#fic reader appreciation

[rafeandonlyrafe]

handlebars

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male and female receiving oral, face fucking, golf, rafe calling reader slut and whore but lovingly lol, established relationship, female masturbation kinda, bit of a dom/sub relationship but really its just rafes personality, semi public sex

“princess.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head as you're sat at your vanity, dabbing some blush onto your cheeks.

“mhm?” you tilt your head up, allowing rafe to press a kiss to your lips, not used to feeling your kiss without lipgloss, the next step in your makeup routine.

“if you're good for me and don't complain about being bored today, ill let you suck me off on the green.”

“really?” you squeal, turning to get a better look at rafe.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “but no complaining while we are golfing. topper will be joining me so you gotta wait until after we are done.”

“im gonna be so good rafey, promise.”

“i know you will, good girl.” rafe bends to give you another kiss. “finish getting ready, im gonna go load my clubs into the car.”

“mkay.” you nod. “love you, handsome.”

“i know you do, baby.” rafe smirks before leaving the room.

you turn back to your mirror, quickly finishing your makeup before getting an idea.

you part your hair down the middle before tying them into pigtails on either side, adding a pink ribbon around either hair tie, pulling a couple strands out to frame your face.

you skip down the stairs, dressed in your favorite golfing outfit. despite never playing and just watching rafe, you love to dress the part, wearing a tight white athletic tank top and a flouncy pink skirt, so short it shows off your matching pink underwear way too easily with just the slightest bend of your hips.

“shit.” rafe smiles up at you. “can't wait to strip those clothes off you later.”

“why thank you baby.” you give a twirl, showing off your outfit to rafe, knowing the ultimate compliment on your clothing is to tell you how much he wants to rip them off of you.

“im gonna have to kill top if he even looks at you with your tits out like this.” rafes arms wrap around your waist to pull you tightly against his front, lifting your feet up off the ground.

you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing sticky kisses and leaving pink gloss behind as rafe carries you outside, placing you in his passenger seat that has become yours, your name even added in rhinestones to the sun visor next to the mirror.

you hum along to rafes music and cycle between looking out the window and looking over at rafe as he drives, the muscles on his arms defining his every turn on the way to the country club.

“oh, there's toppers truck.” you point as rafe pulls into the parking lot, grumbling something about you knowing what his truck looks like before pulling into a spot.

you wait for rafe to walk around to open your door, helping you step down and keeping your hands held tight together as he grabs his clubs and slings them over one shoulder.

“hi topper.” you smile as you see him sat in a cart, quickly moving to the back as you approach.

“hey rafe.” topper says, completely ignoring your hello, but you know it's not due to being rude.

“no complaining, remember.” rafe says as you slide along the bench seat, making sure not to move too far so your thigh touches rafes as he gets in to drive.

“i remember.” you nod. “i will definitely not complain when i get really really super bored.”

rafe shakes his head, an unwilling smile growing on his face as he drops one hand down to your thigh, squeezing it so tightly you almost cry out before he releases and puts the cart into drive, speeding towards the first hole.

--

“i was so good, wasn’t i?” you turn your head to the side to look at rafe as he drops topper back at the parking lot.

“i mean, you started complaining when we played 18 holes instead of 9.” rafe tsks.

“okay, but only for like a second before i remembered! come on rafe,” you lean over him, placing your hand on his chest, fingers ghosting up and down to entice him. “don’t you want me to suck you off?”

“of course i do.” rafe captures your lips in a kiss, tugging you closer to his side as he takes off again, navigating the course to an isolated spot.

“finally.” you move to your knees on the cart, watching as rafe stands and walks to the passenger side of the cart, keeping his back towards the main part of the club just in case anyone comes by. 

you reach forward, tugging on rafe shorts, undoing the zipper and button and pulling the sides of his pants apart. you reach into his pants and pull his cock out from his underwear, already starting to harden.

“i love it when i get my mouth on you and you’re still soft.” you press kisses along his length, feeling it grow under your lips before placing the head of his cock into his mouth, swiping your tongue over the slit.

“you’re such a whore.” rafe laughs. “dressed up like a slut and now you’re acting like it too.” 

you just nod, not willing to take your mouth off his cock just to acknowledge how much of a slut you are for him. you both already know what the truth is. 

rafe hardens in your mouth as you begin to move your head up and down, building up a slow pace that allows you to enjoy the taste of his skin, tongue sliding along the underside of his length.

“faster, baby.” rafe taps your cheek.

you pull off and frown up at him. “let me enjoy sucking you off. you said you’d let me.” 

“yeah but i wanna see what you can do. impress me.” 

the challenge from rafe works immediately as you wrap your lips around his cock, head bobbing up and down a lot quicker now as you build up tolerance in your throat, rafes length and girth too much to take him all the way down immediately.

“that's my girl.” rafe smiles down at you. “doing so good baby.”

you take a deep breath through your nose and move forward, pushing your nose into rafes shirt as you swallow around his length, resisting the urge to smile as you hear rafe moan.

“fuck.” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, determined to keep his cock all the way down your throat for as long as you can.

“god, you just keep getting better at this darling.”

you pull off and drop your head to cough before smiling up at rafe. “wanna fuck my mouth now?”

rafe leans down to kiss your forehead. “im gonna put a ring on your finger one day baby, i swear.”

“you better.” you know you're still young, but you can't wait for the day you can call yourself mrs. cameron.

rafe straightens back up, smearing the head of his cock over your mouth, coating your lips in a second layer of gloss.

rafe grabs onto your pigtails as your mouth opens, keeping your throat as slack as you can as his hips push forward.

rafe moves your head in unison with his thrusts, fingers knotting around the pink ribbon to keep his grip.

you have to reach forward and place your hands on his thighs to keep from falling forward, your knees no doubt turning bright red as they scrape back and forth with the power of his movements.

rafe doesn't bother holding back his moans as he tugs on your pigtails, hips undulating and rocking, hoping he's far enough from anyone else to hear his groans and gasps of your name.

“next will be your pussy.” rafe smirks down at you. “as soon as we get home im getting in that delicious little cunt of yours.”

you moan around his cock, thighs squeezing together as you think of all the times rafes been inside of you.

rafe tugs your pigtails, holding them like handlebars on a bike as his cock grows in your mouth. he wishes he could go for longer, to fuck your mouth for hours, but the thought of getting home to your pussy makes him too excited to hold himself back.

“gonna cum right down your throat.” rafe says, grunting as his hips speed up. “unless you want me to paint your pretty face for everyone to see.”

you moan again, the sound vibrating around rafes cock as your hand drops to your pussy, pressing over your underwear to give your clit some relief.

“you like that huh?” rafe questions. “want everyone at the country club to see my cum dripping down your face?”

you push your hand under your panties, rubbing at your wetness, a finger plunging into your heat.

“hey, cut that out.” rafe tugs on your pigtails. “you can rub your clit but don't open up your cunt for me. that's my job.”

you groan but move your fingers back to your clit, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing.

“don't worry, bunny.” rafe pats your cheek. “you'll be bouncing on something soon enough.”

rafe moans as your tongue flicks over the underside of his length, throat constricting as you swallow along his cock.

“fuck, close.” rafe warns, pumping his hips forward with renounced speed. 

rafes cock swells in your mouth and there's mere seconds before he releases, cum spurting down your throat.

“fuck!��� he moans, giving one last thrust before pulling out.

you take a deep breath, hand still moving on your pussy as rafe breaths deeply, checking over his shoulder before tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

“stop that.” rafe hums, eyes dropping to between your legs.

“im so close.” you whine, keeping your fingers thrumming over your clit.

“yeah, and i wanna be the one to make you cum so stop.”

rafe picks you up and places your bum on the seat, frowning when he sees your knees. he presses kisses to each of the red splotches.

rafe pushes your thighs open next, pulling your hand out of your underwear as he tugs them to the side.

you didn't expect rafe to surge forward, mouth greedily eating your cunt, slurping on your wetness.

“fuck!” you squeal, head falling back as he focuses in on your clit, sucking with the taste of you on his tongue, sticking it out to flick over your clit.

“im- im gonna cum!” you warn, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt.

his mouth keeps working as you reach your high, moaning out rafes name as your clit pulses against his tongue.

he moves lower to press against your entrance, briefly dipping in. “gonna fuck you so soon.” he whispers, and you swear it's more to your cunt than it is to you.

“shit.” you fall back against the seat as rafe rearranges you, flinching when his hand brushes against your clit while putting your panties back in place.

“better not be sensitive by the time we get home.” rafe says, flipping your skirt back down to cover you before he shrugs. “or be sensitive, im fucking you either way.”

“you're such a dick.” you giggle as rafe drops his head to kiss you, lips melting together, the shared taste on your tongue mixing.

“love you.” he says. “future wifey. you give the best head.”

“wow, thanks.” you roll your eyes sarcastically, hands moving to your pigtails as rafe rounds the cart to drive back.

“you know, you really messed up my hair.” you frown, attempting to fix your bows without a mirror to look in.

“yeah, you can't wear that style again.” rafe looks over at you. “unless you want me to fuck your face every time.”

“well…” you tap your chin, a smile growing.

