#i am so angry! i am so mad! and i KNOW i'm Being Unfair about it. but i can't help it.

[potatoesandsunshine]

hell of a feeling when you know you're Being Unreasonable but can't stop being unreasonable anyway

[cafelattaes]

afterglow | zcl

summary: in which you felt fed up with chenle and walked out after a fight, but you were uncertain whether he’d make an effort to save your relationship.

pairing: chenle x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.1k

you were having an argument with chenle. you tried to tell him that you felt a little uneasy about one of his female friends, but he downplayed your emotions and it irked you.

"don't you think you're being unfair?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice. "you're allowed to be jealous of every single person you think is hitting on me, but i'm not even allowed to feel upset that you have a close friend who obviously likes you?"

chenle responded dismissively. "it doesn't matter if someone likes me. all my friends know i'm head over heels for you. besides, none of my friends have openly told me they like me. i can't say the same to you and your so-called guy friends."

"i already rejected him," you countered, your voice rising. "how many times do i have to tell you that?"

"it doesn't look like you did because he's obviously still expecting something from you." he retorted, crossing his arms.

"i don't know how else to convince you. why do you always do this? every time i try to tell you how i feel, you always find a way to somehow turn it around on me, and it ends with you feeling more upset than i am."

"look, you don't need to worry about me. i couldn't care less about anyone who might like me. but you? you're too soft with that friend of yours. you might not see it, but it's obvious to everyone else how he hangs all over you. and you're not doing enough to stop it."

"but i don't like him, i never did and i never will. you also have nothing to worry about. why can't you let it go?"

chenle sighed, his eyes narrowing. "the same reason you can't let go of your concerns about my friend. no matter what i say, you're still upset and you're still jealous. that's exactly how i feel."

"so what do you want me to do?" you asked, exasperated.

"nothing. you can't do what i want."

"you want me to stop being friends with him? is that it?" you asked, incredulous. "will you do it for me if i ask you the same thing?" you challenged him. but chenle didn't respond; he just rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

you felt so pissed off. chenle was always so unfair to you whenever you had a fight. you almost screamed at him to get out, but then you remembered you were at his house. you grabbed your things and turned to the door. you were about to leave when you heard chenle's voice.

"you're leaving because of something so petty? seriously?" he said with a scoff.

you gave him a dirty look, your hand on the doorknob. "you were about to storm off to your room and shut me out anyway. we obviously don't want to see each other right now, so what's the point of me staying?" you didn't wait for him to respond. you immediately left, slamming the door behind you.

you knew you were being immature, but so was chenle. you weren't about to let him slam the door on you again, making you feel shitty and guilty, when he clearly didn't feel the same remorse. somehow, even when the fight was his fault, you always ended up being the first one to apologize. that made your stomach churn with resentment.

you weren't always like this. during the first few months of your relationship, you and chenle rarely fought. even when you did, they were just small arguments and you would always make up immediately. but now, almost two years into the relationship, after the honeymoon phase had worn off, things had changed dramatically. you started getting into more frequent and intense fights, and the tolerance and understanding that you had at the start had also faded.

honestly, part of the reason why you're always the first one to give in is that, no matter how angry you get at your boyfriend, you can never stay mad at him for long. you fear that if both of you remain stubborn and no one's going to swallow their pride, the fight would escalate and break the two of you apart. chenle, on the other hand, always seems to have no problem ignoring you for a long time. it only intensifies your frustration and hurt, making you feel even more upset with him than you already are.

you've decided you won't give in this time, no matter what. you're scared that he might do the same, matching your stubbornness with his own. but if he can't even swallow his pride for you, the person he claims to love most, then maybe you're better off apart.

you don't want that though — not really. your relationship, despite its flaws, means too much to you. you just hope he does things differently this time.

after leaving chenle's house, you returned to your own place. you tried to sleep, but your anger and frustration had morphed into a gnawing worry that made your stomach tied up in knots. deep down, you weren't confident that he would do right by you this time. the realization made you feel conflicted. is it really worth staying with him if this is how he consistently makes you feel?

the thought sent a wave of sadness through you. despite everything, you loved him deeply. the idea of your relationship ending made your chest tighten with fear. you didn't want this to be the final straw.

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over onto your pillow. as you cried silently in your room, a mix of emotions washed over you; love, frustration, hope and disappointment all tangled together. eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a fitful sleep.

your last conscious thought was a small hope that when you woke up in the morning, you'd see his name on the screen accompanied by an apology you'd been waiting for.

chenle sat by the sofa, his eyes fixed on his phone, waiting for your call. since you had walked out after your fight the night before, you still hadn't come knocking on his door. this was the first time you hadn't talked for this long after an argument. fear started creeping up because of the prolonged silence from you. his chest tightened at the thought that you might have finally decided you'd had enough of him and realized you deserved better. he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. as the day was coming to an end, the setting sun cast long shadows across his room, signaling the passage of time and deepening his anxiety.

he could no longer sit still and wait for you to come to him. what was stopping him from coming after you anyway? he didn't know. but he realized he had been selfish for always waiting for you to mend things all this time. chenle felt like he could lose you easily to other people; you were surrounded by many who liked you and wanted to be with you. because of that, he always felt threatened. letting you come to him first after a fight somehow gave him a sense of security that you loved him enough not to let others steal you away from him.

but he realized now how dumb that was. instead, he could end up losing you because of his inaction. he snapped out of his reverie and grabbed his car keys, walking hastily through the door.

you heard someone ring your doorbell, and you checked to see who it was. your heart leaped in both happiness and relief at the sight of chenle standing outside your door.

if you weren't in a fight with him, you would laugh at how ridiculous he looked wearing sunglasses. you were pretty sure the sun had already set and it was dark outside.

you were feeling different kinds of emotions as you stood there. relief that he had come, nervousness about what he might say, and a stubborn remnant of hurt from your fight. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was to come as you opened the door, finally seeing him up close.

"can i come in?" chenle asked quietly. you didn't respond verbally, but opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.

you closed the door slowly before turning around to face him. chenle stood in the middle of your living room, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

you leaned back against the door, arms crossed protectively over your chest, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said, his voice was soft and sounded a bit tired. "i'm sorry about everything. i was only thinking about myself and took your words lightly. i kept dismissing your feelings because i was blinded by my own jealousy. i didn't realize i was hurting you." he stepped closer, gently cradling your face in his hands. "please, forgive me. i don't want to lose you over some stupid fight. i know i haven't been the best at showing it, but i love you so much."

his words caused tears to well up in your eyes. for the past 24 hours, you had felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, each second away from him making you fear you were closer to losing him. you knew you both had much to discuss, and the way you communicated with each other needed improvement. but at that moment, you felt a surge of relief knowing that despite all the fights, chenle still loved you.

"thank you for coming to me, and i'm sorry too," you said, holding the hand that was caressing your face. "i have so many things to say... but first, can i take off your sunglasses? they're distracting." as you removed them, you felt your heart clenched at the sight. chenle's eyes were red and puffy, evidence of hours spent crying. the thought of him crying by himself made your sadness deepen, triggering your own tears as you immediately embraced him. "i'm so sorry for leaving you alone last night."

you didn't usually walk out during your fights, and your departure likely made chenle realize that this argument was unlike any other. he must have thought you had reached your limit. you now understood the depth of his fear of losing you, mirroring your own fear of losing him.

chenle encircled you in his arms, resting his head on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck. his embrace conveyed how much he had missed you.

"no, i am sorry. i deserved it," he murmured against your skin. "if you hadn't left, i probably would've done the same thing as before and not realized what i'd done wrong. you've been patient with me all this time. i'm sorry for all the times i ignored how you feel. i'll be better for you, i promise." he said, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

as you stood there in each other's arms, you both silently acknowledged the work ahead to strengthen your relationship. the warmth of your reconciliation filled the room, replacing the tension that had hung between you just moments before.

you and chenle were now cuddling on your bed. your chin rested on top of his head while gently running your fingers through his hair. the simple gesture made his heart flutter. his arm draped comfortably around your waist as he nestled against you, closing his eyes and basking in the peaceful aftermath.

as you lay there, feeling warm and loved, you felt so relieved. the tension from your fight completely melted away, and you felt even more in love.

chenle shifted slightly, tilting his head to look up at you. "i think i've figured out the secret to never fighting again."

you raised an eyebrow. "huh? what's that?"

"we just stay like this forever." he replied with a grin. "can't argue if we're too busy cuddling."

"tempting offer, but we'll get hungry eventually." chenle pretended to consider this seriously.

"then we take turns getting snacks while the other one guards the cuddle spot."

"guard it from what exactly?" he shrugged, snuggling closer.

"i don't know. cuddle thieves? it's a very coveted position, you know." you rolled your eyes in amusement.

"you're ridiculous."

"yeah," he leaned up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "but you love me." he whispered against your mouth. you couldn't help but smile and steal another kiss from him.

as you snuggled back together, you felt calm and happy. in that moment, holding each other close, you both silently promised to stick together. you knew your love hadn't just survived, it had grown even stronger.

[mywritersmind]

hey girl! are you writing for franco atm??? if so I wanted to see if you could write smth like fluff or reader and franco get in a fight maybe bcs of the time zones and races and he surprises her one night before race weekend like he catches a flight to see her but she still won’t budge on talking to him xxx

YELL AND FLY - FC43

listen up : just arguing but ending in comfort. thanks for the request this lowk almost made me cry

word count : 877

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can hear him pacing, the sounds of drilling and tires in the background, “I’m just tired, Franco.” We’ve been like this for an hour, I keep hearing him swear in spanish and making sure everyone leaves him alone.

“You don’t think I am?” he groans as someone tries to speak to him again, “Fuck, obviously I’m tired! You’re not the one working every weekend.”

I scoff and sit up in my bed, the sun not even up yet, “That's unfair and you know it, Franco! I work! I work even more when you’re away!” I say sarcastically, “But I'm sorry that you have to do the job you chose and you love!”

I shake my head as he responds, “I didn’t mean that, love.”

“Yes you did. And that’s fine but don’t push your anger onto me. You always do shit like this.”

“Like what?” His voice raises.

I run my hand into my hair, “You don’t think I support you.”

“Well it’s hard to think that when you’re not here supporting me.” I want to hit him, then myself. How could he think that? After I said I wanted to be there but couldn’t because I was fucking working. He takes it back quickly, “I’m sorry i’m just overwhelmed-”

“Franco. I’m tired.” Tired of this. Tired of waking up so early and staying up late for a ten minute call where we just fight, “we should talk about this later.”

He still sounds angry, “I’m busy all day.”

I stay silent. What am I supposed to say? Cry and tell him to not be? I have no choice but to nod.

“Good luck.”

He sighs, I hear the ruffling of his hair, “I’m sorry. I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” He’s mad at me and I’m mad at him. I’ve been with Franco long before his F1 debut, but us yelling over the phone every weekend isn’t something I expected with the job.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I watched his race, texted him, and logged off social media for the day. He’s off to Mexico but I just can’t leave right now. I’m sitting in the kitchen, eating my cereal and leaning over the counter while listening to Taylor Swift.

There’s a knock at the door, I groan. I’m in the same pajamas as two days ago and my hair is in the messiest bun I've seen in a while.

When I open the door, my jaw actually drops.

“Franco?” I poke him as if I think he’s some figment of my imagination. Have I really gone that crazy that I'm imagining my boyfriend at my door?

“Hi, love.” He’s real. He walks in, shutting the door softly. I want to cry as he slips his arms around me, “I’m so sorry.”

His voice washes over me and I hug him tighter, breathing him in and realizing how much I missed how he smells.

“I’m mad at you.” It comes out as a whisper, my voice broken and sad.

“You can be.” I pull back a bit, his hands in my hair, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms, stepping back.

Franco looks nervous, a bag by his side, “I wanted to see you. I thought you wanted that too…”

“Of course I did!” I sigh dramatically.

He smiles at my anger, “So, I'm here for you.”

I shake my head, going to the kitchen and cleaning up my breakfast. I don’t know how to feel. I’m so happy he’s here. But then what? He’ll just leave again and I’ll watch two second clips of him on the TV?

He follows me into the kitchen, “Love… Let me do it.” I let him because I hate the dishes.

I sit on the counter, watching him gently washing the bowl with his sleeves rolled up. He drys his hands, then looks up at me.

“I’m sorry for being mad.” I look at the floor but he steps in between my legs so I look at him, “It’s just hard.”

“It’s hard for me too. I want you there all the time but I'm so proud of you!” he puts his hands on my outer thighs, “Time Zones suck.”

I laugh, wiping my eyes from the tears that spill down my face, “I’m proud of you too. Shit, you’re so amazing. I hate working.”

“Quit.” He says it so fast.

“Franco!” I swat at his arm, letting out a sort of sob laugh.

“Okay, you can quit when I get a full time seat.” I laugh as he smiles softly up at me, “I know it’s rough right now.”

“We can work through it. We’re us.” His thumbs smooth over my cheeks.

He nods, “We’re us.”

“How long are you here for?”

He frowns, “I leave tomorrow night.” I frown with him, “But I'm here now.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. I look up at my boyfriend, his hands on me. I know I need to live in the moment now.

I kiss him softly and he pulls me into another hug, his arms around my waist, “I love you.”

I run my hands through his hair, “I love you too. We can do this.”

[me-loving-woso]

Today. Tomorrow.

Author's note: Hi everyone! So I know I've been MIA for several months. But I'm back! This fic will be divided into 3 parts cause I've realized that I can't write a short one-shot. In no way am I an expert in medicine. The information is from Greys Anatomy and the internet. I apologise in advance if I offend anyone Summary: You never thought you'd find love under these circumstances, but sometimes, love works in mysterious ways. For you, it came in the form of Aitana Bonmatí.

TW: Illness, Cancer, Surgery, Happy Ending

You've just returned to Barcelona after being away due to your job. You were an art restorer and had established a small company with some friends from university. While you specialized in medieval and Renaissance art, your three partners specialized in Japanese art, antique jewelry, and ancient Egyptian art. Your company's diverse expertise made you wanted all around the world. 

Although managing such a company and traveling extensively at 26 was demanding, you wouldn't trade it for anything. You loved your job and your colleagues, who were also your best friends. Supporting each other through thick and thin made this life worthwhile for you.

That morning, you were driving to your next job. FC Barcelona, yes, the football club wanted you to restore and polish their trophies. They were meticulous about their trophies, and despite the unnecessary level of care, they requested your services every year to maintain them. It was lucrative work with minimal effort. Even though you weren't specialized in that type of restoration, you were willing to assist your colleague and friend with the task since you had little else to do.

As you parked near the Barcelona training grounds, about to pull up the parking brake, you heard an unpleasant sound, like glass breaking, from the back of your car. You hoped it wasn't what you feared. Taking a deep breath, you checked the other side of your car, hoping it was just your imagination. But as soon as you saw the damage and a small woman approaching you with a mortified expression, you knew the worst had happened. She had hit your car. This couldn't have happened at a worse time.

Walking up to the culprit, you were angry. She was about to speak, but you cut her off. "Sorry, miss. How many fingers am I holding up?" You politely showed her two fingers.

Looking baffled, she replied, "Two?"

"Oh, so you have eyes!" you retorted sarcastically. "I guess an SUV right in front of you was too small for you to see." Your anger was palpable.

"I'm so sorry. I-I was overthinking and didn't turn the handlebar all the way to the right," she stammered apologetically. You could see she was genuinely sorry, but in that moment, you didn't care.

"They should revoke your driver's license. You're a menace," you said, crossing your arms and returning to your car. Taking out the accident report, you said, "Let's fill out the accident report so I can be done with you." She nodded sadly and helped you complete the report.

You knew you were being unfair to her. Stuff happens, but this one was the final straw for you.

As you started filling out the report, you noticed her coming back towards you. Despite her being attractive and all, you were too mad to give a damn. Once you wrapped up your part, you handed her the report to fill out while you rang up your insurance company.

After a couple of minutes of you dialing your mechanic and finishing off the paperwork, you said goodbye to the lady and headed to the Barcelona training grounds.

While you were hanging around, you checked out all the team photos with the trophy. The left side had all the guys' photos, with Messi and the 2009 team, while the right side was all about Barcelona Femeni. Your father was a die-hard Barcelona fan; back in the day, you'd go to some games with him. But when you hit high school, you kinda lost interest in football.

As you spotted last year's Ballon d'Or picture, you suddenly recognized her, which made you laugh out loud. You had just had a small car accident with none other than the Ballon d'Or winner, Aitana Bonmatì.

You thought she looked familiar, but it didn’t really click at the time. Well, at least she's better with her feet than with a steering wheel.

When Eva finally showed up at the training grounds, you rushed over to her.

"Hey Y/n, how's it going?" she greeted.

"I'm good. Some car bumped into me about ten minutes ago, but I'm all right."

"Wait what?!" Eva exclaimed, shocked. Since she found out about your condition and all, she's been super protective. "Are you sure you're okay? Do I need to go all out on someone?"

"The damage ain't that bad. And you'll never guess who I had the run-in with."

You pointed at Aitana's photo on the wall. "Aitana Bonmatì?" Eva asked, puzzled.

"Yep."

"Well, at least she's better at kicking a ball than driving a car."

"That's what I was thinking!" you said, pumped. "Now let's get down to business."

A couple of guys from the club gave you the grand tour and hooked you up with a whole room to work in. You offered to take the trophies back to your lab, but they were set on leaving them there.

As you got everything set up, just as you were about to dive in, the bearded dude was heading out. "Just a heads up, the squad might swing by to check out your work. You know, for Instagram and stuff. Don't sweat it; it won't take too long." You gave a hesitant nod, gearing up for your first trophy. 

"Imagine if Aitana walks in here with all her teammates!" Eva quips jokingly as the two guys leave you alone. "I'd pay to see her face when she realizes it's you," she chuckles.

"I think it's the men's team. Otherwise, they would've said it," you comment, preparing your materials.

"How was meeting her?" Eva asks eagerly. She's a big fan of the women's side.

"I didn't even recognize her. I was kinda harsh, actually," you chuckle.

"Luck hasn't been on your side lately, with the car and all," she replies sadly.

"Yeah," you say, feeling a wave of emotions you'd rather not deal with. You shake it off and force a smile. "Let's focus on making some good money. I'd love to have jobs like this every day!"

You start working on Champions League and La Liga trophies. There's a lot, and as the hours pass, you feel even more exhausted.

After a couple of hours, the guy from earlier shows up. "So, the team's about to arrive. Is it okay if we film you?"

Eva looks at you, waiting for your response. "Only if I get some free advertising out of it."

He thumbs up. "I'll tag you in the story."

"You better!" you playfully retort, returning to polishing the 2005 men's Champions League trophy. You fake a smile and wait for the team to arrive.

As soon as you hear female voices, you glance at Eva and chuckle. She whispers a "I told you so" and gets back to work.

When they come in, you make eye contact with Aitana. Her smile turns to shock, then mortification. It takes all your willpower not to laugh. Out of all the people in Barcelona, she had to be the one to hit your car?

You quickly present your work, using fancy words you rarely use and explaining all the procedures. Aitana never comes near you, which makes you feel a bit sorry for her.

Once the cameras stop rolling, some of the players ask you both questions. As they're about to leave, Aitana walks up to you, apologizing awkwardly.

"I'm sorry again."

"Don't worry about it. Let's start fresh, okay?" You offer your hand, and she shakes it, smiling.

