. Triton went tumbling to the ground, cursing all the way down.

“Bitch,” she muttered.

Annie just smiled and tapped the ball back over to Truitt.

88 Days Before the Big Game

Was that… Mirabel’s name at the top of the roster?

It didn’t make any sense. She’d never played organized soccer in her life; she just tapped a ball around the backyard with her cousins or with Annie now and then. Sure, Mirabel thought she’d actually made it through tryouts decently enough not to embarrass herself, but certainly not well enough to make the team. 

Maybe Coach really was crazy. Everyone was saying it at practice.

“No way…” Annie gasped, coming up behind Mirabel.

“I know,” Mirabel agreed. “Has to be a mistake.”

“What? No! You were amazing!” Annie insisted. “I just- well, I can’t believe Aquata Triton didn’t-”

As if on cue, Triton appeared, too, looking furious. She shot Mirabel a fiery look before storming off. Yikes…

Now Mirabel realized the problem. Aquata Triton had been the starting center striker for the past three years at Swynlake High. And now she was cut from the team, and taking her place was…

Oh. Oh shit.

25 minutes

Unfortunately, the Phoenixes didn’t hold onto the ball for long. By the twenty-five minute mark, it was becoming clear that they couldn’t win this game on luck alone. Maybe they wouldn’t win this game at all— although Mirabel was really trying not to let her mind go there. 

“At only twenty-five minutes into the game, everyone’s still looking pretty fresh,” Phineas Flynn commented as another Sharks striker tussled with the defense by the corner kick line. “But how long can they keep it up? There’s been a lot of talk about Coach Roz Peterson’s conditioning drills…”

85 Days Before the Big Game

“Alright, everybody listen up,” Coach announced, pacing the sideline as the newly-selected Phoenixes watched from the bleachers. Mirabel sat up straight, hands folded, like this was the first day of class. Some of the more seasoned veterans of the team lounged, skeptical of Peterson’s selection as their leader.

Truitt, the captain, leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her expression entirely inscrutable. 

“Odds are, I didn’t choose you because you’re the greatest player at this school. So get that idea out of your head right away, if it’s still in there,” Coach said bluntly. “I chose you because you seemed willing to put in the work. The hard, ugly, unglamorous work of conditioning your bodies and building up your strength. I don’t know if I’m taking this team to the championship. I’m probably not. But what I am hoping to do is set you up for success down the line, in years to come. So you may hate me for this, but just remember, you only get one year with me.”

Truitt’s shoulders betrayed the slightest movement. Was she disappointed that Coach was only sticking around one year? Everyone else seemed skeptical of her, or to think she was an unbelievable hardass.

Mirabel didn’t know how she felt. Scared, maybe.

“Alright, five laps around the field! Everybody go!”

Halftime

Roz glanced over at the Sharks’ bench, just in time to meet Smee’s gaze. Her eyes narrowed. While the players headed off to the locker rooms and doused themselves with water and Gatorade, the two coaches stared one another down.

Then Smee’s expression twisted into a smile, and Roz’s into a scowl. Absolutely not.

65 Days Before the Big Game

“I’m starting to think something is seriously wrong with her,” Annie commented as she and Mirabel approached mile four. “She’s got some kind of obsession with running.”

Today was a “long run,” which was different from the typical running-laps warmup. And it was different from the postgame-punishment-laps (which the Phoenixes had now experienced three times now— even after they’d won that third game. Apparently it wasn’t good enough for Coach Hardass).

“Well, soccer does involve a lot of running,” Mirabel pointed out, snickering. While she didn’t want to badmouth the coach, one look at her expression would tell the whole story. Mutual horror at Coach’s method had bonded Mirabel and Annie far more than anything else that had previously happened in their friendship.

“Y’all want the truth?” The voice came out of nowhere. Mirabel and Annie’s heads whipped around to see the captain behind them. 

Their eyes went wide. This was exactly what Mirabel had been trying to avoid. What if word got around? The new girl, who probably didn’t even deserve to be here, already complaining.

“I- we weren’t-” Mirabel stammered.

“It’s fine. I know Coach is crazy. Everyone does,” Tiana said breezily, which caused Mirabel and Annie to exhale cautiously. They didn’t let their guard down entirely, but… was their famously aloof captain actuallty going to be real with them about this? It looked like it. “It’s this weird rivalry she has with the Sharks’ coach. Apparently, they’d been the best in the league back in the nineties, always trading the title back and forth. And then something happened in ‘99. Not sure exactly what. I think someone got hurt, and the Sharks won in a blowout. Coach retired, and the Sharks have basically dominated the league ever since, while our team has been shit. I don’t know if she’s expecting a championship win, but I do know she’s determined not to let ‘99 happen again.”

And then Tiana was off, putting on the jets once again. Annie and Mirabel exchanged a glance. And Mirabel knew they were thinking the same thing.

Coach? Blaming herself?

It didn’t change how scared of Coach Mirabel was. But it did prove she was human.

Mirabel sped up, just a little bit. She could stand to push a little harder. Just a little bit.

48 minutes

“After a scoreless first half, we’re looking at a free kick right in the zone! Looks like this is Triton’s chance— she’s got an excellent scoring record on those.”

Mirabel knew Annie was fuming about that call. The Sharks had come running back onto the field with a vengeance, and only three minutes later Mirabel could count on both hands the number of penalties that should have been called. But it was Annie’s slide tackle that drew the whistle.

Mirabel joined the lineup. On a kick like this, it was all hands on deck, regardless of position…

“Tiwari dives for the ball and… a miss! The Sharks are on the board!”

The Phoenixes groaned as their opponents jumped all over Triton to congratulate her. But there wasn’t much time to mourn the loss of that point. Mirabel could feel Coach’s pensive stare from all the way across the field.

Then she looked in the other direction, where a pretty redhead was siting in the bleachers, giving her a thumbs-up. And that, combined with the righteous frustration with the penalty and the goal, was all Mirabel needed to get going again.

48 Days Before the Big Game

“Oh- my bad,” Mirabel apologized as she ran right into someone coming around the corner. The stack of books the girl had been carrying spilled to the floor, and Mirabel quickly knelt down to help pick them up. You would think weeks of training would make her less of a klutz, but it seemed like all hand-eye coordination completely left her body as soon as she stepped off the field. Or maybe she was just extra distracted today, by the Phoenixes’ seemingly unshakable losing streak.

When Mirabel reached for a book and the girl’s hand brushed hers, Mirabel looked up to see-

Oh. She was quite pretty, wasn’t she?

“I-” Mirabel stuttered.

“Sorry,” the girl said at the same time. They both giggled awkwardly. 

Mirabel blushed. “No, no, you’re good,” she said, studying the book. “Gabriel Garcia Marquez?”

“He’s my favorite. The worlds he creates…”

“I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t understand a lot of this book. But I thought the writing was really pretty,” Mirabel admitted, tripping over the word “pretty.” Oh, she was just hopelessly obvious, wasn’t she?

“It is really pretty,” the girl said, holding Mirabel’s gaze. “Sorry, I’m being rude. You’re Mirabel Madrigal, right? The new starter on the soccer team?”

“I- you know me?”

“Not really. But you are kind of famous now. At least around here. Apparently you’re the future of the team.”

The stars of the team, Tiana and all the others who had graduated now, had always felt famous to Mirabel. But she’d assumed that was because she and Annie were the only ones who paid attention to that stuff. Maybe not.

“Wow,” Mirabel said. “Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your-”

“Giselle,” she replied with a smile.

Giselle. It really did suit her, a name that sounded like singing.

“Nice to meet you, Giselle.” Mirabel held the book out, smiling shyly. 

“You can hold onto it,” Giselle said. “I’m sure I’ll run into you again.

And then she left Mirabel standing there, clutching the book to her chest, wondering what had just happened.

Something told her that everything was about to change.

62 minutes

Mirabel tried to steer her mind away from the other person she had thought might be in the crowd. The problem was that he might not, and that was really going to get her in her head. After all, the last time they had spoken, it had turned into a fight…

UMPH

“Aaand Madrigal’s down! That’s gonna leave a mark…” Phineas Flynn commented.

The ground hit Mirabel’s face as a Shark barrelled into her, and now she understood what people meant when they talked about “eating shit.” Well, whoever was watching in the crowd, they’d definitely just seen Mirabel embarrass herself.

But she picked herself up and chased after the ball, like she always did. There was no time to waste. 

37 Days Before the Big Game

The Phoenixes hadn’t lost every game. They’d tied the Gryphons and the Firebees, and even beaten the Tigers and the Lions. Granted, the Lions had all of their best players on the bench for that game since it was so early in the season and didn’t mean much. But it was still a win.

And then October happened, and the Phoenixes just. Kept. Losing. 

Mirabel was beginning to think it impressive. How could they be that bad?

She didn’t think they were that bad, after all. Tiana was a brilliant playmaker, and Annie was relentlessly quick. Tanya was a decent goalkeeper, too. But it seemed like every time they went out on the field, they made some improbable error, like shooting the ball into their own goal or running right into the referee. 

“We’re going to try something new,” Coach said as the Phoenixes stumbled into yet another practice, looking discouraged and exhausted from yet more conditioning. “I want you all to get out there and scrimmage. And don’t try to impress me. I’m not going to be watching. I’ll be in my office. Don’t even keep score. And don’t dictate positions. Pretend you’re eight years old and you don’t understand the rules of soccer.”

And then she was off. 

The Phoenixes stared at each other, as though unsure Coach was actually serious about that. But she disappeared into her office, just like she’d said she would. And then the blinds fell down, blocking her view out of the window.

“Alright, you heard her,” Tiana announced. “Scrimmage. No rules.”

Annie looked skeptical. “Shouldn’t we do some drills? Work on our passing?”

“Or our footwork, it was atrocious last season…”

The group descended into squabbling about what the real problem was, and Tiana looked like she was on the verge of giving up. That scared Mirabel. If they didn’t have Tiana taking charge… 

“Guys,” Mirabel began, but nobody listened to her. “Guys!” she tried again. “EVERYONE SHUT UP!”

The team froze, and now it was just Mirabel, looking a little bit terrified.

“What?” Tiana asked skeptically.

“Let’s just give it a chance.”

And, strangely, everyone… listened? They nodded and made their way out to the field, and Tiana even patted Mirabel on the shoulder and mouthed, Thank you.

Had Mirabel really just done that? She’d never seen herself as a leader, as someone who took charge. But everything was strange lately. She saw Giselle in the hallways and smiled at her. She got home late from practice and shoveled dinner in her mouth before cramming in as much studying as she could, barely seeing her father. And now, it seemed, she yelled at people at practice.

Mirabel didn’t know what to make of it. But she did know how to lace up her cleats and get back out there. 

70 minutes

The pressure was starting to mount. By Mirabel’s estimation, they were more than halfway through the second half of the game. Scoring was a tall order. Scoring twice was a taller order. But Mirabel was trying not to think about that. 

Coach always said not to look at the clock. That if you looked while you were ahead, you played cautiously or lazily. And if you looked when you were behind, you got panicked. Just breathe, Mirabel reminded herself.

“Hey,” Annie whispered, jogging over to her as they reset for a throw-in. “Just remember. Like we’re eight.”

And that day at practice came flooding back to Mirabel, the day Coach had abandoned them to play the most chaotic scrimmage they’d ever played. There was offsides and bunching and wildshots that had no chance of making it in the goal. And in the end, they’d all wound up lying on the ground, laughing harder than they’d ever laughed before. 

The Phoenixes had won after that practice, and it felt like a new beginning, even though they’d won once or twice before. 

The Shark threw the ball in, and Mirabel did something reckless that she rarely did: she leapt for the ball, positioning her forehead right under it, without much regard for where it was going after that. Mirabel trusted Annie to get it. And she did, charging down the field past the Sharks. 

It didn’t take long for the rest of the players to catch up, but one of those players was Tiana, and she was deadly in the end zone. When she slipped the ball past the goal line, the world seemed to erupt. 

Tied. With… actually, Mirabel had no idea how much time they had left. It was just like being eight years old, playing in the backyard.

25 Days Before the Big Game

“The good news is that we’re in contention for the divisional match, now that the Panthers are out,” Coach explained, crossing the word off of the whiteboard in the locker room. The team watched, laser-focused. 

“What’s the bad news?” Annie piped up. 

Coach looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,when people say there’s good news, there’s usually bad news, too.”

“Oh…” Coach said, frown deepening. “Well, the bad news, I suppose, is that you shouldn’t get too excited. Anything can happen at any moment. We can only control the things we can control. Which is practice, practice, practice, and most of all…”

“Conditioning!” everyone groaned.

Coach smiled a rare, mischievous smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

84 Minutes

A single goal stood between the Phoenixes and the divisional title. The Sharks were starting to flag, and Mirabel knew, she just knew, that it would only take one perfect opportunity. She darted back and forth around the goal line, trying to give Tiana an opening to pass her the ball.

But that didn’t happen. 

The whistle blew, and an awful shriek pierced the air. 

“Truitt is down! Oh, that looked painful…”

Mirabel’s heart dropped, and she tore across the field toward her captain. “Tiana,” she breathed.

Tiana’s face was contorted in agony, and she held her knee tightly. “I’m okay,” she whispered, even though it was obvious that nothing could be further from the truth. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” she said. “It’s okay. We’re going to win this. We can do it.”

Coach was already making her way across the field, and Tiana just kept shaking her head. “No,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. When Coach helped Tiana to her feet, she could barely put weight on the knee she’d injured. She could barely walk, much less run. 

“Wait,” Tiana said, pausing to take her captain armband off and holding it out to Mirabel. “Here.”

Mirabel stared at Tiana in shock. The captain armband? But Mirabel was just a rookie, and there were plenty of other talented people on the team! “I can’t-”

“You can,” Tiana said through gritted teeth. “Do it for me.”

14 Days Before the Big Game

One match stood between the Phoenixes and the big game. If they won on Saturday, they were in. And it was all Mirabel could think about. Coach always said to go one day at a time, one practice at a time, one game at a time. To stay focused in the moment.

But all Mirabel could think about was Saturday. And the Saturday that could, maybe, follow.

“Mirabel? Are you even listening to me?” 

Mirabel’s eyes snapped up from the plate of spaghetti that she was shoveling into her mouth to meet her dad’s gaze. “Huh?”

He sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?” Mirabel said, confused at his obvious irritation. “What is it?”

“I was saying that I think you’re a little too focused on this soccer thing. I know the plan was to get in shape before track season, but tryouts are coming up, and I haven’t seen you practicing.”

Mirabel’s eyes went wide. It was true. She’d been so focused on soccer that she hadn’t even thought about track. Or when she did think about it, she was thinking about how much more she liked soccer. Mirabel had only ever gotten into track because of her dad— because he’d been a track star, the incredible Montgomery “Lightning” McQueen, before an injury in college had ruined his career before it really got off the ground.

Maybe track wasn’t her dream after all. Maybe it was his.

“Dad…” Mirabel said hesitantly. “I might… want to stick with soccer.”

The hurt registered on Lightning’s face. “What? Since when?”

“Since… well, a while now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mirabel said quietly. “Look- if we make it to the divisional game, will you come? Then you can see what I’m talking about. If we don’t, I’ll get right back to training for track. But I really want you to see this.

But Lightning’s expression was inscrutable. “I’ll try,” he said. 

89 Minutes

Mirabel had no idea how much time was left. The whistle was going to blow at any moment, she knew. The pressure was on, the crowd was riotous, and time was ticking. Somewhere on the sideline, Tiana and Coach were watching. Out in the bleachers, Mirabel could see Giselle watching, too.

And then she locked eyes with him. Dad, Mirabel thought. 

