#i genuinely had to force myself not to look at it this morning because it was just so tempting

[shoveitevil]

the brainworms are still present

[delusional-day-dreamer]

U My Everything - p.b

‣ paige x grumpy reader: part two here!

‣ wc: 3178

‣‣ synopsis: paige's harmless joke is taken a little too personally by her sensitive and grumpy girlfriend; slight angst? but very fluffy by the end! (the song is most relevant for the end part of the fic as it's inspired by KK's 05/31/24 live, can u tell I live for uconn lives?)

‣‣‣ a/n: I'M SORRY, i know y'all chose emily in the poll but I alr finished this one and I've promised myself I would try to release at least one fic a day; emily's will be out very very soon, writing smut for the first time is just very nerve wracking lmao. this is lightly based off the, good morning gorgeous, tiktok trend going around rn; Also, I'm so sorry for the amount of times I use y'all, like, literally, and really because I try to make my dialogue and what not as realistic as possible, but as a Southern Californian they're literally engraved into my vocabulary 😭😭.

Rolling over in bed half-conscious, your arms reach out, patting around the bed in an attempt to locate your girlfriend's warmth without having to open your eyes. However, to your sheer disappointment, your fingers are met with cold, rumpled sheets on Paige's side of the bed.

Now fully conscious with confusion as to how your girlfriend managed to slip from bed without you realizing, the pounding in your head became all the more severe as you sat up in bed, frustrated that the one person who could comfort you simply with their presence was nowhere to be found.

With your right hand massaging the temple, attempting to soothe the deep ache that had settled into the front portion of your head, your left hand blindly felt around your nightstand for your phone, knowing Paige wouldn't have left you alone in bed without so much as a simple text message. But to your surprise, her name was absent from your list of notifications.

Even more annoyed than before, you forced yourself out of her bed, stumbling your way to her adjacent bathroom, wincing at the sudden intrusion that was fluorescent lighting. By the time you began brushing your teeth, you heard the front door open, hearing Paige call your name as she entered the dorm.

"Bathroom," you yelled out to her, despite your head screaming at you to shut up and crawl back under the safety of Paige's comforter.

"Hey baby," Paige greeted as she entered the bathroom while you spit toothpaste into the sink, coming up behind you to hug your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. As you stood back up to meet her gaze in the mirror's reflection, you saw her tuck her bottom lip into her mouth, clearly trying to hide her shit-eating grin.

"Well don't you look... interesting this morning," she teased, the sarcasm apparent in her low voice. You knew her mocking was all in good fun, the two of you often poking fun at each other for little things. But perhaps it was the headache still waging war in your skull, or the final three midterms you had to take later today, or your remanent annoyance at having to wake up alone, despite her knowing your favorite part of the day was waking up, warm and all loved up in her arms, or perhaps it was the fact that looking in the mirror, you genuinely looked wrecked this morning.

Your curly hair was reduced to nothing but a puff of frizz overnight, sticking out in all directions, your eyebags particularly prominent this morning, combined with the pesky anxiety breakout that had settled into your forehead a few days prior, you just couldn't handle her jokes today.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out Paige," you shot back, setting your toothbrush back in its cup holder, exiting her hold to wipe your hands on the small towel before pushing past her to get dressed in her room.

Paige followed close behind you, curious as to why you were giving her so much attitude so early in the day, especially over such a harmless statement.

"What's up with you, this is the first time I've even seen you this morning," She questioned from her seat on the unmade bed as you began changing your clothes with your back facing her, which was another thing that struck out to her as odd. After dating for over a year now, the two of you were incredibly comfortable with each other, and it was rare for you to completely turn your back on her, even when changing.

"Nothing, I'm just not in the mood today," you grumbled, tugging your, her, sweatshirt over your head. Heading over to her floor length mirror with your makeup bag and necessary hair products in hand, you settle down on the floor in front of it, convinced to improve your appearance a bit before you head off to your exams today. Still ignoring Paige's presence in the room, you began getting ready.

Hearing her scoff as you started applying your makeup, she got up and began making the bed, intent on ignoring your bratty mood until you fixed it. You knew you were being petty and acting bitchy to your girlfriend, who had technically done nothing wrong, you just couldn't force yourself to drop the attitude. By the time you finished your makeup and smoothed out your slickback, you managed to go the entire twenty minutes without so much as looking at your girlfriend through the mirror, who had now perched herself on her side of the bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

Your headache hadn't subsided yet, but now that you were more awake, you had gotten used to the throbbing sensation. Making your way over to your side of her bed, you collected your phone, headphones, watch, school bag, and other items from your nightstand and around the area to get ready to leave.