[elysianightsss]

Simon sees you and that’s it. You’re all he thinks about, night and day. You’re what he dreams of. He doesn’t even know your name, just the grocery store you shop at a little ways away from his apartment. He thinks it’s fate. He knows it is when he sees you at the local bar he frequents getting shouted at by some asshole you’d refused to leave with. His bruising grip on your wrist is ripped away before Simon beats him half to death (would’ve happily killed him too but he wasn’t about to commit murder in front of his lady) holding out his blood covered hand, he’s suprised you take it but incredible grateful. He has so many plans for you, one of them being; to drive you out to his cabin in the mountains, keep you pliant and exhaust you by burying his face in your pretty cunt until you pass out. Then and only then will he ‘sneak’ outside and puncture a pipe inside his car engine as well as two of his tyres so when you start getting antsy and ready to go home, he’s got himself a damn good excuse as to why you should get your cute ass back into his bed and stay there forever.

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could. 

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[navybrat817]

Do you think Bucky would be possessive if you aren't his girl?

Nonnie, I think you forgot a word at the end of your question.

YET.

You aren't his girl yet.

But imagine Bucky is sitting at a table and a few agents are sitting there as well. He tries to block out the chatter, until one of them mentions your name. Followed by his.

"Barnes, you hitting that?"

Which would have him seeing red. Because he wants to fuck you, yes. He also wants to give you the care you deserve. He wants you to be his completely.

"If you're asking if she's my girl," he says as calmly as he can manage, "No."

"So, I have a chance," the agent smirks.

That look is quickly wiped away when Bucky takes a knife out of what appears to be thin air and drives it through the table as the chatter ceases. The blade is right between the agent's fingers. Miraculously, he didn't get cut.

The former Asset is that good.

"You didn't let me finish. She's not my girl yet. So, no, you don't have a chance."

But the question is, did you happen to walk in and witness the event or did word get around?

Love and thanks! ❤️

[leah-lover]

Two hearts, one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader

An age gap romance. Part 2

“ We are delighted to introduce you to this young star. She is a 2 time world cup champion, the youngest ever to achieve that. A 2 time NWSL winner. A final’s MVP and just overall an inspiration. Welcome to the show.” said the reporter next to you. The studio was quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears. This wasn't the first time you were on TV but you were uncertain about the way the news you were about to deliver is gonna be perceived.

“ Thank you for having me.” you respond with a smile on your face.

“ After your recent NWSL win you were the talk of the sports world. Everybody is interested in whether you are gonna resign with your club or not. What do you say to those questions?”

“ Well I am sad to say that I will not resign with Seattle but very excited to say that a team I have been dreaming of joining has reached out to sign me. I have signed a 4 year contract with FC barcelona.”

“ Oh my god, that's exciting. Tell us how you feel at the moment.”

“ Well, I am very excited,but sad to say goodbye to my family in the states and at seattle. I think this challenge is gonna help me develop as a footballer and learn new styles.”

“ Well, we wish you good luck.”

“ Thank you.”

You exit the studio and the weight of the secret drops from your shoulder. You were gonna leave your home for a more competitive team and a shot at the chapion’s league.

Your move to Barcelona was smooth. You celebrated your run at your old club with the girls, took your flight the next day and landed in sunny Barcelona, the weather was as great as they all said. You then went directly to your new apartment. The time zone change weighed heavily on your body so you took a shower immediately, put your sheets in your new bed and laid down as soon as you could. You then opened your phone only for it to freeze due tha new messages and followers you received. You could see all the comments and messages your new teammates wrote on your post congratulating you on the signing and wishing well for you. This made you excited for your first day tomorrow.

When you woke up the next day you were nervous to say the least. You got ready, called a taxi and headed to the facility. You first got a tour of the facility which was empty because it was early. You met as much staff as you could, did your fitness and health test, a photoshoot, and shot some content. By the time you were done your teammates were done training too. You were ushered by the assistant coach to go to the field and meet everybody.

Your heart was beating like a drum. You were standing next to alexia putellas, aitana bonmati, lucy bronze, and mapi leon. Those people are more experienced and have more accolades than you.

“ Everybody please welcome our new signing from the US.” said your coach which caused all of them to start cheering.

“Hola a todos. Estoy emocionado de ser parte de este equipo, compartir el campo con todos ustedes y ganar algunos trofeos con ustedes.”

“Joder, hablas español y tus estadísticas son buenas, nos llevaremos muy bien.“ said patri putting her arm on your shoulder and guiding you inside.

“Si ella hablara catalán habríamos sido mejores amigas.” said aitana sarcastically.

The rest of the day went on great, you had lunch with the girls, you laughed with them, and exchanged stories. They welcomed you very well.

“ for a young girl you really carry yourself well.” said lucy

“ I had to grow up quickly.” you respond to her.

Your first month at Barcelona was amazing. You got on with the girls really well, training was going well, you had your first start within 2 weeks of your arrival and the fans were really happy with you after your first hattrick in the last match.

“Necesitamos celebrar tu primer mes exitoso con nosotros estrella.” said mapi while you were recovering in the gym. Estrella was the Spanish translation of the nickname the fans gave you when you were getting famous, which was stargirl. That nickname was used by everybody you knew, even the press. But from them it sounded different.

“ Yeah sure, just text me the details.” You responded.

You then went home, showered, and rested. You then got a message from the group chat.“ La terrazza. 8:00.”

Since they went there to celebrate you, you decided to show up and show out. You decided on a black maxi dress, heels, gold accessories, and a red lip.

You drove to the club and got there at 8 sharp. You went inside, and headed straight to the bar to order a drink. The girls started coming little by little, and by a few hours you were all jammed up dancing in the middle of the dance floor. However, your captain didn't join you; she instead opted to watch from the bar.

Alexia has been quiet and reserved around you. Maybe she didn't like you or maybe she was just a quiet person, you never really thought about it before.

“chicas voy a ir al baño.” You yell so that you can be heard over the loud music and exit the dance floor.

Surprisingly the bathroom was empty. You got your business done and went over to the mirror to fix your makeup.

“Parece que te lo estás pasando bien aquí en Barcelona..” said a voice from behind you which took you a minute to realize it was Alexia 's.

“ Capitana I am too drunk for Spanish right now.” You respond still facing the mirror

“ You look good. I mean happy in Barcelona.” She said nervously.

“ Well that's because of you and your friends out there. Actually it was more your friends than you since you hate me.” You respond l, alcohol making you braver than you usually are.

“ I could never hate you. I just can't control myself around you.” She says half whispering. “tengo que ir.” She added before she exited the bathroom.

“ This is definitely something I need to visit tomorrow when I am sober.” You say to yourself before joining the girls again. You were told that Alexia left which caused you to have more questions but you didn't give it much thought. You partied more with the girls before leaving.

Your head was pounding the next morning but you couldn't remember anything, only that you had a great time.

The following weeks were nothing short of spectacular. You were training well, winning every game, scoring every game, and you really built a community with the girls. But Alexia was giving you more space than usual which you couldn't understand why.

Jonathan could see that Alexia was cornering herself away from you so he decided to pair you with each other on everything under the excuse of her giving you more experience since she was older than you. She didn't talk when she was near you, she barely even touched you. This caused commotion in your brain. You lost sleep over why she despised you so much.

One day you had enough of the questions in your brain so you waited in the locker room knowing that she wouldn't come to it to avoid you. You stayed there af-ter all the girls left. After a while alexia entered the locker room

“ Have I ever done anything to offend you?” you ask as soon as you see her figure.

“ Mierda, me asustaste, pensé que no había nadie aquí.” she said taking a few steps back

“ capitana please just give a straight answer. What have I ever done to you?.”

“ We talked about this and my answer was nothing, the problem is in me.”

“ when did we talk about this i don't remember anything.”

“ that night at the party now will you please leave so that i can change and go home i am really tired.”

“ Alexia, this is eating away at me. All I want is for us to be friends or just teammates. Tell me what I did so that we can get past it.”

“ You did nothing, just get over it. You have plenty of friends.”

“No puc fer això ara mateix, és massa jove i hauria de proteger-la de mi” she whispers in catalan and leave without looking at you.

You didn't understand catalan but it was close to Spanish which you were fluent in so when you heard her words you could remember them easily. After she left you reached for your phone and translated her words. “ I can't do this right now. He is too young and should protect her from me.”

Alexia’s words shocked you. You felt dizzy and couldn't focus. You never realized that alexia could have anything for you except hate. You loved her and admired her for the player and person she is. You looked up to her kind heart and intelligent brain. But no matter what you thought about it you needed her approval, her attention, and her focus to be on you as much as you were on her. That's why her distance from you left you puzzled.

You knew that you couldn't stay like that, not when your brain was filled with questions that needed answering.

You left the training facility, and headed straight to Alexia's house.

Before knocking on her door your knees were weak and your brain was quiet. She opened the door mere moments later.

“ What did you mean by protecting me from you?” you asked as soon as she opened the door.

“ What are you doing here?” she asked.

“ What did you mean, alexia?”

“ i don't want to talk about this.”

“ well i do it's the only thing i have been thinking about.”

You force your way inside and she closes the door after you

“ You are not this passive aggressive. I know you. I heard alot about you. This thing you are hiding from me is killing me.” you say to her once she is in front of you.

“ Believe me when I say that I am protecting you.”

“ it's not your choice capitana. What are you protecting me from?”

“ I am protecting you from my feelings for you god damn it. We can't be together and that is all I have been thinking about. I have been thinking about you, your body, your laughter, your eyes. It’s driving me insane.” she yells as she slams the wall behind you.