"I didn't know you worked with trophies," she adds quickly, not wanting the conversation to end.

Now that the anger has passed, you actually look at her. She's one of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen, and you're a sucker for nose rings.

"I'm actually an art restorer for Renaissance art. I'm here to help my friend with this job."

"That's so cool!" She beams at you. "So, are you going to work on my Ballon d'Or trophy too?"

You glance at Eva, who nods slightly. "Yeah, but probably not until next week."

She looks at you hesitantly. "Can I be there? I mean, it's not that I don't trust you, but I'm just curious, that's all."

"Are you done rambling?" You chuckle lightly at her nervousness. She's probably still embarrassed about the accident.

"Yes, I am," she replies shyly, making you chuckle. There's something about her that draws you in, as if you were meant to be near each other.

"Of course, you can join us. It might be a bit dull for you though, since you're all about adrenaline during your football games."

"I'm just really curious, that's all. I won't bother you, I promise," she reassures you, still smiling.

"I don't think you could ever be a bother," you say before you can stop yourself, turning your head away.

"Well then, as a proper apology, can I bring you coffee tomorrow?" she offers.

"You don't have to, Aitana."

"I insist. How do you take your coffee?"

—

—

—

The next morning, you waited for Eva to pick you up for Barcelona's facilities. Since your car was at the mechanic's, she'd be giving you rides for at least a week. 

As soon as you arrived at the trophies, you got to work promptly.

"So, you think Aitana's actually gonna bring you coffee?" Eva smirks suggestively.

"I doubt it. She'll probably forget. And maybe she was just being polite," you reply, focusing on your task.

"Well, she was all smiles with you yesterday," Eva starts tentatively.

You turn to her, pausing your work. "What? What are you getting at?" you ask, eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"Maybe she wanted something more than your forgiveness. Like your attention, or an excuse to see you again," she smirks.

"You, Eva, have been reading too many romance novels lately," you chuckle, feeling defeated.

"Two is not too many!"

"We've only talked for fifteen minutes."

"Yet it was the first time I saw you smile in a month," she says, making you roll your eyes once again. You're certain Aitana was just being nice. But you can't deny she's cute. And kind. And nice.

"Eva, you know I can't," you say sadly.

"You deserve a shot at happiness too, you know."

"Yes, but I don't think a super hot football player is the answer."

"Well, maybe a super hot footballer isn't the solution, but I know one who promised you coffee," you turn your head towards the door. There she is, with three coffees on a tray, wearing a shy smile. You blush profusely, hoping she didn't overhear your conversation with Eva, but she seems unfazed, waiting for your acknowledgment.

You take a moment to compose yourself before removing your work gloves and standing up to greet her.

"Hi Aitana. Did you manage to park your car properly?" you tease.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" She hands you your coffee and then turns to Eva. "Well, I didn't know what kind of coffee you preferred, so I just brought you the most basic and likable."

Eva looks at her baffled; neither of you expected her to bring Eva coffee or to see her again. "Oh, thank you!" Eva responds before turning back to you, the absurdity of the situation evident in your wide eyes.

She takes a sip of her own coffee, then looks at the trophy you were just working on. "Have you already worked on ours?"

"We wanted to finish the men's trophies first, then do yours next week," you explain. Eva's phone rings, and she excuses herself to take the call, as it was a work call, leaving you and Aitana alone.

“It’s El Prado, I’ll be right back.” 

You sit back down to work, and she curiously comes around the table to your side to see what you're doing. "Don't you have practice today?" you ask.

"We have a rest day," she replies. "Your colleague said El Prado called her, like the museum?"

"Yeah, I have to go touch up some paintings, maybe next month? My schedule's really busy right now."

"You do paintings too?" she asks, surprised.

"I usually only do that. I'm just helping Eva with this job. These trophies are already well taken care of; they don't really need this much attention. But I have to say, LaPorta pays really well," you joke, trying to ease the tension. She chuckles lightly. She has a cute laugh, you think.

"Well, now I'll definitely tell LaPorta!" she jokes back.

"Don't you dare!"

You joke and chat for at least another fifteen minutes. There's something about her that makes your stomach flip in ways you definitely don't want it to. She's attentive, curious, and sweet. She's confident but never boastful, which you find refreshing. 

As the minutes pass, she gradually moves closer to you, coaxing you into letting her help with your work. You gently push her away, chuckling, telling her they don't pay her to restore trophies. But she doesn't budge. She grabs a pair of gloves, picks up her chair, and places it next to yours. She sits down, and you turn to her, wide-eyed at the proximity, but soon focus back on the trophy.

She tucks a loose hair lock behind your ear, asking for your attention. You turn to her, cheeks slightly flushed. "You're distracting me, Aitana."

"Maybe that is my intention," she smirks teasingly.

"Do you want me to lose my job?"

"It's not my fault you're easily distracted. I haven't done anything. I just sat next to you and put on some gloves," she raises an eyebrow.

"And that's more than enough," you utter to yourself.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" You reply hastily, but she smiles knowingly, as if she caught you saying something you shouldn't have.

You two stare at each other, like strangers trying to solve a puzzle on each other's faces. You can't quite figure her out. She's the best footballer in the world, yet she's so much more. Still, you feel drawn to her, as if you're meant to be there with her, and she with you. 

You're probably imagining things and being delusional. You blame it on your period. The silence fills the room, becoming suffocating. It's too intense, too much.

Thankfully, Eva enters the room, and you jump back into action, focusing on the trophy again, while Aitana stares at the floor.

You look at Eva, who's already sending you a big smirk, making you roll your eyes.

Aitana stands up and walks to the door. "I really have to go now. How about tomorrow?"

"What-" 

"Okay. Bye!" And she was already out.

You turn to Eva. “Did I miss something?” She asks.

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

—

—

—

"So, the blood work came back," your doctor says, settling into his chair and opening your file. "You have anemia. Until your hemoglobin levels increase, we can't proceed with the therapy. I advise you to adjust your diet to include more iron and vitamin B12-rich foods. Also, consider taking some vitamin supplements."

You nod lightly, already mentally noting a trip to the drugstore. After a final visit from the doctor, you head home.

This week has been relatively relaxed compared to your previous ones in Italy. You've been working on an undemanding job with your best friend, which couldn't have gone better. Well, maybe it did. Every day this week, she brought you coffee and lingered for at least 15 minutes to chat with you. Even with her busy training schedule, she always made time to talk. You wouldn't discuss deep topics or your condition, but you appreciated how she listened and remained interested in your life.

Occasionally, she'd flash you that beautiful smile, tempting you to throw caution to the wind and kiss away all her smirks and grins.

—

That same morning, Eva was alone at the Barcelona training grounds because you were at the doctor's office. Around 9 AM, Aitana arrived, searching for you.

"Hi, Eva. Is Y/n here?" she asks.

"Y/n isn't here today. She had a doctor's appointment. Did she forget to tell you?" Eva replies.

Aitana's face falls into a kicked puppy expression. "She did. Anyway, I wanted to give her this." She hands Eva a bag. "It's game tickets. She mentioned she's never been to a Barcelona Femení game, and I wanted to change that. Can you please give them to her?"

Eva studies her, trying to gauge her intentions. "You like her, don't you?"

"What?" Aitana's taken aback, clearly not expecting those words.

"I get it. She's a wonderful person. And stubborn. Just don't hurt her; she's already going through enough," Eva warns.

Aitana nods lightly. "I hope to see you at the stadium this weekend. Bye!" With that, she leaves.

—

Two hours later, you return to work. 

"Hey!" you greet Eva.

"Hey! How was the appointment?"

"I have anemia, among other things, so I have to wait for it to get better before starting treatment."

"That sucks. But on the bright side, your footballer came by."

Damn. You were so wrapped up in conversation with her, and also distracted by her presence the day before, that you forgot to tell her you wouldn't be at work the next day.

"I forgot to let her know I wouldn't be here today," you admit.

"I figured. I saw the disappointment on her face when she didn't see you," Eva says, overly dramatic.

"You're being dramatic," you lightly blush.

"Maybe, but she cares about you."

"She's a good friend. It's no wonder everyone likes her."

"She could be more than a friend. I think she's—"

"Again, Eva. You know I can't! Besides, do you really think a girl like her would go for a girl like me?" With every interaction, your feelings for Aitana have grown. You're ignoring them, but you know they're there. Acting on them wouldn't be fair to her. But there's an inexplicable pull that you can't control.

"Y/n, you have qualities not everyone has. If it's a worthiness issue, it's all in your head." Eva hands you the bag Aitana left.

"You know I can't be in a relationship right now."

"Why?"

"You know why. It wouldn't be fair to her."

"Then stop giving her heart eyes. It's annoying, especially when I'm trying to work," Eva chuckles.

"It's not you she's trying to distract," you admit, blushing lightly. "And I don't give her heart eyes." You pout.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," she comments ironically. "But I get it. You've never dealt well with hot women anyway. You're just playing it cool because you're still denying your feelings."

"Stop getting inside my head! Let's get back to work."

That night, you finally open the bag. Inside is an envelope with two tickets to Saturday's game against Atletico Madrid, along with a note.

"I hope you enjoy the game! Since I know you don’t have a jersey, I thought I’d give you one of my old ones."

You pull out the jersey, from last year with the Liga F patch. You subtly smell it, convincing yourself it's not weird. Her perfume lingers, but there's also a scent that inexplicably feels like hers.

The next morning, you wake up an hour early for work. You want to finish an be earlier to surprise Aitana and apologize. Knowing she has a physio appointment ending at 10 AM, you plan to surprise her with a macha latte, just as she did for you all week.

Waiting outside the physio building feels like a terrible idea, making you regret everything. As time passes and she doesn't emerge from the building, you were about to give up. But then, after what feels like centuries, she appears. The look on her face makes it all worth it. She walks quickly to you, still wearing a cute smile.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"I wanted to apologize. I forgot to tell you about yesterday." You hand her the macha. "Plus, this week, it's my turn." You both sit on a bench.

"Is everything okay? Eva mentioned you had a doctor's appointment," she inquired, causing your brain to pause for a moment.

"Uhm, yeah! Just some anemia, but otherwise, I'm good," you fib.

"That must be tough. My mom also has anemia, but fortunately, it's not that serious," she says, switching to a more excited tone. "So, are you coming to the game on Saturday?"

"Of course," you reply, grinning at her excitement.

"You know, since I gave you the tickets, you have to wear my jersey, or they won't let you in," she teases.

"Too bad, I was planning to wear my Putellas jersey. She's the best player on the team. Plus, I love the number 11," you try to rile her up. Her smile fades, and she's about to stand up when you put down your coffee and wrap your arms around her waist to keep her on the bench. "I'm kidding!"

She sits back down, crossing her arms childishly. "I want my jersey back."

You scoot closer to her, attempting to uncross her arms, but she's surprisingly strong. "Oh no. It was a gift. Besides, I think I can get used to the number 14." Finally, you manage to uncross her arms, and she takes your hand, intertwining it with hers. Your heart begins to race as you stare at your hands together. Her voice brings you back to reality.

"I'll show you who's the best."

"I have no doubt." With your free hand, you tuck one of her locks of hair behind her ear. "And you, woman, are one of the most competitive people I know. It's concerning."

"If we win, we'll probably go out to celebrate. Do you want to come?" she asks shyly.

"I'm already going out. One of my friends wants to celebrate his birthday at a bar. Maybe next time?" you suggest.

"Definitely."

You check your watch. "I really have to go now; I need to get back to work. Same time tomorrow?"

"Bringing you coffee is my thing. Are you stealing my ideas, Y/Ln?" she hints.

"Well then, I won't have a reason to see you," you imply, stepping into unknown territory, but it feels right.

"Well, that's just your loss. Coffee's my thing. You'll just have to find another way to see me then."

"Is that a challenge? Because I can find some other excuses to see you before the match," you grin confidently.

"Like?" she asks, smiling back.

"Well, I was thinking of working on your Ballon d'Or tomorrow evening. You've been bugging me for a week, asking for my help. I'll let you work on your Ballon d'Or, if you still want to, of course."

"Oh, so you want to invite me over to do your job?" she smirks.

"Definitely. This was all planned. You didn't see that coming, did you?"

"You just broke my heart. And for a moment I thought what we had was genuine," she says dramatically, making you poke her side.

"I really have to go now. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

You walk to your car with a smile plastered on your face, feeling a tingling sensation in your hand from when she held it. You feel and sound like a horny teenager. Never in your life has a person made you feel this way, and that scares you.

—

—

The next morning, you arrived at work with a newfound excitement, which didn't escape Eva's notice.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked.

"Just the usual," you shrugged.

"Does it have something to do with your footballer?"

"She does have a name, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I've seen her more than my parents this past week. It's concerning. By the way, where is she?"

"She'll be here in the evening when we work on the Ballon d'Ors."

"Then I'll be out of your way."

"You don't have to. Nothing will happen between us, don't worry."

"Yeah, no. I've suffered enough this week. All the giggles, all the weird flirting. I'm done. Plus, you're making me feel extremely lonely."

—

Fast forward to the afternoon, you were waiting for Aitana while finishing touching up all the material. Even though the supplement for anemia gave you more energy, you had been working for six hours straight and couldn't wait to finish.

What was left was Aitana's Ballon d'Or. You hated working with gold, so you were glad this was the last thing for Barcelona. You would probably miss being here, but most importantly, you'd miss a person more.

As soon as she came in, you noticed she was still dressed in Barcelona sweats.

"Hey! Did you just finish training?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

"Tiring. I didn't know you wore glasses." She put your glasses on herself.

"You are definitely blind. I remember you asking me if I was blind when we first met. I guess coming from you, it's even funnier," she teased, earning a poke to the side.

You rolled your eyes. "I had contacts on. What's your excuse?"

She showed you her tongue. "Do I look like an art restorer now?" she fake bragged.

"You are way too fit for anything to do with art," you chuckled, gently removing your glasses from her face.

"Hey! I do, in fact, love everything to do with art. I'm here; that should mean something."

"Being friends with an art restorer doesn't change the fact that you're for sports, while I'm for the visual arts."

"Maybe that's why we get along."

"Maybe." You handed her a pair of gloves, which she excitedly put on. "You're getting very excited for this. Working with gold is very boring."

She shrugged. "I'm working with Spain's best art restorer; it's a privilege," she teased.

"I'm far from being the best," you denied shyly.

"I looked you up, you know. Youngest woman to own an art restoring company, you travel the world because everyone wants you. What more can you do?" she insisted confidently.

"You're the best player in the world. Last year, you won everything. What more can you do?" you flipped the conversation.

"I'm far from being the best. I still have to improve," she repeated your words.

"To me, you are the best, if that means something," you admitted, making her turn to you with a big smile on her face.

"Well, I thought Alexia was your favorite player; you claimed that you love the number 11," she raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Well, I told you that I could get used to a 14 on my back. Plus, she didn't bring me coffee for an entire week just to see me. Lame, I might add," you teased her, making her blush.

"Shut up! You loved it," she said shyly, hiding her face away from you.

"Yeah, I really did... Now let's get started."

For the next half-hour, you taught Aitana a part of your work, filling your heart with joy at her curiosity. Whenever you guided her hands, Aitana would send you a look that you couldn't quite explain. It was intense and riveting, making you internally combust.

She was sitting so close to you; you could smell her perfume and shampoo. Your eyes focused on her, and she lightly stuck out her tongue, which you found extremely cute and distracting. As you gently took her hands, you could feel her calluses even with gloves on, you showed her a movement she had to do.

"Thank you for letting me help you," she said shyly, and you gently squeezed her hands.

"No problem. Plus, it's your Ballon d'Or," you shared a quick, soft look. "Actually, you're doing me a favor. Working with gold is my least favorite thing to do. You made it a little more tolerable."

"I'm glad to hear that," she chuckled. "I hope I didn't distract you too much from your work this week," she confessed insecurely. Insecurity didn't suit her well.

"Did you distract me? Yes," her face fell a little. “Do I care? No. We wouldn't be here now," you reassured her, and she lightly nodded in response. "So, on Saturday, I'll have to find ways to distract you from the game, so then we'll be even," you bumped her shoulder playfully.

"I never get distracted," she said confidently. You were glad to see her back to her confident self.

"Is that a challenge?" you raised your eyebrows.

"No challenge. It's a fact."

"Are we back to being all confident now?" you smirked playfully. "Well, now I'll definitely make it my main goal for Saturday to be able to distract you."

"And how do you plan to do that?" she turned to you defiantly.

"My master plan will be divided into plan A, which I still have to devise, and plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I kinda do?"

"Too bad," you chuckled playfully.

It was 6 PM when you decided to go home. You had stayed with Aitana for more than three hours, but strangely enough, it felt like thirty minutes. You had discovered a new side of her that you couldn't get enough of.

She was different in real life from when she was on the pitch—still driven and determined, but also funny, kind, and gentle. She cared about so many things and was so busy, yet she had time to be with you for more than three hours. 

She loved books and days spent at the beach. Her passion for football encompassed her whole life, and you admired how passionate she was about her work.

She reminded you of yourself and your love for art. When you asked her about her favorite books, you were surprised when she replied with nerdy titles. Looks could be deceiving; Aitana Bonmatí was a bit of a nerd, and you loved it.

She walked you back to your car with your bag on her shoulder, insisting that it was too heavy. As you reached your car door, you quickly turned to her. "So I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Definitely."

"Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?" you couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, boss," this time, you received a poke on the ribs. "Ow!"

"Thank you for today. I really had fun. I thought working with gold was going to be more boring."

"It wasn't, thanks to you," you wanted to hug her. No, you felt the necessity to do so. Unceremoniously, you brought her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her neck and drawing her closer. After the initial shock, she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you tighter. The hug lasted longer than necessary, but neither of you wanted to let go.

There was a pull that made you not want to leave her embrace. It was comforting, and even if you didn't realize it at the time, you really needed it. After some time, you broke off the hug, said your final goodbye, and left for home.

—

Upon arriving home, you noticed a light emanating from the living room. Initially startled, you thought it might be an intruder. However, upon entering, you found your annoying brother standing there with his arms crossed.

"Jesus Christ! I thought you were a burglar! Idiot!" you exclaimed, smacking his arms in frustration.

"Hi to you too, sis," he responded with a smirk.

"Why didn't you call me?" you asked, placing your bag on the floor before embracing him.

"I needed to talk to you, and I knew you'd find an excuse not to see me," he explained.

"You live in Manchester!"

"I'm back. Got transferred back to Barcelona."

"For good?" you inquired eagerly. Ciro, your brother, was one of the best sports physiotherapists globally, having worked with Man City for almost two years.

"Yeah, got a call from Barcelona. You know I can't say no to that. Plus, I really wanted to be home," he replied.

He towered over you, twenty centimeters taller, with medium-length wavy hair that made heads turn. You both represented the opposite ends of two worlds—you loved art, he loved sports.

"I'm glad you're back," you said warmly, stepping back from the hug.

"Now, why did I have to hear from Mom that you were sick?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"Ciro, I wanted to tell you, but you were busy with work. I really didn't want to worry you."

"You should've told me," he said sadly. "I would've been there. Could've come sooner."

"And do what? I'll start my treatment next week. There's not much you can do."

"I can be there for you. We made a deal to always stick together. You're my older sister, you've always been there for me. The least I could do is to be there for you," he insisted. You sighed sadly, realizing he was right. You should've told him. Perhaps you wanted to protect him, or maybe you feared that acknowledging your illness would make it too real.