A new energy seemed to infuse her, and Mirabel charged at Aquata Triton, who was racing down the field with the ball. Not so fast, Mirabel smirked at her silently. She pretended to miss a swipe for the ball with her foot, then quickly pulled the ball backward with her cleat just when Aquata had thought she’d won the mini-battle. The momentum did throw Mirabel off her balance, but she only hit the ground once she’d managed to tap the ball back to Annie, who charged forward with it. 

The crowd roared. Mirabel picked herself back up, ignoring the dirty look Triton had shot her, and raced after Annie to give her another opening. Annie expertly navigated the defense, practically running circles around them.

The goalie dove too early, and a defender closed in to block Annie from the net. But Mirabel had made it to the penalty line without anyone noticing her, and Annie passed her the ball.

Mirabel closed her eyes. She said a little prayer. 

“AND JUST AS THE WHISTLE BLOWS, MADRIGAL GETS THE JOB DONE!” Phineas Flynn announced, and once again, Mirabel was on the ground— but this time, it wasn’t her own doing. Mirabel’s teammates piled on top of her, a loud, sweaty, jubilant tangle of limbs. Mirabel wanted to stay in this moment forever.

2 Days Before the Big Game

“Giselle!” Mirabel jogged over to her in the hallway. “Here’s your book. Finished rereading it. Somehow.”

Giselle turned around, grinning. “I’m surprised you had time, with all the practices.”

“Me too,” Mirabel admitted. “I guess I make time for important stuff.”

“Good to know.” Giselle paused, once hand on the book, just looking at Mirabel. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the artificial lighting of the hallway. “When’s the big game?”

“Two days.”

“Good luck.” Giselle kissed her on the cheek and walked away, and Mirabel just stood there, dumbfounded once again. 

Stoppage Time

The next thirty seconds built up slowly but steadily, pressure building like a firework getting ready to explode. They just had to hold off the Sharks until the whistle blew again, and that knowledge seemed to fuel the team with a new fire. They’d already done the hard work. They couldn’t lose now.

And when the whistle did blow, and Mirabel saw her father jump up off his seat and Coach Peterson throw her clipboard in a rare show of emotion and Tiana burst into tears, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Mirabel’s teammates crowded around her again and hoisted her onto their shoulders as the sun started to dip down, bathing everything in a beautiful golden light.

From her vantage point, Mirabel could see one more person she’d been looking for.

“Okay, okay,” Mirabel chuckled. “Put me down!”

And once her cleats hit the grass, Mirabel managed to get her jelly-legs to run to the bleachers, ignoring her exhaustion. She didn’t have to make it much further than that, because Giselle ran down the steps and kissed her while Mirabel’s teammates whooped.

It wasn’t a championship. There was no trophy. There wasn’t even a medal. But Mirabel didn’t care. She didn’t need a physical memento to remember this moment. She knew she could never forget it.

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[softtdaisy]

falling anyway / Aaron Hotchner

summary. hotch knows he shouldn't fall for the babysitter. but sometimes things are meant to be.

words count. 3 603

what to expect. fluffy and flirty, age gap but reader's age is not tell she's a student, jack is mentionned obivously

a/n. this is way longer that i thought it would be but i didn't want to say goodbye to this story, i want to write so many things about hotch and the babysitter so i hope you will love their story too 🥹

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

There were different things that could make up for the terrible week you’ve spent.

Spending a chill day watching your favorite TV show. 

Seeing your friends for a coffee or a drink.

And taking care of Jack Hotchner was also a solution.

You’ve been babysitting Jack for six months now. You needed a new part-time job; Aaron Hotchner, one of your father’s colleagues, needed a new babysitter. The deal was done. 

You’ve never seen a kid so easy to take care of. Usually, you and Jack shared the same routine: you helped him with his homework, and he helped you make dinner. You would play some games and then show him a movie from your list of favorites from your childhood. Harry Potter? Done. Narnia? Too. Back to the future? To be done.

You were this close to calling him your best friend at this point. To be honest, you missed him when you weren’t babysitting him.

With Hotch’s job, your presence wasn’t so linear. When he had to leave for a few days, Jack was staying with the family. Days when he was still paying you. “It’s my fault you’re not working; I don’t want you to have financial issues,” he said when you fought to give him the money back. You felt like taking advantage of the situation, and you hated that. But you quickly learned that there was nothing you could do when Aaron Hotchner had decided something. 

Not that you really mind the whole commanding trait.

“I’m sorry to ask you that,” you heard Hotch say on the phone. From the noises around, you guessed he was in his car.

Your Friday night plan was to stay home and forget about your week. 

College was awful; you got bad grades in one of your favorite classes, and your date stood you up and ghosted you. But when Aaron Hotchner called you in a last-minute emergency, you found his plan way better than yours.

“This is an important dinner; I can’t excuse myself from going. I know it’s last minute, but…” You put him on speaker. His voice becomes a part of your get-ready playlist. 

“Aaron,” you interrupted him. His name always felt like candy on your tongue. One that you’re not allowed to have, making it taste even sweeter. “I’ll be there in twenty; is it good for you?”

Then there was a silence that made you wonder if he even heard you. Then two words. “Thank you,” and silence again after he hung up.

You barely ever had any discussion with Hotch since you started working for him. Apart from the classic news from life, you never said much, and neither did he.

Jack, on the other hand, was a heavy speaker. It was thanks to him that you learned things from Hotch’s life: how work was taking much of his time and how he was barely going outside of it, which team he supported, or what kind of music he played in the car—but only when Jack was there.

You could only guess what he told his father about you in exchange.

When you arrived at Hotch’s place, he was the first thing you saw. On the phone, he was leaning against his car. His open suit jacket was flying with the wind, opening to his muscular chest and dad bod you could see through his shirt. And thinking about that, you realized how cliché you were for dreaming about the father of the kid you were babysitting.

But you’ve been on that road for so long now that you didn’t know the path to go back. Nor did you want to take it.

When Hotch saw you, he gave you a very short smile. He put his hand up, asking you to wait for him. And you did. Of course you did. You tried to focus on something to not overhear what he was saying, but it was hard when his voice sounded like a melody in your head.

His “bye” sounded like a secret code, and you finally let yourself turn to him. “Thank you again for coming.” 

Hotch never really knew how to act around you. He was your boss, technically, but he couldn’t act as he was with the team. He didn't mean to sound too friendly or nice so you wouldn’t imagine things. He didn’t want you or your dad to hear that he was being flirty with his daughter or for Jack to lose you.

And this conflict was obvious in many situations. The way he moved his hand up showed he intended to shake yours before changing his mind and putting it on your shoulder. A greeting and thanking at the same time. 

“I should be the one to thank you,” you replied with a laugh. “I needed something to change my mind, and Jack is perfect for this.” 

You noticed the change in his expression when you said that. Clearly putting him in the investigator mode. “Are you alright?” Maybe you dreamt it, but for a second or two, his fingers were holding your shoulder tighter. 

From the little time you spent with Hotch these past months, you thought he didn’t know you enough to care or to notice it anyway. Clearly putting aside the fact it was his work to see these kinds of things. So you simply brushed it off before he left, saying it was nothing important.

But Hotch did. He noticed the dark rings under your eyes or how you seemed to shine a little less than the other days. You were always so bubbly; sometimes you even made his day brighter with the little attention you seemed to give naturally. Like a much-needed smile, questioning him about his day or offering him a cookie from those you made with Jack earlier. Cookies that were staying at his place and that he could have taken himself. But you chose to offer it yourself. 

And knowing you weren’t going well, I stayed with him the whole night. Even during his dinner with high-level agents from the FBI. At some point, he probably even missed some conversations. Too busy trying to understand what could be wrong with you. Or what he could do to help. 

He knew it wasn’t really his place to help you in any way. But something he hated more than overstepping the line was being useless in front of someone’s bad mood. 

Hotch didn’t come home until midnight. He wasn’t surprised to feel the calm inside. Even if Jack was a heavy sleeper, you always put the TV on a quiet volume just to be sure it wouldn’t wake him up. You always kept just the lamp beside the sofa to have a warm and cozy atmosphere. And since you’ve cleaned the kitchen after dinner, he could smell a mix of dish soap and your perfume in the air.

And like he expected, you were laying on his couch, with a blanket covering your legs, reading the same book he was on. 

That was a kind of secret but not so secret habit you had. When Hotch noticed once or twice that you were reading the book he inadvertently left on his coffee table, this became a routine. You never talked about it. You both just liked the idea of sharing the same interest.

He stayed in the back, appreciating how peaceful his place was. Until he felt bad about being there without your awareness. So he put his keys in the bowl you helped Jack create for Father’s Day, slowly but still loud enough so you can hear it. And it worked.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Hotch, said, sitting next to you. He put his jacket on the back of the couch; his tie was slightly undone, and you tried not to focus on his undone cufflink too. You had a thing for the way his open sleeves were showing his muscled and hairy wrists. 

“You didn’t,” you replied, bringing your knees up against your chest. “I'm getting used to hearing you coming back,” you added with a smile. It was only after the words left your mouth that you realized how domestic this sounded. And the little smile on his face let you know that he noticed too.

But that didn’t seem to bother him. Or at least, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, you watched as he put a doggy bag on the coffee table. “Don’t tell Jack, but I brought back the dessert.” He sounded so innocent, like a kid hiding his secret from his parents and not the other way around. You couldn’t contain your laugh when you watched him rub his hands before opening the box.

“Enjoy your dessert,” you said with a laugh. You also took that as a sign to leave. After such a long day, you guessed Hotch needed a moment for himself without the babysitter being underfoot. So you got up and took the blanket to fold it when he grabbed your hand softly. And showed you two spoons. 

“I’m not eating that alone,” he offered, handing you one of the spoons with a shy smile. No words could explain the heat in your heart when you understood he wanted you around. 

So you sat back, unintentionally closer to Hotch than you were before. So close that you even touched his thigh with yours. You both looked down, and the apologies left your lips quickly, taking enough distance so you weren’t this closeto sit on his lap anymore. 

Looking away, you missed the blush on his cheeks after he lost your contact.

To lighten the mood, you tilted your spoon next to him to toast. When you heard him laugh so softly, like he didn’t even mean to, this felt like a victory. As hot as it can look on him, this serious look, you loved to make his day a little brighter.

But this victory was soon over when he turned to you. “Would you like to share what’s on your mind?” when you frowned, having too much respect for him to talk with your mouth full. “You said you needed to change your mind.” 

You took a moment to think about it. You didn’t even remember telling him about that, making you wonder what other thoughts you slipped since you started working for him. Yet, talking to Hotch didn’t seem a bad idea. He had this comforting look in his eyes, and you felt safer next to him than you did with most people in your life.

“That’s stupid,” you started. You noticed the look he gave you; he didn’t like the idea of you judging yourself before speaking. But you chose to ignore it and told him about your week. “And I think I finally lost hope in love for good.” You finished your story with a sad laugh. Because there was some truth in this. 

You were met with a silence. But when you turned your head to look at him, you saw that his eyes never left you. “You do?” he asked in a genuine and sincere tone. One that made you blush. Because a part of you still pretended like Hotch wasn’t really listening. It would have been easier to accept that you were opening your heart like that. This explained why you started looking at your cake instead.

“It’s just…I’m tired of running after men who clearly don’t appreciate me. I keep getting hopeless and sad because dating has become a joke for them. And it’s not one for me. And I just don’t know what to do.” 

Before you noticed it, you were playing with your cake and reducing it to a pulp. Much like your heart these days.

“I just wished there were more men like…” You sighed, turning to look at Hotch. He was there, frowning, waiting to hear more. Not prepared for the last word missing from your sentence. “More like you,” you added.

Hotch froze, his spoon close to his lips. So close you missed the way it curled into a small smile. Both flattered and curious to see where you were heading with this idea. 

“You’re great, you’re mature, you’re an amazing father, you know what you want, you take good care of you, of Jack, of this house. And I’m convinced you can take good care of a woman too. You’ve never been anything but nice and gentle with me, so I can't imagine how great you must be with someone you love.” 

It has been a long time since Hotch heard that he might be a great man. Being a divorced, then widowed, single father working too much to the point he had to take a babysitter who was probably seeing his son more than he was wasn’t the definition of a great man for him. But maybe he was too hard on himself.

Or maybe you were too kind about him.

And maybe that was the reason it hit him like that. You were the one who said that. Not any woman he might have brought on a date, and probably won’t see again because he didn’t feel the connection he was craving for. You. Jack’s babysitter. The woman who hunted his dreams to the point he considered he might need to ask you to stop coming. 

But he couldn’t do that to Jack, who clearly appreciated you a lot.

And selfish, he couldn’t do that to himself either. He loved seeing you around. He found some comfort in his crazy and not always so easy life knowing you would be there when he came home.

“I…I’m sorry.” You stuttered, getting up suddenly. You needed air. You needed to get out of here before proposing to Jack’s father and getting jobless. And maybe being removed from here, from the city, from the country even! Who knows what the BAU chief can do? 

This time, you put the blanket away in a messy way. And soon, you were in the hallway, collecting your bag and even chose to put on your shoes after you passed the door to not waste another moment of his time. 

But right when you were going to open the door, a big, hairy, somehow charismatic hand landed on the wood to prevent it. When you turned, you faced Hotch, who was closer to you than you imagined. “You mean that?” he asked, confused.

This whole minute of preparing your escape, you imagined he was still sitting on the sofa. Probably eating the part of the cake you left on the table, not bothering about you leaving, and maybe even thinking about the text he would send you tomorrow to inform you of your dismissal. 

But you certainly did not imagine Hotch would run after you.

“Do you mean that?” he asked again, moving just a little closer to you. But enough for you to feel the desire from his body. You had to tilt your head backward to look at him and suddenly got lost in the beauty of his face. It was the first time you were seeing him like that, and you could be sure that your subconscious would be looking forward to putting this beautiful face in each one of your dreams.

No words left your lips, at first. So you simply nodded. “Say it.” Hotch whispered, bringing his face closer again. You could taste the luxurious wine he drank that night and the sweet dessert you both ate in his breath. And for a second, the single thing on your mind was how good it must taste on his lips too.

“I do,” you finally replied, looking up at his eyes. But his were down on your lips this time.

And after whispering a “good” that you almost missed, his lips finally tasted yours. In the softest and sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. There was something in the way Hotch felt almost vulnerable against you, like he didn’t know how to act. Yet, the experience was speaking too from the way he put you against the wall, how one of his hands ended up in your hair to grab them just with the right strength: enough to keep still and not hurting you. You were right; that man knew what he wanted and how to get it.

You let one of your hands run through his chest. You grabbed his loosened-up tie to gain a little height. Now that you got it, you wanted more of him.

But the reality hit you at the same time.

Or more exactly, when you heard little steps on the hallway coming to you.

Hotch was fast at stopping the kiss and putting a good distance between the two of you. Yet, he kept his hand on your waist longer. Long enough that when Jack finally appeared, you still felt the touch of his fingers on your skin. 

“Daddy, you’re home.” Jack said in a sleepy voice, lazily walking to Hotch to hug him. You always loved how Hotch’s whole world seemed to light up every time his son was around. The love he had for him was undeniable.

“Let’s go back to sleep, buddy.” Hotch said, taking Jack in his arms to carry him back to his room. You watched as the little boy put his little hand on Hotch’s back, probably with no strength at all but just with the need to feel his dad with him. Every movement between the two of them seemed so natural.

But before leaving the living room, and probably reading your mind somehow, Hotch turned back to you and whispered, “Wait for me, please,” with a tone that clearly indicated it was both an order and a pleading.