You weren't shocked, you managed to keep your calm. You held onto her hand which was still on the wall. You backed up a little bit and didn't say a word.

“ this can't happen, you are 23, i am 30. I am older than you. I outrank you in the team. I just…”

“ i dont care.” you interrupt her still holding on to her arm. “ capitana i dont give a fuck. I want you. I need you. Do you want me?” you add.

“More than you'll ever know.” she whispers.

The air was still. The tension was high. You feel your body unintentionally move towards alexia. Your face was millimeters away from her you could feel her breath on your lips. You somehow got brave enough to kiss her. The kiss cut short because she pulled away.

“ please capitana i want this. I want you.”

She then kisses you deeply. Her need for you was apparent. She took control of all of you, not just your lips. She picked you up and walked towards her bedroom all while kissing you. She then threw you on her bed.

“ Are you sure estrella.” whispers

“ I never wanted anything more in this world.”

[moonyswoony]

A stitch in the heart

pairing: Diego hargreeves x reader

Summary: After Five’s betrayal you and Diego find unexpected comfort in each other.

Warning(s): making out, insults, humour

Your fingers trace the edge of the old, worn-out armchair, a painful reminder of all the moments you thought you once shared with him. A hollow feeling settles in your chest, and you can’t decide what hurts more—the betrayal or the fact that you actually hadn’t seen it coming.

The doorbell rings sharply, startling you from your thoughts. You hesitate before opening it, your heart sinking as you see Diego standing there. He had come straight from the Umbrella Academy’s chaotic mess, having heard about the situation from Klaus, who had filled him in on the details. Diego’s dark eyes are filled with frustration and concern as he steps into the apartment.

“I didn’t know he was that stupid,” Diego says, his voice rough with a mix of irritation and empathy. His short brown hair is slightly tousled, and his mustache gives him a rugged, determined look.

You scoff, biting back the tears that threaten to spill. “Neither did I. But hey, at least I’m not the one who’ll be dodging flying knives for a while.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, the muscles working under his skin as he processes your pain. He had always been the protector, the one to throw himself into danger without a second thought, but this was different. He couldn’t punch Five without making things worse—without hurting you even more.

“He’s an idiot,” Diego mutters, stepping closer. His presence is like a comforting weight, a reminder that not everyone in this messed-up world would abandon you. “And if he wasn’t, I’d be happy to throw him off a building for you.”

You look up at him, trying to find solace in his words, but the wound was too fresh, too deep. “You’re way too good at the ‘throwing people off buildings’ thing, Diego. I’d hate to see what you could do if you really put your mind to it.”

Diego’s jaw twitches into a reluctant smile. “Trust me, I’ve got a lot of practice. But this isn’t about me or Five or Lila. This is about you.”

“You mean it’s not about making sure Five ends up face-first in the dirt?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He shakes his head, his expression serious again. “Look, I know you’re hurting. And I’m not saying Five isn’t a jerk—he is. But you don’t deserve to be dragged down by his mistakes.”

A heavy silence sits between you, filled with unspoken words and the shared history that ties you both to the people who had hurt you. Diego has his own scars, the ones Lila had left on his heart. He knew betrayal, maybe as well as you did.

“Lila…” you began, but Diego cuts you off.

“She’s not worth it,” he says sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “And neither is he.”

His words are a balm, a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone in your pain. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift, if only slightly.

Diego’s hand finally finds its way to your shoulder, a tentative touch that sends a shiver down your spine. His fingers, rough but warm, rest gently on your skin. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You look up at him, really look at him. The scars, the bruises, the lines of worry etched into his features—Diego had always been there, in the background, watching out for you even when you didn’t realize it.

“I’m sorry about Lila,” you whisper, not really sure why you’re apologizing. Maybe because it feels like you should, because your pain is linked to his in a way you hadn’t expected.

Diego shakes his head, his expression softening. “Don’t be. That chapter’s over. Has been for a long time.”

There’s something in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. He’s not lying, he had moved on. But from the way he’s looking at you, you wonder if he had been waiting for you to realize you needed to move on too.

And maybe… maybe with him.

“Diego,” you breathe, the air between you crackling with a sudden tension, a shift that makes your heart race for an entirely different reason.

His fingers tighten on your shoulder, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes. “If you ever want to forget about him,” he says, voice low and intense, “I’m right here.”

The world seemed to narrow down to the space between you, the inches that felt like miles. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the Diego you knew so well—hotheaded, stubborn, fiercely loyal Diego. The man who had been by your side through thick and thin, who was willing to pick up the pieces of your heart when they fell apart.

You take a step closer, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. His eyes darken, and he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. The tension between you is palpable, like the air before a storm.

Then, as if on cue, he closes the gap between you two.

The kiss is urgent, his lips surprisingly soft as snow.It all feels like a desperate attempt to make something beautiful out of the wreckage of the day.

The kiss deepens, growing more fervent as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. Diego’s hands roam to your back, pulling you impossibly closer, his embrace enveloping you completely. His lips move with a new, careful intensity, exploring your mouth with a touch of tenderness and need.

After a few moments, Diego pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes sparkle with a playful glint, and he gives a light-hearted chuckle. “You know,” he smirks “Before Lila came along and turned everything upside down, I actually had a crush on you.”

You look at him, surprised and amused. “Seriously? You had a crush on me?”

Diego nods, grinning. “Yep, and I guess I was so busy trying to play the tough guy that I didn’t realize honesty might’ve worked out better. But hey, Five and Lila didn’t exactly set the bar high, did they?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “True, true. It’s not like they made the most convincing case for keeping things simple.”

Diego chuckles, pulling you closer again. “Exactly. And honestly, if I’m better at anything, it’s being upfront about my feelings.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words and the comfort of his embrace. “I guess that’s something I can definitely appreciate.”

Diego leans in for another kiss, his lips brushing against yours with renewed fervor and for the first time in a while, the future feels like something worth fighting for.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

[ part three ]

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[bellarkeselection]

The Venus Muse

Princess Y/n has no desire to be just some man's wife. She wishes to explore the world and all the way up to the stars. And she may get her once in a lifetime chance when her mother, Queen Charlotte invites the Bridgerton family to the castle. The artistic Bridgerton son might possibly sweep the princess off her feet.

1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

2 -Interesting Conversations

3 - Escaping with a Bridgerton

4 -

???

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Kayce dutton x reader

Reader surprises kayce with lunch at his office

You're a Darn good Wife

Here's the first official request on the new All Yellowstone blog!!! 😁

Parking my red truck outside the Livestock department office I pushed the driver door open and closed after grabbing the lunch bag of burgers from the place down the street. Entering the building I stopped at the front desk seeing the familiar blonde sitting there named Amy. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Dutton?"

"Is my husband in his office by chance?" I asked her.

She shakes her head no with a half smile. "He's out with the sheriff right now. But he should be back before lunch is over."

"Alright. I'll wait in his office. But don't tell him I'm here." I told her, wanting it to be a surprise for when he comes back. She nodded in agreement, watching me head around the corner out of her line of sight.

Opening his office door, I sat down the bag on his desk, scanning my eyes over the disorderly pile of paperwork he had on it. Sitting out the sandwiches and fries before plopping down in the computer chair scrolling on my cell phone until I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. “Good afternoon, cowboy.” I chimed in seeing him walk inside the office with a bright smile on my face.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” He dropped his jacket on the hook by the door, opening his arms for me.

I rushed forward flinging my arms around his neck chucking into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist kissing my hair clearly suprised I was there during lunch. “I thought I’d suprised you with lunch from that burger place you like near Bozeman. Considering we barely see each other with you working here and me working on your father’s land since half of the cowboys are up at the Summer Camp.”

“Well I’m certainly not gonna complain about any visit that involves you.” Kayce barely broke the hug gently holding me with his hands on my waist.

My arms stayed around his neck where I sent him a grin. “You better not like my visits. I did agree to marry you even when you told me you had a kid with your ex wife.”

“Hey, you love Tate.” Kayce gasped slightly offended.

I gave him a half smile tilting my head to the side reassuring what I had said minutes ago. “I’m just messing with you. I really do love Tate and treat him like he’s my own kid until we have our own of course.”

“You want to have kids with me.” Kayce’s face brightened at the words that had came out of my mouth.

I responded to my husband. “Of course. I told you on our fourth date that I wanted marriage and kids.”

“I was waiting to ask if we should start trying for a baby and now that I know that. I think we could start right now if you’re up for it.” He bends down on his knees quickly picking me up by my thighs and I wrap my arms around little tighter around hi neck even though he wouldn’t drop me.

I squealed when he carries me over to his desk and he slides some of the papers onto the floor without a real care in the world except me and him in that moment. “Kayce! What about the burgers?”

“Oh don’t worry we’ll be eating them when we’re done.” He smirked at me, moving his fingers down to the bottom of my shirt shrugging it upward and tossing it onto the floor with his own.

I scanned my eyes over his chest feeling my face turning red till I realized the door was still opened. “Wait a second. We have sex with the door wide open. I don’t think your coworkers would like that too much.”

“See we’ve got nothing to worry about. Especially when you’re a darn good wife who looks damn good to me right now.” Kayce ran slamming it closed and locking the door behind him before he rushed back over to me. He stands as close to me as he can possibly get cupping my face in his hands pressing his lips down onto mine.