"Did you come home because of me?" you asked tentatively, hoping for a different answer.

"As much as Man City pays, Barcelona is my home. And I really missed my sister."

"You're such a suck-up! What do you need?" you teased.

"Well, now that you ask... I might need a place to stay."

Rolling your eyes, you replied, "You can take the guest room."

After settling his stuff in the guest room, you both decided on pizza for dinner. He insisted you make the call, but you refused, playfully tossing his phone back to him. As soon as he returned, you sat on the couch to catch up on each other's lives. It had been months since you'd seen each other, and despite your reluctance to admit it, you missed him.

"Are you also working with Barca Femeni, or only the men's side?" you asked.

"I still don't know. Definitely covering all the home games and the key players if they're injured. Unsure about the away games."

"I have tickets to Saturday's game for the women's side if you want to come," you offered.

"I'll probably have to cover that game, being the first one," he replied with a suggestive smirk. "Why do you have tickets for a football match? Weren't you against 'the sports'?" he teased, using air quotes.

Blushing lightly, you retorted, "I never said I was 'against the sports.' I just prefer books to football games."

"Then why the sudden interest in watching a football match?" His face lit up. "Is it for a girl?" he asked excitedly.

"No girl!" you insisted, though thoughts of Aitana flickered in your mind. "Just felt like it."

"Then why are you smiling?" he persisted, tossing a pillow your way.

"No particular reason," you lied.

"Okay. You'll tell me when you're ready," he said with a knowing smile.

—

—

Fast forward to Saturday, and Ciro settled into his new job quickly. He primarily worked with the men’s side, working on Gavi and Balde, the most serious injuries at the moment.

On Saturday, he was to finally meet the women’s side in preparation for the game. Patri was the first to arrive, followed by Pina and Bruna. Aitana was the last, there for additional ankle support.

Upon seeing Ciro, Aitana gave him a strange look, as if he reminded her of someone.

"Hello?" Ciro greeted, puzzled by her expression.

Quickly snapping out of it, Aitana apologized, "Oh, hi, sorry! You kinda looked like someone familiar. I apologize if I gave you a weird look." Extending her hand, she introduced herself, "I’m Aitana."

"Hi. I’m Ciro. I’m the new physio. What can I do for you?" he responded.

During their time together, Ciro realized that Aitana was very chatty about nerdy things like books and coffee places—things that reminded him of you and how well you two would get along.

"You said you just came back from Man City, right?" Aitana asked.

"Yes, I did," Ciro replied.

"Did you know that the first atom was split there?" she commented, making Ciro chuckle. She would really get along with you.

"I think you’d be friends with my sister. She said the same thing when I left to go there," Ciro remarked.

"I guess it’s common knowledge," Aitana stated confidently.

"No, it’s not. But I’ll reply the same way I replied to my sister: who cares about atoms, when Manchester is home to the annual World Pie Eating Championship," Ciro chuckled.

"You got a girlfriend there?" Aitana asked unexpectedly.

Blinking at the question, Ciro replied with a crooked smirk, "Why, are you interested?" It was playful banter, no ulterior motives.

Raising her hands defensively, Aitana replied, "Nope, you’re not really my type."

"Then I should really introduce you to my sister," Ciro teased.

"Nah, I’m already interested in someone else. I’m sorry," Aitana smiled brightly.

"Too bad," Ciro finished up her ankle. "You’re all set. I’m sorry if this conversation was unprofessional. Please don’t report it to the club," he added with a tense smile.

"Don’t worry. We were just talking. But I do have to say, the more I see you, the more you look like a person I know," Aitana observed.

"Well, I hope they are great. I don’t want to leave a bad impression," Ciro replied.

"She’s wonderful," Aitana said before heading to the pitch.

—

—

Meanwhile, you were getting ready with Eva to go to the Estadi Johan Cruyff.

"So your brother’s back in town for good?" Eva asked.

"Yeah, he’s currently crashing at my apartment until he gets a flat of his own. Feels like we’re back to being teenagers living together for Uni," you replied, putting on Aitana’s shirt and giving it a subtle sniff.

"How’s that going?" Eva raised her eyebrows.

"So far, so good. She’s my friend," you reassured her.

"So, you told her about your condition, right?" Eva asked sternly.

You fell silent. "I’ve been meaning to! I just haven’t found the time yet."

"You need to tell her," Eva urged.

"I know. Let me just ignore it for a little longer," you replied hesitantly.

"She won’t go away, you know that?" Eva reassured you.

"I don’t care about that. We’ve only met three weeks ago. I don’t have some sick attachment issues, okay? I... I just really care about her," you admitted.

"I know you do. Or else we wouldn’t be going to a football game just to see her," Eva said with a smile.

—

At the Estadi Johan Cruyff, Aitana had secured great seating spots for you. As they warmed up, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. When she spotted you in the crowd, her face lit up with a huge smile, and she excitedly waved at you.

The game started quickly, with Aitana making a significant impact on the field. Her passing was precise, and she dribbled past opponents effortlessly. 

In the first 15 minutes, she had already made an assist and nearly scored a goal. At the thirtieth minute, she scored a remarkable goal from outside the box, prompting you to cheer loudly.

However, the next action worried you. A harsh tackle left Aitana clutching her ankle in pain. Thankfully, your brother quickly tended to her, and she was able to continue playing, albeit with some discomfort. At halftime, Ciro was still with Aitana, leaving you concerned. But what concerned you more was that she didn’t return for the second half, replaced by another player.You quickly sent a text to Ciro, hoping he’d see it.

**You:** Where are you?

**Ciro:** I’m at work, idiot. You saw me.

**You:** I know, but right now? Is everything okay with Aitana?

**Ciro:** Yes, why? Why are you so concerned?

**You:** She’s my friend. Can I come and see her?

Aitana was perched on the physio bed, visibly annoyed that they’d taken her off at half-time.

“Hey, Aitana,” Ciro turned to her, puzzled by her behavior, away from his phone. “How do you know my sister?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Who’s your sister?”

“Y/n?” He stated, as if it were obvious.

“Like Y/n Y/ln? You’re his brother?”

“Yeah!”

“I didn’t know that! She never mentioned she had a brother. That’s why you looked like her!”

“She wants to come and see you. I can’t let her in, but you can if you want.”

Aitana blushed lightly, a fact Ciro noted but didn’t comment on. Internally, she thanked him for it.

“Yeah, of course she can come if she likes.”

He smirked knowingly, making her blush again. “I’ll go get her. Then we’ll have a small talk on how you have the hots for my sister,” he teased, leaving the room.

As soon as you saw Ciro in the hallway, you understood immediately that he had something in mind.

“Since when do you know Aitana Bonmatì?”

“Since I worked on her Ballon d’Or. We’ve become friends.”

“Only that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Ciro. Only that.”

“Doesn’t seem like it. You are way too worried.”

“Shut up,” you smacked his stomach hard, making him whine. “And not a word about this around her, understood?”

“Can I say one thing?”

“Then you’ll shush?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“She’s really nice and chatty. I get why you like her. Plus, she’s really hot, not to mention your type?”

“You really want me to get violent on you?” You hit him again.

“Ow!”

“You deserved it.”

“You didn’t deny it though…” You hit him again, this time harder. “This one was my fault. I take it back.”

You both reached the door to the physio room. “Now get back to work, Ciro.”

“So bossy! I hope Aitana likes this side of you!” He teased, and you replied with a glare that clearly said, "I’m going to hit you." Your patience was really getting tested. “Bye!” He quickly left to get back on the pitch, while you opened the door.

—

She was sitting still on the physio bed, with some ice on her ankle, still dressed for the match, and lightly pouting.

“Hey,” as soon as she turned to you, she brightened up.

“Hey!” You approached her. “How’s your ankle?”

You took her in, noticing she looked exhausted even though she only played for 45 minutes. Even though you saw her play, you were glad they let her rest.

“It’s good. They took me off for ‘precautionary measures,’” she rolled her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re healthy,” you replied, turning around to show her you were wearing her jersey.

She grabbed both sides of the jersey and dragged you in between her legs. “You have it on!” she said excitedly.

“Of course! I only wear the best! Great game, by the way,” you lightly caressed her thigh, next to her knee, to give her some reassurance. “You scored a banger!”

“Thank you. I’d rather have played more, though,” she pouted, making you smile at her cuteness. “By the way, what was your secret plan to make me distracted?”

You chuckled lightly, completely forgetting. “Plan A was to distract you just by my presence,” you bragged jokingly, making her giggle and earning you a poke in the ribs.

“That’s not true. You just didn’t think of anything to distract me with,” she said confidently.

“Maybe.”

“What was plan B, then?”

“Becoming a pitch invader or just flashing you,” you said dramatically.

“I would’ve definitely loved to see that,” she gave you a playful smirk, lightly gripping your waist a little harder.

You chuckled, smacking the back of her head. Then, you looked at her properly, changing the mood of the conversation. Her eyes looked so tired. “You look exhausted. You still have the elastic band in your hair. Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“I’m just too lazy to take it off,” she confessed bluntly.

You rolled your eyes and then gently took it off her. “There you go. Do you want me to take out your ponytail too?” You looked into her eyes once again.

“You don’t have to. I can do it on my own,” she said shyly.

“I know you can, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to be near you.”

Her face softened, making you melt like chocolate under the sun. She nodded slowly, and you sprang into action. Taking a step closer, you gently took off the elastic band and looped it around your wrist. You scratched her scalp a little, making her release a relaxed sigh. Chuckling lightly, you took a step back to give her some space. As you were about to take another step, she quickly grabbed you, bringing you even closer to her. Swallowing some of the tension, you realized she was in control now and wanted you closer. You quickly looked at her lips, then back to her powerful gaze.

“You don’t have to find an excuse to be closer to me. I always want you near me all the time,” you tucked your head down to hide your blush, not wanting to show her how much those words had affected you. She gently grabbed your chin and raised it to her level.

“Don’t hide from me. I love it when you blush,” she teased.

“Stop doing that,” your face flushed again.

“Doing what?”

“Being all confident and so close to me. It’s distracting.”

She smirked in response. “Maybe that’s the effect I want you to feel. I’ll let you go if you feel uncomfortable,” she reassured you.

You replied by simply placing your hands on the sides of her face, playing lightly with her baby hair.

“We’ve been skirting around it for two weeks now. Don’t you feel the same pull towards me that I have with you? It’s consuming, and it feels so good,” she admitted.

It was intense, obliterating in a sense, yet you couldn’t resist it. You hated not feeling in control. Acting upon these feelings wouldn’t be fair to her.

“I feel it too,” you removed your hands from her and took a step back, seeing her expression change. You could feel her disappointment. “So much. But I can’t,” you sighed defeatedly. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Why?” she asked vulnerably. “Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”

You took a deep breath and decided to tell her. She deserved to know. You couldn’t continue like this.

“Aitana, I have ca—”

The door opened, and the entire team barged in. You subconsciously took another step back and let the team swarm Aitana. They were checking up on her, but her eyes never left yours.

“Hey, you’re the art restorer!” Patri pointed out.

You quickly changed your demeanor to something more cheerful. “Yes, I just came in to say hi to Aitana. I was just about to leave. I’ll see you.”

You quickly left to reunite with Eva and then headed home.

—

Later that night, you were going to a club to celebrate your colleague Pablo’s birthday, but for you, it was also the last party before you had to start your treatment.

The whole thing with Aitana earlier that day had left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like an asshole and couldn’t shake the feeling that things could have gone better between the two of you.

Realising that you never asked for her phone number and that you had finished your work for the club, you concluded that you probably wouldn’t see her again.

So when you left for the beach bar with your friends, you decided to indulge in some vodka. Eva didn’t question it. She knew that sometimes, when you were out with your friends, you stopped being the responsible one and drank more than usual to have some fun. Pablo and Eva always made fun of you because you never had filters and would always create chaos, but you never went overboard.

You were in the middle of the night, two drinks in, and you started telling your friends that you loved them. They only chuckled in response. You alternated between depressing states and euphoric ones, making Eva, who was also intoxicated, extremely confused.

The whole night shifted again when you saw a group of girls entering the bar, including the one girl you thought you’d never see again. As soon as she saw you, she tried to approach you. She wanted to talk about the conversation you had earlier that day, but you tried to drunkenly escape the conversation. It did not work.

A few moments later, you were met with her standing in front of you while you were sitting down at the bar stools. She saw that you were drunk, and her serious appearance faded for a moment. 

“Can we—Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Yep,” you confessed without even trying to hide it. “What are you doing here?”

“We are out celebrating the win. What are you doing here?”

“The birthday party,” you slurred. She had her nose ring on. You loved it when she wore it. “You have your nose ring on. I really like it,” you tried to raise your hand to touch it, but she quickly stopped you.

“How much did you drink?” she asked, concerned.

“Not that much. Why are you so serious? I don’t like it when your face scrunches up.”

She chuckled at your drunkenness. “You are so drunk. I’ll take you home.”

“Nooo. You just got here, plus my friends are about to leave,” you protested.

“It’s no biggie. You need to get home to sleep it off.”

“I think I should. On Monday, I have my first treatment. I shouldn’t feel hungover,” you blurted out.

“You have your first what?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“What?”

“A kiss. You know, the ones you give to a person with the lips,” you explained, while she slowly took your hand and led you out of the bar.

“I know what a kiss is. I don’t think I should give you a kiss, given your current state. And the fact that a few hours ago you rejected me.” You were out now.

“Wait. Why are we outside?”

“I’m taking you home.” She states.

“You tricked me. You are one little sneaky son of a bitch.” You pout, making her laugh.

“You drunk, is the highlight of my day.”

“That’s so sad.” You cover your mouth with your hand childishly. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She giggles in response. “I still want a kiss from you. And I want to you to know that I didn’t in fact reject you. I just told you that I can’t.” You specify.

She leads you to her car without you realizing it. “I hope you are not one of those people who takes me to their car and then try to kill me.” She opens the car door and helps you inside.

She buckles your seatbelt, and due to the closeness, you blurt out. “You are very beautiful. The most perfect face.”

She chuckles, lightly shaking her head. “You are very beautiful too.” She gives you a quick kiss on the temple and round the car to get to the driving seat.

“Was it that difficult to give me a kiss?” You ask her rhetorically, making her roll her eyes at you.

“Can you tell me your address?” She sat down on the driver’s seat and gently turned your head towards her to get some attention.

“I don’t wanna go home. My brother is there.” You whine. “Let’s go to the beach.” You say excitedly. 

“Y/n you are drunk. If you don’t tell me your address I’ll bring you to my home.” Aitana tells you seriously. 

“Is that an invite?” You smirk suggestively.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Y/n.” 

“Calm down. I was just joking!” You grinned.

“I should probably text Eva.” You sober up and sent her, very slowly, a text.

**You** I’m going hmoe with hot footballer. See you on mnoday. I’m drukn but I love you.

The drive pretty much sobered you up. You were still blabbering nonsense to Aitana, talking to her about the most random things. When you arrived, you quickly noticed that you weren’t in your apartment complex.

“I knew it. You brought me here to kill me,” you said, fed up.

“We are at my home.”

You opened the car door and got out before she could help you. “This whole building is your house?!” you said, shocked, while she quickly walked up to you.

“No, you idiot. I have an apartment,” she giggled lightly.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting to see me like this.”

“I am definitely enjoying this. Too bad I can’t make any videos of you like this,” she said, placing a hand behind your back to stabilize you until you got to her apartment.

You curiously wandered around her living room, taking in her home. It was just like her. Every decoration, every piece of furniture reflected her in some way, only something was missing.

“You should get some artwork to fill up the walls. Your house is beautiful, Aitana.”

“Thank you. I guess you can definitely help with that, don’t you think?”

“Not in this condition.” You sat on the couch, while you waited for her to join you.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Not with you like this, tomorrow morning?” she offered, but you weren’t on board with that.

So, with a swift movement, you sat on her lap, taking Aitana by surprise. You placed her hands on your waist and blurted out. “I’ll talk then. I really like you, but I can’t be with you right now. The connection you feel between us is so real and intense that it scares me. You have been one of my biggest blessings in disguise since you came into my life.”

“I’d rather talk about this when you’ll remember it, but I really like you, and I would like to know why we can’t be together.”

You were sober enough to stop yourself from telling her the truth. “I’ll tell you tomorrow morning, I promise.”

You gently rubbed her shoulders, feeling all her muscles, making you giggle.

“What?” she asked, tickling you for a second or two. She was back to being her unserious self, and her crinkle disappeared. Probably it was because she knew that you were safe now.

“You are so muscular.” You squeezed her biceps. “If we were in a zombie apocalypse, would you protect me from all the zombies? You go fend off our enemies while I do the housewife and part-time art restorer. Maybe zombies make art, who knows?”

“Okay, I will,” she indulged you.

“You promise?” You asked her seriously.

“Yes.”

“Pinky promise?” You raised your pinky, and she laced it with hers. “Now it’s sealed.”

“Let’s go to bed,” she spurred you to stand up and walked you to her bedroom. She quickly gave you some spare clothes to change, leaving the room for you to have some privacy. She gave you some Barcelona shorts and one of her old t-shirts.

Somehow, every item had her typical perfume, and that special something that was characteristically hers. You were now a little more sobered up, which made you less chatty and with some inhibitions.

As you opened the door of her bedroom to see where she was, you saw that she was getting the couch ready to sleep.

“Aitana, come to bed. I can take the couch. You already did more than enough for me today.”

“It’s no biggie,” she shrugged.

“No, it’s a big biggie.” You walked up to her and literally dragged her into her own bedroom. “You take the bed.”

“Then we’ll both take it.”

“We can do that.” You waited for her to take her usual side, then you climbed on the other side. She turned off the light, and you moved to your side to face her. “Thank you for tonight. You didn’t have to, but you still took care of me. You are truly one of the most amazing people I know.”

She kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

She laid on her back, making you subconsciously go near her as much as possible, until you looped your arm around her waist and cuddled into her. In response, she gave you another kiss on the temple and nuzzled into you.

—

—

The next morning, you woke up with a headache. An arm was keeping you down, and as you opened your eyes, confusion swept over you.

Aitana was still softly sleeping on your side. Memories of last night flooded back into your mind. You guessed that she felt you stir awake because not even a minute after you had woken up, she woke up too.

“Good morning,” she said gently, moving away from you and sitting up, quickly stretching herself. You basically mimicked her movements on the other side of the bed and followed her to the living room.

“Coffee?” she offered.

“Definitely,” you replied, sitting down at her kitchen table. “Can I have a glass of water? My head is killing me.” She quickly retrieved it for you and got back to preparing the coffee. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable last night.”

“You didn’t. I’ve thought about what you told me yesterday: that you can’t be with me because it wouldn’t be fair to me. I think… no, I’m certain, that we can work it out together,” she said hopefully. She was still standing when you chuckled sadly.

“Aitana, you don’t know how much I’d want that. But being with me right now isn’t worth it, and I won’t ask you to wait for me because that wouldn’t be fair to you,” you admitted sadly.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Whatever it is, we can—”

“Aitana, I have cancer.”

Now she sat down. “You told me you had anemia,” she said defensively, not really believing you.

“I do also have anemia. That’s why I’ll start chemo so late from the diagnosis,” you released a sigh.

“Is—is it curable?” she almost whispered, almost not knowing how to take the news.