So you did. But instead of sitting back on the couch, like he probably expected you to, you took the empty plates and did the dishes. Something you were used to, you did that only a few hours ago. You needed to keep your mind occupied while he wasn’t here; otherwise, you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t run away. 

You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn’t hear Hotch coming back. You just felt his chest against your back when he approached. Thrills grew on your arms when he put his hands on the counter, surrounding you. When you turned your head to look at him, you noticed he had let go of his tie and had opened up the first button of his shirt. 

“I can call you a taxi,” he whispered in your ear. You lost it at the contact of his lips with your skin. So much that you didn’t understand straight away what he said.

You then turned around to face him. “You kissed me, and now you’re sending me away? You have a weird way to deal with women,” you replied, frowning. You discovered a new expression on his face. A sweet and mostly flirty smile. One that had reached immediately to the top 3 of your favorite looks on him. “I might take back what I said earlier,” you added, yet still placing your hand on his chest. It wasn’t your fault; it was calling you.

“I just don’t want you to regret what happened tonight and feel pressured to stay here if you don’t want to.” Hotch felt like a high school boy who wanted to hide his girlfriend in his bedroom. And if he listened to his heart, he would. It was hard looking at you now that he knew this wasn’t all in his head and fantasy.

When he brought a hand to your face to put a strand of hair behind your ear, you cuddled against it. And feeling his thumb brushing your cheek softly was worth it. “You mean I have to go home knowing I can have this now?” 

“I mean, you can stay the following nights to…have this.” He laughed, from the way you both worded it but also from the falsely menacing look you were giving him. You were making it harder for him to let you go. 

This explained why you stayed longer like this, in the middle of the kitchen. Just talking and flirting until the driver was here. And you both lived through every minute like there was no tomorrow.

“Promise me you will tell me if you regret it.” Hotch said one last time when he opened the door for you. He had to be sure you got in the car safely. He also allowed him to have the option to keep you with him until the last second.

You replied with a kiss on his lips and a “I won’t,” said happily. 

When he woke up the next morning, Hotch noticed he had a text from you. For a second, he got scared something happened after you went home. He was ready to jump out of bed. But when he opened it, he ended up giggling. 

“I still don’t regret it.” you wrote.

It has been months, probably years, since he felt this lighthearted at the idea of texting a woman. But you weren’t any woman. You were you. Probably one of the few people to know him well, except from the team. So maybe it was meant to be. “I don’t regret it either,” he replied back. And when he saw the heart you left on the text and the bubble indicating you were writing, he added a new goal to his life: spending more time with you. And who knows, maybe considering that life and love still had some surprises to offer him.

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (I)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt

Note: Part 2 is hereeee! This was so fun to write

(You) About Diluc

The name rings a bell… Oh, is he that one bartender at Angel’s Share with red hair? He owns it?! Hah, no wonder my friends keep dragging me along when he’s behind the bar—they’re setting me up with him! Very intimidating gaze, though. He doesn’t seem like much of a talker. Wait, don’t tell him about what my friends are planning—or what I said about him being intimidating!

(Diluc) About you

I have seen them a couple of times at Angel’s Share, but I never pay much heed. A customer is a customer; they make friends if they want. Besides, they always come with their friends, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t talk to them properly. Would I like them as a partner? Hm… You know where my duties lie. I’m afraid I would be too busy for relationships. Also, some rivaling company or the abyss could bring them harm, so it’s best if I keep a distance.

(You) About Diluc: The first approach

I just ran into him, actually! He was on his way to the tavern, and I was placing down some boxes for Flora. Finally got the courage to greet him, too. … ‘Master Diluc’? No, I just greeted him by his last name. Oh shoot—was I supposed to address him as Master?!

(Diluc) About you: The first approach

It felt refreshing to hear someone address me as something other than ‘Master Diluc’. Their approach gave me the impression that they’re very friendly. It’s not everyday you get to meet someone whose enthusiasm is that contagious. I found myself smiling the whole afternoon.

(You) About Diluc: Idle chitchat

Last night, I had a drink at the tavern—without my friends—and coincidentally, Diluc was manning the bar! Yeah, we had some idle chitchat here and there, but he didn’t really talk much about himself. He’s a stoic man. In an oddly charming way, not gonna lie. Eh… it might just be me, though.

(Diluc) About You: Idle chitchat

They came to Angel’s Share last night alone. I don’t usually strike up conversations, but they seemed approachable. Something about their energy made the atmosphere lighter. I answered a few of their questions, though I kept it brief. I didn’t mean to come across as distant—it’s just habit. Still, it was pleasant. Oddly pleasant.

(You) About Diluc: A little closer

I ran into him again while helping Flora, and this time, he actually stayed for a chat. Well, ‘chat’ may be a bit of a stretch—he’s still reserved, but he asked how the flowers were selling. I tried asking him about the tavern, but his answers were so short! You’d think he was guarding state secrets. But, like… I could tell he was trying, you know? For someone as closed-off as him, it counts as an effort. I’m kinda intrigued to see where this could go.

(Diluc) About you: A little closer

I encountered them near the flower shop again. They seem to have a knack for brightening the mood, even in simple conversations. I caught myself lingering longer than usual—something about them makes the world feel so… uncomplicated. I wonder when I might see them again.

(You) About Diluc: Getting to know

So get this—I was reading a book on one of the benches near the flower shop, and he actually approached me this time! He mentioned that the book I was reading was one of his favorites, and we got to more chatting. For ten minutes—TEN! That might just be a personal record for him. We talked about more books we liked, then our hobbies and interests… I think I made him laugh at some point. Erm—more of a… smirk, actually. But hey, when it comes to a guy like Diluc, I’ll take what counts.

(Diluc) About you: Getting to know

I saw them reading a favorite book of mine recently. We talked for a while—longer than I anticipated, but it felt worth it. We got to know each other a bit, and I caught myself speaking more to them than I do around others. They smile a lot, don’t they? It’s so contagious, I couldn’t help but let one slip. I don’t think they noticed, though.

(You) About Diluc: An invitation

Hahaha! I invited him to Good Hunter with me for lunch! It’s not like I was planning to eat with him, just a casual suggestion. He was leaving the tavern, I happened to pass by, and it just slipped out. I thought for sure he would decline, but… he said yes. Okay, I know it really doesn’t sound like a big deal, but this is Diluc. He’s the type of person who doesn’t go out with people that much. We did have a good time, though. I found out we share similar values and perspectives on Mondstadt and stuff like that. For once, he looked more relaxed… I think he needed that. And honestly? So did I.

(Diluc) About you: An invitation

Yes, I almost declined, as I normally would. My duties often leave little room for anything else, and I’m not one to easily let my guard down. But… there was something in their voice, something that made me reconsider. I agreed, though I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. Sharing a meal, in a place so simple, with no distractions… It felt beautifully unfamiliar, and for once, I didn’t have to think about my responsibilities. I’m glad I went. Would I go again? If the opportunity comes.

—

[syluslnd]

Hi! I love your writing

Could i request Sylus finding out the reader is pregnant?

sylus finding out that you’re pregnant

You’d been keeping it to yourself for days, maybe longer than you should have. You wanted the timing to be perfect but every time you tried to bring it up, the words got caught in your throat. How would he react? He was always so guarded, so in control—it was hard to predict.

But today, as you sat at the kitchen table, trying to decide on the perfect way to tell him, Sylus’s voice cut through the silence.

“Care to explain this, sweetie?”

Your stomach twisted as you looked up and found him standing by the trash can, holding up the unmistakable pregnancy test with a raised eyebrow. His gaze was sharp but his expression…was softer than you expected. Almost vulnerable.

You shifted, biting your lip and managing a nervous smile. “Well…that’s exactly what it looks like.”

He took a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the test just slightly. “So, it’s true?” His voice was soft but with an undercurrent of tension. “You’re…you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, watching his face carefully, searching for his reaction. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted it to be the right moment and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

He let out a quiet, breathless chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “Kitten, you seriously thought I wouldn’t want to know something like this?” His voice was low and he looked at you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush.

You shrugged, a little shy but holding his gaze. “You can be hard to read sometimes, Sylus. I didn’t know how you’d feel about…us having a kid. The world you’re in…everything…”

He nodded slowly, still processing, his gaze shifting to your stomach as if imagining what it would be like in the months to come. “Yeah, it scares me, not gonna lie.” His voice was rough, almost shaky, and it made your heart ache a little to see him so uncharacteristically unsure. “I’ve spent so much time focused on keeping myself safe, keeping you safe and now a kid? That’s…it’s a lot. But—”

He stopped, taking your hands in his, his grip a little tighter than usual. He let out a slow breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But the thought of you being the mother of my child? That’s something I never thought I’d get, something I didn’t think I deserved.” His voice softened, his hand lifting to gently brush your cheek. “You’re gonna be the best damn mom.”

A laugh bubbled up from you, nervous and warm and you squeezed his hand, trying to ground both of you. “I’m glad you think so,cause I’m kind of nervous myself. But…if it’s with you, I know we’ll figure it out.”

His smirk widened, a touch of that familiar intensity back in his gaze. “Well, you better be ready, kitten. This kid’s gonna have a bit of a wild life with us as parents.” He paused, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a rare, unguarded sincerity. “But we’ll make it work and I’ll be here every step of the way, protecting both of you, no matter what.”

You grinned, feeling your heart swell as you pulled him into a tight hug, feeling his arms wrap around you protectively. It was the start of something new, something neither of you were fully prepared for—but with Sylus by your side, you felt ready for anything.

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Withered 🥀

roman x black!oc

warnings: angst

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is short i wrote a few days ago. been sitting on it and debating if it’s even worth posting… but, my goal this summer is to put my writing insecurities aside, and push myself…so, here we are lol.

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“It’s always going to be her…isn’t it?”

Roman remained silent as his fingers slowly unclenched the doorknob. His gaze redirected back to his wife who now had tears forming in her eyes.

“Amara….”

“It doesn’t matter how many times I apologize…or try to fix things…” He watched as her fingers trembled while she nervously fiddled with her wedding ring, her voice was low and strained. 

He lowered his head as he ran his hand down his beard, “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth….that you want her not me,” her soft voice broke as she began to wipe tears from her eyes. 

The truth was something he had been refusing to admit or acknowledge for a while now. He wasn’t just lying to his wife…he was lying to himself.

If he was being completely honest, there wasn’t a fucking day that went by where he didn’t think of her. He missed waking up and looking into those beautiful hazel eyes that bore into his soul, or feeling her curls on his chest as he ran his fingers across her soft skin.

She was the only person who managed to make him smile when his life went to shit. The night he told her his last goodbye in an attempt to save his marriage, was easily one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Months have passed since he’d last seen her, and every day he wonders if she thinks of him as much as he does of her. His chest grows heavy at the thought of her finding someone and moving on, though deep down he knows it’s what she deserves. He wants her to be happy. Yet, a selfish part of him, wants to be the only man to give her that.

He memorized the saltiness of her tears as he kissed her for the last time. He lost count at the amount of sinful nights they spent entangled with one another, never forgetting the way she held him close as he fucked her like no one else but them existed. From the moment Mia whispered her name in his ear, he was enamored with her. What started as a distraction and resentment towards his wife, turned into something completely different. 

Something that would change him forever.

Amara studied him in disbelief, her bottom lip trembled as her tears increased, his silence said more than words ever could. Yet, that wasn't enough, she needed to hear the words leave his mouth, “Roman, answer me. Just fucking say it!”

She watched as he sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze focused on the ground as his jaw clenched the way it usually does when he’s stressed or pissed. Something that once turned her on, now made her sick to her stomach. 

Her anger and frustration grew to the point where she began to march in front of him, forcing him to look at her, “You’re really going to let that whore get in between us?”

At that his attention was fully on her, irritation quickly forming on his face, “Don’t do that shit.”

“Don’t do w—”

“You don’t get to make her the villain, our relationship was fucked before I met her. You did that Amara, not her.”

She knelt in front of him placing her shaky hand over his, “You said you’d give me a chance, that—that you’d give us a chance—”

“Amara, all we do is fucking fight. It’s clear that you don’t trust me, and that I don’t trust you...”

“I—I can’t lose you…I love you.”

He chuckled humorlessly, “Then where the hell was that love when you decided to fuck my cousin, huh?’’

Her eyes instantly shut, “Roman, if I could take it back, I would.”

“But, you can’t can you?” He jerked his hand away, “He was like a brother to me… do you know how that fucking feels?”

Amara sat on the floor pulling her knees towards her chest, her tears and sobs no longer held back, “I can’t turn back time and undo what I did, I—I don’t know what else to do… just tell me, tell me and I’ll do it.”

Seeing his wife cry, hurt him. But, sleeping with one of the closest people to him, someone who he truly believed would be by his side till the day he died, was something he finally realized was unforgivable. 

The situation between them was to the point of no return. What they had was toxic and unhealthy. A part of him will always have love for her, and it’s for that exact reason he needed to do what was best for them. 

He needed to leave, and this time for good. 

Roman reached out a hand towards her helping her to get back on her feet. She looked up at him slightly confused. He used his thumbs to wipe her mascara stained tears. Her eyes locked on his as he used his fingers to gently hold up her chin.

“I tried to forgive you, Amara, I really did. But, I can’t…just the thought of you and him, hurts me in the worst fucking way imaginable…” 

She held him tightly as she began to sob into him, Roman’s hand held the back of her head as he pulled her closer, “That doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you too. I shouldn’t have gotten revenge, you didn’t deserve that either. I don’t think the love I have or had for you will ever just disappear, but we can—”

“Then why can’t you fight for us?” Amara let go of him, slowly pulling away to look him in his eyes, “Don’t tell me that…that you love her?”

His eyes closed, “It’s not that simple…”

“Leave.”

“What?”

She reached for the nearest lamp quickly throwing it in his direction, missing him by literal inches, “Get the fuck away from me!”

The damage between their marriage was irreversible, there was no point in arguing anymore. He didn’t say a word and turned to walk away, her sharp voice cut through the room, “When you walk out that door…there’s no turning back. We’re done.”

Roman paused before slowly walking back towards her, he carefully placed his wedding ring on the nightstand next to her, “Our marriage died a long time ago. I was just too fucking blind to see it…”

[16wolke11]

Notice Me - Lando Norris

A/N I just wanted to write something short and fluffy...Maybe one part of this was unsuccesful :D

WORDS: 2578

_____

Working with the Formula 1 team of McLaren wasn't my dream, but somehow, I still ended up working in their team after graduation. Slowly making my way up from simple duties, nothing with much responsibility, until I reached one of the upper levels of the PR team. Starting to work around the drivers, brainstorm for videos and content with the rest of the team and it feels like I am finally settled into the group.

Even though McLaren is paying me generously, I still like to take my bike to the headquarters. Only needing a fifteen-minute ride through some fields is as quick as driving a car. And usually that it is no problem, but right now it is pouring outside. I sigh at the thought of being drenched after seconds and that my clothes are probably going to be muddy after driving over the dirt road. Just when I want to step outside, someone calls my name.

When I turn around, I see Lando approaching. He and Oscar were at the headquarters today to film some stuff, spend time in the simulator and I am sure the bosses even squeezed a meeting into their time schedule. I like Lando, he is always friendly to the team, even though he does express when he isn't really interested in filming videos. But he knows we just do our job and in the end, he and Oscar usually still have fun in the end.

"Let me drive you home, it's on my route home anyways," Lando speaks up, gesturing outside and I look at him confused. My apartment being on his way home isn't exactly true, at least that's what I thought.

"I thought your house is on the other side of the city. Like...the opposite direction." I ask Lando with a hesitating voice, thinking I might have got something wrong in my memory, but he just laughs softly.