Threading my fingers into the fabric of dark tan dress shirt seconds before I quickly began undoing the buttons on it and finally launched it across the office. “You better not waste those burgers. Dutton. Otherwise I will you regret your decisions later down the road.” I told before he gently pushed me down onto the desk and he sat the bag of food on the ground.

“Don’t you worry, baby. Once I get you pregnant you won’t be too worried about whether or not we wasted some burgers or not.” He smirked down at me, hovering above me till I wrapped my arms around his neck bringing him back down for another kiss.

He moved one hand over my hip and his other was holding his body up a little so not all of his weight was on top of me. “I’ll hold you to that promise, Kayce.” I broke the kiss where he smiled down at me, reconnecting our lips together and we let ourselves get lost in the other person.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[elysianightsss]

He laughed so bostrously, lips closing around his cigar while he did so, blue eyes not leaving yours as you got out your keys ready to enter your house, white picket fencing the only thing separating the two of you.

“Thank you.” You smiled his way, ecstatic with the compliment. You’d only been driving a little while so to hear how good he thought you were at parking made your chest swell with pride.

“John Price.” He spoke again coming closer this time, blowing the smoke from his mouth, head turned so as not to blow it in your direction. You gulped watched a single bead of sweat roll down the skin of his thick neck.

You have to blink yourself back to the present as he’s extending his hand to you over your side of the fence, only coming up to your waist.

You grabbed his hand, a little suprised with how hot it was, slightly sweaty too. You told him your name in return, cheeks flushing slightly, more than they already were from the heat of the day when he hummed approvingly repeating it like he’s testing it out so he can use it more often.

“God it’s hot today ain’t it.” The question was obviously rhetorical as the sun was beating down on the both of you as you spoke. It was so far what they called ‘the hottest day of the year’ and this time the weather girl wasn’t lying. You’d had to put sun cream on before you left the office because of how hot it was.

Thank goodness your office building had air conditioning because you don’t know how you would have survived otherwise. As soon as you walked out the hot air was choking and the sun’s heat was awful after being in the nice cold all day.

“It’s better than it raining though.” John spoke again almost trying to fill the gap where he thought you may have commented.

“I don’t know, I kinda like the rain and the cold. It’s nice when you get to have the fire going and cuddling up on the sofa with an old movie or book, maybe some hot cocoa-“ you began to ramble on all the things you like about autumn and winter. All the while John is watching with a smile on his face, picturing doing all those things with you.

He’s more distracted than you are that there’s an awkward pause when you stop rambling, he’s still in a trance while you stand there biting your lip nervously as he simply stares at you.

“Doing some gardening?” You try to break the silence to which he slightly jumps, eyes regaining their focus on you.

“Yeah, thought I’d do the front of the house up a bit, make it look somewhat presentable.” He chuckled looking back at his handy work, it didn’t look half bad. The lawn was mowed and he had started to plant some seeds by the looks of it.

“Looks a lot better than my dump, I never have time for it.” You say with a laugh, glancing over your shoulder at the overgrown grass and dying flowers you’d planted last spring to try and making the place look better. Fail.

“You work a lot huh? I see you coming and going most days. Barely ever home.” He tilts his head, arms folded over his chest bringing his cigar up to his mouth once more.

“I only get weekends off, and they’re really the only time I spend at home if you don’t count coming home to sleep at night.” You sigh thinking about how hard you had worked today, always taking on problems that maybe you should let others handle but then you wouldn’t be paid as much as you get.

“I’m glad I’m retired, but I must admit it’s rather boring.” He inhaled the smoke, a thinking look clear on his rugged face.

“You don’t look old enough to be retired.” You comment, not meaning to say it out loud. Your eyes widening once you realise you have.

“I’ll take that as a compliment love.” He laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing when he does. His thick beard surrounding the way his lips curve up in smile. Your face burns and you definitely look like a tomato right now.

“I best go inside and shower off today.” You smile at him with a small wave before turning on your heal and heading inside. You slump against the front door cursing yourself. “Stupid stupid stupid.” Heading upstairs you do exactly what you said you would, shower.

That’s why you don’t hear the lawnmower turn on again, that’s why you don’t notice it’s right outside your house, that’s why you don’t notice that John Price is mowing your lawn as you scrub your white loofa over your legs. But when you’re done and you look out your bedroom window, your heart stops.

Your handsome neighbour, is cutting your grass in the hot sun, without a shirt on. He spots you staring a sends a wink your way…..that man will be the death of you.

[joeldjarin]

devil works hard but the fic writers work harder to keep this fandom fed

PS: thanks to the writers ilysm🥹

Also I forgot to add various other variants of Joel but promise I love all of them

[samkerrworshipper]

underneath the surface

umm so i’m back.. kind of? this fic was a rollercoaster but i hold it very near and dear to my heart. i hope you all enjoy it and find some comfort in it because i definitely do <3

warnings: no warnings just some medical jargon and talks of endometriosis!

Alexia has always been credited for her attentiveness.

Most people say that it’s the reason she’s such a good captain, and of course, she denies to everybody that she just goofs around less than some of her teammates.

But, inevitably, it’s true, Alexia is a lot more attentive than other people. She pays attention to the small things, the under the surface things, things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at.

Although, in her opinion, she doesn’t need to be observant nor attentive to be curious about this one part of your relationship.

It doesn’t take brilliant observation skills to recognise a pattern, from the age of two most people are able to recognise patterns. For a two year old, it’s colours and shapes and different farm animals. For Alexia it’s become an observation.

It’s routine, a pattern, a constant repeat in your relationship that for the first few months she ignored.

Like a broken record constantly repeating itself, every month, without fail, you disappeared for a couple of nights.

Not literally, for those days you’ll retreat of the pitch and inside to the gym but Alexia still sees you everyday, and for the most part, you’ll still go out for coffee with her and go on walks together, but for at least three nights, sometimes up to 7, there are no sleepovers, no late night movie binges, no dinners.

It went unnoticed by Alexia for longer than normal, love was Alexia’s biggest weakness and it subtly impaired her abilities to be as observant as she prided herself.

Who could blame her? It was hard to be detail oriented when she was too busy enjoying the puppy dog love that came from realising that she was so in love with her life with you, even if it was still relatively new.

But, even with her focus partially impaired, it didn’t take a whole lot of skills to recognise the abnormality of what was occurring.

It was particularly abnormal, because for every other day of the month, you spent your nights at Alexia’s. Alexia would even go as far to say that you're pretty much moved into her apartment. Your dog had a bed in her apartment, your training kit and bag had a permanent spot at her door, most of your clothes were now sitting next to Alexia’s in her wardrobe.

Your apartment, for the most part, existed purely for the sake of storing all of your furniture. Alexia had brought up leasing it, you’d been dating for almost a year now and whilst it was a short time to move in with each other, the two of you spent so much time together that to her it made the most sense. Beyond that, it was her way of testing the water, to see if her observation was as real as she began to think it was.

Your immediate denial of the idea confirmed what she had been beginning to think.

Originally, she’d thought that maybe you were overwhelmed from constantly being around Alexia, it was a lot being at training together all day and then heading home to each other.

It didn't make sense though.

When you were together, you were attached at the hip. You were both naturally clingy towards each other and after questioning Mapi about it, as ambiguously as she could, she was backed up in that it wasn’t normal behaviour for an overwhelmed person to be so eager to be so connected.

So, the theory was canned and when the following month the same thing happened, Alexia’s curiosity peaked once again.

She moved onto a theory that maybe it was some kind of homesickness, that you just needed to sleep in your own bed a couple of nights every month.

But not only did you constantly complain about your own apartment and how unhomey it felt in comparison to Alexia’s, it was always the same week every month.

Which should have been the biggest clue, and yet for whatever reason it had completely slipped past Alexia.

It was only when one of the team doctors had approached Alexia about her cycle changing, that it all clicked for her.

Alexia’s period had skipped, and they’d logged it a couple of months ago. Obviously, without noticing, it had been because the two of you had synched up, which made plenty of sense.

Alexia’s period was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a true bother, just something she had to put up with. In all honesties though, for her, her period was nothing to her, she had hardly any symptoms, her body functioned the exact same way, everything was almost the exact same.

Yet, every month, when apparently your period came around, you happened to disappear for a couple of days. Alexia would have loved to think it was a coincidence, but with her new knowledge, she decided to put it to test.

She wasn’t surprised, when the following month her own period came, a couple of days later you were back to hiding out at your place for a couple of nights.

Like lightwork, when you came back to Alexia, you were the exact same, like nothing had happened, and yet Alexia was certain that there was something being hidden underneath the surface.

A lot of people were insecure about their period, Alexia had grown up in a house full of girls, her period had been anything but stigmatised, and she was grateful for that.

She was self aware enough though to know that not everybody was fortunate enough to have that same experience. She was also aware that unfortunately, sometimes peoples partners could be unaccepting and close minded about those kinds of things.

So, when the following month, Alexia got her period and without fail, four days later you mentioned that you would drive yourself to training so that you could head back to your apartment afterwards, Alexia was already plotting away.

She had time to think about it during video review that day, there wasn’t a lot to focus on then when the team was coming off of a 4-0 win to Atletico and anything that was of importance, aAlexia had already noted when she’d watched the immediately after the game.

It was a sound plan in her mind, chocolate, a heat pack, your favourite italian takeaway, Alexia’s favourite hoodie that you always tried to steal and your favourite blanket from her apartment.