"Your heading out already? You still have over an hour before your first class," Paige finally addressed you, putting her phone in her lap to look at you as you packed your things.

"Yeah I'm gonna head to the library early so I can review before my first midterm," You answered, speaking to her normally for the first time in the last hour she had returned.

"But what about breakfast, you're not gonna be able to concentrate and stuff when you're all hangry," she said, only slightly teasing you with her statement.

"I'll just grab something to eat from the coffee shop next to the library, I was gonna stop by and get matcha from there anyways," you responded, a small part inside of you glad that despite your attitude, Paige made sure that you were well taken care of.

"Dude I still don't understand how you drink that stuff, tastes like straight grass," she had dropped her concern and switched back to joking, her automatic setting. "But I guess it's fitting," she continued, "cause yk, cows just love their grass," she sighed, holding back her laughter at what she thought was a brilliant joke.

In her defense, if it was any other morning, you would've joined in on her teasing, either mooing at her in response or poking fun at her in return.

But today, it just ticked you off even further. I mean, you were clearly already in a bad mood, stressed the fuck out, hangry (but Paige didn't need to know she was right), and the sharp pressure in your head was only getting worse. Plus, Paige had already easily finished off her midterm exams two days prior, which meant she didn't truly understand why you were so worked up over your exams. And the worst part, your bloating and exhaustion really did make you feel a little bit like a cow.

“P I'm just not in the mood to deal with you right now," you sighed, exasperation laced in your tone. "I already feel bad enough this morning, I can't handle you piling more onto my plate, I'll see you later," you barely even said goodbye to her properly as you gathered your stuff, put on your shoes, and left her dorm.

The second you closed her door behind you, you could feel the pit forming in your stomach, full of regret and shame. You knew it was unfair to be so rude to Paige when she was just trying to lighten your mood, but your anxiety always caused you to last out at anyone who tried to help you. You made a mental note while walking to your favorite coffee shop to apologize and make it up to her when you saw her in the evening, after the stress from midterm week had diffused and your raging headache calmed down.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You were flipping through your study notes and flashcards while listening to one of Paige's playlist on the lowest volume possible when you saw your phone screen light up from next to you. Deciding it would be good to take a quick thirty second break, you reach for your phone and matcha latte at the same time, clicking on the text message you received from Paige.

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From P 💜:

I'm so sorry for making fun of you this morning baby, I know you're stressed about your tests today and I had no intentions of making you feel worse with my jokes, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit because I know how bad your anxiety can get. Good luck on your test today killer, i love you 🤍.

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

Shit, now you really felt bad for snapping at her earlier today. All remnants of your misplaced anger had long since disappeared, now replaced with embarrassment. She was right, your anxiety was hitting you hard today, but that was no excuse for bitching out your girlfriend just for trying to improve your mood. You quickly hearted her message and began typing out a short response, as you knew you needed to apologize in-person for your behaviour.

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

To P 💜:

Thank you so much P, I'll see you later tonight baby. I love you too 🤍

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

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You breathed a sigh of relief as you finally reached the floor of Paige's dorm room, exhausted from your long and mentally tiring day of midterms, but you were finally done, your headache was finally gone, and you now had the weekend to relax and spend time with your girlfriend.

As you reached for your keys in your pocket, you heard the loud commotion of voices that you recognized to be KK, Aubrey, Sarah, Allie, and Paige in the living room. It wasn't uncommon for the girls to be over, as the team always spent hung out together outside of practice, and since you started spending more time at Paige's dorm, you had quickly stocked her near bare kitchen full of snacks, baked goods, and home-cooked meals the girls loved to steal.

You entered the living room greeting everyone as you took off your shoes, making a beeline straight to where Paige was sitting on the couch. You stood in between the space of her legs, wrapping your free arm around her shoulders to lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey P," you spoke softly, looking down at the small smile that had settled on her face.

"Hey yourself, how were you midterms? Today was your last day right?" She questioned as her fingertips began running up and down the back of your legging covered thigh.

"They were fine, I think I did good on majority of them. My math midterm was a little shaky, but not too bad yk?" You answered her quietly, afraid to pop the little bubble of peace you two had created around yourselves among the chaos of the living room's occupants.

"I," you began, as your hand had made its way to the front of her face as you pushed back a small piece of hair that had escaped out of her bun. "Will you come in the room with me real quick?" You asked her, practically whispering at this point.

"Yeah of course baby," she answered quickly, letting her hand travel up your body to rest at the small of your back as she stood up, leading you past everyone to her bedroom.