"Got me there." He admits, before adding, "Still, I don't want you to cycle through the rain." I bite on the inside of my cheek. This is a nice offer, but I can't take it. There is no way I am going to allow Lando to drive me home, taking a longer route to finally get home as well. He is spending so much time away from home and I don't want to stop him from doing it as soon as possible.

"But I need my bike to get here tomorrow." I quickly say, which is the truth, because currently I don't have a car and even though I could be walking or take the bus, I don't want to get up earlier, just because the bus leaves at such an impractical time. "And I need to shower anyway." I then add with a shrug of my shoulders. There is nothing better than taking a warm shower after being drenched in the rain. Lando looks at me for a moment, testing like he is trying to figure out if I just lied to him, before he shakes his head.

"Get in my car. I am going to pick you up tomorrow." Lando tells me and I can't let him do that.

"Lan..." I try to speak up, but he just cuts me off.

"Not discussing that." I look at him, debating with myself, but decide that I am not in the mood to discuss this with him.

"Fine." I huff and let Lando lead me to his car, which is luckily parked on the covered part of the parking lot. He puts on the heater during the drive, and I sigh to myself, maybe it isn't too bad being driven home instead of cycling through the rain, being miserable.

"Thank you." I mutter to Lando, who just smiles proudly of himself for getting what he wants.

The weeks go by, and the season starts again, but I stay working at the headquarters. Not long enough in the team to be in for a race weekend yet, or more, not on the rotation list yet. McLaren tries to give the team a balance between being away from home and being able to stay with their families and as much as I appreciate it, I still would like to experience a weekend at the track, preferable sooner rather than later. Being occupied by racing again, Lando and Oscar aren't as often at the headquarters as before, but still come by from time to time.

"You are in early." I notice when I step into the room where we film the teammate videos and Lando is already spread out on the couch. Usually, he stumbles into the room last second, looking like he would fall right back asleep if we let him.

"I can be on time." Lando huffs, sitting up, before he stretches his arms and adds, "If I want to."

I laugh at his words and start to prepare the room for filming. Open the windows for some fresh air, get the scripts for the video. All that was followed by Lando's eyes. At one point, I frown and look at him, no longer accepting being stared at.

"Everything okay?" I ask him and Lando flinches like he is deep down in his mind. Then he reaches for his backpack, pulling out a bag from a bakery. I lean my head to the side when Lando holds out the bag to me and I hesitantly grab it.

"I got you these." Lando mutters, eyes now looking everywhere but at me and I open the bag to look inside. There it is, my favourite pastry in all its glory. The cinnamon smell immediately flooded around me and I looked at Lando in awe.

"You got me franzbrötchen?" I ask him, eyes wandering back to the pastry which I love so dearly, but just don't manage to get in England. Craving them from time to time, but not talented enough to bake them myself.

"You said you liked these, so I brought them for you." Lando shrugs his shoulders like it is no big deal, but I know how difficult it is to get these. And yes, I tried so many bakeries that I lost count of them.

"Where did you get those? I am searching for a bakery selling them forever." My voice is excited like a child on its birthday, and I really hope it is not one of those high-end bakeries that are way too expensive. Well, I might even pay the price if that means I get to eat my favourite pastries again from time to time.

"That's my secret." Lando grins mischievously and adds, "But if you are nice to me, I will bring them more often."

There is a soft smile on my lips, and I can't do anything to be happy about this gift. "Thank you, Lan."

Finally, my first race weekend has come and even though it might be stressful, I still can't get the smile off my lips anymore. Right now, I am on my way to get Oscar and Lando for a bit of filming, but stop in my tracks when I hear them talking. Knowing it is not nice to overhear them, but can't stop myself from doing so.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Oscar. It is like she doesn't even notice me." Lando groans and I tilt my head to the side. I have never heard him be so desperate and I wonder who the girl he is talking about is. Ignoring the soft ache inside of me, I keep listening to them talking.

"Maybe you just need to tell her and not only show her." Oscar suggests and I think that's good advice. Sometimes words are better than actions, even though sweet actions are still a great way of showing feelings. It sometimes just needs a little bit more. "And embarrass myself because she doesn't like me, no thanks." Lando huffs and my heart clenches at his tone. Looks like he is really in love with someone.

"Did you ever think about the possibility that she might also be like you, but isn't sure if you are just nice to her." My heart beats quicker, part of being scared of getting seen listening to the boys and part because it gets me thinking. Lando does do some nice things for me, but that could mean nothing. Or?

"I am not letting a baker specifically make someone's favourite snack or drive them home in the rain, so they don't get sick." Lando's voice is so low now that I need a minute to realise what he said. Getting the favourite snack, especially made for someone...that sounds like the time he got me my favourite pastries and the thing with the rain? Slowly, more pieces click into place, and I step around the corner, deciding I've listened to enough of their conversation.

Oscar spots me first, eyes widening just slightly, but Lando has his face buried in his hands and doesn't notice. I take a deep breath, trying to act like nothing happened, but every time I look at Lando, my heart stumbles again.

"Boys, are you ready for the filming?" I speak up, startling Lando to look upwards. His eyes glimmer with frustration, but I feel like I have to act like I don't notice anything is wrong. Like, I just stepped around the corner and didn't hear him confessing his crush on me.

"Sure." Oscar is the one to answer and then we just go on with our day.

It only takes for Sunday to come until Lando snaps. I wanted to give him time, give myself time to think about everything and doubt all of it. Did he really mean me? Of course he did. Do I want to make the first step? Hard pass. Would it be better to give him signs that I like him as well? Totally. Still, I don't dare to say something, not before the race anyway.

Right now, I am chatting with one of Lando's mechanics. I am amazed by what they are doing every weekend. How they manage to tweak the car exactly like the boys like it and it kind of makes my work feel small. Like it isn't important. He tries to explain me stuff, but when I look at him, more than confused, we both just burst into laughter.

Just then, fingers curl around my wrist and with a harsh pull, I am forced to walk. "Lando, what?" I ask him, almost stumbling behind him while he pulls me away under the confused looks of the mechanics. Lando doesn't look at me, just keeps pulling me behind him until he reaches an empty door, slamming the door close behind us.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask him, trying to lower my voice, but the anger and confusion are bubbling inside of me. Rubbing my fingers over my wrist, trying to ease the soft ache, while Lando just paces up and down.

"What is wrong with me?" He asks like I am imagining things, before huffing, "What is wrong with you!?" I blink at him once, twice, not even knowing what I did wrong from his point of view.

"I just chatted with one of your mechanics, you were the one pulling me away like a madman." I explain my side of the situation and finally, Lando stops the pacing, but he doesn't look at me, eyes planted firmly on the ground.

"You were laughing with him." He mutters and I need a second to understand what he just said, before arching an eyebrow.

"And I am no longer allowed to have fun?" I ask him, leading to him ruffling his curls.

"Fuck, you are...I am just." He tries to explain, stumbling over his own words, before he starts pacing up and down again.

"Lan, what is wrong." I ask him, trying to keep my voice soft. When he doesn't react, I am the one grabbing him by the wrist and finally, he stops in his tracks, before whispering.

"I just want you to see me."

"I don't understand." I manage to choke out, not able to connect the dots, but then Lanno starts to ramble.

"And I just try to figure you out." He just starts and before he even really starts, the fog in my head is clearing up.

"You always have different songs stuck in your head and hum them without even noticing." Lando tells me and I blush a little, hating that I forget the people around me when I have a specific song stuck in my head and just hum a mixture of melody and lyrics.

"You make everyone around you feel wanted." He continues and I know Lando likes to observe his surroundings, but didn't know he thinks that about me.

"You scrunch your nose a little when you think about something." There is a soft smile on his lips, and I can't stop myself from offering him one back.

"And your favourite colour is blue! Not a bright one, but one like the ocean on a stormy day." Lando lets his voice trail off and my heart flutters. This isn't something everyone knows about me, but Lando listens, no matter how dumb or unnecessary the fact might be.

"Lan..." I whisper, trying to tell him about my feelings, but the words get stuck in my throat.

"Fuck, I fell in love with you months ago and tried to show you because I am not good with words, but if I have to stay away from you for any longer, I am going to explode." Before Lando starts his pacing again, I grab his second wrist, holding him in front of me.

"Can I kiss you?" I blurt out with a shaking voice, not knowing how to form the right words to confess my feelings for him. So why not show?

"What?" Lando asks back, eyes wide, flicking between my lips and eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask him, slowly, while looking at his face.

Lando doesn't even answer, doesn't nod his head, instead just leans down and lets his lips crash down on mine. Like he is afraid the moment is going to vanish if he hesitates.

It might not be perfect, a little too desperate, a little too messy, but kind of perfect for us. His hand holding up my chin, my fingers getting tangled in his hair, while my other hand rests right over Lando's heart. I try to stand on my tiptoes to get more out of his touch and he sighs softly against my lips. When we finally break apart, it is just for gasping for air. Mind not ready to be parted, but our lungs are craving for air.

"You have no idea how long I wanted to do that." Lando sighs, forehead resting against mine and his arms wrap around my waist to keep me close to his chest.

"I can imagine when I think of the time when all of your attention started." I smile at him and a laugh rumbles in his chest. Thinking back, I can figure out when his liking for me started and I don't know how I didn't notice earlier.

"I am sorry for not noticing earlier." I apologise to Lando, who just tightens his grip around me, whispering an "No need for apologising" and then presses his lips on mine to kiss me over and over again.

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[bunni-v1]

Past and Future (Happy Birthday Lighter)

🍓Finished this shit at 4:30am, if y'all don't enjoy this I will kill myself. Anyway had fun writing this, it's more of me fucking around and finding out with Lighter's character, but I think it's fluffy and cute so... enjoy lol

TW: Mentions of Death; Suicidal ideation

Info: Lighter x GN!Reader; Angst to Fluff (?) Kinda?; hurt and comfort (i think??)

Word Count: 2k

December 27th. Two days after Christmas, five days before New Year's. Oddly placed on the calendar, awkwardly smooshed between two major holidays in New Eirdu. To most, it was insignificant, just another day. To Lighter it was something he dreaded each year. Between the holiday cheer and the buzz of excitement for the new year, it was nothing more than a looming cloud dampening his mood.

December 27th, Lighter Lorenz’s birthday, one of the worst days of his life.

He didn’t hate birthdays, they were nice when they were for other people. He had to admit he enjoyed getting gifts for others and seeing their eyes light up when they opened it, and the light atmosphere when everyone sang a horrendously off-key rendition of the birthday song was hard to hate. They were celebrations of the life of that person, a hurrah to cheer them into another long year until the next came around. He just hated his own.

Gifts and cake and warm fuzzy sweet nothings acted only as reminders that he was alive. He was alive, and everyone else who deserved to be wasn’t. Another marker of another year since he lost everything. He wanted to pretend it wasn’t there, maybe sleep until the 28th or run away for a while, but the girls wouldn’t let him.

They’d managed to weasel his birthday out of him about a year into his being here, and they made a point to celebrate it each year. Nothing big, they knew he wasn’t one for huge crowds outside of his fights, but still a party where they showered him with gifts and congratulations that he did not deserve. He didn’t have it in him to tell them to stop.

So, year after year he grinned and bared it with as much grace as someone as fucked up as he could. It wasn’t hard to be grateful for all they did for him, but it was always hard to smile and accept it like he deserved it. The nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy, not when his stupidity cost the lives of good people – wonderful people, who he loved.

He usually only lasted until Burnice got out the nitro fuel, then he would quietly slip away from his own party to be alone. The quiet was easier on his mind than the distractions of colorful confetti and sweet cake made just to his taste. He liked to sit in the pain, to recede into that cocoon of hurt, as if to apologize to his friends by torturing himself. 

This year was no different, of course. Just as Burnice handed out the nitro fuel, he quietly slunk into the shadows, smiling to himself as the rest of the Sons of Calydon remained celebrating in his steed. He walked his way to his bike, sighing in the cool night air. The breeze on his skin was the only comfort from the hell in his mind.

He let the air out, hand tucking into his pocket to pull out the little thing of candy he carried around on him. The little lemon drops fall into his palm with ease, and he tosses them back with practiced ease. He rarely felt like smoking anymore, but his birthday was always a struggle. The heightened emotions made him want to take the easy route out, to fall back on his old ways and make stupid mistakes in hopes it would make him feel better. Instead of giving in, though, he sucked on those candies like a saving grace. It was the least he could do for his old friends.

As he stopped in front of his bike, he shoved the candies back into his pocket. Taking a second to himself in the quiet of the night. It was almost over, just a few more hours, and the pain would lessen back down to an ache again. A little longer and he wouldn’t have to worry about constant reminders of being alive, and he wouldn’t have to save face for everyone else’s sake.

“Lighter?” A quiet, soft, almost worried voice from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes softening when he saw it was you. You’d been quiet about his birthday all month, not bothering him with any reminders. You knew, intrinsically, how much he hated it. You always knew everything about him, it was an infuriating quirk of yours that he would never want to go away. 

“Hey, dollface,” his voice just as quiet as he raised his arm for you to duck under, “got tired of the party?”

You press yourself into his side, enjoying the warmth of your personal heater, “I saw you leave and I wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Me stupid? Never. Just needed some air.”

“Is this getting some air just for you, or could you use some company?” You offer, giving him the reins.

He liked the alone time, he wanted to wallow in self-pity more than anything in the world. His head reminded him that he deserved to be alone on a night like this. Yet, your eyes flutter a little at him, and your lashes brush away those awful thoughts like nothing. 

“I’ve always got room for you,” he hums, giving you one last squeeze before helping you on the bike.

The drive is peaceful, the breeze cooling his hot skin like an apology from the world for all he’d been put through. He doesn’t think he deserves it, but he wouldn’t deny the feeling either. Your arms wrapped firmly around his middle, head pressed against his shoulder only calmed him further. It grounded him back in the present, reminding him that the past had long passed and that he still had things to live for.

The Sons of Calydon, who took him in and cared for him despite how distant he was at the start. The Proxies, who took special care to stop by earlier and give him a gift, congratulated him for being so strong and thanked him for his constant help when they needed it. The other former members of his mercenary group who, despite how much he wanted to deny it, held no ill will to him and wished him the best for the future.

And, of course, you curled against his back. You trusted him with your life, and he would easily lay his down for you – not that you’d let him if you had any say. You kept reminding him every single day that he was someone worth loving, that he was more than his past, and that he was the one who could define what his future looked like. It was hard not to picture it without you there, not with how attached he’d become to your little displays of love for him.

Displays like this, following him out of his party to make sure he wouldn’t do anything to hurt himself more than he was already hurting. He smiles warmly back at you as he eases his bike to a stop at his favorite quiet spot. You smile back pressing a kiss to his shoulder before moving to get off the bike.

You intertwined your fingers with his like it was second nature as you walked to the fence at the cliff's edge. From here you could see the endless desert, and the edge of the hollow, the moon peaking over it in an almost beautiful display. He helps you sit on the fence, placing a protective hand around your waist to keep you from falling forward.

Your hand presses his head into your shoulder, scratching at his scalp with such care it nearly makes his knees buckle. Another reminder of what he has that he couldn’t afford to lose. No one has known him the way you know him, no one has ever had the effect you have on him. It was almost enough to make all the horror of his past dissipate in his mind, but a small part of him still clung to it. Unwilling to allow himself to fully forget.

“You okay?” You ask, interrupting the quiet bubble that had formed around you.

He nods, “Thinking.”

“About…?” You urge with a raise of a brow, unbearably cute in his mind's eye.

He smiles, genuine for the first time that night, “About how much I love you.”

You shake your head at him, but you don’t argue with him about how he’s lying, or try and force him to tell you everything. You don’t need to. You always trust that he’ll tell you when he’s ready. It’s another thing about you that he couldn’t risk losing.