Alexia wanted you to know that you could be just as comfortable in her home, regardless of what was happening. Hopefully, in knowing that, you’d let go of the part of you that was so clearly avoiding Alexia.

Alexia, above being observant, liked to be a problem solver. She liked to take initiative, she liked to fix things.

So, after a shower and a quick snack when she’d returned home, she packed up all of the supplies. On the way to your apartment, which she hadn’t visited in months, she picked up food and then was on her way.

In the early months of your relationship, it had just been easier for the two of you to spend time at Alexia’s because it was closer to the training grounds and more lived in.

Whilst you’d been living in Barcelona now for nearly three years, your home was still in England, and it had been hard for you to fully settle into Barcelona even if it was your home for now.

Alexia knew it, so she’d welcomed you into her home with open arms. It had been heartwarming for her to slowly watch you integrate yourself into Alexia’s life, it made her happier then anything else.

So, she made her mind up that whatever this bump was, she was going to help you get over it, so that she could have all of you, and most importantly so you would feel like Alexia cared.

The feeling that Alexia got as she pulled up next to your car in the lot of your apartment was chilling, in her gut it felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that set into Alexia's stomach as she stepped out of her car and hurried to collect her things before making her way over to the elevator.

Alexia stays as composed as she can manage, even though on the inside, the worry is starting to set in.

It’s not like theoretically she has anything to worry about, it’s not like this is an abnormal situation, but the weird feeling in Alexia’s stomach is putting her off and the only thing that she can think will make it better is seeing your face.

All Alexia wants to do is wrap you up in her arms for a moment, for her own peace of mind, to stop the off feeling that has been resonating inside of her as she’s tried to get to the bottom of this problem, that’s not really a problem. It’s an inconsistency, and one thing about Alexia is that she doesn’t like inconsistency. She fixes problems, she doesn’t enjoy living life whilst there is something that isn’t quite right, and she needs to make this right.

Alexia knocks at your door quietly, two little raps that she hopes you hear.

When she receives nothing in response, she knocks again, this time a little bit louder.

Alexia waits a few seconds, whilst it’s been a couple of hours since your session there is the off chance that you're in the shower or bath.

After quite a bit of waiting with no noises from the other side of the door, Alexia knocks once more, already pulling her keychain from her pocket and feeling for the spare key to your apartment.

When she finds it, she pulls it up to the lock, waiting just a few more seconds before slotting it into the keyhole and twisting it until it clicks.

The first thing Alexia notices is that your apartment is completely pitch black and if it weren’t for the fact that she saw your car earlier, she might have just left.

Alexia tiptoes her way through the entryway and into your kitchen, it’s hard to see much with all of the blinds pulled shut and none of the lights on, so she blindly feels around for the light switch until she finally finds it and flicks it.

The immediate groan that comes from the direction of your couch definitely does not go unnoticed by Alexia.

“Lights off.”

As fast as she can, Alexia turns the light back off, before curiously tiptoeing over to the edge of your couch.

You’re a lump under a pile of blankets, but she’s able to make out the shape of your body underneath it.

“Hey baby.”

You groan again, and the feeling in Alexia’s stomach only gets worse.

Alexia takes a few steps forwards, assessing you in front of her.

Her hand reaches out tentatively for you, she feels around the mass of blankets until she feels a part of your body underneath the pile of fluff, she follows the lump until she makes her way up to your head.

Your whole body is warm, or the blankets are warm, she isn’t actually quite sure where the blankets end and your body starts.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice is all croaky, and Alexia is certain you must be sick and she’s somehow missed all the symptoms of it.

“I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Alexia’s hand finally finds a bit of skin on your neck and she traces her fingers until she finds your jawline.

“Go home, Ale.”

The sound of your voice is making Alexia antsy, she can’t believe she’s missed the fact that you are sick.

“No, bebita, you’re sick and I’m here to look after you. I have your favourite food and chocolate, we can cuddle up in bed and you can sleep this off. I brought my hoodie for you.”

Alexia turns your head up, so your hair is peaking out of the blanket mound and she can see your squinted eyes.

“I’m not sick, Alexia.”

You keep your eyes crammed shut for the sake of not making the pounding headache you have any worse.

“Bebita, you’re all hot and croaky, it’s okay to be sick, I’m here to look after you.”

If you weren’t working so hard to keep your eyes closed you’d roll them, but that seems like far too much work for right now.

“Alexia I’m not sick, I’m just on my period.”

Alexia’s brow furrows, if your eyes weren’t closed you’d catch it. It’s the same furrow that always happens when Alexia thinks somebody else is wrong and she’s right.

“Bebita, this seems like a little bit more than a period. It’s okay, I’m here.”

You groan and Alexia recoils slightly.

“It’s just my period.”

Your deadpan makes Alexia confused.

“Your period shouldn’t be this bad. Are you having some heatstroke? It’s been warm out today, or are you having a migraine? You need to remember to hydrate.”

Your head is throbbing and Alexia’s theories aren’t helping.

“I have endometriosis Alexia, this is what my period looks like.It’s not fucking heatstroke or a sickness it’s just how my body is..”

Out of everything Alexia had been suspecting, that wasn’t it.

It suddenly dawns on Alexia that she can’t fix what you’ve just told her, she’s standing in front of you completely dumbfounded at what to do in this moment.

Alexia is a problem solver, she finds solutions for the biggest and smallest problems, and yet she doesn’t have a solution for the problem she is being faced with.

“Baby, just go home, the first night for me is always the worst, if I feel better I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

Alexia doesn’t have a solution to the pain you are going through, but she knows she isn’t going to let you suffer alone. The information that you’ve been doing this by yourself for a year now is making Alexia feel like the worst girlfriend ever and she’s going to change that.

“No, bebita, no. I’m staying here tonight, I’m here for you mi vida. Would it make you feel better if we got you into bed or into a bath? What’s going to make you more comfortable? Have you had medication? How about some food?”

When another groan leaves your lips, Alexia becomes aware that she’s approaching this the wrong way.

“How about I go and put the food in your kitchen and you decide what’s going to make you feel best. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

Alexia quietly tiptoes back into your kitchen, taking her time to put her things away and pulling two bottles of water from your fridge before making her way back into your living room.

You’ve emerged from your pile by the time she is back, your eyes are still closed but just seeing your face makes Alexia’s nerves settle just a little bit.

“Can we go to my bed, please?”

Alexia smiles at you softly.

“Of course amor, do you want me to carry you or do you think you can walk?”

The apprehension on your face is enough of a answer for Alexia.

She walks over towards you, picking up your blanket fort and body like it’s nothing and gently lifting you up, stepping carefully in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan out at the change of position, nothing feels good at the moment but Alexia’s arms are more comforting than the scratchy material of your couch cushions.

When she makes it to your bed, she lowers you down like you are the most delicate piece of glass, making sure that you’re tucked underneath the sheets before easing you out of your arms.

“Do you need anything? Heat pack? Water? Talk?”

Again, all Alexia’s words do is make the itching pain all over your body ten times worse, it’s all consuming and makes you feel choked.

“Bed, hugs, that’s all I want.”

Alexia is antsy, she wants to make the pain you are in better, she wants to know what to do right now instead of being completely blind in the situation.

“Are you sure? How about some pain relief or a cold compress?”

Alexia is no doctor, and up until five minutes ago she had absolutely no idea about this whole situation and whether she feels like she can admit it or not she’s terrified about it all.

She’s made up her mind that as soon as you're asleep she’s going to go on a deep dive of google searches to get to the bottom of this whole situation, but that will have to wait.

“Alexia, if you want to be here, just get into bed and give me some fucking hugs. I’m not in the mood to be told what to do with my body when I’ve been dealing with this for years, make up your mind of whether you want to be here or not.”

Alexia avoids conflict with you at all costs, she’s earned the title around your football friends of being your puppy dog, because she simply agrees to anything and everything that leaves your lips, and hearing you remotely mad at her makes her crumble.

“Sorry bebita, I’m so sorry, you’re right. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Alexia makes quick work of slipping her shoes off, something she never got around to in the darkness of your entryway.

She follows by taking her socks and outer layers off, stripping down until she’s in her tank top and a pair of old Barcelona training shorts.

Once she’s done she creeps around to the other side of your bed, slipping underneath the covers as subtly as she can manage.

When she’s completely covered, she lies back, unsure of how to approach all of this new information.

“You’re lying like a rigid corpse.”

Alexia gulps, she can see you in her peripherals, you look absolutely exhausted and in the kindest way possible, ten years older with the amount of wrinkles across your skin, bumps and ridges she can only imagine are the tightness holding in all of the struggle that you’re going through underneath the surface.

“Alexia, I’m okay, I’m not dying.”

Alexia knows theoretically that is true, she doesn’t have endometriosis and she’s not close to anybody who does, but she knows what it is. She knows it’s not cancer or something life-threatening, but the depth of the realisation that you’ve been suffering for so long and have kept it from Alexia is slowly pulling her apart at the seams.

You roll over slightly, it causes shocks of pain to go up and down your back and stomach, but you need the comfort as much as Alexia does, even if she isn’t ready to accept it.

She’s going through her process, compartmentalising all of it so she can be the brave and stoic face she always is.

You’re used to it, and you’ve come to realise that even though in these kinds of situations it seems like Alexia needs to be left alone, in reality she needs to be kept close by her nearest and dearest.