"We'll be right back," she announced to the group as the two of walked by. "Oooo, Paige is in trouble," KK sang out as the two of you reached her closed room door, Paige still standing behind you. She turned the knob quickly, gently pushing you into the room first as she turned around to stick her tongue out at KK before she closed the door.

By the time she turned around from the door to face you, she barely had a moment to adjust to your body barreling into her, as you had already dropped your bag off next to her desk. She quickly wrapped her arms around you, being able to sense that you just needed to be held for a minute before speaking.

She lightly rubbed your back and shoulders with her hands, knowing exactly what it was that immediately calmed you down. You stayed silent in her comforting embrace for a few more minutes, having craved her touch all day when you were around campus.

"I'm sorry," you finally spoke up, unburying your head from her chest to look her in the eyes. "I was really rude to you for no reason this morning. My headache when I woke up and all the stress I had was completely unrelated to you, but I still ended up taking it out on you," you sighed before continuing, "I really appreciate the fact that you were trying to cheer me up this morning, even though I was being a total bitch. And you are never a burden or someone who adds more onto my plate, I love you and I'm so sorry I said that to you, I would never want you to feel that way and-" as your eyes began to well up with tears, the last of your apology was cut off by Paige.

"Hey hey it's okay baby," she pulled you slightly away from her as the tears began flowing from your eyes. "I know you," she maintained eye contact as she reassured you, "And I know you would never act like that normally, you are not a bitch. You were just stressed out and not feeling well. I understand, and I promise I'm not mad at you at all," her right hand moved up from your back to your face, wiping the tears streaming down your face.

"Thank you P, I have no idea what I would do without you," you sniffled lightly, your hand coming up to wipe your face as well. "I love you so much, you have no idea," you professed.

"I love you too y/n/n," she whispered as her hands wrapping around your waist as she pulled you into her, leaning down slightly to kiss you. Your hands flew up the moment your lips connected, one cradling her jaw while the other rested on the base of her neck. The kiss was slow and languid, an apology met with forgiveness as your lips moved together.

The loud rumbling of your stomach, interrupted your sweet moment with Paige, forcing the two of you to separate as a giggle slipped out of her.

"Didn't realize a small kiss made you that hungry for me," she smiled, now at peace knowing that you were no longer upset. "Shut up," you smiled back, lightly hitting her chest as you broke away from her. "I am for real hungry though, but I need to shower first," you told her as you moved around the room, grabbing your towel and a fresh pair of pajamas to change into.

"I'm pretty sure Aubrey is ordering Domino's so I'll tell her to add in something for you, and it'll probably be here by the time you get out," she kissed your cheek as you went to exit the room, heading for a quick shower as she remained in her room.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

As you entered the living room, curls freshly washed, a soft pair of Paige's sweatpants resting low on your hips, and a small off the shoulder sweatshirt over your sleep tank top, you witness KK showing her tik tok live her "hips dance", if it could even be referred to as that.

"Oh wow," Paige commented dryly at the sight while getting up from the couch so she could grab her laptop from the kitchen counter. You moved past her to Aubrey's desk, grabbing a piece of garlic knots from the Domino's box she left partially open (i don't think she actually bought any but I'm craving them so i added it in here). You rested your hip against the table, waving at the live while KK queued up Sexyy Red on her Siri.

Everyone knew you and Paige were a couple, when Paige accidentally hard-launched you by posting a cute couples pic on her main instagram story instead of her close friends. But since then, the two of you kept a private but not secret relationship, very occasionally posting together, but fans often saw candids of the two of you on dates or together in the team's lives or other events.

You licked the remaining cheese and butter off your fingers as you watched Paige, KK, and Aubrey dance in front of the camera to "U My Everything", smiling at their so-called dance moves, especially Paige's.

"Man we go together tell them hoes we go together," Paige sang, before doing her little "attitude now walk" move, making you double over with laughter at her with the other two girls.

You scratched the back of your neck as you continued to watch the girls mess around, too tired from your day to join them, but content just from watching them. As the second chorus approached, Paige walked up to your leaned figure on the desk, grabbing your bare waist and pulling you into her as she sang.

"Bae, I love you, you my everything, I'm your main bitch, fuck a wedding ring," you laughed at her awful singing, but you couldn't deny the blush that rose to your cheeks at the thought of her singing you the lyrics while very clearly in the live's frame. "We both in fast cars and we switchin' lanes, when I'm away from you, you always on my brain," she continued, adding in her sassy facial expressions with the corresponding lyrics.

You couldn't help but laugh at her actions, the pure giddiness coursing through your veins was a complete 180 from your mood this morning, and you couldn't help but think there was nowhere that would make you happier than in her arms.