You let the quiet fall over you again, leaning into his chest with a content hum. He allows himself to indulge in your affections for now, preferring having you here in his arms than staring aimlessly at the skyline by himself. It was easier to swallow the ache in his throat with you to soften the harshness of the feeling, regardless of whether you knew you did it or not. 

He wonders, hopelessly, what his old friends would think of you. They would like you, he was sure of that. You had a personality that would let you fit right in with their eclectic group. The idea of you smiling side by side with them warms his chest, his heart aching as it fades away. A dream he’d never get to see.

He’s not aware that he’s crying, he’s not sure how long he has been crying, all he knows is that you turn to him and cradle his face in your hands. They wipe at his tears without needing to be asked, another quiet reassurance that you cared for him regardless of what was going on in his head.

Lighter sniffles pathetically as his eyes lock with your worried ones. You seem to know what's wrong without him needing to say it, which he likely wouldn’t be able to do if you weren’t able to deduce it on your own. You frown at him, bringing him down to kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry it’s so hard,” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him.

He pulls you in tightly, desperate for the skinship you offered up, “It never gets easier. Everything is a reminder.”

“I know, that’s okay,” you press a kiss to the side of his face, “I don’t think you need to forget it, Lighter. I think you need to learn how to live with it.”

He closes his eyes, the hollow where they’re buried fading from sight as if looking at it would blind him now. He holds you even closer, letting your words sink in. Learning to live with it, sounded much easier than it probably was. Maybe you were right though, he’d done so much wallowing and running, maybe it was time he found a way to live with the pain.

“Mistake, failure, accident… it doesn’t matter what you call it,” you continue, pulling him back to look him in the eyes, “It’ll always hurt, but that hurt is a reminder of how human you are. You don’t want to lose that. Remember it, feel it, and they’ll never really leave you.”

You swallow, taking him in with those pretty eyes of yours. It’s not perfect, but it’s what he needed to hear tonight. He presses you into a kiss, soft and light and nervous. He was afraid you’d disappear if he was too rough. You melt into it, indulging him like he hoped you would. This was the only way he knew how to show you his appreciation, words would never be enough to display how deeply he cared for you.

When he pulled away you were breathless, face flushed from lack of oxygen, and indescribably beautiful. He smiled subconsciously at you, and you returned the look with all the love and admiration in the world.

“Happy Birthday Lighter,” You say soft as the wind still tussling your hair, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” He repeats back, and he feels the ache in his chest lessen every second he spends looking at you. You taught him a lot since he met you. A lot about himself, a lot about those around him, a lot about you. Most importantly, tonight you taught him that despite his past, he made a future for himself that he should be more determined to remember to protect.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Your Call part 3

Lewis Hamilton X You / slow burn / 4K

part 1 / part 2 / part 4

Summary You were the bright intern at Mercedes when you first met Lewis Hamilton, where a shared spark grew alongside rising trust. But just as things started to shift, life pulled you away from F1 and Lewis. Years later, Lewis ran into you again on the paddock, both of you in complete different colours. Old flames reignite on the opposite sides of the competition, and the story picks up where it never truly ended.

Warnings Mentioning of ill family member A/N Bit longer than the usuals. A lottt of conversation in this one, and I personally love writing these conversations! Hope you enjoy it!! BTW I really appreciated the comments! keep them coming, it really motivates me a lot!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The glow of telemetry screens flickered across the glass walls, casting lines of green and red across your face. You sat hunched over the desk, still in uniform, still wired in, but the race had been over for hours.

The rest of the team had left, but you couldn’t. Not yet. The numbers gave you something to hold onto. Something that didn’t shift beneath your feet.

You rubbed your temple with the back of your wrist, eyes glassy but dry. Grief didn’t always look like crying. Sometimes it looked like… silence.

The door clicked quietly open behind you.

You didn’t turn. You were too tired to mask anything.

“Didn’t think you were still here,” Lewis’s voice said, low.

You looked up just slightly, your voice flat. 

“These numbers…” “Don’t sleep.” He finished your phrase, one of your first conversations in Mercedes.

He stepped inside slowly, not in his usual commanding way. This was something gentler. Uncertain. He slowly sat down beside you, slightly turning the chair toward you.

“I… talked to Lando.”

You stiffened, eyes still on the screen. “Let me guess, he told you I’m not a monster.”

Lewis winced, but didn’t take the bait. “He told me you’re under pressure. That what happened out there wasn’t entirely your call.”

You let out a dry breath, almost a laugh. “Not entirely my call, no. But entirely my fault when it goes wrong.”

Silence again. You didn’t look at him, but you felt him watching you.

“You know, after I left Mercedes, I thought I’d be more sure of myself,” you said suddenly. “Like, after everything… I thought coming back would feel like closure.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“But it's just hard. And they ask for more and more, ‘make the bold call,’ ‘be decisive,’ ‘be the expert.’ And when it works, it’s their win. When it doesn’t…”

Lewis’s voice cut in quietly. “It’s your name on the report.”

You finally looked up at him.

“They like to doubt, and it’s tough when there’s no one to back you up.”

Lewis watched you, brows furrowed, he remebered how it was like when you were an intern.

“Lando said you’re taking a while off, he said it seems serious.” He hesitated.

“And Lando needs to start keeping his mouth shut.”

Lewis didn’t move, just sat there with you under the dim light room. The monitors cast a soft blue glow over your face, which you kept turned toward the data, though your eyes weren’t really reading anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly. “But if you need to talk about it… I’m here.”

You shook your head once, sharp. “It’s nothing. Just… burnout, I guess.”

Lewis didn’t buy it, you could tell. You weren’t sure why you even tried.

“We both know you’re not like that, you loved the work and the challenge we’re having around here, or you wouldn’t have come back.”

That made you scoff. “You don’t know what kind of person I am anymore.”

He didn’t flinch. “Maybe not everything. But I know you cared. I know you still do. If you want to just gain big cash, you’ve got other places more comfortable and easier ways to it.”

Something in your chest ached, sharp and old and buried under four years of pretending you were made of steel.

You exhaled slowly, tired. “It’s been four years.”

Lewis’s head tilted, just slightly. He patiently waited for you to continue.

You paused. The words stuck in your throat, hot and unspoken. Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk. You weren’t going to cry. Not in front of him. 

“You're right. I didn’t leave Mercedes because of the job,” you said, voice barely a whisper. 

“My dad was sick. He… he got worse just after the internship ended.”

Lewis’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted, softer somehow, like he was trying to take the weight of your words onto himself.

“I didn’t know,” he said gently.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Your voice cracked on the last word. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, but the gesture was hollow. “Because I thought if I said it out loud, it would be real. And if I stayed, I’d fail at both, this job and being there for him.”

A long silence followed. You finally looked at him.

“I missed over half a year of life just sitting in a hospital room, pretending every hour mattered more than the last. And then he was just gone... The memorial is next week.”

Lewis didn’t speak right away. He leaned gently against the desk beside you, not too close, just there.

“That’s why you' took're taking the time off, and why you briefly left before the internship ended,” he said.

You nodded, eyes fixed on a distant point, somewhere past the screen.

“Mom’s still emotionally not well. He was a big pillar in the family. I got interested in all this thanks to him. I know he'd be proud. Like this is the thing that connected us so much.” Your voice trembled a bit, remembering all the times you watched races with him, and he was thrilled that you were working at Mercedes with THE Lewis Hamilton. 

“I didn’t even know how to pick myself up, I did a bit of data analysis here and there. Nothing clicked right. Ended up throwing myself back into this. I thought if I worked hard enough and things ran fast enough, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You know, he actually liked you a lot. The times that he asked me to send him a picture of you.” You slightly smiled at the thought of it.

“Should‘ve just asked me I would’ve love to say hi, seemed like an amazing father.”

“He was.” another silence, more at ease that now the truth was revealed.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly after a while.

“What for?”

“I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye. Especially to you. But I didn’t know how to explain it then. It was a lot emotionally, and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t handle the goodbye. I wasn’t ready to lose anything.”

“I wish you had,” he said. “But… I get it now.”

His voice had none of the judgment you’d been bracing for. Just something warm. Heavy with understanding. 

Lewis looked down, thumb tapping against his leg like he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t yet find the shape of it.

“I said something today I shouldn’t have,” he finally admitted. “I thought you’d changed.”

“I have,” you said. “Just not the way you think.”

He nodded. Quiet again.

“You look tired,” he said after a long pause.

You let out a short laugh. “That’s generous.” 

A few beats passed.

“I know we’re not in the same team anymore, but if you ever need… someone to talk to. Or not talk to. Just… sit and exist next to, you know where to find me, the red is probably pretty hard to miss.”

You didn’t say thank you. You just nodded, eyes a little glassier now. That was enough.

As Lewis stood up quietly to leave, he paused at the door, then turned back.

“I still remember the girl who stood her ground and corrected Darren in front of the whole team,” he said with a small smile. “She was right back then, too.”

Then he left you to your glowing screens and your quiet thoughts, but the air didn’t feel quite so suffocating anymore.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The McLaren garage buzzed as always, tools clicking, tires stacked in columns, engineers calling out updates. But when you stepped in, it was like the noise dimmed just slightly.

You arrived directly in Singapore after your day off to spend time with your family for your father’s funeral anniversary. It has been a while, but it was still mentally hard for your mom. You really took the time to make sure she was okay. You still monitored and analysed the sim data almost in real time back home, just weren’t at the HQ physically.

Lando spotted you first. “Hey. There she is.”

You offered him a small smile. “Glad to be back.”

“We survived. Barely. But we did.” he said

You gave him a mock salute. “Noted.”

You made your way to your workstation, setting your bag down. A few glances came your way, friendly but cautious. People weren’t sure how much to ask, and that was fine by you.

Your fingers brushed against your bag’s side pocket, where a folded note still sat, one you’d found tucked into a bouquet of white and pale orange roses that arrived at your hotel room three days ago.

“Thinking of him. And of you.” No name. Just the flowers and the message.

But you knew. You knew it was him. You hadn’t said anything. But the quiet gesture stayed with you like a warm hand on your back.

Then you heard the voice, low, familiar, grounding.

“Morning.”

You turned. Lewis stood just outside the garage entry, red Ferrari jacket unzipped, hands in his blue jeans pockets. His gaze met yours, steady.

“Morning,” you replied, voice quieter than intended.

A pause.

“You good?” he asked.

You nodded. “Getting there.”

You lifted the piece of note with two fingers, showing him, and whispered to him a “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiled warmly, like nothing had changed, like it was normal again. But the way his eyes lingered just half a second longer before he left? That said everything you needed to know.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The next morning, you were hunched over telemetry again, reviewing tire data with your headset on when Lando appeared at your side with a paper cup in his hand and a suspiciously smug expression.

He plopped it on your desk. “Delivery for the overachiever.”

You glanced at it. Your exact coffee order, strong, barely sweet, a bit sharp on the finish. Written in black marker on the cup:

Strong, not sweet. Like your calls, apparently.

Your heart skipped, just briefly.

Lando leaned in. “Don’t act surprised. I saw him hovering earlier. He thinks no one notices.”

You tried to hide your smile, failing miserably. “There’s no proof it’s him.”

“Sure,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t drive cars for a living.”

You lifted the cup, warming your hands around it. “Thanks for delivering.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m just the messenger. But hey, if a random bottle of wine shows up next race, I’m still not drinking it.”

You laughed, tension easing for the first time in days.

And later, as you passed Lewis near the media pen, you didn’t say a word. Just let your eyes meet his, and lift the cup slightly as you pass.

A flicker of a smile played on his lips. Still no words. But maybe none were needed.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The sun had dipped low behind the hills, casting long shadows over the paddock. The podium ceremony was over, the noise now fading, just a few camera crews packing up, scattered media wrapping interviews, fans starting to thin out.

You hadn’t planned to stay late, but your feet didn’t take you back to the garage. Not yet. You wandered a little too far along the edge of the hospitality area, needing the space, the silence. The chaos of race day always came with a strange comedown, and Singapore’s silence was almost haunting.

You heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Lewis.

Hair damp from the champagne, Ferrari red zipped halfway up, a medal still looped loosely around his neck. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside you by the low barrier, overlooking the harbour lights.

“Hell of a race,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.” A pause. 

He turned his body slightly toward you. “That coffee yesterday... I wasn’t sure you’d accept it.”

“I didn’t. Lando did.” You smiled faintly. “Then I did.”

He chuckled. “Figured.”

You let the quiet sit again, then finally asked, “I... also got the flowers.”

His jaw tensed just slightly, but he nodded. “Didn’t want to make it harder. Just... like I said, I want to let you know that I’m here.”

You swallowed. “He would be really glad.”

“Guess we would have got along. I hated that I was upset about you leaving without saying anything this whole time.”

“I thought I needed to be alone for that.”

He nodded, slowly. “But you didn’t have to be alone.”

You blinked, the emotion hitting sharper than expected.

“Now you don’t have to be alone” he said softly. 

You nodded, lips pressed tight.

He looked at you like he had more to say. Maybe a dozen things. But all he said was, “I’m glad you’re here again, even though you are not really in the colour I would’ve preferred.”

You looked up at him, you smiled a bit. “So am I.”

And in that suspended moment, with engines quiet, Singapore circuit still in the buzz of the city, it felt like five years of distance had just taken one step closer to closing.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

Lando’s car rolled into the pit box smooth as ever, and you didn’t miss the half-second glance he shot toward the screen showing live feed of the Ferrari garage.

You barely looked up from your tablet. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything... yet,” Lando said, tugging off one glove with dramatic innocence. “But since we’re all not going to talk about it. Lewis went purple in sector one, and I swear I heard you grind your teeth.”

You gave him a flat look. “It’s called stress. You should try it sometime.”

He chuckled, swinging his legs off the side of the car. “Stress or unresolved romantic tension with your former... driver… whatever he was? Because that feels more likely.”

You arched a brow. “You want to give the strategy debrief today?”

“God, no,” he said. “But I do want you to admit that this little engineering chess match between you two is weirdly hot.”

You made a point of checking his tire temps instead of responding.

Then, you both heard Lewis’s radio hit the public feed.

"That McLaren call’s just a reaction. Let 'em chase."

Lando blinked. “Wow. Bold. Did he really just…” he looked at you, mouth twitching. “Okay, now he’s definitely trying to get under your skin.”

“He’s trying to win quali.”

“You say that like they’re different things.”

You muttered something under your breath and passed the tablet off to another engineer.

Lando had disappeared into the garage, leaving you at the pit wall, arms folded tight across your chest. You weren’t even pretending to look at data anymore.

Across the paddock, Lewis was doing interviews. The camera caught him in profile, calm, smooth, composed. You could practically hear the exact tone he’d use. Measured. Sharp when needed. Charismatic without trying. He was good at this. Always had been. On and off the track.

You turned away before your thoughts could wander somewhere they shouldn’t. Again. But you didn’t get far.

“Didn’t think I’d see you sulking trackside.”

You turned sharply at the voice. Lewis. Again. Out of the shadows of the McLaren hospitality canopy, like the universe was daring you to keep pretending.

You let out a breath. “I’m not sulking.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? You looked a little... dented after that radio call.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did you come all the way over here to gloat?”

“No,” he said, too easily. “Maybe.”

You turned your body toward him slightly. “You really want to play games right now?”

His voice softened. “No. Not really.”

Silence pulsed again, not awkward, but tight. Like something coiled between you both, asking to be addressed and avoided all at once.

He stepped in just slightly, the crowd noise fading behind him. “I wasn’t trying to rattle you. Not really.”

“You did anyway.”