So, you worm your way on top of her body, it makes the cramps ten times worse and the nausea takes control of your stomach, forcing somersault after somersault, but when Alexia’s arms reach around you out of instinct it’s worth it.

You’re in pain, your uterus feels like it’s got knives embedded along the lining of it, like there are needles poking in and out of your back and gunshots being fired across your lower abdomen. But you’re well used to it, you’re used to the feeling of needing to throw up from having such intense throbbing pain across your whole core.

You’re used to the pounding headaches and migraines that come naturally from your body being so inflamed and agitated that all the tension eventually spreads to every single inch of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the edges of your toes.

Your head settles on Alexia’s shoulder, and her hand snakes it’s way down to the outside of your thigh, she’s being more cautious than she’s ever been with you and the normal you would probably be heartwarmed by her sweetness but the part of you that is currently seeing the worst kind of stars because of the cramps coursing through your body is just desperate to climb into her bones now that she is here with you.

It’s been ingrained in you since you were a kid that it was best to not bother other people with your weakness, it was your own struggle, your own burden.

You’d kept it from Alexia for this sole purpose, for the purpose that you knew she would take it all on as her problem, that she would try and fix it all and spend all of her time and energy trying to solve it all when you just wanted her to treat you the exact same.

She treated you like a princess everyday, but add a crippling reproductive condition and you knew she’d treat you like a priceless artefact. You were grateful you had a person in your life who would move heaven and earth in such a way for you but it was suffocating sometimes, when you were functioning on a normal level.

It was with those thoughts running rampant in your head that you slipped off into the same light sleep that you were lucky to drift into in these circumstances.

Whilst you drifted off, Alexia was left alone with her own thoughts.

Insecurity wasn’t something Alexia experienced often, she was secure in her body, she is as secure in her football as she has been since her knee injury, she’s secure in her family and up until today she felt completely secure in her relationship.

Now, she doesn’t know how she feels.

She knows that it’s likely you have a good reason to have kept this a secret, or a reason that you’ve justified to yourself. She knows underneath it all, you’re the one who’s secretly been hiding a big insecurity from her and she has no right to be truly mad about it, she’s disappointed that you haven’t felt able to share this with her when it feels like Alexia has bared all of her deepest, boniest secrets with you.

She does what makes sense, she reaches for her phone from her short pocket and begins to google all of the big questions that are swirling around in her mind.

You might have wanted to keep this a secret from Alexia but now that she knows about it she’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t educate herself on this.

So, instead of drifting off to sleep, Alexia drifts off into the land of medical journals and words that she doesn’t understand the meaning of but she’s determined to figure out.

You wake up in the morning in less of a state of excruciating suffering, instead of being stuck in a fiery inferno of hell you feel like you're dancing more on the periphery.

Your body is warm, in a way that makes you feel less like your insides are scorching you from the inside and more like you're generally just hot.

It feels like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as you try to unroll from the blankets that you’d swaddled yourself in the night beforehand in an attempt to try and make yourself feel as small as possible in hopes it would somehow shrink down everything you were feeling.

It’s a feverish dream, and as you recall your night, blotches begin to come back to you and the memory of your girlfriend appearing somewhere along the way makes the dull cramps across the front of your stomach beat in a way that makes you uncomfortably uneasy all over again.

As you assess your surroundings and open your eyes for what feels like the first time in months, you notice that Alexia is no longer in bed with you.

It’s all extremely faint in your head and there is an off chance you’ve dreamt it all up, but the very faint smell of coffee drifting through the air and folded up clothes sitting on the dresser on the wall across from your bed.

You’re feeling less deathly than last night, so you wager your chances with slowly sitting up in your bed, when you don’t feel any different you begin to lift your legs up.

Your muscles ache in the same way they do every time your period comes around, they tweak and they constrict like you’re an eighty year old instead of a twenty something.

It’s rough, it’s uncomfortable and it’s painful but it’s life.

It’s your life, it’s your burden, it’s your problem and knowing that Alexia is now a part of it all makes you queasy in a completely different way.

Your heavy on your feet as you stand up and begin to creep towards the door of your bedroom, with every step every one of your toes grinds against the floorboards. Your heel digs in, your ankles crunch, your body moves in a way that mirrors the way that you are crumbling from within. On these kinds of days, weeks and months, everything hurts. Everything is an effort.

Once you make it to your open door, you steady yourself against it, your nerves are working against you, everything inside of you is actively trying to stop you and you’ll be damned if you let it happen.

You only stand still long enough for it to be classified in your brain as a stall, not a break, not a stop. You can’t stop in times like this, if you stop then you’ll never get going again and that is a whole pit of fuckedupness that you aren’t ready to dive into.

From the door, you try your hardest to tiptoe your way through the hallway to your living space, but it’s impossible in your body.

As you inch closer, the sound of Alexia only becomes more apparent and obvious, and as you creep closer the agitation across your body only gets worse.

As you reach the archway between your hallway and living space, the sight in front of you makes your heart throb and your uterus ache even worse then it already is.

Alexia is swaying in your kitchen, apparently to whatever music she has playing in her head. There is coffee on the counter, accompanied by two bottles of juice and water, like she couldn’t decide what would be best. To accompany the extra drinks is toast, eggs, bacon and pancakes on the stove.

It’s too much.

With the combination of hormones in your bloodstream you’re honestly impressed that you don’t burst into tears.

Alexia’s still here.

Alexia, sweet, loyal Alexia.

You’ve been conditioned to keep all of this a secret, that during this week it’s best to keep yourself and everything you’re going through hidden, for the best of yourself and for everyone around you. Yet, here Alexia is doing way too much for you.

You’re downward spiralling when her voice breaks you out.

“Hey bebe.”

Her voice is close to a coo, the same voice she uses with Irene’s son. You don’t let it affect you in the moment, but you’ll think about the tactic of it later.

“I have food for you, and coffee if you want it, but google told me that sometimes that’s not always good for endometriosis. So I got juice as well, because google also said it might help with inflammation.”

The thought behind it is extremely sweet, and you feel slightly overwhelmed by all of the options.

“You didn’t need to do that for me.”

Alexia frowns, it’s slight and hardly noticeable, but the little wrinkle between her eyebrows is an immediate tell.

“I wanted to, I want to help you, however I can.”

The sentiment behind her words is lost in the sudden shock that you experience as her words settle in, you’ve never met a single person, besides a doctor whose job it was to help you, that gave a shit about this.

When you have no words, Alexia finds some for you.

“I want to talk to you about this, I want to know about it, I want to help you. We’re partners, we do everything together, and I want to do this with you. I don’t want you to lock me out and I don’t want you suffering alone. I’m here for this, I’m here for you to lean on.”

You nod your head, her words feel like a drug, like it’s lifting away some of the pain you’re going through.

“I’m serious, this isn’t something you can hide from me. You looked after me when I hurt my knee and I am here to look after you in the same way when you’re in pain. Bebita?”

Alexia’s hand falls to your side, caressing your hip gently.

“I’m not used to people knowing about this, and I’m even more not used to people caring, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to process.”

Alexia’s face softens, and before you can say any other stupid mumbles, she pulls you from the hip into her body. Her arms are warm, and yet oddly they soothe your prickly skin.

You melt into Alexia, you feel like shit but she makes you feel marginally better.

“Coffee, or juice?”

You stifle a giggle that falls from your lips.

“Juice, please.”

Alexia relaxes her arms, taking a step back.

“Can I get you any pain relief, or a new heat pack? Is your headache better?”

Alexia looks at you with so much genuine care that it’s hard to not feel embarrassed.

“Pain relief doesn’t sit well in my stomach on a good day. I save heat packs for when the cramps are really bad or else they don’t have the same effect. My headaches normally are at the end of the day as a result of tension build up during the day.”

Alexia looks as if she’s taking mental note of everything you’ve just told her, for later.

“How about some food, hmm?”

You want to say yes, because Alexia’s clearly gone to so much effort for you, but you know that if you eat this early and then train your stomach contents is going to end up on a pitch or somewhere inconvenient.

“My stomach won’t keep it if we train later, I’m better to eat afterwards.”

Alexia’s brow furrows once again.

“I called the doctor and Pere this morning, we’re both taking today off.”

Everything warm and good about the moment fades, and suddenly all you feel is confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

Alexia steps away from you and retreats into your kitchen, grabbing a glass for you and picking up the bottle of juice that she knows you prefer.

“Because I thought you were dying last night, and you can’t tell me that all of that has just disappeared this morning. You’re struggling and you don’t need to push through pain to prove that you are worthy or good enough. You’re self worth shouldn’t be dictated by you proving to yourself that you can work through a chronic disease. I’m sorry that I didn't notice earlier and that I wasn't there for you earlier but I'm here to advocate for you now.”

You want to tell Alexia that you don’t need an advocate, you can advocate just fine for yourself. But a part of you knows that she doesn’t want to hear it and that part of you is also the part that is crippling from the inside and simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with your girlfriend.

“I train just fine normally.”

Alexia can’t argue that, even though you spend the time in the gym, she’s never heard of anything out of the ordinary occurring.

“But you don’t have to. In fact when I talked to our doctor she told me that she’d been insisting on you being more cautious of your cycle and spending more time resting during it considering your history.”

You roll your eyes, taking the glass of juice Alexia offers you.