“Thankfully, I found out early about the tumor. The doctors said a 70% success rate.”

“Where is it?”

“Thyroid cancer. It’s a little bump next to my vocal cords.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she pleaded, almost offended.

“Because...I didn’t want you to see me in a different way,” you confessed as your voice cracked vulnerably.

“I could never see you in a bad light. You are a fighter, Y/n, remember it.”

“Do you understand why I can’t be with you?”

“Yes, and I call it bullshit,” she remarked determinedly.

“What—”

“You know, statistics say that only 30% of relationships last the first year. You literally have more hope to live than us being together.”

“And so?”

“And so, why are you denying us to yourself?”

“Maybe because in the next month, all my hair will fall off, I’ll be as weak as I’ll ever be, and I won’t be able to work anymore?” you said sarcastically. “Do you really want a girlfriend like that?”

“I want you, Y/n. We’ll just have to go through the bad times first before the good parts.”

“You know, Aitana Bonmatì, you are one stubborn woman. You never stop until you get what you want, huh?”

She nodded confidently.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to give you an out? For God’s sake, I have cancer! I might die, and I don’t want you to ruin your life to take care of me. I can’t be that selfish. I care about you way too much!” you replied exasperated, still with your head pounding.

She rounded the table and knelt down next to your legs, taking your hands. “It’s not a decision you can make for me. If you won’t let me be there for you as your girlfriend, then I’ll be there for you as a friend. For the record, I care about you too. And even if you already have Eva and Ciro, I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“We could never be friends, you know that?” you gently caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch.

“I know. But you are in control, okay? Let me just be there for you, please,” she practically begged you in the last part. You made her stand up while you thought for a moment.

“You won’t surrender, will you?” Your face adorned with a sad smile, while she shook her head. “I’m just a stranger, Aitana.”

“You are way more than that, and you know it,” she paused for a second. “You would do the same for me.” You nodded. You’d probably do worse if you found out that she had cancer.

"Let's take things slow, okay?" you concede, rising from your seat and placing your coffee cup on the table. "I should probably go home. Tomorrow I start chemotherapy, and I should probably rest," you say with a tinge of sadness. Making your way to Aitana's room, you change back into your clothes. After about five minutes, there's a knock on the door.

She slowly opens it. "Do you need me to drive you home? It's no biggie," she offers.

You nod slowly. "Can I come with you for your chemo?" she asks, her voice tentative, not wanting to overstep.

"I don't want you to see me like that," you explain, seeing her disappointment. "But maybe you could come and pick me up afterwards? We can go to lunch somewhere," you suggest.

"I'd love that," she replies with a small smile. "By the way! I think it's time for you to give me your phone number! I still can't believe we haven't exchanged numbers," she chuckles, and you hand her your phone.

She bursts into a giggle, sending you a knowing smirk. "I'm glad to hear that Eva is happy you went home with a hot ass footballer. The next part of the text, it's better that I don't say," she teases, causing you to blush profusely.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, covering your face with your hands.

"Oh no. I love it," she counters, smirking confidently as she tosses your phone back to you. As you unlock it to read Eva's texts, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

**Eva** Fucking finally!

Now go and sex up that hot ass footballer!

"Damn it!" you exclaim, exasperated, prompting a chuckle from Aitana.

The drive back home is mostly silent. As she stops right next to your door, you're unsure how to bid her goodbye. It's been a heavy morning for both of you, and you need time to process everything. You had intended to push her away, give her an out. But she refused to give up, surprising you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right? You'll text me?" she asks, her voice tinged with insecurity.

You reassure her with a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tani. Thank you for everything." With that, you exit the car and wave one last time before entering your home.

Sitting on the couch with a sad expression, you stare at the turned-off TV. You feel awful, like you've made Aitana feel awful. Groaning loudly, you bury your face in your pillow.

Ciro emerges from the guest room, eyeing you. "Rough night?" he asks.

"I told her," you confess.

He sits next to you and pulls you into a hug. "Did it go badly?"

"No, I guess. Is it bad if I wish she had just told me to get out of her life?"

"No," he replies, rubbing your back soothingly. "But I'm glad she'll stick around."

—

Meanwhile, Aitana returns home and collapses on the couch, her face turned toward the wall. She lets out a light but painful sob.

"Damn it."

In the afternoon of the same day she found out of your cancer, she had a recovery session at Barcelona. For the first time ever, she just wanted to stay home.

Despite being off during all her training, her teammates didn’t ask what was going on, as she's not one to let her emotions affect her play. But that day, she was anything but focused. Ciro noticed and approaches her during a water break.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi, Ciro," she greets him, trying to hide her emotions.

"You good?"

"I'm good. Just tired."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Aitana nods and rejoins her teammates.

"When did you become friends with the physio? Are you over the Art Restorer?" Keira asks.

"Her name is Y/n, and that's her brother," Aitana replied emotionless.

"The hot gene really does run in their family," Patri remarks, earning a smack from Keira.

—

—

Your first chemo treatment isn't as bad as you feared. Your energy isn't drained at all; in fact, you're super alert, probably because of the steroids.

Aitana arrives half an hour early and joins you in the hospital treatment room.

You're nearly finished; you just have to complete the saline shot.

"Hey, how are you?" Aitana enters the room and gives you a quick hug before sitting beside you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't happy to see her. Her smile melts away your worries in an instant. She's here, and that's enough to lift your spirits.

"I'm nearly done. How's training?" you ask.

"It's good. We worked on free kicks and rondos, so some light stuff. I brought you some snacks," she says, handing you dried fruits and nuts. "I read that the first chemo might make you feel drowsy, and since you also have anemia, I brought you some food with iron."

You smile softly, thanking her with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Tani." Opening the bag, you search for some almonds. "I hate raisins," you remark.

"Just give them to me," she offers, and you quickly pass all the raisins to her as you eat the rest. "I don't know how you like raisins," you say, giving her a disgusted look.

"They're just fruit," she chuckles.

"How was the treatment? Do you feel sick?" she asks, worry evident in her voice.

"For now, no, probably because of the steroids. I should bring something to do next time," you say, your gaze softening. "About yesterday, we're good, right? I felt like we left each other on a bitter note.”

"It's okay. It was a pretty intense day. Let's just move forward, okay? So, I'm thinking... Let's go get some food, then we'll start our DreamWorks/Disney marathon. What do you say?"

For the past two weeks, the two of you had been discussing doing a movie marathon, and since you both liked kids' movies, you settled on that. However, there was one point of contention: she argued that Disney movies were better, while you favored DreamWorks. So the two of you had started arguing about which was best, and the winner was yet to be decided.

"I'm feeling great! We don't have to barricade ourselves in one of our homes. We can go to the beach and maybe take a walk," you offer, not wanting to confine her to spending the entire day indoors with you, knowing she's a very active person.

"Oh no! We have to finally settle this debate! It's been going on for too long now! Plus, you're going to need all the rest you can get, and I don't mind keeping you company," she insists.

"Are you sure?" You check once again.

"Yes, I'm sure," she reassures you.

—

Her idea proves to be right because as soon as you get home, you feel the steroids wearing off, with a sudden tiredness enveloping your body. As you drive to your home to start the movie marathon, Aitana notices almost immediately, quickly taking your hand and gently squeezing it, not letting go until you arrive.

"Your home is so full of books! I love it," she says excitedly as she steps inside your house.

"I love reading, and I have a college degree and currently doing my second specialization. I guess I have been the culprit of the death of some trees," you joke.

You fetch your grandma's blankets that she knitted for you, then return to the living room.

Aitana is already sitting on the couch with her arms open, waiting for you. Despite wanting to be held by her, you fear she might feel uncomfortable, so you sit on the opposite side.

She looks at you quizzically and then drags you to lay on top of her. You release a content sigh and proceed to hug her sides, fully taking in her body against yours. "Didn't you get the memo? From now on, I'll be your designated cuddle buddy," she giggles.

"Oh my god! How stupid! I completely forgot!" you joke.

She holds you tighter as you search for a movie to watch together, settling on "The Little Mermaid." You start to drift off, only remembering a faded kiss on the temple and a whispered, "You rest. I'll be here when you wake up, mi sirenita."

Approximately an hour later, Ciro returns home after spending the day with the men's team. He's really worried about you and how the treatment went, but he doesn't expect what he sees. You're lightly sleeping on top of Aitana, while she watches a movie on TV.

"Hey," he whispers.

Aitana's head shoots up to look at him. "Hey. She just fell asleep; the drugs wore off, and she got tired."

He smiles softly at the sight of his sister with someone who cares enough to be with her, even while she's sleeping. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.

"Oh, I'm good. She let me come inside while she finished up her treatment, and we had lunch at that place she always talks about."

"I'm glad she lets you be with her. She's stubborn, but don't give up. She'll come around," he reassures her.

She looks at you. "I really hope so," then turns back to Ciro. "Oh, you should text Eva! Y/n told me that she would text her, but I guess she forgot; she might be worried." Hearing all of this chatter, you stir awake, still drowsy.

"Tani, where is all this sound coming from?" you asked her groggily, still keeping your eyes closed.

"Ciro is here," she informed you.

"Hi Ciro," you lightly waved at him, then cuddled up against Aitana once again.

"Hey, how was chemo?"

"Tiring," you replied.

"I can see," he chuckled.

You raised your arm to show him the middle finger. "Okay! I'll wake you up later; you have to call mom."

You grunted at the thought. "Okay, okay. But now let me sleep."

"Do you want to go to bed?" Aitana asked you.

"You are too comfortable!" you replied.

"Why don't we go to bed? We'll be even more comfortable," she giggled.

"Okay," you slowly removed yourself from her and walked with her to your bedroom.

As soon as Aitana laid down on the bed, you resumed the same position as before. You indeed were more comfortable.

"You are the best cuddle buddy, Tani. Thank you." You gave her a kiss on the corner of her lips and fell back into a deep slumber.

—

Approximately an hour later, you woke up. You patted your bed to find Aitana, but she wasn't there. You quickly got out of bed, feeling a little better, and went to the living room to get a cup of water. In the kitchen, you found Ciro.

"Where's—"

"She left about five minutes ago; she had to do some media stuff with Barcelona, and she didn't want to wake you," he explained.

—

—

For the next two weeks, you had fallen into a routine. Whenever you had chemotherapy, Aitana would take you back for lunch away from the hospital, and sometimes you would take small walks together or watch movies if you were extra tired. In those two weeks, you had gotten a chance to know her better. The more you talked to her, the more you couldn't picture yourself without her. 

She was incredible. But most importantly, you loved how she made you feel. She was always so supportive, never failing to make you smile, but most importantly, she was ever-present.

Eva and Ciro would tease you so much because whenever she was around, you became a completely different person: nicer and more compliant. However, the mood from the first two weeks changed when you started losing hair.

You never really gave much thought to your hair; it was long and wavy, and honestly, you never thought about how being bald would actually make you feel. When single locks of hair started falling out, it was really a punch into reality. You had cancer, and your hair was falling out. Still, you didn't tell Ciro or Eva about it, and especially not to Aitana.

You were currently cuddling up next to her while she gently caressed your back. You had just finished your treatment for the week, and you were more exhausted than usual. Your throat was hurting, and your legs were aching as if you had just run a marathon. Aitana was rambling on about a book she started reading that you suggested.

"It's actually so good, no wonder you have great tastes in books," she lightly praised you, giving you a kiss on the scalp. She then tucked your hair behind your ear, but the lock remained in her hand.

"Since when have you been losing hair, Y/n?" she asked softly.

You moved away from her and sat on the couch, realizing that you had just lost another lock of hair. "It's been a week now," you uttered sadly. "Let's just not think about it, okay? I don't want to talk about it," you got defensive.

One thing that you didn't want was for Aitana to see you actually sick or suffering the consequences of cancer. One thing was tiredness, but another thing was losing hair.

"Do you maybe want to shave it all off?" she tried.

"Aitana, I don't want to talk about it, please."

"Okay, okay. I'll stop talking." You felt ashamed and embarrassed that she saw you like this, weak. So you completely closed off from her.

"It's getting late," you looked at your watch. "Tomorrow you have practice, and I have to study. I think that you should leave."

"Wha—"

"Aitana, please," you pleaded, with a vulnerability in your voice that you really didn't want to show.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." With that, she left.

—

You took a loud sigh and went to the bathroom. Your brother's electric razor sat on the counter, and you just looked at it, unable to bring yourself to use it. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't actually losing her, but that didn't quite work.

Whenever you touched your hair, a lock would fall off. It was time to shave it off. Sitting down on the bathroom floor, you sighed deeply. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice when your brother came back home.

He appeared in the bathroom after a couple of minutes. "There you are! I thought you left. Where is Aitana?"

"I told her to leave," you said absently, still looking at the razor. He looked confused, both by your state and how you had kicked out Aitana. "My hair started to fall off. I've been trying to shave it off all afternoon, but I can't." You broke down crying at the last sentence.

"Gosh, I feel so stupid! I never bothered until now about my hair, and now all of a sudden, I can't get rid of it!" Frustrated, you punched your leg.

He sat down next to you and grabbed the razor from you. "But it's not just hair, isn't it?" he stated simply. "Losing hair is a physical reminder of what you are going through. It's scary, especially because you are someone who deals with problems by ignoring them."

You released a choked-out chuckle. "It's scary. You have cancer, you can die. Just like dad. And losing your hair may feel like you are out of control, like your body isn't responding to you anymore like before. But it's just hair." He turned on the razor. "Hair will grow again eventually." He moved the razor next to his scalp, making you react almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" You tried to move his hand away from his hair, but he wouldn't budge.

"I'm showing you that you are not alone, and for as long as you are in this fight, we are in this together." He quickly shaved a whole strip of his hair.

"Are you an idiot! Why did you do that?!" You said angrily, knowing that he would most probably pull off something like this, and even if you begged him not to do it on multiple occasions, he still did it. He didn't bother with your angry tone as he kept shaving off his hair until he was nearly all bald.

"See! It's just hair. Losing your hair is tough, but you know what? It's just another step until you get better. You are a fighter, and you are stronger than this." You were at a loss for words, so you just hugged him.

"Did you search on Google how to talk with your family member who has cancer?" You chuckled lightly, trying to break a little tension.

"I did," he said honestly, earning a small giggle.

You stayed a while inside his embrace, but then you soon remembered why you were in the bathroom. "I think I'm ready to shave it off.”-

—

—

After a very intense and emotionally charged afternoon, you found yourself sitting on the couch wearing one of your old Adidas beanies. You realized that one drawback of being bald was the constant feeling of coldness. Touching your head without any hair on it was something you had to get used to. It felt strange yet oddly cathartic, signaling your readiness to continue with the treatment.

"So, are you going to tell me why you kicked out that poor girl who's been following you like a lost puppy since you met her?" Ciro jumped on the couch to sit next to you.

"She's not a lost puppy."

"Well, she's been ever-present, bringing you food and always taking naps with you even when she could be doing other stuff."

"Don't make me feel guilty," you said defensively.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. You haven't fully given her a chance, and I believe she wouldn't want anything more than for you to give her a chance. You are all she talks about." His confession made your cheeks redden, trying to hide away the stupid smile forming on your face.

"I don't want to hurt her," you uttered sadly.

"By pushing her away, you are doing just that."

"I know, but what if I give her a chance and it goes wrong? What if she decides it's too much, or I don't make it? I can't deal with that."

"What if it works? You're simply denying yourself some happiness, which I think you fully deserve."

"Why are you being so wise today?" You tried to change the subject.

"I'm just trying to help out my sister, plus I really hope that if the two of you get together, she'll stop talking about you during the physio sessions. That girl is chatty," he chuckled.

"I should probably go and talk to her," you said.

"She should be home; she told me she needed to rest for tomorrow's practice."

You put on your coat and left for Aitana's apartment with newfound determination. 

[confused-pyramid]

I'll Be Yours In A Landslide | s7 interlude

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, angst

a/n: IMPORTANT UPDATE: Sorry for the wait guys, I've been super busy with graduating soon and other life updates, so I haven't had any time to write:( I really wanted to give some sort of a tie-up for this series at least for the time being, so I wrote a little interlude for y'all. I am hoping to come back at some point, but for now, I'm putting an indefinite hold on this series. I really appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten from people, and I hope to talk to you all soon:) Title is from State Lines by Novo Amor

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"How could you?"

You push past him, shoving your way into his apartment the moment he opens the door. You were fuming your entire drive over, but now that he's standing in front of you, your mind is a battlefield of warring emotions: I hate you, I love you, I missed you.

"You knew the whole time that she was alive," you gasp, already feeling out of breath, "and you kept it from us. From me."

"I'm sorry." It seems to be the only thing he can say these days. He has said it so many times, he's lost count, but it doesn't make this better. He knows he hurt you, even if he didn't have a choice. "Please just sit down and we can talk."

"No," you shoot back, shaking him off as he tries to step closer. "I'm not gonna calm down right now. I've been keeping this in for months, Aaron. I was there for everyone and no one was there for me."

His brow screws together and you know you're hitting exactly the right spots to make him feel worse, but you can't help it.

"I wanted to tell you," he says, his voice almost frantic as you pace back and forth across his living room. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you all of it, but I couldn't."

"You should've tried harder," you yell, knowing how unfair that is even as you're saying it. His face falls and he turns his palms towards you, like he's about to surrender, but that isn't what you want. You want the fight. It's what you've been waiting for for months.

You open your mouth to yell at him again, but then his eyes find yours, and he looks at you in that way he used to...like it's the first time he's seeing you all over again, and suddenly you're walking toward him. His eyes widen as you crash into him, and before he can understand what's happening, your lips are on his.

It takes him way too long to realize what's happening, but his hands move faster than his brain. They latch onto your waist, tugging you closer, pressing your chest to his, as you gasp into his mouth. When his brain finally catches up, he swears he can see fireworks as you grasp onto him, your lips so soft over his. He's been drowning for months, years, wanting you, waiting for you, pushing you away, and now you're here and he can finally breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips, trying to emphasize how grateful he is to have you back, but you just bring your hands up between you and tear off his open button down before chucking it to the ground.

"Shut up," you mutter, a pang of hurt cutting through even as you try to sound angry. "Just kiss me."

He doesn't make you ask twice. His lips come back to yours as he walks you back towards the couch, your knees buckling when they hit the seat.

Aaron sinks down and pulls you on top of him as you grab at every part of him, your fingers tugging at his collar and your teeth brushing over his bottom lip. The kiss is harsh and he gasps as your nails drag over his skin, but he doesn't care. You're here.

He's falling, succumbing to the overwhelming desire rising up within him, but before he can let go, he pulls back momentarily. "You're sure? I don't want you to regre-"

"I want you," you whisper, the last word turning to a sob against your will. "I'm so mad at you, but I love you and I want you, so please don't stop."

His eyes squint with shame and for a moment you almost feel guilty for how harsh you are being, but then the desire returns and he pulls you down on top of him. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, and the roughness of his beard feels unfamiliar, yet exciting. When his mouth moves down your jaw, the scratch of his beard against your skin ignites a fire within you.

You claw at his back, trying to pull his tee shirt over his head, and he reaches down, helping you wrest it off and onto the floor. The movement sends your hips back over his groin and he lets out a low groan as he tears your button-down open.

When your top falls to the floor as well, you both pause, finally realizing the gravity of what you're doing. Your eyes drag down his chest, over the thick scars lining his abdomen and collarbone, and soon your fingers are following along, tracing a path of fire over the roughest and most beautiful parts of him. 