“I know.”

You looked at him then, fully. “Why are you doing this, Lewis?”

He hesitated, and in that crack of silence, the mask dropped just a little.

“Because it’s the only way I know how to keep you in front of me.”

That shut you up.

He exhaled, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what we’re doing. But if pretending I’m just another car on track keeps me near whatever we were... I’ll keep pretending.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting a place you thought you’d locked up tight five years ago. A beat.

You blinked slowly, grounding yourself before you slipped too far into him. “You didn’t have to try that hard, Lewis. I was already looking.”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but just then, your comms crackled to life again. Duty calling.

You stepped back. He didn’t stop you. But his voice followed just as you turned.

“When this season is over…” he said, low, “don’t leave just yet.”

You didn’t turn around.

You just let the corner of your mouth lift. “I wasn’t planning to.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The bar was crowded, the kind of post-race energy that vibrated through glass and steel. McLaren engineers were already a few drinks in. Lando was somewhere near the dartboard, pretending he could play, and someone had put on a terrible remix.

You stayed at the edge of it all, sipping something cold and fizzy, still in your team colours. The noise buzzed behind your eyes, but you weren’t really in it. Not when you knew who else might be nearby.

And then, you felt it. That awareness. Like gravity shifted. You turned and there he was. Lewis. Red still clinging to him in the collar of his Ferrari team polo, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

No one else noticed the moment stretch. But it did. He made his way over eventually, slow, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here,” he said casually, voice smooth but low. “Figured you’d vanish before midnight.”

You gave him a look. “And miss Lando trying to dance horribly like that again? Not a chance.”

He huffed a laugh, eyes softening as he glanced past you to the chaos. “Looks like your team’s celebrating hard.”

You didn’t answer that directly. Just took another sip, then nodded toward the hallway. “Too loud in here, I can't hear anything. Come on.”

The lounge was quieter, dimmer lights, fewer people, just the gentle clink of glasses and low jazz hum beneath conversation. You slid into a booth tucked in the corner. He sat across from you, for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Lando’s protective of you,” he suddenly said, almost offhand.

You raised a brow. “He should be. I’m the reason he doesn’t pit himself into the wall.”

Lewis smirked, but there was something else in his eyes. “Still. He looks at me like I’m about to break something important.”

You looked down at your drink. “You might be.”

That made him pause. “You think I’m here to mess with you?”

You met his eyes now. Steady. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re here for, Lewis.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Maybe I don’t either. I just know that I’ve been waiting five years to be across from you again, and now that I am… I don’t really want to leave.”

The words hung there between you, electric and terrifying. You swallowed.

Before you could respond, the bartender passed, dropping off a drink you didn’t order. You looked up, confused.

“From the gentleman,” the bartender nodded toward Lewis.

You stared at the glass. He smiled, a little smug. “Didn't know if you would take it from me directly.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Still works on you, though.”

“Do you miss it?” After a pause, he asked.

You glanced at him. “What?”

“Being on the same side.”

You took a slow breath, eyes on the water just beyond the edge of the dock. “I miss not having to pretend I don’t care when you race.”

He turned to face you fully. The air changed.

“I miss knowing what you’re thinking,” he said.

You swallowed. “I think about it, you know. What would’ve happened if I didn’t leave. If I just… told you.”

He stepped closer. His voice dropped. “I think about what would’ve happened if you stayed.”

Your pulse kicked up. His hand brushed your arm, just once, but deliberate. You didn’t move away.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, low. “Still do.”

You smirked, breath catching. “You’re not exactly a peacekeeper yourself.”

And then he did it, reached up, fingers brushing your jaw, barely there but enough to make your heart slam. Your eyes met. You could feel it, the kiss, the pull, the almost.

Then your phone buzzed.

Lando : 'Pls tell me you’re not out there making out with a Ferrari driver. I feel like I’m too young for that trauma. Also if you're not back in 10 I’m drinking your champagne, and maybe telling the garage you smiled at Lewis. again.'

You let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. Lewis arched a brow.

“Lando?” he asked.

You tilted the screen so he could see. “Your biggest fan.”

He chuckled softly. “Reckon he’d be more supportive.”

“He is,” you murmured. “In his own unhinged way.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to keep doing this alone,” he said, quieter. “Whatever’s weighing on you.”

You met his eyes. That same pull, that gravity, five years hadn’t dulled it.

“I know,” you said, slightly nodding.

He didn’t push. Didn’t reach for you again.

And that was the hardest part.

“Come back in when you’re ready,” he murmured. “Or I’ll come get you.”

You watched him walk away, just far enough to not feel him, but not far enough to forget.

You slipped back through the crowd like muscle memory, trying not to look toward the red in the corner of the room.

You felt it anyway. That awareness. That pull.

Lando spotted you first, lifting his drink in triumph like he’d just won another race.

“Ah, the forbidden lover returns!”

You groaned. “Lando…”

“What? You were gone for twenty minutes and came back looking like you’ve seen God or got kissed by him. Did he kiss you?” He squinted dramatically like a high school girl waiting for the gossips. “No, don’t tell me. Let me suffer in suspense.”

You rolled your eyes but stole a sip from his glass anyway, fruity and way too strong.

“You’re lucky you’re winning lately,” you muttered.

“I’m always lucky,” he said smugly. “But tonight? That’s not my doing. That look in those eyes? That’s Italian regret, darling.”

Your head whipped around before you could stop it. Lewis was across the room, in conversation, but his eyes met yours instantly. And even in a sea of people, noise, and glittering celebration, you felt it.

That connection. Still taut. Still real.

“You know he’s been watching you all night, right?” Lando said casually, taking the glass back. “You’re not exactly subtle either. The whole garage’s been placing bets.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “Not real ones. Just pride-based. I’m losing though. I bet on you making the first move. Come on, don’t let me down.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed for a while before made your way toward the back of the room where the bar was quieter. The air was cooler. A few of the Red Bull engineers had claimed a table, but none of them stopped you. You needed a moment to breathe.

And then suddenly, he was beside you again. Lewis.

Not saying anything. Just handing you a glass.

“Didn’t think you’d come back in,” he said.

You took the glass. “Didn’t think you’d still be waiting.”

“Didn’t say I was waiting.” A beat. “But I was.”

This time, the pause between you didn’t stretch awkwardly. It held. Soft and electric.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

That surprised you. “You hate this music.”

He leaned in, voice low.

“I hate pretending I don’t want to be near you more.”

Your chest tightened.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said quietly.

“Then maybe it’s time we stopped thinking,” he murmured.

And this time, when your arms brushed, he didn’t pull back.

Neither did you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

[allaboutynn]

THE SPARK BETWEEN US

💐 synopsis — it was good being the maknae of aespa, they always treated you like their younger sister, well Except one member who definitely thinks of you more than that.

⚠️ warnings: Urm idk why I wrote this in first persons POV but never trying that again :/, 5th member reader, avoiding

💬 Rin: first actual attempt at writing something that’s fic related, yay(?) came up to the decision of making this blog my writing fics blogs and created another for reading and interactions!

☀︎︎☁︎︎ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ꆭ ᷎ ࣪ 🎀ᩖ ࣪ ۪ ̃ ✿

As I spent more time with the members of aespa, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. They were all so kind and welcoming, always making sure I felt included and comfortable. Karina would often give me advice on fashion and beauty, while Giselle would share stories about her love of food and cooking. Ningning would tease me playfully, but always made sure I knew she was just joking.

But there was one member who treated me differently. Winter would often find excuses to sit next to me, or to touch my arm while we were talking. She would look at me with a gaze that was almost... intense. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew that Winter saw me in a different light.

At first, I tried to brush it off as mere friendliness. But as time went on, I began to realize that Winter's feelings for me went far beyond friendship. She would make subtle comments, or find ways to be close to me, even when it wasn't necessary.

I have to admit, it was a little intimidating at first. But as I got to know Winter better, I realized that she was genuinely kind and caring. She would do anything to protect me, and make sure I was happy.

And as I looked into her eyes, I couldn't help but wonder... did I feel the same way?

As I pondered my feelings, Winter's gaze seemed to hold mine for a bit longer than usual. I felt a flutter in my chest, and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly looked away, trying to brush off the sensation.

But Winter's eyes seemed to follow me, and I could sense her gaze on me even when I wasn't looking. It was as if she was trying to will me to look back at her, to acknowledge the unspoken tension between us.

I tried to focus on the conversation around me, but my mind kept wandering back to Winter. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if we were more than just friends.

As the evening drew to a close, Winter walked me home, her arm brushing against mine. The touch sent shivers down my spine, and I felt my heart racing in my chest.

As we stood outside my door, Winter turned to me and smiled. "Thanks for tonight," she said, her voice low and husky. "I had a really great time."

I smiled back, feeling a sense of nervousness. "I had a great time too," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Winter's eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. But then she seemed to hesitate, and instead, she leaned in and whispered, "Goodnight."

As I watched her walk away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. But at the same time, I knew that Winter's feelings for me were real, and that she was willing to take things slow.

I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Winter and I could explore something more than friendship. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us.

The next day, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted between Winter and me. We had always been close, but the way she had looked at me the night before, the way she had whispered "goodnight" in my ear... it all felt so intimate, so personal.

As I went about my day, I found myself wondering what Winter was doing, whether she was thinking about me too. I felt a little silly, to be honest - I had never really considered Winter in a romantic way before, but now I couldn't seem to get her out of my head.

It wasn't until we met up for practice that afternoon that I saw Winter again. She smiled at me as I walked in, and I felt my heart skip a beat. We exchanged a few pleasantries, but I could sense a newfound tension between us, a sense of awareness that hadn't been there before.

As we began to practice, I found myself stealing glances at Winter, watching the way she moved with such precision and control. She was always so focused, so dedicated to her craft - and yet, when she caught my eye, I saw a flicker of something else there, something softer and more vulnerable.

I felt a pang of curiosity, and before I knew it, I was wondering what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her close and see where things might go. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I quickly looked away, trying to compose myself.

But as the practice drew to a close, Winter caught up to me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice low and teasing. "You seem a little distracted."

I felt my face heat up, and I looked away, trying to play it cool. "I'm just tired, that's all," I said, trying to brush it off.

But Winter just laughed, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I don't think that's it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think you're just avoiding me."

I felt my heart skip a beat, and I turned to her, my eyes locking onto hers. "Why would I be avoiding you?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Winter just smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think you know why," she said, her voice low and husky. And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me feeling stunned and confused.

As Winter walked away, I felt a pang of curiosity. What had she meant by that comment? Was she really suggesting that I was avoiding her, or was she just trying to get a rise out of me?

I decided to follow her, to see if I could get some answers. I caught up to her in the hallway, where she was waiting for the elevator.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual. "What did you mean back there?"

Winter turned to me, a sly smile spreading across her face. "I think you know exactly what I meant," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement.

I felt a flutter in my chest as I met her gaze. There was something in her eyes, something that made me feel like she could see right through me.

"I'm not sure I do," I said, trying to play it cool.

Winter laughed, a low, throaty sound. "Don't play dumb," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know you feel it too."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as she stepped closer to me. "Feel what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Winter's eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, her voice husky with emotion.

And with that, the elevator doors opened, and Winter stepped inside, leaving me standing there, feeling stunned and confused.

For the next few days, I made a conscious effort to avoid Winter. I would take the stairs instead of the elevator, just so I wouldn't run into her. I would sit in a different part of the cafeteria during meals, and I would arrive early to practice so I could warm up before she arrived.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see her - it was just that I needed some time to think. I needed to process my feelings, to figure out what was going on between us. And I couldn't do that with Winter around, being her usual charming and persuasive self.

But as the days went by, I started to feel a little guilty. I was avoiding Winter, and I knew she had noticed. I could sense her eyes on me during practice, could feel her watching me even when I wasn't looking.

And then, one day, Winter decided to confront me. We were at practice, and I was sitting on the sidelines, taking a break. Winter walked over to me, her eyes fixed intently on mine.

"Hey," she said, her voice low and serious. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation. I knew what was coming.

Winter sat down beside me, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've noticed you've been avoiding me," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "And I want to know why."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I know you've been avoiding me. And I want to know why."

I sighed, feeling a sense of resignation. I knew I couldn't avoid this conversation forever.

"Fine," I said, looking down at my feet. "I've been avoiding you because...because I don't know how to feel around you. Okay?"

Winter was silent for a moment, and I could sense her processing my words.

"Because of what I said the other day?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief. "Yeah. Because of that."

Winter nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. "I see," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Well, can I ask you something?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation.

"Do you feel the same way?" Winter asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I met her gaze. Did I feel the same way? I wasn't sure. But as I looked into Winter's eyes, I knew that I couldn't deny the spark that had ignited between us.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Winter's eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if searching for the truth. I felt a flutter in my chest, and my heart began to beat faster.

"I...I don't know," I stammered, trying to sound nonchalant despite the turmoil inside me.

Winter's expression didn't change, but I sensed a flicker of disappointment. "Okay," she said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I understand."

But I could tell she didn't understand. Not really. And I couldn't blame her. I was confused myself.

Winter stood up, her movements fluid and effortless. "I'll leave you alone for now," she said, her eyes still fixed on mine. "But can I ask you one more thing?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation.

"Will you at least think about it?" Winter asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Think about how you feel, and what you want?"

I nodded again, feeling a sense of resolve. "I'll think about it," I promised, my voice firm.

Winter smiled softly, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Good," she said, her voice gentle. "I'll be waiting."

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me feeling more confused and uncertain than ever. But also, somehow, more hopeful.

I watched Winter walk away, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I was glad that the conversation was over, but at the same time, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just made things more complicated.

As I sat there, trying to process my emotions, I couldn't help but think about Winter's words. "Will you at least think about it?" she had asked, her eyes pleading with me to consider my feelings.

And I had promised her that I would. But as I sat there, I realized that I had no idea where to start. I had never really thought about my feelings for Winter before. I had always just assumed that we were friends, and that was it.

But now, I wasn't so sure. Winter's confession had thrown everything off balance, and I was left feeling confused and uncertain.

I decided to take a walk, hoping that some fresh air would clear my head. As I strolled through the streets, I couldn't help but think about Winter. I thought about the way she smiled, the way she laughed, and the way she always knew how to make me feel better.

And as I walked, I started to realize that my feelings for Winter went far beyond friendship. I felt a flutter in my chest, and my heart began to beat faster. I couldn't believe it. I had feelings for Winter.

But what did it mean? And what was I supposed to do now? I felt like I was standing at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take. But as I looked up at the sky, I knew that I had to be honest with myself. I had to acknowledge my feelings, no matter how scary it seemed.

And with that, I made a decision. I would talk to Winter again, and I would tell her how I really felt. I was nervous, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

I took a deep breath and made my way to Winter's room, my heart racing with anticipation. I had been thinking about our previous conversation nonstop, and I knew I had to talk to her again.

As I knocked on the door, Winter answered with a curious expression. "Hey, what's up?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

I smiled, feeling a sense of nervous excitement. "I wanted to talk to you about what you said the other day," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

Winter's expression softened, and she nodded encouragingly. "I've been thinking about it a lot too," she said, her voice gentle.

I took another deep breath, feeling my heart pound in my chest. "I have to admit, I was surprised at first," I said, my eyes locking onto Winter's. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I feel the same way."

Winter's face lit up with a radiant smile, and she took a step closer to me. "Really?" she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

I nodded, feeling my heart soar. "Really," I replied, my voice firm.

Winter's eyes sparkled with joy, and she reached out to take my hand. "I'm so glad," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As our hands touched, I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body. It was like the whole world had come alive, and everything felt new and exciting. I smiled up at Winter, feeling my heart full of joy and anticipation.