Alexia plates up a breakfast that could feed a family of four, but it makes you feel less bad for not eating any of it.

“It’s my body, I know my limits.”

You focus on your glass of juice and not the face Alexia makes at you.

“You know how to continuously meet and exceed your limits, but what about just leaving them and giving yourself some peace. I know nothing about what you are going through, I can only sympathise. But I know this must be incredibly hard and I know you definitely do not give yourself enough grace and definitely don’t care for your needs enough. I’m here for you to confide in, I’ve done my research, I’m prepared to help however you need.”

It’s endearing how clearly prepared Alexia has made herself.

“You’ve done your research, hmm?”

Alexia nods proudly.

“Lots of it. Like about how orgasms can help with cramps.”

She looks like she’s going to say more, but you splutter your juice straight back into your cup, causing her to stop.

Alexia’s always been more open with her sexuality then you are, it’s culturally more acceptable in Spain but she also grew up with it being slightly more normalised.

“Alexia.”

Her grin is broad, like she’s proud that she’s managed to embarrass you.

“It’s true! Although for some people endometriosis can cause pain whilst having sex, so if you’re one of those people then it may not work but if you want to try I’m happy to help, fingers, toys, everything but mouths is on the table.”

Your blush only gets more cemented.

“I’m okay for right now, the thought of any kind of intimacy makes my fallopian tubes ache.”

Alexia nods her head, you are certain that sometime in the future this topic will arise again. Alexia’s rabbit-like sex drive makes it hard to not involve sex in everything you do together.

“Can I ask what your symptoms normally look like?”

Alexia’s lip is caught between her teeth, it’s the first time she’s looked nervous this entire conversation.

“Of course. Normally for me, I get bad pelvic pain which never really goes away, sweats, fever sometimes, cramps everywhere, i bloat, i get quite nauseous and occasionally it can make me moody. Furthermore, it can cause me to have migraines, some joint pain, insomnia, there are other things but those are the main ones. Overall it just makes me drained, i’m more fatigued but I can’t sleep, it makes me feel pretty lifeless.”

Alexia nods, she listens to every single word with so much attention.

“I always assumed the scars on your stomach were from getting your appendix removed, but I’m assuming now it’s a laparoscopy?”

You’re impressed by the level of detail Alexia has gone to for you.

“I have had my appendix removed but also yes, I’ve had two laparoscopy’s and I’m putting off getting my third done.”

Alexia nods.

“Do they make it better?”

You bite your lip before nodding.

“It’s never perfect, but for a bit it definitely makes my symptoms better. I’m putting off getting my next one because the last time I did it put me out of action for two months and it took me a while to get back to where I was. My body is different, it changes you. Before you ask, I’ve tried birth control, I’ve tried IUD’s, I’ve tried other forms of contraception, they all made it impossible for me to play football.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that, it’s your decision what you do and don’t put in your body, and I’m sure you’re just making whatever decisions work best for you.”

It’s refreshing having somebody not question what you do and don’t do for yourself.

“That means a lot to me.”

Alexia puts down her cutlery, her food somehow disappearing into her stomach.

“It’s just what love is, and I’m here to love you for forever, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve put off crying, you’ve tried your very best, but it’s not possible anymore.

The tears fall freely, and before you know it Alexia has pulled you into her lap.

It hurts, everything hurts, and yet everything feels so much better knowing you’re in her arms.

“I’ve got you bebita, I’m here now, I’m here to help you work this all out.”

——————————————————————

whelp that’s done! thoughts, feedback and general opinions would be appreciated! i’m so happy to have made something for yall and it’s rushed and super unedited and definitely not my favorite work but i hope you enjoy it all the same 🫶

[oozebrain]

For @terrifierclown based off an awesome prompt!!

Art x gender neutral and shy reader drabble. No dialogue is exchanged. Fluff, kissing, and love bites from your favorite clown. Small tw for blood (nothing graphic, Art just gets carried away!).

Nothing too explicit but contains suggestive themes, body worship, and smooching. Minors DNI.

His Eyes

“I could have told you then, you’d heard it all before,

And now you’re in suspense, you’ll have to wait for more.

In all those mysteries you’re taken by surprise,

You never thought to see that look was in his eyes.”

You threw your bag over on the couch and followed right along. With a deep and relieved sigh, you plop down on the cushions and stretch your arms over the back of the couch. It feels good to finally sit down after a long day and you prop your feet up on the table. You forgot to take your shoes off and you shrug it off. You were too tired from the day. Your feet and shoulders ached and all you wanted to do was bask in the solace of the dark room.

From the closet burst an entity, a sudden presence that filled the area with oppressive energy. You startled at the shadowy figure with an audible yelp, clambering for the light and switching it on. Your breath quivers at the fright but it quickly rolls over into a laugh of relief. It was just your roommate.

This is a game the two of you play, seeing who can scare the other and it was Art’s turn this time. He laughed uproariously in silence, his lips curling over his teeth in a wide mouth smile. He strode over to you with a bounce in his step before stopping short exclaiming wildly with his hands. He pointed furiously to your feet on the table and shook his head. He shooed them off theatrically until you relented and placed your feet on the ground. But he would not relent.

At first you were confused then remembered Art had a strict ‘no shoes in the house’ policy that he was enforcing just as you were enforcing he wear deodorant. Consider it his way of getting back at you. You chuckled then removed your shoes and tossed them over by the door, looking back at him reassuringly before averting your gaze to look just past him.

It was hard to look him in the face, especially his eyes. His shark-like eyes pulled every ounce of surrounding light into them and swallowed them into its great maw. Nothing could escape them, especially you. He would often stare at you, you could both feel and see it, but you could never return it.

Art tilted his head and drummed his fingers on his hips before taking a seat beside you, nearly sitting on you with his close proximity. He mirrored you, leaning back against the couch and draping his arms over the back of it. His arm rested atop yours, his much longer arms easily reaching over your shoulders. He touched your face experimentally, as though you were a curiosity.

He carefully pinched your cheek, just light enough to feel pressure before turning your face towards his. You offer him a small, shy smile, averting your eyes to the side. This intrigues him as his hand moves to your jaw. He clasps it gently, but with a commanding firmness as he pulls your face closer. With his free hand he once again trails his fingers over your face, smoothing your eyebrows, grazing your eyelids and nostrils. His finger trails down to your lips and eventually your neck.

Art wraps his fingers around your neck, admiring how easily his large hand fits around it. Something about knowing he could crush you but approached you so gently made your heart race. He did not squeeze, but merely allowed his hand to linger there, the meat of his palm pressing into your throat. He must have felt you gulp as his hand twitched slightly in response. You can feel his gaze burning intensely into your soul.

Without warning, both of his hands are on either side of your face and he is wrenching your head to look up directly at him. His expression is neutral, and there is no animosity behind his actions. Rather, he seems curious, and desperate, to get you to look at him. He gives your head a small shake of encouragement and motions for you to look upward.

Eventually you do meet his gaze but cannot maintain it for long. His eyes, obsidian glimmering orbs of Hell’s treasury, expel you. Behind their black expression there is a ever kindled fire burning furiously. There is a powerful force behind them that renders you powerless like a deer in the headlights. His gaze is too forceful to meet and withstand.

But he wants you to look at him. He shakes you again, this time parting his lips as though to speak but nothing comes out. Art tilts his head slightly down to match with you instead of forcing you, and you find yourself staring into the corner of his eye. With great effort, you meet his gaze and become entangled in it.

You cannot look away from the smoldering iris, the black sheet of cooled lava with fire brewing beneath it. Through the cracks you can see it, the fire, the passion, the molten fires of hell itself. You realize you are not breathing, nor can you. You have gone still as he commands your gaze and looks at you in a way no one ever has, or ever will.

His lips are abruptly on yours, gentle at first. He barely grazes them with his own, black makeup flecking your face as he trails his lips against your mouth, your jawline, your cheek. Gentle bites accompany his exploration as he tugs at the skin of the nape of your neck. He withdraws from the awkward, stooped position and wrenches your head upwards again, commanding your attention.

You barely looked at him before his lips met your again, this time with more ferocity. His kisses were no longer exploratory or gentle, rather they were a mashing of teeth and tongue. Your hands found his chest and clung to the smooth fabric of his suit before wrapping around him. Your dig your nails into his back, encouraging him to continue. He responds to this by kissing you more fervently, his biting becoming more feral and less experimental.

There was a sudden sharp pain in your lower lip and something warm. Art paused, body heaving with silent panting as he wiped his thumb along your lip. It was red with blood and without hesitation he sucked it off his finger before returning to your lips. The excitement emanating from him was nearly tangible.

He licked along your bottom lip and drew it into his mouth, extracting the blood from it. The act was strangely sensual. Your head was too clouded to feel revulsion and terror, and instead you gently withdraw from him to offer a small, playful kiss on the end of his nose.

You feel the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile and he reciprocates the affection. He returns to his mannerisms, kissing and biting, exploring every inch of your face, neck, and shoulders. You are what he craves, what he needs, and he finds the taste, scent, and sight of you delectable. He savors every inch, every millimeter, as he explores with his mouth and leaves a trail of hickies along your neck, physically marking you as his territory.

His arms wrap around you and pull you in closer, his hands scooping you off the couch and into his lap. He breaks the kiss to look at you once more and, blushing, you reciprocate his gaze. His eyes indicated he was hungry, ravenous, and that you are just what he wants.