You gasp as his fingers ghost over the scar on your waist, where your bullet wound used to be, and before the tears in your eyes can fall, your lips are back on his. 

There's more urgency in your movements this time as you try to relish the feeling of his mouth over your pulse, your hips rolling over him. 

"Bedroom," you whisper as heat spreads between your legs, emanating from the grip of his hands on your thighs. "Now."

He doesn't waste a second as he wraps his arms around your body and stands up, lifting you along with him as he makes his way down the hall. His lips don't leave yours even as he pushes the door open with his back, and he only breaks away to toss you onto the bed. You hit the covers with a gasp, and you see his pupils darken with lust as he climbs over you, his pants already tightening. 

You can hardly believe he's back in your life again, and even as anger and hurt cloud your vision, he's here in front of you, and you need him as close as humanly possible.

"I want you too," he says suddenly, his eyes finding yours in a moment of earnestness. "So much...for so long."

Your throat thickens with tears again, and you can't decide whether you want to blink them away or let them fall, but then he quickly tugs your jeans and panties off in one go and every thought leaves your brain. 

He looks animalistic as he peppers kisses up your legs, his mouth warm and wet as he stops just before your core for an extra second to rile you up.

"Aaron," you groan, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him forward. You won't beg, not right now, but he gets the idea.

He practically grins at your desperation, drawing it out a bit longer by sucking bruises into your thighs, before he finally goes where you are willing him to. Your head falls back with a gasp as he plunges his tongue down, licking a trail up your slit that has you writhing beneath him.

He presses his hands into your thighs, spreading them apart as your hips jut off the bed. His tongue feels like heaven as he works you open along with his fingers, getting you close within a matter of minutes. 

"Aaron, please-" you gasp out, your words cutting off as he hooks his finger up, his movements precise in a way that both surprises and exhilarates you. You're not even sure what you're asking him for, you just need more of him. 

It's like he can hear your thoughts, because his fingers start moving faster, and when your grip on his hair tightens, he lets out a low hum that vibrates up your core.

You are barely aware of what your legs are doing, but when he grabs your ankle and lifts your leg over his shoulder, your head flies back and you're moaning his name so loudly, you're afraid the neighbors will come knocking.

"Yes," you gasp, your fingers pulling at his hair harder you mean to.

He laves over your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, until you come apart under his tongue, your mouth falling open with a loud cry. 

You taste incredible, and he's so hard that his jeans have become uncomfortably tight, but even as you cry out his name, it's not enough. He wants to see you come apart under him.

Gripping your hips, he yanks you down so that you're lying directly beneath his body, eliciting a soft moan from you. Your eyes are wide with bliss as you look up at him, your eyelashes fluttering softly, and he has to grip the sheets beside your head to keep his pants from tightening any further.

His knee presses down on the bed between your thighs as he lifts you up and deftly unclasps your bra, before gently dropping it to the floor. When he returns his gaze back to you, his breath stutters as he takes in the sight before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers, almost as an afterthought. "You're so beautiful." 

He has always known it, but something about seeing you in his bed, like this, feels unbelievable. Like he somehow did everything exactly right. Except you didn't, his brain reminds him. You did everything wrong, and still got this lucky.

Maybe it is luck. But whatever it is that brought him here, he isn't going to waste another second thinking about it.

You help him tug his pants off, and when he chucks his boxers off right after, his cock springs free, hard and ready without you even touching him. Your mouth floods with saliva as his knee presses forward between your legs, and you reach down to take him in your hands, but he pushes you back with a small shake of his head.

He wants to feel you more than anything else in the world right now, but he's already so riled up, he's afraid to let you touch him until he's inside of you. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a foil packet to cover himself, before he lowers himself down.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice gruff even to his own ears.

You nod, your legs spreading as he lines himself up, and his breath gets stuck in his throat when he slowly pushes in. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, taking his time to push forward until he's fully seated inside of you.

He's big enough that you need a few moments to adjust, but once he starts moving, a string of moans falls from your lips. He leans forward to press a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, and when he pulls back, his pupils are so dark you can barely make out the color of his eyes.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your skin as he presses his mouth to your neck, his hips slowly rocking into you. "You're everything."

After growing accustomed to his size, the stretch feels amazing, and you try to respond, but your head just falls back onto the pillow as waves of pleasure roll over you. You remember your dream from while he was gone, the hazy sequence that had you waking up in a heated fervor, and you can't help but think about how much better he is in real life. How you waited for so many years, and even when it hurt like hell, it was all still worth it.

He starts to thrust faster, and you hike your knees up, trying to change the angle to get him even deeper inside of you. When he hits the right spot, you let out a high gasp and your walls involuntarily squeeze around him.

"Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters slightly. "You can't do that." He dips down to press his lips to yours for a sharp kiss. "I'm already close."

"Me too," you cry, realizing it as it flies out of your mouth. "I'm so close."

Your words seem to flip a switch in his brain. You watch as his eyes darken and his rhythm picks back up, like he only has one goal and he won't stop until he gets it. 

You're starting to squeeze around him again, and he fists the comforter next to you as he thrusts faster, his other hand coming down between the two of you. It doesn't take him more than a few seconds to find your clit, and when his thumb flicks over it once, then twice, your breath stutters and your walls close around him so suddenly that he nearly finds his release as well.

You look magical as you fall apart below him, and he keeps moving inside of you, working you through it as he commits the image to memory. You let out a soft sigh as you come down from your high, but it only takes a few more thrusts for him to near the edge.

"Where do you want me?" he asks, his voice a low hum as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching over his scalp.

You gasp quietly. "Come inside me. Please." 

He groans, picking up his pace again, and wraps his arms around you in an effort to bring you even closer. You press your lips to his as he releases, swallowing his gasps while he slowly comes down.

He pulls out slowly, taking care not to hurt you when you're sensitive, before heading into the bathroom. He returns after a minute with a small towel that he uses to carefully clean both of you up with. 

After tossing it away, he climbs back into the bed and tugs you close to him, your back pressing into his front like a pair of puzzle pieces. The day is starting to catch up with you, and you feel tiredness pull at your eyes as his chest rises and falls evenly behind you.

"I'm in love with you," he says suddenly, his voice hurried like he surprised even himself. "I'm sorry if it isn't the right time or if that isn't what you wanted from this, but-"

"Aaron," you cut him off, turning over so that you can reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with you too. Of course I am."

He lets out a breath, and you can almost hear the relief in his sigh as he wraps an arm around you and tucks you into his side. Unsurprisingly, he's a furnace wrapped up beside you, but you can't bring yourself to move, especially with how much comfort his mere presence brings you.

You lay there for a while, taking this uninterrupted time to re-memorize his face as his breath evens out. You could never forget anything about him, but he's been gone for so long that you expect there are hundreds of new facets to him that you'll get to learn.

His eyes have been closed long enough that you assume he is asleep, but then his breath stutters and you look up at him as he squeezes you closer in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice sending reverberations through his chest. "I know you know I couldn't tell you everything, but I should have let you in more-"

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Your voice is strong, and he must hear the finality in your tone, because he immediately quiets down. "I know you're sorry...and we'll talk about this more in the morning. But right now, I just want to be here with you. I just got you back."

He's quiet for a moment, but you feel his chin dip down in a nod. "Morning then. Good night."

His arms tighten around you and you snuggle next to him, every part of you interweaving in an effort to get closer than you already are. 

That night, you have the best sleep you've had in years.

TAGLIST:@citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @chronicallybubbly, @shilphy87, @threespacemonkeys, @zaddyhotch, @slytherin-min99, @endofthexline, @thattookaturnforthenerdy

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

To be or not to be.

High school Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Sestra.” Sister.

Word count: 1,034.

Masterlist.

So there Wanda was, standing by her locker talking to her friends when she spots you, her girlfriend, just a few feet away talking to your own friends looking as adorably cute as ever.

Which was completely unfair if you ask Wanda, since she is supposed to mad at you and you definitely shouldn't be looking as cute as you are looking right now because the only thing it does is cause longing in her heart for you, wanting to make up so she isn’t away from you for any longer.

But being the stubborn person that she is, the brunette does the only thing she allows herself to do. Which is continuing to stare at you from afar, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she nibbles on it.

As you stand laughing and joking around with your friends. You suddenly feel like someone is looking at you, so you glance around the halls, only for your eyes to land on your girlfriend who is staring at you intently from a couple of feet away. Lip between her teeth and a look you know all too well.

Which throws you off slightly if you’re being completely honest, since you were 100% sure Wanda has been mad at you for the past 5 days. But even in your confusion, you can’t help but shoot Wanda a soft smile and then proceed talking to Bucky, Peter and Sam again.

Wanda seeing your cute smile, can’t help but feel her resolve slowly break and after debating with herself for a good few minutes on whether or not to approach you. The brunette decides to take action and goes up to you.

“Hey, can we talk?” She asks once she’s in front of you.

You nod then turn to your friends, “I’ll catch you guys later alright?” You say, then walk away with your girlfriend.

Both of the girls make their way down the hall, when suddenly Wanda stops in front of the Janitors closet. Looking both ways to make sure no one is around, she opens the door.

“So what did you want to talk about?” You ask, but suddenly you’re yanked inside the closet by the hem of your shirt. “Wha-?” You begin but are cut off by Wanda’s lips basically attacking your own.

Wanda kisses you with such an intensity that when you pull back you’re left speechless, "wow," you breathe. “Not that I'm complaining, because I’m totally not, but what was that for?” You ask with a dopey smile, causing Wanda to glare at you with no actual malice behind her eyes.

“Oh no, don’t look at me like that!” Wanda says, arms crossing on her chest as she tries to remain serious, “because even though we did just make out inside this closet, it doesn’t mean that I'm not still mad at you, because I really am,” she frowns. “But you seriously just had to wear your glasses today, didn’t you? You know how I feel about you in glasses, it makes me weak!” She pouts, “Also the whole Star Wars shirt. Could you be any more nerdy? You look so cute and adorable that it hurts! You shouldn’t be able to break my resolve! Ugh!” The brunette rambles, arms thrown up in the air in frustration.

“I-I lost my contacts and Star Wars premieres this weekend, I’m sorry?” You say weakly, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I know, I figured as much,” Wanda sighs softly. “But you make it so hard to stay mad at you baby, and it’s beyond infuriating! So now I'm going to kiss you until l either feel angry again or we just go back to our day to day lives," the brunette says as she pushes you against the wall and cups your face to kiss you once again.

Both you and Wanda stay inside the closet making out for another good 10 minutes when you pull back slightly and say, “so, what's the verdict babe?”

Wanda rolls her eyes, a small smile on her lips as she says, “I'm no longer mad.”

“Okay good. So can we go back to hanging out with our friends?” You ask and Wanda nods.

As both girls walk out of the janitors closet, hand in hand and towards their friends, you stop walking for a moment to place a soft kiss on Wanda's forehead, the short brunette sighing happily as she moves forward to hug you close, an action that causes Natasha's voice to boom down the hallway.

“Hey Stark, you owe me 10 dollars!” The redhead exclaims.

“Damn it, you lovebirds! Couldn't you have waited 2 more days?” Tony yells back, looking at both you and Wanda disapprovingly, causing you to pull apart and walk the short distance to the group.

“Wait, what?” You ask with a laugh once you’re standing in front of your friends.

“We were all betting to see how long you'd stay mad at each other. The majority of the group said 1 or 2 days, I said 5 and Tony said 7. So I win!” Natasha boasts, with a happy smirk.

“Okay, how about this! Bonus round, did Wanda cave or did Y/N actually do something to get out of the dog house? Another 10 bucks says it was Y/N,” Carol says.

“No way, it was definitely my sestra,” Pietro chimes in with a smirk.

“Nope, Y/N!” Steve exclaims.

“Nah, there’s no way, it was totally Wanda!” Clint exclaims.

“Wow, I'm glad our problems amuse you all,” Wanda deadpans with an eye roll.

“So since Tony and I were actually the closest, this is between us two and my money is on Wanda caved, what about you Tony?” Natasha says.

“Y/N, did something.” Tony says, eyes squinting with certainty.

“So what is it?” All the friends exclaim at the same time.

You wince slightly while looking at Tony and say, “sorry Tony, but Wands caved,” and all through the hall there are loud echoes of both celebration and disappointment which causes you to slightly grin.

“Nice, now pay up, playboy,” Natasha smirks, hand stretched out towards Tony.

“Damn you, red,” Tony grumbles as he hands Natasha a 20 dollar bill.

[haunted-headset]

Ok so hear me out

Wilbur and Y/n arguing.

Then y/n wanted to k!ll herself but..

Guess what Wilbur did...

He moved the knife away and kisses her...

💔 There’s a Reason London Puts Barriers on the Tube Line 💔

Summary: You & Wilbur have a massive argument & all of your su!c!dal thoughts came back, so you ran to Jubilee Line to do your deed. What you forgot is that Wilbur can track your phone.

A/N: Hello! Tysm for the ask! I changed the story up a bit so that the reader doesn't use a knife since knives kinda trigger me :/

word count: 796

proofread: nope

tags: @vibestillaxxx@joviepog@ax-y10@themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0 @cathers-world@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)

warnings/cw: the reader has su!c!dal thoughts, two attempted su!c!des, mentions of an overdose, arguing/yelling, swearing

This was the worst argument you'd ever had with him in your three years of dating him, & it made your head hurt & your chest feel tight. You had attempted to kill yourself two days ago by overdosing on your anti-depressants.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Wilbur shouted. "Are you fucking stupid, Y/N?! You could've seriously hurt yourself!"

"That's the point!" You shouted back. "That's why I did it! & I already told you I didn’t want to talk about it, yet you kept insisting!"

“That’s because I fucking care about you!” Wilbur yelled. His fists were balled & his eyes, like yours, were bloodshot.

"Well, did I ask for you to care about me?” you cried.

He let out a loud groan of anger & pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, I fucking hate you."

Your eyes widened in shock. He'd gotten angry at you before, of course, but he'd never said that he hated you before. "You don’t mean that," you murmured as more tears rolled down your damp cheeks.

"Right now, I do," he said icily. "More than anything in the world.”

You glared at him. "More than the I love yous?”

His eyes met yours & his expression softened slightly. “…You’re being unfair."

"How the hell am I being unfair?!" you exclaimed. "You're being the unfair & shitty one here! Instead of asking me if I'm alright, you just--you just get mad at me! & when I say I don't want to talk, you keep pressing & pressing & pressing!"

"It's not my fault nor my problem that you're a depressed bitch who doesn't do anything to try & improve their mental state!" he yelled.

With burning tears in your eyes, you started to tie your shoes. Wilbur sighed & said, "No, please don't leave, I-"

"Just shut up," you snapped before you walked out, slamming the door behind you. You started to walk through the rain to Jubilee Line, which would take about forty minutes. You stepped in a few puddles on your way, which drenched your shoes & legs, & you forgot to grab a hoodie, so your entire body was soaked in rainwater.

When you finally arrived, tears rolled down your cheeks & mixed with raindrops as you remembered the song that Wilbur had written a year or two ago. He was rambling on & on about how crappy the mental health was in London & how the city was doing nothing to help their citizens, & how he'd see people kill themselves on Jubilee Line & nobody would say anything or try to stop them, & instead of trying to help the people by improving their mental health services, the city just built barriers on the tube, & the barriers didn't really do anything. & you told him that he should write a song about that. Within an hour, he'd written a song about it, & for the majority of that hour, he would tell you how much he loved you & how creative you were.

You walked up to the barriers & saw that the next train was arriving in five minutes. You kicked with all of your might on the glass until the glass broke. You smiled sadly. The barriers, like Wilbur had said, were shit.

You took a deep breath & held back your tears. You took a step forward.

You were about to fall onto the tracks.

This was it.

It would finally work.

You heard a familiar voice scream your name from behind you.

& then somebody pulled you back & hugged you. It was a sobbing Wilbur.

"L-love, I don't ever want you to die, please...don't die..." he said between his sobs. "I-I'm sorry for yelling, I'm sorry for hurting you, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean a fucking word, I don't hate you, I never would, darling..."

You pressed your face into his chest & sobbed with him as you both murmured apologies to each other. He pulled you away from his chest only to pepper kisses all over your wet face.

"Please, don't go...I just need to feel your arms around me, mon amour, that's all I've ever wanted," he cried. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm sorry," you whimpered. "I'm sorry for-"

He cut you off with a kiss. When he pulled away, he cupped your face & said, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. You're the one who's struggling & I didn't even think about that, & I was such a dickhead to you."

"So you don't hate me?" you said with a sniffle as he wiped your cheeks.

"I would never hate you," he whispered. "C'mon, let's go home. I think there's a lot that we need to talk about."

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 20

Hi, my dearest readers! I'm alive. The wedding was fantastic, but I'm soo tired. I barely slept the last few days. We decorated for 13 hours on Friday. Then the wedding on Saturday and we packed up everything on Sunday. And for some reason I thought that I didn't need to take a day off on Monday, I'll be fine. Well, I thought wrong. But thank you for your patience! ❤️ Here comes the new chapter. Enjoy! :)

Accusing a wingleader of wrongdoing is the most dangerous of all accusations. If you’re right, then we’ve failed as a quadrant to select the best wingleaders. If you’re wrong, you’re dead.

—My Time as a Cadet: A Memoir by General Augustine Melgren

„Jackson Marlowe.” Captain Fitzgibbons finishes reading the death roll and closes the scroll as we stand in formation the next morning, our breath creating clouds in the chilled air. “We commend their souls to Malek.”

There’s no room for sorrow in my heart for six of the eight names, not when I’m shifting my weight to soothe the ache of black-and-blue along my ribs and ignoring the way other riders stare at my face.

I went to Nolon this morning, and he mended my nose, but I wanted to keep my bruises. One of those who attacked Violet is alive. I want them to know I will not forgive. Never.

If Xaden won’t do anything about it, then I will. I’m a Melgren after all, I’m allowed to be a little crazy.

The two others on today’s list are third-years from Second Wing, killed on a training operation near the Braevick border, according to breakfast gossip, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s where Xaden had been before coming to our rescue last night.

“I can’t believe they tried to kill you while you were sleeping.” Liam’s still seething, at breakfast we told our table what happened.

“Even worse, I think I’m getting used to it. Either I have kick-ass compartmentalization skills or I really am acclimating to always being a target.” Violet says.

Captain Fitzgibbons makes some minor announcements, and I tune him out as someone strides our way, cutting through the space between the Flame and Tail Sections of our wing.

Just like it always does, my stupid, hormone-driven heart stutters at the first sight of Xaden. Even the most effective poisons come in pretty packages, and Xaden’s exactly that—as beautiful as he is lethal. He looks deceptively calm as he approaches, but I can feel his tension as if it’s my own, like a panther prowling toward his prey. The wind ruffles his hair, and I sigh at the completely unfair advantage he has over every man in this courtyard. He doesn’t even have to try to look sexy…he just is.

Oh shit. This feeling right here—the way my breath catches and my entire body draws tight when he’s near—is why I haven’t taken anyone to bed or celebrated like the rest of my perfectly normal friends. This feeling is why I haven’t wanted anyone…else.

Because I want him.

There aren’t enough curse words in the world for this.

He stops next to us and he looks toward Liam then nods in Violet’s direction.