As Winter's eyes sparkled with joy, I felt my heart skip a beat. We stood there for a moment, hands touching, and I knew that everything was going to be okay.

Winter smiled and leaned in close. "I'm so glad you feel the same way," she whispered, her breath tickling my ear.

I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. "Me too," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. And I couldn't wait to see what the future held for us.

✰𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐀

[nottriddlethis]

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Ravenclaw!reader

summary: Mattheo has always been annoying you. So since when did the things change?

warnings: smut, oral (male!receiving), dirty talk, language, 50/50 soft!Mattheo🤷🏻‍♀️, use of pronoun 'I'

author note: dedicated to all these tiktok creators, I love you with all my deepest💞🔥 Green - Mattheo, pink - you.

. ✦ 「 ✦ me ✦ 」 ✦

It always pissed me off how Mattheo Riddle could be so perfect without trying. No, the fact that he was related to a bloody villain who had practically built a new world on bones certainly cast a shadow on him, but he handled it masterfully. He was perfect at Quidditch: dexterous movements, strong back and arm muscles. (all these girls surely were delighted, and that made me even more irritable) And if only that! He had not only strong magic, but also a bloody sharp mind. I bet he would have been the best in grades if he had cared even a little bit about it. As a Ravenclaw, the squandering of such a gift infuriated me almost from our first meeting. And I probably would have let it slide over time, if he hadn't looked at me so condescendingly, so relaxed and so… his way. If he hadn't always inserted his idiotic phrases and smiled so annoyingly wide.

He's been around all the time, barbarically stealing my peace and thoughts.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Mattheo ✦ 」 ✦

Your name is the first thing that would come to my mind if I were asked about pleasure. The pleasure of seeing those brows drawn together in anger. The pleasure of making those lips purse in irritation. The pure pleasure squeezing my cock when you scream at me, your cheeks flushing and your chest heaving wildly. Up and down, up and down. Just like my hand, which would give me pleasure much later.

Because teasing you - is the sin I'm going to die with.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Potions project ✦ 」 ✦

"If you wink at that Gryffindor one more time, I'll brew you into an impotence potion," I whispered sharply, pressing the Potions book hard to the table. His arrogance is unbelievable.

Mattheo chuckled faintly and leaned back lazily in his chair. "Are you jealous, beauty?"

I swear, I've never rolled my eyes so hard before. "I'm annoyed. That's not the same thing."

Mattheo pretended to be deep in thought, tilting his head to the side.

"So, I annoy you?"

"Wow, how did you guess?"

I continued writing, not interested in the conversation anymore. Mattheo, of course, didn't let up. He lazily ran his fingers over the pages of the book. I glanced at how his arm muscles flexed at the motion. Big and strong. Big and strong? I slap myself out of these thoughts. Mattheo then leaned closer, as if he was about to say something really important.

"You know," - he lowered his voice a little, so that I felt the warmth of his breath on my fingers, and I even cocked up my ears, "I think you spend too much energy resisting my charm."

I looked at him from under my brows, my lips pursed involuntarily. “No, I'm just too smart to be seduced by you.”

Mattheo froze, looking at me, and then… smiled. Widely, slyly, with some strange, deep interest. I kept my gaze on him longer than usual because... I've seen him smile many times but now something hot spilled from my chest. The rest is required. Let’s finish this finally. I stood up, collecting the books and getting ready to put them back in their places.

“I know,” - he said quietly behind my back. “That's why I'm crazy about you.”

I felt the heat spread even more and blossomed in my cheeks. I was about to say something harsh, but for some reason… for some reason my lips trembled slightly in a smile. I walked further to the shelves to hide my confusion. Flawless bastard. I felt his self-confident grin behind me.

"Still," he yelled, leaning back in his chair, "Impotence potion won't break me, not after I've seen you."

The students turned to snicker at his shout, and I smacked him over the head with my Advanced Potions Course.

"Keep it up, Riddle, and I'll brew you something else."

"Like a love potion?"

"Oh, aren't you already in love with me?"

I rolled my eyes, but the lack of his usual humor gripped my heart in a vice.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Charms project ✦ 」 ✦

"Is it some kind of ancient curse bringing you to be my partner in every possible project?" you muttered, and as my own ritual, I was enjoying your narrowed eyes, the beautiful wrinkle on the bridge of your nose. Right up until the moment when you slammed your bag on the table and threw off your robe. Damn Merlin would have turned around in his grave. Pure Witch.

I overheard you mutter something like "barely made it after a shower" and deservedly praised the creator of muggle clothing. The blue top with wonderfully thin straps hugged your rounded breasts and outlined your waist. Do you think it's not enough for a rock hard cock? Think again.

You sat down at the table and the mounds of your breasts were almost next to my drool-filled mouth. Just an arm's length away. Bin-go.

"You know, you could work at Mungo's…", you looked up warily at my words, and I continued, "well, treat impotence, for example." "Mattheo…", here was a beautiful blush on your cheeks and liquid fury in your charming eyes. Pleasure when you always switch to my name when you are furious. I watched you leaned on the table and bent over. Breasts pressed against each other from the pressure. And my cock definitely felt it too. "So, judging by how much you mention this disease, it is something personal, right?"

"And will you help me?"

You demonstratively sat back and pulled out a parchment from your bag. This project will be just as long.

***

"… you still double-check my every word. So what's the point of writing?" I tore my gaze from your thin fingers clutching the quill and moved it to your eyes. Of course, stopping my gaze on the cleavage along the way. An absolute gorgeous.

"I just won't include your name in the work," you said seriously. And a smirk determined my next steps. One wave of my hand, and I leaned closer to inspect my work. Your quill, which had just been supposed to write down a list of counter-curses, wrote in my handwriting: Mattheo Riddle.

You frowned. Crossed out the name and tried again.

Mattheo Riddle.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you turned sharply to me. "You." How I missed your attention, beautiful.

"Me?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what" I leaned closer, looking at your scribbled sheet. "Oh, my. Apparently your body recognized me before your brain did."

And for about 10 minutes, you tried to disenchant the quill. With each unsuccessful - literally all - spell, the quill wagged its tip and its feathers slapped your cheek.

"If only you'd used half that power of yours to study…" you threw your hands up in indignation. I watched as your breasts jumped with the movement. How loudly would you scream if I bit them now? How deeply would you blush if I pulled that damn top down? How angry would you be if…

A sly smile spread across my face. I looked up, catching your movement. Just as your fingers closed around the quill, intending to break it, I jerked my hand, whispering a spell.

And I was ready to undo in my pants as soon as the tip of the quill rested against your round breasts. You froze, looking at it. It came letter after letter, and it felt like a measured jerking of my cock.

Mattheo Riddle.

Black on your breasts.

And the last thing I remember before I managed to run away from the rage in your eyes is your sweet open mouth, incredibly red cheeks and neck, and the most fucking hard nipples sticking out under the fabric of your top.

. ✦ 「 ✦ Astronomy project ✦ 」 ✦

I had washed off the ink long ago, but for the second week in a row, every time Mattheo Riddle looked at me, my chest burned and I felt every letter of his name. It burned in a way I would never admit, as behind the closed curtains of the bed, I ran my hand over my chest, shuddered, and went lower and lower. And only when I came silently on my hand - imagining his broad forearms, muscular back, and dirty whispers - did the burning calm down.

Tonight, the Astronomy project was separate for everyone and everyone finished closer to 1.30 am. We were sitting at low round tables with food, specially organized for late practices.

The damn feeling that Mattheo knew everything tickled me from the very beginning. He sat at the next table, constantly smiling at Blaise and completely ignoring me. Worse, his body was clinging to a single black T-shirt. And then, as if sensing my gaze, Mattheo stretched - invitingly, slowly - flexing his muscles, and exposing a strip of skin above his belt. For Merlin's sake! I turned away, but only to notice unpleasantly that I was not the only one who appreciated his actions. The girls were devouring him with their eyes. I pursed my lips. Don't you look at him. Just for a second I imagined if Matteo became tired of all these jokes for me, and one of these girls would capture his attention instead. Jealosy washed all of my feelings off.

I came to my senses when I was poked in the side and I heard Mattheo calling. He was looking at me attentively and holding a bowl in his hands. "What?" I whispered with my lips only and managed not to smile.

There were strawberries in the bowl. "Damn delicious. Just like you." Mattheo saluted me with the bowl and groped with his other hand on his desk. I felt the usual tension in my chest, my thighs moved together, my pussy clenched. But I didn't have time to answer him.

"And this is me," Mattheo raised his other hand and deliberately slowly poured thick white cream into the bowl. I watched without blinking as the viscous liquid dripped, came into contact with the pink strawberries, mixed and filled everything.

Gasps of surprise and confusion came from all around, and I could literally feel the girls staring at us.

So keep your eyes open then. I reached for the bowl and snatched it from Mattheo. I looked only at his eyes - blackened and insolent - and brought the bowl to my mouth and took a few sips. Pink drops ran down my chin from the edges of the wide bowl.

It was pure pleasure to watch his eyes open, devouring my movements. His mouth parted and a heavy breath escaped it. He couldn't help but understand my hint, as I did his. I would have given him 100 points for his clenched jaws, and all 1000 for the bulging veins on his tense hands.

Only one thought was troubling me at that moment - if only after the lesson there wouldn't be wet traces left on the fabric pouf under my panties.

. ✦ 「 ✦ - pre-quidditch? ✦ 」 ✦

The irritating tension of the final cup match almost reached the level of irritation at the lack of you. Malfoy doubled the training, Zabini scheduled free time to study strategy. Although the only strategy that worried me was 'how to finally get you'. Undoing three times in a row that night only because of the thick drops on your chin didn't seem enough. The cock throbbed to be inside your throat.

Two hours before the match the mood was furious. I last saw you at breakfast, talking to Nott about something. That's where the rage started. Well, that's pretty nice fuel for an important game, I decided, walking last to the team's locker room. The last thing I expected was to be suddenly pushed into a spare and dark room. The whisper of a locking spell reached for my ears. My cock recognized that whisper before I did and twitched. The whole world went off as I watched you go down on your knees. Am I already the winner?

. ✦ 「 ✦ - pre-quidditch. ✦ 」 ✦

I saw how Mattheo's eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly pulled him to the wall and sank to my knees before him. A light blush spread across his pale cheeks, highlighting his shock at my bold move. Perfect. Perfectly Mattheo Riddle in his tight quidditch uniform towered over me distracted and vulnerable. His breath hitched in his throat as my gaze met his, a flicker of desire mixed with confusion in his dark eyes.

"D..don't think I don't like it but now.., beauty?" he stammered, his usually confident demeanor cracking slightly. Despite his words, his hips twitched forward almost unconsciously, drawn to my proximity. I rolled my tongue over my gums in anticipation and studied him.

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, itching to reach out and touch but hesitant to some reason. The dim candlelight cast shadows across his toned chest and abs, visible through his partially unbuttoned team shirt. Merlin help me, he is so flawless. Puppy eyes for such an arrogant nature.

His eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up to meet my gaze. The air between us was charged with a new kind of tension, a mix of flirtation and vulnerability. I licked my lips slowly and almost approach them to his pants' zipper. Mattheo let out a heavy breath, his hands clenched into fists. I ghost the zipper outline with my lips, feeling his groin was already rock hard. I licked it with a tip of my tongue. All along.

His primal groan sent shivers down my spine right into the already soaking pussy. His hands flew up to grab me but..

"Touch me and I'll stop, Riddle"

"No, you bloody witch..." Mattheo pleaded but obeyed. His hands fell to his sides, and he closed his eyes to seek some control.

A pleasant choked moan escaped his swollen lips as I boldly undid his pants in few swift motions, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. Sweet, so fucking sweet finally. It sprang up, already leaking precum from the purplish head. He shuddered, seemed to fight the urge to guide my head down.

"Fuck, please, beauty... if you keep this up, you're going to be the death of me," he panted, his voice strained with desperation. His hips twitched with the need to thrust into hot mouth.

As my hand wrapped around his thick shaft and stroked him, Mattheo couldn't help but let out a loud, wanton moan. His cock pulsed and jumped in my grip, the veins along the underside throbbing with his racing heartbeat. Despite his desperate moaning his words still raw and seducing, "Ohhh fuck... ur fuckin little fingers feels s' good...but bet your little pink pussy is tight even for them."

My pussy clenched in responce, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. "So think about how your cock will be tightly squeezed inside", i teased him.

His only answer was my groaned name.

That's when I reached forward and took him fully into my mouth at once. Mattheo threw his head back and let out a desperate, whining sound that echoed through the empty room. His cock hit the back of my throat, and he had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from rocking into this heat.

"Shit, ur mouth...'s every lustful thought I had," he panted, his hips rocking slightly as he tried to restrain himself. I loved how his moans are mixed with bold words, "Suck me just like that, you naughty little minx... Fuck, I want to touch you so badly, to grab your hair and fuck your pretty face until you choke on my cock... but I'll be good, I promise, don't stop beauty.."

I enjoyed. Enjoyed as...

Mattheo was practically sobbing with need, his voice a desperate wreck as he fought to obey my rule. "Please, I've been waitin so long for you girl.." The sounds of his moans and whimpers bounced off the walls, a lewd symphony in the dim light. He was utterly at my mercy, consumed by lust and craving my touch. So good, Merlin, so good. What took me so long to fall for him? So noisy, so desperate, so pleading.

So, I sucked him off so boldly and fast, taking him all for myself. Enjoying every inch of his arousal, touching his pelvis with my nose. Damn Mattheo Riddle was finally getting what he was crazy about. And it made me even more wet between my legs. I tortured him even more, gulping him fully far down. Then licking only his swollen head. Repeated that. Repeated. Mattheo's eyes rolled back in bliss as I focused my attention on the sensitive head, swirling my tongue around it and lapping up his leaking precum. The teasing was driving him absolutely mad with lust. "yes, beauty, 'es... just for once 'm gonna be a good one.."

Then I finally whispered those two magical words - "Touch me" - and Mattheo didn't hesitate. His hands flew to my hair, gripping it roughly as he finally allowed himself to thrust widely into my eager mouth. He set a fast, almost punishing pace, his heavy balls slapping against my chin with each pump of his hips.

"Hell yeah, fucking witch.. my little hussy," Mattheo growled, his voice ragged and desperate. He pulled my head up, forcing his cock deeper as he chased his rapidly approaching orgasm.

"'m gonna fuck ur mouth 'til you can't breathe, 'til all you can taste 's my cum. Drink it all down like the greedy hussy you are." And then his hands were more rough in my hair, his hips thrusting more wide.

I was suffocating. But it was nothing because I had not eaten anything since yesterday evening, I could now take him without any particular obstacles. I plot it enjoyably. The gag reflex perfectly bypassed his cock. The small room filled with the obscene sounds of his flesh slapping against mine, mixed with his guttural moans. Wild, desperate, whining my Mattheo. A few more furious thrusts later, Mattheo let out a long, low groan that seemed to come from the depths of his being. His cock pulsed and throbbed violently before he slammed deep into my throat and came abundantly. Sticky, warm, lovely seed flowed down my throat while he trembled and cursed non-stop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, ma beautiful chippy...fuckin long s' fuckin long 've been waitin for you" His voice, his body were shaking after orgasm, mouth spitting out unconscious links of words.

As the last spurts dribbled out, Mattheo collapsed down to the floor, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His grip on my hair loosened "Ohhhh fuck... only dreamt abou..." he stopped mid-word because I kissed him fiercely, licking and marking his lips. I was so horny, so needy for his touch but he had to win this match, so I pulled away and stood up.