[leah-lover]

Love in Ibiza. Barca x reader. Smut 18+

orgy. Part 1 Part 2

After that Lucy sits closer to you, and moves her head milemeteres away from yours. “ are you sure?” she whispers. You lock your lips with hers as a response. 

As you lean in the kiss you feel Lucy pull away from you. “ no” you whisper for her only to hear. She pulls away still and sits a little far from you. 

“ I am not  sure you know what you are getting yourself into.” she says. 

“ I am sure of my will to have sex with you Lucy and with all of you in fact.” you respond to her. 

“ I told you she liked you luce.” said mapi to lucy. 

“ That's not why I brought her here.” 

“ I know but you owe me now.” 

“ you guys bet on me?” you say in surprise. 

“ Well not bet but you were a topic of a few conversations we had.” said ingrid. 

“ do tell.” you add. “ I find you attractive. Especially when you wear a dress like the one you are wearing right now.” said Lucy looking you up and down. You take off your jacket as a response showcasing your shoulder less black dress. You kept eye contact with Lucy while doing so. 

“ Why don't you come and show me how much you like it then.” you say bravely. You stare into Lucy's eyes for a second before she sits near you. You turn your head to kiss her. Your lips fit perfectly together. Hers were soft and dominating. She quickly took control of you, guided you to straddle her lap; her hands roaming freely on your back. She solicited a few moans from you when she moved on to your neck giving it bruising, mouth full kisses, leaving her mark in each section. Your hands move from her neck to her hair, massaging her scalp as she devours your neck. It was like you two were the only people in the world. She then puts her head on your chest and says “ is  my baby girl enjoying this?” Both you and ona say yes at the same time which makes you  feel a little bit awkward and embarrassed. 

“ It's okay we will make a fun little compaction of who will be my best girl.” She says giving the exposed part of your chest a kiss. 

“ She isn't yours Lucia.” Said Alexia from behind you, her shirt on the ground and her hair was a little bit messy. “ We will see about that “ answered Lucy before kissing you again. She unzips your dress smoothly and helps you take it off. You stay only in a black laced underwear. “ You are so beautiful.” She whispers before going  down on you again. she sucked, kissed, and marked her way down your body leaving red circles all over it.  When she reached  your core she noticed a wet patch on your panties which made her smile. She didn't say a word though. She just tossed them aside, opened your legs and slid between them. Your brain was hazy when she first made contact with your clit. You could even release a full moan with only whimpers and muffled sounds. She put your clit between her teeth sucking at it forcefully, Her hands roamed your stomach. She kept moving until she found the right rhythm that made you arch. Your whimpers were getting louder as she moved up her pace. Her hands continued to touch you all over which made you want to come even more. “ I want to come.” You whisper gently between your heavy breaths. “ Please let me come.” “ Okay be a good girl and come for me.” 

Your eyes were closed when you reached your climax. It was the best orgasm you have ever had. You keep your eyes closed as you ride you high while breathing very loudly.  Lucy gave you in your space to calm down. 

When you opened your eyes you found ona cleaning up your juices from Lucy's mouth. The scene in front of you made your clit pulse again. “ Thank you “ you whisper when she turns to face you. “ Don't know that just yet.” She winks at you and disappears in the hallway opposite you. 

You turn your eyes only to find Ingrid looking at you. You were naked, your legs open, and your juices running down your thighs. However, she didn't make you feel vulnerable. Her eyes made you feel safe. You continue your eye contact for a moment before you extend your arm in her direction inviting her to come next to you. She agrees to your silent request and joins you on your side of the couch. You quickly glance at her girlfriend who was knuckles deep inside Alexia before giving your attention back to Ingrid. 

“Right now Lucy will pride herself in making you look so fucking sexy. You looked amazing. We all stopped and just looked at you “ she said. You get up and sit next to her. “ how long have you been doing this.” You say stroking her arm. “ Well at the beginning it was just me, Maria, Alexia and Jenni . Then Lucy and ona joined. Then aitana. We started about a year ago and we only got together when we wanted to. It was often actually.” She said. “ Are you enjoying yourself so far? '’ ' very much so.” You respond and kiss her. 

This kiss was much softer, and more intimate. Ingrid didn't rush into you she took her time. “ Is your pussy still needy even after what Lucy just did?” She asks. “ I want more.” You respond. You two look at each other before you lay back and invite her over you. Without hesitation she hovers on top of you and quickly slid 2 fingers inside of you. You arch and release a loud moan as a response. Ingrid's thrusts were harder than you thought. She wanted to ruin you and it was obvious. She kept switching up her pace and trying to loosen you up more. “ So fucking tight around my fingers aren't you baby?” She asked l, her voice filled with list. This wasn't a side of Ingrid you have ever seen. She wanted your attention to be on her so when you would turn your head to the side she would turn it back towards her. You were able to notice the scene next to you briefly. Ona was sat on Lucy's lap, her thumb stroking ona’s clit while they were both looking at Ingrid fucking you. The scene turned you on even more but Ingrid's inconsistency didn't allow you to come. She Introduced a third finger which made you scream and arch more but it only made her laugh a little. “Please please please can I come please.” You started begging her, feeling your hole stretched out to what you thought was the max. You continue begging for a while and she speeds up even more. “Please Ingrid.” You beg again. “Okay, you can come now baby “ as soon as you reserved the okay you grabbed a chunk of the couch under you, released the loudest moan of the night and came. Seconds after you you heard ona’s cries as she came too. You in absolute bliss when Ingrid pecked your lips.

“ You may have been the first but I made her come harder.” Said Ingrid to Lucy.

“ Now it's our time to try.” Alexia pointed at herself and at mapi. 

Let me know what you think.

[moonyswoony]

Lost and found

Pairing: Five hargreeves x reader

Summary: You an Five discover more than just plants and strawberries in the greenhouse

Warning(s): kissing, fluff, nothing really

“What the hell is this place?” Five muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Beats me,” you replied, stepping further inside. “But it’s not like we’ve stumbled upon a better place than this one so far.”

The two of you had been on the run for what felt like an eternity. Your attempt to figure out the subway had gone sideways—again—and now you were stuck in this strange, green timeline with no clear path back.

Five stayed close as you ventured deeper into the greenhouse, his sharp eyes scanning every inch. “This doesn’t make sense. None of this should be here.”

You brushed your fingers against a nearby vine, feeling the life pulsing through it. “Maybe this is just a small piece of the world that refused to die.”

Five huffed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “That, or we’ve stumbled into some kind of twisted fairytale.”

“Great. Does that make you the grumpy old troll under the bridge?” you teased.

“If I’m the troll, that makes you the annoying adventurer who won’t stop asking questions,” he shot back, though his tone was more fond than bitter.

As you explored, you found yourself drawn to a patch of strawberries growing along the far wall. They were perfectly ripe, a vibrant red that stood out against the greens and browns around them. Without thinking, you plucked one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness.

Five watched with raised eyebrows. “You sure that’s safe?”

“If it’s not, at least I’ll go out with a decent meal,” you replied, plucking another and offering it to him.

He hesitated, then took it, biting into the fruit with a thoughtful expression. “Not bad.”

“High praise from you,” you quipped.

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you both absorbed the strange beauty of this place. The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter over the past few days—or even years—slowly began to ease, the peacefulness of this place working its way into your entire being.

As you wandered deeper, you came across a patch of wildflowers bathed in golden sunlight. You knelt to touch them, their delicate petals soft under your fingers. “This feels like a dream,” you murmured.

“Or a trap,” Five countered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

You looked up at him, catching an unguarded expression in his eyes,something softer, more vulnerable than you were used to seeing. “Five?”

He stepped closer, the sunlight casting a warm glow across his features. “You’ve always been fearless,” he chuckled,though his voice was quieter than usual.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m not fearless, I’m—”

“You are,” he insisted. “And I should have told you sooner.”

“Five…”

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix everything, trying to keep us all alive, that I forgot there are things I want, too,” he said, his gaze pined on you.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut as you realised what he was implying—not in a painful way, but in a way that left you breathless. You had always known there was something between you, a connection that went deeper than partnership or friendship, but his words still had that affect on you.

Without giving yourself time to overthink it, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, but slow and deliberate, a promise in every brush of your lips against his. Five responded in kind, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cupped the back of your neck, holding you close.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. You felt your knees weaken as a wave of heat washed over you, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if to support yourself. His hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had both been holding back,years of unspoken feelings, of missed opportunities, all coming to the surface in this one, perfect moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough but certain.

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his jaw. “I love you too.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the reality of what you had just confessed settling over you like a warm blanket. The world around you didn’t feel as interesting anymore, not when he was in front of you.

Five glanced around at the greenery, his expression contemplative. “You know, we don’t have to leave right away.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay?”

“Just for a little while,” he admitted, surprising you with the softness in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a moment of peace. We could use the rest and some proper food.”

You looked around at the lush greenery, the golden sunlight filtering through the broken skylight, and felt a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “Let’s stay.”

With that decision made, the tension that had been a constant companion began to melt away. You found a spot to sit, leaning against a wall covered in ivy, and Five joined you, his hand finding yours and holding it tightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. No missions, no timelines, no disasters—just the two of you, in a place that felt almost unreal.

Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if we’re staying here, we might as well make the most of it.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring every second. “I couldn’t agree more.”