Oh shit. Violet will be sooo angry when she realizes…

„I do not need a bodyguard!” she snaps at Xaden.

He ignores her, still looking at Liam.

“Switch places with me.” Liam whispers to me.

I look at him questioningly but he doesn’t say another word.

“Fine.” I sigh and now he stands behind Violet.

„I. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard!” she repeats, a little louder this time.

One of the first-years behind me gasps, mortified by her audacity, no doubt.

Imogen snorts. “Good luck with that approach.”

Xaden stands directly in front of Violet, leaning into her space. “You do, though, as we both learned last night. And I can’t be everywhere you are. But Liam here”—he points back to the blond Tyr—“he’s a first-year, so he can be in every class, at every challenge, and I even had him assigned to library duty, so I hope you get used to him, Sorrengail.”

“And what about Aelin?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “She was with me too.”

“I don’t care about her.” Xaden replies without hesitation.

Ouch. It hurts.

Liam quickly grabs my hand and squeezes it before letting it go.

“And I don’t know if she will protect you at all costs.” Xaden continues.

“Now, that’s just a fucking excuse.” I mutter.

I will protect Violet. She’s one of the most important person in my life. And he knows it too. He’s not stupid.

“You’re overstepping.” Violet hisses at him.

“You haven’t begun to see overstepping,” he warns, his voice dropping low. “Any threat against you is a threat against me, and as we’ve already established, I have more important things to do than sleep on your floor.”

Heat flushes up her neck and stains her cheeks. “He is not sleeping in my room.”

Oh, Vi. I knew it that you like Liam.

“Of course not.” He freaking smirks. “I had him moved into the one next to yours. Wouldn’t want to overstep.” He turns on his heel and walks away, headed back to his place at the front of our formation.

“Fucking mated dragons,” Dain seethes, keeping his eyes forward.

“What? Did you move? When?” I ask Liam in shock.

“This morning. And I won’t be far. Just on the other side of Violet.” He smiles at me with a boyish grin and I can’t help it, I smile back.

“Fiinee. But I warn you, do not replace me with her.” I mock glare at him.

“How could I do it, Snappy? You’re my best friend.” He winks at me.

“Snappy? You didn’t call me that since… I don’t know.” I try to remember when was the last time.

“I call you that because you’re talking nonsense. Now pay attention.”

Fitzgibbons finishes his announcements and steps to the back of the dais, which would usually signal the end of formation, but Commandant Panchek takes the podium. He makes it a habit to avoid morning formation, which means something is up.

“What’s going on with Panchek?” Rhiannon asks at Violet’s side.

“Not sure.” I shrug.

“It has to be something big if he’s fumbling with a Codex up there,” Rhiannon says.

“Quiet,” Dain orders, glancing back over his shoulder at us for the first time this morning. He does a double-take, his eyes flaring wide as he catches sight of Violet’s neck. “Vi?”

„I’m fine,” she assures him, but he’s still staring at her throat, locked in shock. “Squad Leader Aetos, people are staring.” We hold way more than our share of the attention as Commandant Panchek begins to speak at the podium, telling us that there’s another matter to handle this morning, but Dain won’t look away. “Dain!”

He blinks, jerking his gaze to hers. “Is that what Riorson meant by last night?”

She nods.

“I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m fine,” she repeats, nodding toward the dais. “Later.”

He turns, but the motion is reluctant.

“It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred,” Panchek calls out over the courtyard.

“As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated,” Panchek continues. “This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward.”

“Someone’s in trouble,” Rhiannon whispers. “Think Ridoc finally got caught in Tyvon Varen’s bed?”

“That’s hardly against the Codex,” Ridoc murmurs from behind us.

“He’s the executive officer for Second Wing.” I send a pointed look over my shoulder.

“And?” Ridoc shrugs, grinning without a touch of remorse. “Fraternizing with command is frowned upon, not unlawful.”

I sigh, facing forward. “I miss sex.” I really do, and it’s not just the physical gratification, either. There’s a sense of connection in those moments that I crave, a momentary banishment of loneliness.

The first is something I’m sure Xaden would be more than capable of providing, if he ever thought of me that way, but the second? He’s the last person I should be craving, but lust and logic never seem to go hand in hand.

“If you’re looking for a little fun, I’m happy to oblige—” Ridoc starts, shoving his floppy brown hair off his forehead with a wink.

“I miss good sex,” I counter, smothering a smile as someone walks from the front of formation toward the dais, indistinguishable through the rows of the squads ahead of us. “Besides, apparently you’re spoken for.” Have to admit, it feels good to tease a friend about something so trivial. It’s a tiny slice of normalcy in an otherwise macabre environment.

“We’re not exclusive,” Ridoc counters. “It’s like Rhiannon and what’s-her-name…”

“Tara,” Rhiannon offers.

“Will you all shut the hell up?” Dain barks in his superior-officer voice.

Our mouths snap shut, and I roll my eyes.

Mine drops open again when I realize it’s Xaden climbing the steps to the dais. “This is about you,” I whisper to Vi.

Dain glances back at me, confusion furrowing his brow before whipping his attention toward the dais, where Xaden now stands at the podium, somehow managing to fill the entire stage with his presence.

From what I remember reading, his father had that same magnetism, the ability to hold and capture a crowd with nothing but his words…words that led to Brennan’s death.

“Early this morning,” he begins, his deep voice carrying over the formation, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds. When another rider rushed to her aid after hearing the commotion, she were attacked too.”

A collection of murmurs and gasps fills the air, and Dain’s shoulders stiffen.

“As we all know, the first act is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonorable, is a capital offense.”

I feel the weight of a dozen glances, but it’s Xaden’s I feel most of all.

His hands clench the sides of the podium. “Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders.” He dips his chin toward our wing, and two riders—Garrick and Bodhi—break formation, then climb the steps to stand behind Xaden, their hands at their sides. “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran.”

“Both Tyrs. How convenient,” Nadine, one of the new additions to the squad, says from the row behind Ridoc.

I look back over my shoulder and pin her with a glare.

Liam keeps his eyes forward.

“But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived,” Xaden continues, his voice rising. “A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be brought to swift justice.

Shit. This is about to get ugly.

“I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail, and indirectly against Cadet Melgren.” Xaden’s focus shifts to the center of the formation. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”

The quadrant draws a collective breath before an uproar rips through the crowd.

“What the hell?” Dain bites out.

Every rider in the courtyard’s attention pivots between Xaden, Amber, me…and Violet.

I squeeze her shoulder. She hates the attention.

“She’s a Tyr, too, Nadine,” Ridoc says over his shoulder. “Or are you only biased against marked ones?”

Amber’s family stayed loyal to Navarre, so she wasn’t forced to watch her parents executed and wasn’t marked by a rebellion relic.

“Amber would never.” Dain shakes his head. “A wingleader would never.” He turns completely to face us. “Get up there and tell everyone that he’s lying, Vi.”

“But he’s not,” I say as gently as I can. I know he cares about her.

“It’s impossible.” His cheeks flush a mottled shade of red.

“I was there, Dain.” Violet confirms it.

„Wingleaders are beyond reproach—”

“Then why are you so quick to call our own wingleader a liar?” My brows rise in challenge, daring him to say what he’s so careful to keep quiet.

Behind him, Amber steps forward, separating herself from the formation. “I have committed no such crime!”

“See?” Dain swings his arm, pointing toward the redhead. “Put a stop to this right now, Violet.”

“She was with them in my room,” she says simply. Shouting won’t convince him. Nothing will.

„That’s impossible.” He lifts his hands, as though ready to cup her face. “Let me see.”

I quickly grab Violet’ shoulder and pull her back toward me, farther away from Dain.

After the Jeremiah incident she told me about Dain’s signet, that he can read memories.

I can’t let him see the memory of Amber’s participation, it will also show him that Violet stopped time.

I can’t let that happen!

“Give me the memory,” he orders.

“Touch me without permission, and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.” She glares at him.

Maybe Violence is a fitting nickname, after all.

Surprise ripples over his features.

“Wingleaders.” Xaden projects his voice over the chaos. “We need a quorum.”

Both Nyra and Septon Izar—the wingleaders for First and Second Wing—climb the stairs to the dais, passing by Amber as she stands utterly exposed in the courtyard.

A familiar chaos fills the air, and we all look toward the ridgeline as seven dragons curve along the mountain, flying straight for us.

In a matter of seconds, they reach the citadel and hover over the courtyard walls. Wind from the strong beats of their wings blasts through the courtyard.

Then, one by one, they land on their perch, Tairn at the center of the grouping, Aon is next to him.

Every line of his frame exudes menace as his talons crush the masonry under his grip, and his narrowed, angry eyes focus on Amber.

Sgaeyl is perched to Tairn’s right, taking her position behind Xaden. She’s just as terrifying as she was that first day, but I still find her beautiful. Nyra’s Red Scorpiontail looms behind her as well, and Septon’s Brown Daggertail mirrors the stance to the left. On the ends, puffing blasts of steam, are Commandant Panchek’s Green Clubtail and Amber’s Orange Daggertail is next to Aon.

“Shit’s about to get real,” Sawyer says, breaking formation to stand at Violet’s side, and I feel Ridoc at my back as he steps closer.

“You can stop this all right now, Violet. You have to,” Dain implores. “I don’t know what you saw last night, but it wasn’t Amber. She cares too much about the rules to break them.”

“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family!” Amber shouts at Xaden. “For not supporting your father’s rebellion!”

That’s a low fucking blow.

Xaden doesn’t even acknowledge it as he turns to the other wingleaders.

He isn’t demanding proof like Dain. He believes her, and he’s ready to execute a wingleader on nothing more than her word. As surely as if they’re a physical structure, I feel my defenses crack on Xaden’s behalf.

Tairn chuffs and every dragon besides Sgaeyl stiffens on the wall, even Amber’s. The riders are quick to follow, silence filling the courtyard.

I know what they see.

Aon showes me what happened last night, in Violet’s point of view.

Amber, the fight before I arrived, and then I see… myself. It’s really strange. I can see myself but in someone else point of view. I was pretty…terrifying. Blood all over my face, my cold gaze.

„That’s why I chose you, little one. You’re ruthless, and you protect those who are weaker than you.”

„Thanks, you know how to compliment someone.” I laugh. Yep, he’s definitely a big softie.

“That spineless wretch,” Rhiannon seethes in front of me.

Dain pales.

“Believe me now?” Vi hurles it like the accusation it is. “You’re supposed to be my oldest friend, Dain. One of my best friends. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you.”

He staggers backward.

“The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement,” Xaden announces, flanked by Nyra and Septon while the commandant hangs back. “We find you guilty, Amber Mavis.”

“No!” she shouts. “It is no crime to rid the quadrant of the weakest rider! I did it to protect the integrity of the wings!” She paces in panic, looking to everyone—anyone for help.

As a whole, the formation moves backward.

“And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire,” Nyra states.

“No!” Amber looks to her dragon. “Claidh!”

Amber’s Orange Daggertail snarls at the other dragons and lifts a claw.

Aon swivels his massive head toward Claidh, his roar shaking the ground beneath my feet. Then he snaps his teeth at the smaller orange, and she retreats, her head hanging as she grips the wall again.

“Please don’t,” I hear Violet as she begs.

I can feel the sadness inside me. She’s too merciful.

She turns to Xaden and begs again, her voice breaking by the end. “Please give her a chance.”

He holds her gaze but doesn’t so much as show a flicker of emotion.

Justice is not always merciful.

„Claidh,” Amber whimpers, the courtyard so unbelievably silent that the sound carries.

The formation splits at the center.

Tairn leans low, extending his head and neck past the dais toward where Amber stands. Then his teeth part, he curls his tongue, and he incinerates her with a blast of fire so hot, I can feel it from here. It’s over in a heartbeat.

A gruesome scream rends the air, shattering a window in the academic wing, and every rider slams their hands over their ears as Claidh mourns.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting my fiancé to hang out with my sister and I?

Okay so my fiancé (22f) offered to drive to Mexico with her aunt and stay a couple days. It was only three days notice and she hadn't discussed it with me(24f) at all. I do think she should go, she's been wanting a vacation lately and been really upset because I can't afford to go anywhere. It's a good opportunity to get vacation and family time. I was really happy for her. I just feel like it's basic politeness to at least let me know before she gave a definitive yes since we live together so I was slightly annoyed.

Fast forward two days and it seemed like that plan wasn't going to work out because her aunt wanted to postpone, so instead she decided to go out of town with her brother (18) since she had gotten her hopes up about a vacation, which again sounded like a good idea. In the meantime I'd set up a sleepover with my sister that same weekend.

Without even mentioning the situation to me, my fiancé posted on snapchat asking if a third person wanted to go with them to keep the costs down, which would be fine if she hadn't posted it to her story. Its okay if someone else goes but maybe asking in a groupchat or a few people individually but not absolutely everyone.

So of course her ex (who she has readily admitted shes left multiple people for) asked to go. It isn't her fault that her ex is the only one who offered but also that's part of the reason why I would have asked her to ask more directly than every single person she has on snapchat.

She asked me if I was comfortable with that which was nice, and I said not really because of the nature of their relationship. The only times we've hung out, my fiancé ended up being super cold and hostile to me and laughing her ass off at inside jokes with her. I get that they have a history and I don't expect her to pretend they dont, but it just makes me uncomfortable when we're all together because I feel like a third wheel to the person I'm engaged to and her ex girlfriend.

She got upset and said I was being unfair and ruining her weekend. I told her it was fine if she could find literally anyone else and that frankly it was inappropriate for her ex to even ask. She got argumentative about how she's been hanging out with her ex for years because they have mutual friends (which is fair except the mutual friends are not invited) and that her ex didnt even know I wouldnt be there. The argument lasted another two days. She kept saying that I am being too controlling, which I dont think is fair because if she didnt care about my feelings then why ask about them. I just gave up and said it was fine. I'd be having fun with my sister anyway so I wouldn't spend the whole time worrying, and I trust her not to cheat on me I just think it's a weird situation and it makes me uncomfortable, which is what she asked.

As soon as I said yes she told me it was too late to book an airbnb so she wasn't going to go, and that really upset me because she'd been so angry about me being uncomfortable that she wouldn't leave me alone for days and what was even the point of all that if she wasn't going to go anyway and she already decided that.

During the past 4 days until canceling suddenly like that, she was 100% supposed to be going out of town to somewhere, and I had gotten really excited about my sleepover with my sister. We were going to do things that my fiancé does not enjoy (arts and crafts, watching period movies) since it would be just us and also have some much needed sister time.

All of a sudden, the next day, my fiancé asked if she could come over too since she wasn't going anywhere. I said "I guess, but we were going to do stuff that you wouldn't like." And she got mad and told me I was being super rude and I could have been nice about it, which I thought I had been and I told her I feel like if she came either she wouldn't have fun or we wouldn't get to do the stuff that we were planning to. She was still angry all night and kept saying she obviously didn't want to come now since she wasn't welcome. I barely slept because she was so clearly upset with me and I didn't see any way to fix things without ruining my night with my sister.

The day before the sleepover she kept hinting that she wanted me to invite her and I really didn't want to. Maybe before all this stuff but I am really annoyed with all of this and I don't want he to butt in on my sisters night.

I think she's been inconsiderate and mean to me over this whole thing. I just don't get her thought process with any of it. But she seems really sad and that does make me think maybe I'm being the asshole here.

So AITA for not wanting my fiancé to hang out with my sister and I?

What are these acronyms?

[mcytblrconfessions]

*sighs in sadness* Ocean Queen Lizzie you were too good a character to be released onto the masses who couldn't characterize you well in fanfiction to save your life :(

The joy your story brought me (self-proclaimed number one Ocean Queen fan /hj) is immense, but it does not cancel out the multitudes of fanfiction flattening you into a hollow shell of yourself who only exists as an extension of the men in your life, clogging the LDShadowLady fandom tag and making it nigh-impossible to fin the (rare) fic in which Lizzie is in-character

And trust me, I know. My experiences are born out of pain and sorrow. Deep in the clutches of hyperfixation, I checked the LDShadowLady tag several times every day for months, no filters. I looked at every fic in the tag, and the backlog of fics. I read every fic in the tag, with only a few exceptions for the most truly unstomachable fic. Even as my hyperfixation loosened, I still checked the LDShadowLady tag often, and scrolled through the backlog. I still read every Lizzie centric fic I can find, and a lot that isn't. I still am on a constant search for good Lizzie fic (please: anyone want to recommend any fics? I'm sure there's stuff I'm missing/missed/forgot to bookmark! she doesn't have to be the main character, just significant!)

I have gazed into the abyss. I have absorbed the scope of it. I have written fic on my own.

And yet: the problem is less with the lack of Lizzie fics, and more with the bad ones, the ones that don't actually feature her in any real capacity, which becomes easy to see once you've read a lot of them noticed the pattern, just a combination of sidelining, of mischaracterization, and mischaracterization by omission, that trap that is so easy to fall into.

I can forgive fandom for this to an extent. No fic writer is perfect, this is about the collective patterns. But after a certain point, it starts becoming harder to ignore: the way she is written into fics only to warp around c!Jimmy (sometimes other male characters) with zero regard for her interiority, her agency, her struggles, her potential, in fics that give male side characters these things.

The way she is ignored varies. Sometimes it is the most blatant examples: she is put in a situation in which multiple canon traits/opinions/experiences of hers would obviously be relevant, but all are ignored except supportive sister. Sometimes it is more subtle: it iisn't a plot hole that her being a supportive sister/caring/"strong woman girlboss" (in the way that doesn't actually give her any agency or depth or plot importance, she's still a flat character only there for support, but actually we only write her as a personw with no interior depth or anything interesting bc she's just so cool and competent and perfect there aren't any problems that give us reasons to focus on her or give her like, a character arc or something) is the only thing that comes up in the au, but the fact that the author didn't find anything else about her interesting or worthy of show, never considered showing her in more depth, giving her an arc, giving her choices to make, the fact that over and over again authors decide that the only reason to show her is if she's supporting a guy, grates a whole fucking lot. Mostly, it is more subtle but once you see it you will never stop unseeing it. I try to repeat it but I just sound like a broken record.

Am I going insane for noticing this when nobody else seems to? I worry that, even being mad mostly at the trend and not the individual writers, I am still somehow being too unfair to them. I check my line of thought over and over. Then, once again, I am reading a fic and I can't stop thinking about how it's another fic in the pattern, and I try to find something that isn't and it takes me pages and pages, and I am so angry again. Death by a thousand pinpricks. Driven insane by a thousand lackluster Lizzie portrayals.

It's hard not to feel crazy. People like the Ocean Queen! People don't dislike her character! She just slowly gets flattened, over and over. Never any interest in her depths. (yes I am ocean punning at a time like this)

I am awash in a sea of misery. Every day I think of her and I wish for a world where people liked her better. Where she was the character with a million fics exploring her potential. I think about it and I think about her and I think about my fic for her and the good fics I've read for her and I open another fic where Lizzie is tagged and I hope.

(The pain these fics bring me is immense but the joy I feel about the character is greater, at least. Mostly I think about that. Two sides to everything, how unfortunate/lucky)

Ocean Queen I love you.

[whumpshaped]

this spiralled out of control i apologise. beck's head will clear in 3, 2, 1-

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, suggestive stuff, mind control, threat of death, threat of murder, lots of threats in general, power dynamics, intimate whumper, murder mention

"Oh, I do love it here." Helle stretched out on the king sized bed while Beck was left to stand in the bedroom door, silently fuming. That was his bed, and his room, and his home. "Thank you for asking."