His eyes watched as a thin, shiny thread of my juices hung from under my skirt to my knee. And he, still sitting on the floor, reached up and licked it off my knee with his hot tongue. The shiver of subsequent events after the match made me bite my lip.

"The winner will take all." His voice was low and confident. I knew - he would do both:

Win this match right now.

And take me then.

[uprightpillar]

Be still my indelible friend

Summary: You tease Andrew in the studio. He makes you pay for it.

Rating: Mature, 18+

Tags: dom andy, cockwarming, sub reader, penetration, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 1362

Author's Note: God this one took so long to finish. Betaed by @comehereoohlala and @man-i-love-fanfiction thank you I love you both

Requests are open if you're so inclined!

AO3 link / fic under the cut

You quite often spend time with Andrew in the studio. You aren't always paying attention to him, usually writing an essay or poem or highlighting another book to read for your thesis. But your presence is usually palpable, to him. Sometimes he curses the producers who feed suggestions to him when all he wants to do is open the door and grab you so that he can kiss you senseless.

On late nights, you often prove to be quite the distraction. Even if you, yourself, are absorbed in underlining sentences in articles, he is fixated on your presence, your fingers wrapped around your pen, how you worry the lid with your teeth as you read.

Most of the time, you really are just trying to work and keep him company as you do so. Tonight, though, seems to be an exception. You're wearing an outfit that shows more skin than usual, something he's now utterly convinced was intentional. He's noticed your tongue sneaking out of your mouth and wrapping itself around the pen, your fingers, whatever is nearby, in a manner that is positively sinful and certainly not a gesture of focus.

You're absentmindedly scanning the article, not really taking much in as you continue to lick and suck your finger. You jump when you feel his strong hands grip your hips and his body bracket yours. He leans down to whisper softly in your ear.

"Did you really think you could get away with teasing me like that and not get some kind of reaction?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" He pauses, dipping his hands beneath your underwear before bringing them back up to show you the clear sign of your arousal dripping down his fingers. "Then why are you so fucking wet, love?" The way he licks your slick off his fingers almost has you coming undone right then and there.

"I- I- don't know."

"Hmm, I think you do. I think you know exactly what you've been doing to me." He pushes his fingers back into you again, drawing a sharp cry from you. His fingers move slowly, deliberately, reaching parts of you that only he can.

"Okay, okay m-maybe I was teasing you just a little bit."

"Just what I thought. Well, I think you need to be taught a lesson, don't you?" A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he gently brushes your clit with his thumb, his fingers not stopping their movements,

"Y-yes, Andy."

"I really do need to finish this bit before we can head home."

"Fuck, Andy, please"

"I think, maybe it's my turn to do some teasing, hmm?" He grabs your hand and leads you back to the booth, settling himself down in a chair. You look down at him in confusion, still clinging onto his hand.

"Strip, love." His voice is clear and commanding, and if you weren't already soaked, you're sure there would be a puddle at your feet at the words.

You remove your clothes slowly, a little nervous, but his clear look of lust and adoration banishes the anxiety as fast as it came. When your body is on full display for him, he runs his hands over you, unable to get enough of you. His hands stop momentarily to pinch at your nipples and you gasp in pleasure. When his hands finally still, he looks up at you and pulls you down for a sweet, gentle kiss. You can't help but nibble on his lip as you lean into him. He keeps kissing you for a moment longer before pulling his lips from yours.

"Now, I need to finish this, so you're going to sit on my lap and not move until I tell you to. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes."

"And as much as I usually like to hear all those pretty noises coming from you, you're going to have to be quiet for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Andrew."

"Good."

He pulls you close to him and you prepare to straddle him, but he holds you back. It isn't until he frees his cock from its confines that you realise precisely what he has in mind. You swallow hard, knowing how hard you're going to find it to keep quiet with his length inside you. He moves his hands to your hips and indicates that you should get yourself into position. You're barely able to stop the hiss that threatens to escape your mouth as you sink down onto him.

"You look so pretty sitting on me like this, love."

You blush at the praise and hold on to him for dear life as he picks up his guitar and begins to play around you.

You clench around him almost involuntarily as he begins to sing, and he gives you a sharp look. You're on thin ice and you know it. Lord knows he's not above teasing you and keeping you denied if you don't follow his instructions. This might just be one of the hottest things that's ever happened to you.

About 5 minutes later, you're leaking down onto his jeans, rough against you and you can hear the cocky energy in his voice as he sings the sweet melody. You're almost dizzy with the need to move, to kiss him, to do something.

As he softly sings the words "I'm in love, I'm in love with you" your heart stutters, and you can feel yourself let out a small gasp of surprise, muffled into his shoulder. He tilts his head down to look at you and shoot you a warning look, but you can feel him tense his biceps in the closest approximation to a hug he can give you in this position.

As he continues singing oh-so-gently, his body is at odds with the sounds emerging from his mouth. He's tensing his thighs beneath you and rolling his hips slightly and you find yourself biting down on his shoulder to stop yourself from crying out. The effort of keeping still and quiet has rendered you hyper-sensitive, so that the smallest movement could have you losing control. He is absolutely going to have words to say about those bite marks later, so you press a few gentle kisses to his t-shirt by way of apology. He doesn't skip a beat, instead tensing both his cock and his biceps in tandem, telling you he loves you, but that this little game is nowhere near over yet.

He rolls his hips with such force you have to stifle a squeak as he has the nerve to softly croon at you to be still. You swear you can hear a smirk in his voice as he sings about how unbreakable you are, though quaking, the bastard. Your body is shaking above his, muscles straining from the exertion to keep perfectly still. You want so badly to be good for him, to earn your release, but you don't know how much longer you can manage, at least not while keeping quiet.

As he sings the final chorus, he renews the movement of his hips and you bite down so hard you think you might draw blood. You're barely holding back a whimper, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he fucks into you, his voice not betraying a hint of strain. His control is unbelievable and does nothing to tamp down the arousal engulfing you. As you try to keep yourself in check, he whispers a soft "That's it" in your ear, still recording. He turns off the recording just before you lose yourself in the sensation and moan right in his ear.

He puts down his guitar and kisses you hungrily, as if he was the one being denied pleasure. When you moan on top of him and your hands find their way beneath his shirt, he pulls back, pure need in his eyes. He licks his lips and you can see him fight to get his lust under control before lifting you off him as if you weigh nothing.

"Get dressed baby, we need to head home so I can hear you make all those pretty noises you've been holding in."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if this is weird to say and I don't mean to sound like a hater or anything, but is it just me or does it feel like the creator/s of twst don't care anymore??? Like, I can't exactly pinpoint when I started feeling this way but I really feel it nowadays... It just feels like everything's for cash and not love for the characters or story if that makes sense? Or maybe I'm just crazy??

I don't think this is "hating" on Twst at all to express your dissatisfaction with it; it's important to be able to critique what you love--it shows that you care about your interests and want Twst to be better. It only becomes "hate" when you cause harm and/or refuse to hear other opinions on the topic.

Twst definitely feels different than it was at launch, but I don't necessarily think it's because the devs "don't care anymore" and that everything they do is "for cash and not love for the characters or story". What is posed in the ask is based on the assumption that the devs love the characters and story to begin with which... may not be true. (Yana may like Disney and be excited to work on Twst, but we can't assume the same of everyone.) We have to remember that, to the Twst devs, this is work and they are under constant pressure to put out new content (which is the nature of live service games). 5+ years of working on the same project under that kind of environment could also cause feelings to shift. Sure, maybe individual devs are still very attached to their work or passionate about what they do, but the goal or their product (like other gacha games) has always been profit first and foremost, not to share a love for the characters or story.

I feel I must remind everyone: the devs/creatives do NOT get final say in what happens with Twst. The devs just make art and write for the game. It's the higher ups in corporate giving approval on what content gets put out, what collabs Twst gets into, the direction of the project, etc. Let's not blame the devs for "losing love" for what they do when it is most likely NOT them making the decisions. If Twst feels like it's more focused on making money than expanding on the story or characters, then that's NOT a fault of the devs.

Now, what do I mean when I say that Twst "feels different" than it was at launch?? Simple: Twst is no longer JUST a game, it now feels like a full-on franchise, something a company actively promotes to get more eyes on their product (and therefore more money in their wallets). Think about it. We have so many more merch releases and irl events (pop-up shops, collab cafes, livestreams, exhibitions, con panels, even the 3D live concert in fall 2025). There's the manga, light novel, and, very soon, the anime adaptations. The EN server now exists in North America, Singapore, and Australia.

Along with that, there's been a shift in in-game content. We're getting staff cards and even overblot cards, which have long since been desired since Twst's early days (meaning a lot of players would happily spend or save to get them). We're getting Halloween characters and birthday cards (ie more things to roll for). New banners consistently come out (usually with groovies locked or timegated), which induces FOMO and encourages people to roll now rather than later. However, despite getting new cards more frequently than we did before, we are getting fewer vignettes and instead get furniture, which many (myself included) believe is not a suitable replacement. Voice lines by themselves are also not adequate, as they hardly tell a story even when stitched altogether. We are, quite literally, getting LESS story and NO gems (each vignette you read, you get 5 gems back) for rolling some of the shiny new SSRs. For example, the Clubwears, hometown rerun SSRs, AND book 7 SSRs have no vignettes. In some cases, event Rs like GloMasq Riddle and Ruggie, have no vignettes either.

Another thing that may contribute to Twst feeling different is how... daring they've gotten with flaunting the "Disney"-ness of it all. Disney characters only used to be vaguely alluded to in stories or as figures in a time long since passed. They felt almost mythical, even Mickey (who was the only Disney character we could actually "meet"). But now there are so many overt references to it and cross-promotional campaigns. For example, we had not one, not two, but THREE Tsumsted Wonderland events, each with multiple SSRs you could roll for. Then there's the Lost in the Book events where we literally meet multiple Disney characters straight from the films. And how about the entire Platinum Jacket line, which exists as a part of Disney's centennial? The in-game promotional campaigns and relevant event reruns to promote live-action remake releases? It gives the sense of Disney corporate using nostalgia to promote sales and emotional attachment.

So long story short: yes, Twst has changed, but I'd argue that's natural and to be expected of a game that's been running for years. (The quality of writing also naturally fluctuates with a live service game, so I'm not going to count that as a point for Twst "changing" or now feeling different.) With the success it has achieved, it must be giving the higher-ups more money and confidence to "branch out" and increase the revenue via other streams. This means more merch, more events, more adaptations, more banners--but it also unfortunately means fewer vignettes, more peddling of other Disney IPs, and seemingly never getting a break from Twst. It's very much a double-edged sword, and everyone's going to feel a little differently about it.

[mya-valentine]

if you can write this may I request, (Cyno, Wanderer, Lyney/Diluc (you can pick which one, not sure You write these characters and I don't know your character limit)

That has a s/o who always wore hoodie baggy clothing, when their love deepen, s/o finally took off her hoodie, only to reveal that she has a HUGE BREAST. Like cup G. I wonder what's their reaction when she finally show off her curve infront of them, It's no wonder they always wore a hoodie because they have such a beautiful body like a model.

This is mostly crack request, and can be suggestive if you want lol

Headcannon: Cyno, Wanderer, Lyney, and Diluc With a S/O That Has Large Breasts

A/N: Now this, I think I can do😁 I actually have large breasts myself and have self image issues at times because of it, so this was rather nice to write. Also, there isn't a limit, but please be nice😅 I did all four btw, hope you enjoy

Cyno

Cyno is always perceptive, but the sight of you without your signature hoodie would still leave him speechless for a moment. He's used to seeing you in your usual baggy clothes, which is part of your charm to him. So, when you finally reveal your curves and your full figure, he would blink, trying to process the change. His eyes would widen slightly as he takes in your model-like physique, realizing just how much you'd hidden beneath those oversized hoodies.

Cyno isn’t one to overly react outwardly, but you’d catch the subtle changes—his gaze lingering longer than usual and the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “You’re full of surprises,” he’d say with a playful tone, appreciating not just your appearance but the trust you’ve shown by revealing this side of yourself.

He’d make sure you know that, to him, you’ve always been beautiful—whether in baggy clothes or without them—but now that he’s seen your full figure, he might tease you lightly. “No wonder you’re always in that hoodie. Were you hiding all of this from me on purpose?”

Though his teasing would be gentle, he’d still maintain that air of protectiveness and admiration, ensuring you know his feelings haven’t changed—they’ve only deepened.

Wanderer

Wanderer, with his typically aloof demeanor, would likely be taken off guard when you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie. He’s accustomed to seeing you in your comfortable, baggy clothing, which he finds endearing, but the moment you take it off, he would find it hard to maintain his usual composure.

His eyes would widen, and for a brief second, he might just stare, trying to process the change. The sight of your curves—especially if they’re as striking as cup G—would certainly catch him by surprise. He’d blink, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, a hint of admiration crossing his face. “You—” he would start, struggling for words, “You look... different.”

While his initial reaction might be one of shock, he would quickly recover, a smirk forming on his lips. “It’s no wonder you prefer baggy clothes. I suppose you were hiding quite the treasure,” he’d say, his voice laced with playful teasing.

Despite his teasing, he’d also want you to know that he finds you beautiful just as you are, hoodie or not. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to seeing you like this,” he’d say with a slightly softer tone, stepping closer to appreciate your beauty fully.

Wanderer’s affectionate nature would shine through as he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re stunning, you know. You don’t need to hide.” His words would carry genuine admiration, deepening the connection you share as he encourages you to embrace your figure with confidence.

Lyney

Lyney is the kind of person who appreciates beauty in all its forms, and when you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie, he would be captivated. He’s used to seeing you in your baggy clothes, which have their own charm, but the moment you take off the hoodie, his playful demeanor might momentarily falter.

His eyes would widen as he takes in your stunning figure, and a wide grin would spread across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he’d say, his tone teasing yet full of admiration. He’d lean in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief, and add, “I always knew there was more to you than met the eye.”

Lyney would likely make a show of pretending to fan himself, dramatically feigning a swoon. “You should’ve told me you were hiding such a masterpiece!” His playful nature would shine through, as he makes you feel confident about your body while still keeping the mood light.

He’d also appreciate the trust you’ve shown by revealing this side of yourself, and his affection would deepen even more. “You’re absolutely stunning, and I’m lucky to have you,” he’d say, pulling you in for a warm embrace, making it clear that he loves you for who you are, hoodie or no hoodie.

You’d leave him speechless, but in a good way—his heart would swell with admiration, and he’d likely be even more enchanted by your confidence in showing off your curves.

Diluc

Diluc is known for his stoic nature and deep sense of responsibility, but he has a soft spot for those he cares about, especially you. When you finally reveal yourself without your hoodie, he would be momentarily taken aback.

As you take off the hoodie and show off your stunning figure, including your impressive curves, Diluc’s expression would shift from surprise to a warm, appreciative gaze. He’d stare for a moment, his usually composed demeanor softening. “I didn’t realize you were hiding such beauty beneath those clothes,” he’d say, his voice low and sincere, conveying both admiration and affection.

His cheeks might flush slightly, betraying his typical calm, as he approaches you. “You’re breathtaking,” he would add, his tone more serious now, ensuring you know that he truly means it. He would step closer, gently taking your hands in his, and his gaze would linger, not just on your figure but also on your face, reflecting how deeply he cares for you.

Diluc would make sure to reassure you with his actions. “You don’t have to hide,” he’d say softly, wanting you to feel comfortable in your own skin. His protective instincts would kick in, and he might instinctively wrap an arm around you, pulling you close, as if to shield you from any outside judgment.

He would emphasize that he loves you for who you are, both inside and out, and he’d enjoy every moment of seeing this new side of you, encouraging your confidence and showing just how much he cherishes you.

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