"I didn't," he said quietly, a show of ridiculous defiance he seldom afforded himself. But his home was being turned into a fucking vampire den! Helle went and looked at his treasured family photos, his decorations, touched all his possessions, all while he could do nothing but sit on the sofa and wait for them to leave.

And then they came back. Again. And again. And again. Because they could, and because this was now their new favourite hangout spot; ever since the fucking date night.

"No, I think you did." They gave him a look, a warning, one that Beck always felt compelled to heed. Not this time. He thought he had enough pent up anger to be a little disobedient, so he steeled his nerves and decided to speak up. Well, about as well as a mouse would've against the neighbourhood cat.

"You– you're being... very unfair," he said slowly, forcing out the words one by one, considering each one before committing to it. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say, of course. But he somehow had to repackage his... more blunt sentiments. "And, and you can do that, you can absolutely be as horrible to me as you want. I can't... I can't do anything about it. But I don't want to play along today."

Helle's expression turned playful, and they rolled over to one side of the bed, petting the other as an invitation. Beck wanted to explode when he saw his own fucking bed being offered back to him at a price — a very steep price at that. He didn't want to be anywhere near the fucking vampire.

"Oh, come on," they insisted when he didn't move. He just shook his head.

"Please, get off my bed. You're– you're in your street clothes, and you're rolling around on my blanket that I use after I've showered and I'm clean–"

"Oh, is that the issue?" they asked with a mischievous smile, glancing down at their clothes. "If it is, we can definitely remedy–"

"It's not! It's– it's one of many issues!" he snapped, his little outburst startling him more than it did Helle. "S-sorry. I– just, please, get off."

"You know, sometimes I like it when you get mad at me. Even beyond just the entertainment factor. Because, you see... you are so bland on the surface, but whenever you get angry, it is almost like... I can tell there is something more there."

Bland? What kind of backhanded compliment was that? Or was it just an insult? Beck was so caught off guard that he couldn't even respond before Helle had already moved on, petting the bed again.

"Now, do get over here before I lose interest and just start snapping some bones for fun."

He swallowed, the memory of Helle holding his wrist in their hand and cheerily explaining how easily they could break it seeping back into the forefront of his mind and making his legs move of their own accord. "I said I was sorry," he tried as he carefully lowered himself onto his bed like it was a minefield.

"Yes, I know. And more often than not, I am also fine playing along. But not today, right? Today we are brave and honest."

He hated the way they said that. He had no idea what stupid game they had in mind that required them both on the same bed, but he was starting to get increasingly nervous about it — while Helle easily propped themself up on their elbow, lying on their side, looking at him excitedly like they were at a sleepover.

"I want you to tell me what you actually think. Of me, of spending the night with a vampire, with the specific vampire who has been so mean to you. I want to hear it."

"Wh- what?"

"It is painfully obvious that you are holding back. An understandable choice. But now I want you to just say it. Tell me something absolutely vile."

"I, I don't... I... no, but this, this is what I mean, this is unfair, how can you even– you, you could hurt me so badly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Is that an invitation?" They raised their free hand before he could answer, cutting him off. "I know, I know. It is not. Not yet, anyway. But very well, if you will not share of your own volition, you shall share under enthrallment."

Beck sat up immediately, his urge to get away suddenly unbearable. "No! No, you said you wouldn't, you said you wouldn't use it!"

"I will if I have to," they cooed. "Or you can just tell me."

"I... will I be punished for this?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, Beck, stop being such a coward for one second. Indulge. I can tell you my most depraved thoughts about you in exchange, if–"

"No. No, I, I don't think I want to hear any of that."

"Well, I might tell you anyway. But for now, let me hear your honest opinion."

He didn't want to be enthralled. Now that he was so focused on it, he could already feel it creeping closer and closer at the edges of his consciousness, poking and prodding and gently pushing him to just do it. He knew it could turn vicious at any moment, seizing the information by violently ripping it from his mind against his will.

"I hate you," he said in a shaky little voice, ruining weeks of fantasies of himself yelling these words at the vampire. "I, I hate everything about you, everything that reminds me of you, I hate feedings, I hate you being here, I hate you touching me and my things and, and bringing who knows what into my house, you're ruining my life, I– I wish–" He cut himself off, and Helle pushed further into his mind, forcing the words out of his mouth without his consent. "I wish you had been buried with a stake in your heart back whenever you died. I wish I was there, seeing it through, I wish I could've done it. Hell, you're the only reason I keep a stake in my home, you're the only vampire I ever imagine killing, but I imagine it often and in great detail. I am thoroughly fucking disgusted by you, and I truly wish you were dead and rotting somewhere."

Their hold on him suddenly disappeared, and he was left with the knowledge of what he'd just told Helle to their face. He couldn't run away. He couldn't defend it. He couldn't explain it away. All he could do was sit there and watch them process all of it, hoping that whatever punishment this warranted, he could negotiate it to be a little lighter.

He had never realised just how terrifying a concept enthrallment was. He had been spoiled before, continually presented with choices he thought were impossible... but no, impossible felt completely different. It was his mind being effortlessly taken over and toyed with, it was being helpless, completely helpless against it.

"Okay," Helle said after a while, plopping down onto their back. "Bring your stake and get it over with."

"What..?"

"If you do not comply with this order, I will find the stake and drive it through your heart."

Beck almost fell off the bed in his haste to grab the stake from the drawer of his nightstand, clutching it in his hands uncertainly as he turned back to see Helle still lying on their back, docile as ever. They didn't make a single move to stop him as he reluctantly inched closer.

"You– you wouldn't actually let me," he stammered, and they shrugged.

"You are not going get a better chance."

Well... that much was true. And yet, all he did was kneel there on the bed with a stake in his hand and stare at the vampire.

"You know, from the amount of family photo albums I have flipped through, I could easily find and recognise your mother. Or your brother, really. I wonder whether they would be any more fun, or this particular brand of blandness runs in your family." They looked up at him with a coy smile. "I might just go find out for myself after I've staked you."

There weren't many things Beck was as fiercely protective of as his family. Rage bubbled up in his chest with every word Helle uttered, and he instantly moved to straddle their waist, raising the stake high above his head. He had a clear shot. Helle wasn't defending themself. They were telling him that only one of them was going to leave this room alive, and that if it was them, they would slaughter the rest of his family.

And yet... now that he was actually here, on top of the vampire who had been tormenting him, the thought of killing them was intimidating. It wasn't even killing, all he was doing was sending them back where they belonged! But... but what vampire would take over their territory? Would those vampires grab him too? Would they immediately enthrall him, pump him full of venom, leave him to die? Did he... did he really hate Helle that much..?

He shook his head a little, trying to get rid of the thoughts. This had to be the lingering effects of the enthrallment he'd read about. He did hate them, he hated them more then anything, he wanted them dead, properly, permanently dead. And yet his body wouldn't comply. He wasn't a murderer. He just... he couldn't...

Beck flinched and almost dropped the stake when Helle suddenly moved, trailing their fingers up his thighs, over his hips and onto his waist. He lowered his hands to push theirs away, but they were faster, grabbing him by the wrists and tugging his hands over to their chest. The point of the stake was now right above their unbeating heart, mere inches away from killing them; and they looked up at him with the same calm as always, almost– fond, or... or...

"You could do it now," they whispered, not letting him pull his hands back even if he wanted to. "All those mean, condescending insults, all that pain from feedings, all the ruined date nights, all that frustration from having to tolerate a leech like me in your home... gone."

"I can't," he whispered back, trying to blink away tears of shame. He just couldn't. His life was on the line. His family's life. And he couldn't.

"Why?"

He shook his head again. Maybe he didn't fully know, maybe he just didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he felt like he could just say no now that he was holding a stake to their heart.

"I thought you hated me."

"I do." His hands were shaking badly, worse by the second as Helle slowly worked his fingers loose from the stake. "But I– I don't know what would happen afterwards. And I don't want to kill anybody–"

"I'm already dead, Beck."

"I know." He let them take the stupid piece of wood, the one he now knew he'd never actually get to use because of his own cowardice. He yelped when Helle suddenly flipped their positions, settling comfortably between his legs and putting the pointed end of the stake against his heart.

"I let you do this because I thought it would be a nice little lesson," they said easily, almost pleasantly, no doubt enjoying the way he trembled under them. "I knew you would not be able to do it. At least I was confident enough. Of course, had you tried, I would have simply stopped you... but you did not even try."

There was no trace of fear in their voice or on their face from having been so close to death, nor was there a single tremor that would've run through their hands as they threatened someone with a very much lethal weapon. This wouldn't have been their first kill; nor their first death, for that matter. Beck stifled a little whimper at the thought.

"Whether you admit it or not, you love to hate me. You love to point to me and say I am the source of your problems, you love to fantasise about my death being the end of your misery, but you know it is not true. You love knowing that you do not have to fear vampires out at night anymore, aside from the one you already know. One that is, quite frankly–"

"Spoiling me," he blurted out, and their smile widened.

"Yes. Spoiling you. No magic. No quick and easy scrambling of your fragile, human mind. You love to think I am strict and cruel, because it makes you feel better about the world. You love to think I am the worst of it. But you know it is not true."

"I do, now." He could hear the blood rushing in his ears as he stared up at the murderous being so close to killing him, and he dared hope they wouldn't. Because he knew them, and they knew him, and he dared hope that in itself was enough to keep him from dying tonight.

"I killed my sire like this." They sounded nostalgic, as though they were recalling their most pleasant memories. "There is something... quite special about staking someone. Forcing a piece of wood between their ribs, piercing their heart... I do love doing it. It is quite... intimate."

Beck felt the point be driven further into his skin, nestling between strands of the fabric in his shirt and drawing blood underneath. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to drive it through someone's chest without any momentum. Helle was definitely more than capable.

He held his breath, waiting for his death as the vampire watched the droplet of blood soak a small circle of red into his pristine shirt. Then they threw the stake aside, grabbing a hold of his wrist instead. "But if I staked you tonight, how would I ever turn you into my adoring little vampire servant? No, I am afraid that will have to wait." They kissed the inside of his wrist, and Beck shivered, bracing himself for the bite that would come as a direct result of his own incompetence. "But I am very pleased that this honesty hour has brought us a bit closer together."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks

[fayedartmouth]

looking forward to reading ur thoughts on obx s4 <3 just finished myself and my heart and soul have left the chat </3 in the worst way possible

I'll just say now -- spoilers for Outer Banks season four for any poor soul who hasn't found out yet.

My thoughts are hard to completely nail down just because they're so deeply emotional, I think. I never believed the rumors -- like fiercely denied them -- because narratively none of it made sense. There was no satisfying narrative arc that allowed JJ to screw up and struggle the way they did in S4 and then end it with his death. As a character arc, it's horribly depressing. This is a character who blows up his entire life in S4 and who literally loses everything he's worked to build -- and it IS kind of his fault. I was convinced that meant the writers were priming him for redemption and the happiest of endings.

However, I misjudged the fact that the writers weren't writing this for JJ's arc. They used his death as a plot device to further everything else, and I don't know, maybe they DID plan it from the start because in the concept of the show, JJ's the reckless, loyal best friend. Killing him off is the plot device they need to bring the story to the fullest fruition and it will be the catalyst for the others to truly realize what their bonds mean. Like I can sketch out the reason narratively -- but it all involves stripping JJ of his personal story and using him to advance the plot.

Which is their choice, I guess?  As writers they can do what they want and it's their show. But it vastly underestimates the investment some of us put into that CHARACTER. It just felt so cruel, to have him basically end up a suicidal mess -- and then to kill him off. He's always been a character who never saw a future for himself -- who believed he was doomed by the narrative -- and guess what? He was. I know I put JJ through hell in my fics, but it's always to fix him and give him the happy ending I want him to have.

Because JJ is so fundamentally broken.  He's got so many issues and he's working at such a deficit. Life has been so unfair to JJ. And this episode season said YEP and used it to take him to the grave. I know the whole logic is that JJ will always take the risk but my goodness. It was supposed to PAY OFF.

And in particular, I hated that JJ was abused and abandoned his entire life. And they let him be manipulated and then MURDERED by his father. They made JJ a victim until the end, and I have real pain over that. He deserved better. Y'all, we deserved better.

I don't know how to talk about the rest because I guess I stopped caring?  Like sincerely, once I knew JJ was dead, everything else was meaningless. Is that bad? I don't care. It's real. I don't mind anything else -- John B and Sarah having a baby is a little contrived but okay. I thought Pope was interesting and I loved his turn for being protective. I liked Mike coming around on JJ but wanted more? I wanted more with how Kie was reacting to JJ's absolute self destruction. I loved Shoupe. I am fascinated by the twist with Luke. I don't loathe Rafe's redemption as much as I thought it would.

It just doesn't matter. The show, for me, is done with JJ. I can't emotionally accept his death, so I reject canon. It's a coping mechanism because this show was my happy place. It was my escape. And I refuse to let them take that from me.

And just also, I'm angry but it's not personal, okay? The writers made the choice they made, and I think it's a dumb choice. I think they failed to realize the necessary arc of that character and it shot their own show in the foot (and, frankly, the heart). I think there will be a decent portion of fans who are done because of this, but I'm sure not everyone is taking it as hard as me. I don't have any thoughts on actors or behind the screen tensions. They will all make the choices they need to make for the reasons they need to make them, and that's their right. So I can be profoundly disappointed and mad and disappointed, but at the end of the day, it IS just a TV show and I don't get to judge people's lives.

All that said -- I'm wordy! -- I will write my own version of S5. I've already been plotting it (with my partner in crime woudsohfiv!). It's going to be long and it's going to be epic and I'm really, really excited about it. I have to write it in order to get over what I've lost here, and it's a healing process for me to let go of canon and make this all my own. I refuse to let them take my escape, so I'll reclaim it any way I can. 

It does mean I'm done, though. There's no S5 (unless I hear otherwise) and it'll be awhile before I'm able to rewatch anything and not feel hollow inside. That is the part I hate the most. It will be almost impossible to enjoy the show the same way because of what they did with JJ, and that is a shame. I was all in with them, I was with them to the end. I was rewatching, buying dumb fan crap, all of it. But I have to create a safe space for myself.

I'm happy to talk more about any of it and the ideas for the fic. But I've rambled on super long as it is. As far as I'm concerned, JJ is ours now. The writers didn't want him, so we'll take him. And we'll give him the ending he deserves.

[valiantroeagleangel]

Hatefuck.

Ryan Sitkowski x female reader

Kintober day 27. Hate sex, hook-up, unprotected sex, cheating.

This one feels a bit wrong since some hate sex and cheating are involved. Don't cheat on your partner and don't break people's marriage, it's bad. But I had this headcanon of Ryan in my head and I like it very much. Please don't come at me if you don't like this trope. It's just fucking fiction and shitty porn.

That being said, enjoy my loves <3

-Go to hell Ryan it's not my fucking problem. You shouted, slamming the door as you left the recording studio.

God how much you hated Ryan. He was insufferable with you, always making you remarks and picking fights. He was so convinced that he was superior to you, always degrading you and making bad comments about you to the rest of the band.

Why the heck was his problem?

Since you started to work as a sound engineer for the band six months ago, there have been constant arguments between the two of you. The atmosphere was always so heavy that now you were just running away from him, choosing to only interact with him when it was strictly necessary.

-It's not my fault if you suck at your job. Spare us your incompetence and just quit for good. He screamed louder, not sure if you were even hearing him now.

He sighed, sinking into his chair as the other guys looked at him in disapproval.

-What is wrong with you for real? She is doing a good job on the album. Chris pinched his nose, exasperated.

-No she's not. She's a pain in the ass, always whining about everything.

-She's not Ryan, and you know it, you're just unfair to her for god knows what reason.

Chris shook his head, standing up to open the door of the studio.

-What side are you even on dude?

-Hers. Now go apologize, we have a song to finish. He paused but Ryan didn't move. Now.

Reluctantly he got up and left the room, Chris slamming the door after his passage.

Ryan looked for you through the building, complaining and cursing until he found you, taking a coffee in the break room. You turned back as you heard someone coming, your brows furrowing when you knew who it was.

-Do you really think it's time to take a coffee break? You can't capriciously leave a session like that, we're all waiting for you to come back.

Wasn't he supposed to apologize? Yeah, right but seeing you like that just made his blood rush. He did not want to apologize, he wanted to ruin you, spit out his venom on you.

You saw red, will he never let you alone?

Slamming your cup on the counter you took a few steps in his direction. Your index finger pointed in his direction in a threatening way.

-You know what your problem is, Ryan? You're weak. You're the weakest person I know. You see me as a threat for a reason that I still don't get. You want me out of your life because you feel inferior. Because you're insecure.

Unconsciously you stepped closer to him as you continued your monologue, finding yourself inches from him.

-You call me a whiner but you're the one always whining about everything. I'm not going to destroy your life so peace out, dude.

He swallowed hard, looking at you as you kept your angry gaze on him. A long silence settled between you before he decided to speak again.

-But you are fucking destroying my life. He spoke in a low voice, not sure if he was supposed to say that.

You laughed as you stepped back a bit, throwing your arms in the air.

-How the fuck am I supposed to destroy your life? I won't take your job I'm a sound engineer, not a rockstar.

You were hallucinating as you kept laughing bitterly at him.

-God, you're a mad man Ryan. How could you make it so far in life when you think like that?

Rubbing your hands on your face you went to sit on the counter, throwing your feet as he followed you closely.

-You have no idea of what you're talking about. He retorted as his fists clenched.

-Certainly not but I think that you don't know either. You're just trying to cover how much of a coward you are.

His breathing was erratic as he stepped even closer, making you swallow this time. His gaze was menacing you, his arms resting on either side of your body as he bent over you a bit.

You shut down, intimidated by his dominating figure as your stomach squeezed.

-Don’t talk about things that are beyond you.

He was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your face. Leaning on him you kept your gaze on his.

-Fucking coward.

Why were you provoking him like that when he was so close you had no idea, but the tension between you switched. Your heart started to race but not from anger, your cheeks getting hot as you realized you were only inches away from his lips.

-I'll show you how weak I am.

Without letting you have the time to protest he collapsed on you, his lips crashing on yours as his hands came to grab your hips.

Confused and taken aback you pushed him away as he bit your lips, making it bleed.

-What the fuck dude? You started even more angry than before. You're married, why are you even- Oh.

It was at this moment that you realized it. You weren't going to destroy his job, you were going to destroy his marriage.

Your eyes widening you didn't say anything more, looking at him incredulously.

-Don't you fucking dare call me a coward again. You have no idea what I've been through the last months, trying to keep you away, trying to keep me away. He sighed, leaning more on you as he lowered his voice. Trying to avoid that fucking tempting ass of yours.

You squeezed your legs together at his words, your heart racing in your chest.

-You're completely mad, Ryan. You bit your lower lip, the taste of the blood diffusing in your mouth.

-Yes I am. And it's your fault. He breathed out, nearing his mouth to yours as kept staring at your lips. You make me insane.

You didn't move, holding your breath as you saw his lips slightly brushing against yours.

-You can't do that. Your tongue came to moisturize your dry lips as your breathing accelerated. Provocation again? Really?

-You're right, I can't.

But he did it, his tongue coming to caress yours as he kissed you again.

This time you didn't push him away. You don't know why but your hands came to his hair as you let him kiss you, uncertain. Maybe you were as mad as he was. The tension between you was confusing your brain. Ryan was hot, you never just admitted it to yourself as you were blinded by the hate.

His hands quickly came to your waist, pushing you against him as his lips kept kissing you passionately. He waited for this for so long that he thought he was going to explode. But you broke apart as you pulled his hair brutally.

-Stop it, we're not doing this.

He was panting against you, his pupils were dilated looking straight at you as his chest rose violently.

-Get your shit back together Ryan, you're married for fuck sake. You breathed out, his lips already losing themselves against your neck.

But he kept coming for you, pressing himself a little further between your legs making you whimper softly. You were not even sure that he listened to a thing you said. Fuck. That was wrong.

-God, I hate you. You rolled your head back as his lips became more persistent on your skin.

Leaving your neck, they came back to yours as he started to roam his hips urgently, getting needy.

-You're not going to answer a thing I say?

-Just shut up already. How annoying you can be.

He groaned, one of his hands coming to your face, grabbing it as he kept your lips against his, kissing you again.

You didn't know what to do. The anger consumed you as his touch made you go crazy. However, you knew you needed to stop before it was too late. The image of his wife coming to your head. You already had done too much.

Still, the words disappeared in your throat as Ryan's hands came to undo the button of your jeans, quickly working himself before he could think about what he was doing.

He was going to cheat and break his marriage but right now the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted your lips back on his. The feeling was too consuming as the tension of these last months dissipated, turning into pure passion.

You were the only thing playing in his mind, your complaints the only thing he would hear and the only thing he wanted to hear.

Settling a pace rapidly, he came to pull your pants down your legs, lifting you a little. He didn't want you to think, he wanted you to give up on his touch, wanted you to help him release his obsession with you, maybe that after it would stop and you both could go back to a normal life.

-Let me touch you, just for a bit. Hoarsely he asked, his lips kissing under your ear.

You nodded, not wanting to let the words out of your mouth. All of this was becoming way too real.

At your approval one of his hands came to caress your underwear, brushing his fingers on the wet spot that was forming.

-Fuck Ryan. You moaned a bit, surprised as your hand came to cover your mouth quickly.

He smirked against your skin, starting to rub you more.

-You want this as much as I do, don't you? He laughed a bit, mocking you.

Your head rolled back as you squeezed your eyes shut, his hand passing through your underwear as he started to caress you, rubbing your clit urgently, his lips biting to the skin of your shoulder as he lowered his head.

-Stop playing you, asshole. Just fuck me already. You whined, your hips roaming against his hand as you tried to grab his belt.

Yes, you wanted this, and you wanted it now. The more he was waiting the more you thought about his marriage and you didn't want to. You were fucking up real good this time.

He chuckled bitterly, quickly helping you to take his belt off as he opened his pants, putting them and his underwear down a little bit in a sure motion.

-See? You're always whining. He groaned in your ear, pumping himself before thrusting inside of you, not losing time.

You clung on him, your arms surrounding his neck as you pushed yourself against his body. The feeling of him inside you made you dizzy, your stomach tightening on how much you liked it.

After some time of peace, he started to move again, pushing in and out as he firmly grabbed your waist.

Shit, this was good, HE was good. You couldn't think about anything else than the feeling of him filling you up, your hips starting to rock against his, eager for more and more.

You heard him moan, his lips coming for yours as he tried to cover your sounds, fucking you restlessly as he enjoyed himself a bit too much.

-This doesn't change anything. I'll hate you 'til the day I die. You breathed out against his lips.

-Continue to hate me and I will fuck you until I'm the only thing you can think about. Accentuating each one of his words with a deeper thrust making you whine under his touch.

You gasped his name, feeling him throb inside of you. The hate between you was making all of this so hot, creating a suffering pleasure. It needed to end, you were losing your mind as the passion in your stomach was rising.

Ryan was pushing himself deeply, caressing that sweet spot every time making you cry his name. You were overwhelmed by everything that was happening, his hot breath against you making your head buzz.

He was getting closer, you could feel it, his movements becoming more messy and needy. He was fucking you like a beast, his mind completely gone as he was chasing his orgasm simultaneously to yours.

And god it was working, you felt your orgasm wash over yourself, leaving you completely drained under him as you shivered in his arms. His hips still twitching as he cursed, fucking you through your release.

Instinctively he grabbed your hips firmly when you clenched over him, feeling himself lose it all inside of you as is own orgasm left him panting.

Trying to catch your breath you pushed him out of you.

-God Ryan what have we done?

You started to panic as you realized what just happened, the sweet feeling of your pleasure disappearing leaving room for guilt.

He didn't answer, stepping back as he pushed his underwear back on, the door of the room slamming open.

-Ryan what is taking you so long to apologize for god’s sak- Chris appeared, looking at you both incredulously.

Ryan turned back, looking at him shocked as he didn't even put his pants back on.

-Sorry. That was the only thing Chris said before slamming the door back violently.

You were fucked. 

[c0rpseductor]

have to explode about this somewhere or i simply will not make it

i am so fucking mad at my mom. i realize in isolation everything happening recently is totally innocuous and normal, it's just like. in context that it hurts.

i hate that she's sick with Probably Covid and asking me for a bunch of extra favors. i had to wash her a cup for water because she didn't feel good the other day, yesterday i had to do her laundry, today i had to cook for her. if this were like, between anybody else it would be fine. it's just like. agh

i feel so angry that she wants me to take care of her and i've ALWAYS taken care of her and i always feel like she just does not give a fuck about my most basic needs beyond "well, lestat's not dead!". it makes me feel ungrateful because i know she does nice stuff for me sometimes too, it's just like, it hurts when i always hide when i'm upset and barely ask her for anything even when i'm in such bad physical pain that i can't function. like most of the time if i'm too unwell to make something to eat i just go without food. i don't like asking her for things and i always feel like there's a limit to how often i can ask for her help, and that i have to be careful to mostly be a kind of pleasant background decoration that never imposes on her.

i always had to be her mom, ever since i was a kid. even when i was little she wasn't consistent and would berate me or get angry with me for just, like, being a kid and wanting or needing stuff. meanwhile i've always been like her little stuffed animal to talk to when she's sad. she always acted like she loves me so much and we're so close but mostly like i'm a possession of hers. i just like. i dont know. im so hung up on when she was drinking and high on coke and she said to me like, "oh id much rather just have a roommates relationship with you instead of being like mother and son." explains much about like, my Entire fucking childhood!

and then she takes credit for how i've turned out as if she raised me, like, i feel like not only did i raise myself but i'm raising her half the time trying to explain basic things about emotional regulation and hereditary mental issues and shit, being the first person she comes to for everything, always having to calm her down or support her when she's venting when i KNOW i can't rely on her in the same way or tell her any of the really challenging issues i have, like just. it's not fair. it's so tiring. materially i am very grateful that she is willing to let me stay with her and that she understands i'm disabled and can't work right now and tries to still help me live a comfortable life (and, cynically, i feel that she's kind of okay with me being in this kind of bad position as long as i don't leave), i know i'm lucky to have food and shelter and things like that.

i just like. man i don't know. i feel like i've been holding this back for days because i just fucking feel like it's so unfair that whenever mom feels bad i'm Favors Boy and i can be expected to do anything for her that she wants, but when i feel bad it's like, locking myself in the bathroom trying to cry quietly enough that she won't notice to clean off blood after cutting, or holing up in my room with a migraine and having to drag myself out of bed to use my Very Little Energy to make myself coffee or get water and then not being able to eat because im too tired to make myself anything substantial and god forbid i ask her, and then after i have my bad episode she's like Hey so i know you have a bad leg and stairs make it worse but i dont like taking out the trash so can that still be your job. it's not like the front steps are even THAT bad it's just like, ok, im so glad you thought about my limp. of course she wouldnt though it's literally her fault my leg is so fucked up and when i went to the hospital for it way back when and it didn't turn out to be a broken bone she was all like haha i told you so! and then laughed at me when i tripped and fell on my crutches coming home. she just does not give a fuck. but ohhhh lestat would you mind feeding me like a baby bird.....your poor old mother is so sick and feeble.....

[ireneksstuff]

Rant below

I'm sorry the fuck did WE do???

Like I think this whole thing started mainly with crows being mad ab the fucking eyeball lore rp, and some of them literally overstepping tubbos boundaries, being borderline ableist, and then accusing him of spreading homophobic rhetoric (and I'm not just referring to that ONE person, that post had like 15 reblogs with people agreeing with them and a lot more likes)

And when we rightfully called them out, they all doubled down until their OWN streamer called them out (bc tubbo addressing it did nothing)

And then sunny happened. Sunny had been expecting good things from phil and tallulah and chayanne bc tubbo spoke very highly of them. And even if it wasn't for tallulah s distrust, which I can write a thesis about tbh(since I think it's unfair to expect sunny to be ok with people disliking her for where she was from) Phil's language was insensitive towards a very traumatized kid that he had not build a stable relationship with. That's a fact. He didn't talk to empanada like that, so why did he towards sunny?

Yes, he did not mean to do that. But the Tubblings used it as an opportunity to have an angst moment. And crows fucking LOST IT. Like no we do not hate Phil guys.We love that old man. We can still make angsty theories with his interactions with sunny.

ALSO, when it was PHILS turn to take lore srsl, he acted the same way he did always due to not realising the gravity of tubbos' death. And that is not a bad thing. But when the Tubblings, instead of getting upset ab him not participating seriously in the lore,we chose to add it into the story, crows were all over it with meta reasons for why we shouldn't do that.

Like do you want serious lore or not? Pick one

I'm not here to pick a fight. Many tubblings have also gone to crows blogs and have sent hate and death threats which are NOT acceptable no matter what.

I'm just trying to point out that the pure hypocrisy that some crows have shown has made tubblings be fed up with this bs. Cause we expect the hate now.

Again we love phil. I was a crow first and i know thats the same for many of us.

However, EVERY time that he interacts with tubbo or when bolas are mentioned, I just feel the exhaustion of preparing for the disaster that my feed will be, due to like 3 crows starting shit, and then tubblings defending themselves.

I'm not kidding. Every tubbling was ready for war on twt when they did the prank, and we were relieved that at least we had the doozers with, so we wouldn't face this shit again on our own.

I am tired of this shit. I love hanging around in Phil's chat when he's playing qsmp. But when I read chat messages like these, I'm just angry? Disappointed that this is still happening? Like you can claim that we are toxic all you want, but so far, every time our communities have been at each others throats its been the crows picking the fights(and no making angsty hc ab the possible perception of a characters behavior does not count, it's normal fandom behavior)

Even while writing this, I had to check my language like 10 times to make sure I didn't piss people off for no reason.

Whether you like it or not, the toxicity didn't start with us

[sobeksewerrat]

HYPERANALYZING/ SCREAMING ABOUT EP.3 COZ IT IS MY FAVOURITE AND I AM REWATCHING IT LET'S GOOOO

Disclaimer: this post is literally just me talking about how much I kin Milly and technically a combined liveblog

Oh look it's one of Taylor's bullies from BWBL!!

Also, what the music freak is this shitty pop song playing in the back ground man I'm-

Why is the school nurse running around like that-

Gotta love how everyone just rushes over to see Milly fight, and that Jake knows exactly who they're talking about (even though they've been friends for like 2 weeks). Really shows how much of a negative-ish reputation Milly has (relatable man)

Fuck Miss Jones man she sucks she can't even break off a fight who hired this bitch.

I really like the fight scene, Luke's animation is kinda wonky but I really miss seeing Kurie's animation!! I really miss the old GL episodes, they were just so much more well-written, and the amount of editing done by Rosy in them is really underrated like they seriously look so good considering how limited GL was.

God, seeing Milly fight for something Zoey stole is really fucking relatable. Like, my bullies always steal my books, my sketchbooks, my pencil case..etc. and I always get in trouble when I try to wrestle them for it. Like, I get yelled at and keep getting told "You're a girl you shouldn't be fighting with anybody!" and all they get for pushing me over the edge is a slap on the wrist, schools are really unfair (and then adults wonder why we don't talk to them about shit).

Dear Rosy Jake is so pathetic he literally gets thrown away by just a punch I'm-

Fuck you Luke

Zoey calling Milly an animal is um, weird, to say the least.

Um, side note, I really forgot how weird Henriam were in the first few episodes- like you could see the basis of their characters as we know them now being established but it's still so weird seeing them like this (also Henry is almost Liam's height in GL which makes me want to die)

Imma just skip over the Miss Jones scene I practically said everything I have to say but before that Drew was too much of a dick in this episode in an unlikeable way like THANK GOD he's barely in this one and seeing Lia flirting with Jake feels very wrong for some reason. Still love her GL outfit though <33

Wow Hailey I am so glad to know you care more about the competition than Milly <444/sarcasm

FUCKING HYPOCRITE- (jk I love GL era Hailey <44)

Seeing the club pressuring Milly to talk speaks to me on a weirdly personal level. Everyone wants me to talk about my feelings, but have you ever considered that I don't want to talk about them? That I am still not comfortable enough to let you in? To let you see that I am vulnerable? To actually confront the fact that I am not okay? I know the music club and the ppl ik irl genuinely mean well, but sometimes people aren't willing to talk, and you should respect that. Sometimes, just being there to keep us company and not judge us is enough, yk?

Side note: can really relate to Milly's reflex of hitting people when they get too close, I literally have to stop myself from punching my own mother whenever she grabs my arm or something I fucking hate being touched and I like the nice detail of Zander smiling when he found out who punched Jake.

Honestly, fuck Zander man. I joked about Hailey not caring about Milly's feelings, about Zander straight up doesn't care.

He is a straight up reminder of my one of my bullies and all the adults in my life. Fuck you Zander.

"Does the band mean nothing to you?"

DO MILLY'S FEELINGS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU ZANDER?!?

[Cries in this is super relatable]

"Great...she's on a rampage again"

Um...so, the girl being on the verge of a breakdown and being understandably angry at her bullies and her friends being extremely inconsiderate is considered being on a rampage? Damn, Sean, why do people even like you man.

So...you WANT to have control over her?? Idk man I am really mad at zander rn

"We can deal with whatever's bothering you, together!"

"Milly, I'm worried about you."

I already elaborated on this point but I just want to talk about how much I love Hailey in the first 4 episodes she was literally an awesome queen what happened to her 😭

God I love Redemption so fucking much it is literally the best song and musical scene in TMF /gen

Love the foreshadowing to Lia's redemption in the scene where they're bullying Milly btw, Rosy is awesome when it comes to subtlety (that is how you spell it right-?)

"🎵But you keep trying to get too close🎵"

Literally on the verge of tears this song (and whole episode tbh) hits way too close to home/gen (i feel like I have to keep clarifying how genuine I bcuz I don't think people realize how emotional this gacha series can make me)

"🎵Saved myself by turning into stone🎵"

[In tears] I swear people really underestimate how fucked up someone's psyche can be when they're all cheery and hyper. Media has made us believe that people who bottle up emotions are all cold and depressed but really the most cheerful people you knew tend to be the most depressed. The only other major examples from my fandoms that fit this category that I can think of are KEL from Omori and Kokichi form Dangan, but I feel like KEL fits this statement more that Ouma tbh

"🎵So save your judgement 'cause you just don't know🎵"

REAL. AND THE CAMERA PANNING TO ZANDER WAS JUST *chef's kiss* I SWEAR ROSY IS REALLY GOOD AT SHOWING EMOTION.

"🎵And they keep coming like moth to flame🎵"

People want a reaction. Adults keep telling you to just ignore the bullies and they'll go away, but they never will because they KNOW they're getting under your skin and they'll continue teasing you till you snap and they'll only stop when it's already too fucking late.

"🎵Redemption never came🎵"

This. This line is perfect and it is the perfect ending to the song. People are so quick to judge and tell you you need to change but they never stop to get to know the real you, they never stop to actually help you change, and you'll always be the villain in the end.

"Milly seems really important to these guys"

YA THINK?!?!

"I'm missing chunks of my hair because of her!"

Zoey please marry me 💖

"They must be talking about Milly..."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock

"I can't believe she has a crush on that nerd!"

Me neither, Zoey, Milly is wayyyy above his league.

"You...blackmailed your friend for me?"

Also, being bullied for a crush is soo real. Like, I am aroace so I wasn't bullied for HAVING a crush, I was bullied for being a "pick me" because I just so happened to be close friends with a guy and they were all accusing us of dating (this is like a big deal here since dating is very frowned upon, especially for AFABs; so they KNEW they were gonna tank my reputation and ruin my life basically. I can't tell you the amount of teachers who would look at me weird when I talked to my guy friends)- anyways this barely has anything to do with Milly or tmf but this is my blog I do whatever

[EDIT: A WHOLE CHUNK OF THE RANT WAS DELETED?? I AM REWRITING IT NOW]

"Y'know, what? I think I might go see what Drew's up to, I've yet to tell him about how I saw you with your sugar daddy last weekend"

This was the moment I started hating Jake. I didn't like him before, but I started loathing him at that moment.

I have been cheated on before, and if my friends knew and didn't tell me I would have killed them.

"But drew wouldn't have believed him!" Well, he believed him in ep 10, didn't he? And Henriam would have been there to back him up anyways.

Another question I have regarding this is how on earth did he blackmail her?! Liek he didn't have a photo or anything.

AND WHY ISNT HE CONCERNED ABOUT ZOEY GOIGN OUT WITH AN ADULT!??!

"Aw, you two looked very cozy together"

His tone reminds me of my abuser and I don't like. It has nothing to do with the essay, but I wanted to point it out. It really got under my skin.

"Just...please don't tell Drew about what you saw"

Is ti just me or does she seem genuinely sad?? Like her conscience is tormenting her?? Idk man maybe I am just reading into this way too much but- [pulls out ancient tmf theories about Zoey being forced into this by sb and actually being in love with Drew]

"I can't believe those girls, snooping into people's diaries like that"

And you can believe Jake blackmailing Zoey?? I get you're still salty about Lia but cmon Hailey give the man some consequences

[INSERT DEAN SCENE HERE]

MR.BROOOOOOOOOOOM

GOD HER TONE IS JUST- LIKE, SHE'S UNCERTAIN ABOUT JAKE'S METHOD [PROBABLY] BUT SHE CANT BELIEVE SOMEBODY CARES ABOUT HER THAT MUCH OH MY- SOMEBODY GIVE HER A HUG PLEASE SHE NEEDS IT

I SWEAR IF I SEE SOMEBODY ELSE CALL HER CARDBOARD LIEK THE ANON DID I WILL KILL YHEM

"Um...well, when you put it like that-"

Jesus Christ this man doesn't even realize what he did.

That final interaction with Milly and Jake where they reflect on the whole thing is just- beautiful, awesome, fantastic. It's really sweet and I love seeing Milly finally being comfortable enough to talk about her feelings (even if she isn't being too specific or conveying all of her feelings)

Why does Elliot look like that.

Milly why do you like this guy.

Anyways, I love the sound effects Rosy used to add whenever people would blush, I miss it (iirc it isn't in any of the new ep)

GOD I MISSED HE INTRO/OUTRO SONG SO MUCH NOSTALGIA-

Anyways, I love this episode, this is peak TMF and it makes me angry to see how Milly was reduced to comic relief in the end.

I would write a proper conclusion but I am too fucking lazy

Bye freaks