Thank you for reading all the way through! The recent support has been crazy and I appreciate all of you! Should I make a part two to this with smut so r can properly apologize to p.... 😏😏😏

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The warmth of the sun caresses  your eyelids as they quake open. You groan, stirring under the sheets. But instantly, you freeze. Pain cascades through your body. A soreness starting at the apex of your thighs and radiating through your limbs has you struggling to move.

Still, you do it, pushing past the weird feeling embedded in your flesh. 

Your brows collide as you attempt to remember. 

Where are you? How did you get here?

The damask walls are unfamiliar and the gigantic bed even more so. You comb through your memories but nothing surfaces, a violent headache assailing your senses whenever you think too hard. You squint at light pouring through the half-drawn velvet curtains. You peel off the heavy blanket, gaze traveling downward. Ice spreads through your veins. 

You’re shocked to find yourself stark naked, skin speckled with darkening bruises. Even worse, a tiny crimson spot stains the white sheet covering the mattress. You shudder. 

Your breaths start to quicken. Quivering, you grip the sheet, twisting it between your fingers as disbelief rocks through your core. The blood on it seems to enlarge, painting your whole vision red.

As you inspect the room, noticing the state of the rumpled bedding and your clothes lying in a heap near the bed, denial clashes with the blatant truth. 

It can’t be. Yet all the evidence is staring right at you. 

You start to hyperventilate. 

The door cracks open and your head jerks to the side. Coriolanus’ towering frame fills the doorway. There’s a silver tray in his hands and the smell of coffee and fresh toast rise from it.

You take in his tousled blonde locks and his half-unbuttoned blouse. He looks more disheveled than you’ve ever seen him. A gentle smile hovers on his lips. But, as he registers your distressed state, it vanishes. He rushes to you, placing the tray on the mahogany nightstand near the bed.

Face growing hot, you tug the blanket so it conceals your nakedness.

“Hey, take it easy, princess,” he whispers, brows knitting as his hands reach your cheeks to cup them.

Chest rising and falling at a fast pace, you stutter, “C-Coryo, what happened last night?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Concern sparkles in his cobalt orbs, pellucid as crystal in the morning light.

He caresses your face and gingerly says, “It was…a bit of a wild night.”

You scowl at his response. It’s not what you’re asking and he knows it. 

You lick your lips, gathering the tiny embers of courage sizzling within you.

You don’t want to ask what you’re about to ask. Hell, you might not even want to know. But you have to. You have to because there’s a pit of discomfort and confusion within you and it’s swelling by the second.

You take a deep breath and inquire, “Why am I naked? Why…Why is there blood on the sheets?”

His frown accentuates.

“Princess…”

You nudge his hands away from your face as your patience dissolves.

“Tell me,” you emphasize.

His jaw ticks at your reaction. He then releases a deep sigh.

“You drank a bit too much. We both did.”

A sinking feeling blooms in your stomach. Your eyes grow saucer-wide as the words are snatched from your tongue.

You’re statue-still as Coriolanus’ fingertips wander over your arm, stroking up and down lightly. 

“You were having so much fun, genuine fun.” His voice softens. “It was the first time in a long time I saw you smiling this much.” He pauses, holding your gaze. “And I suppose…there were budding feelings and we got carried away.” Your jaw drops. “You told me you needed me. And I had quite a few drinks myself.” He chuckles but it’s bereft of humor. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t remember all of it either, just you begging for me and screaming my name.”

Warmth gathers in your cheeks. 

“God. You and I, we…”

Coriolanus nods. “Yes.”

Tears well up in your eyes. Coriolanus wipes each of them, uttering tenderly, “I know you didn’t want it to happen that way, but at least it was with me, right?”

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, it’s better for it to be Coryo than a stranger…at least in some way. But as naive and old-fashioned as it is, you wanted to save yourself for your first love, for your future husband. You looked forward to your first experience being one of absolute love and trust…one you actually could cherish and, most crucially, remember. 

Now it’s forever ruined. 

Your heart plummets.

“I need to go home. I need to-” Clutching the sheet against your bare form, you try to climb off the bed. 

Coriolanus seizes your shoulders, easily cinching you to your spot.

You glower at him, puzzled and frustrated. 

Still holding your shoulders, he explains, “Like this, princess? Are you sure that this is a good idea?” His soft inflection drips concern. He bends closer to you. “Your parents, William…What would they think?”

This gives you pause.

You lower your head, pondering his words.

Dread mounts within you as you realize how right he is. You could spin falsehoods to your parents until you’re blue in the face but they’ll know something is off the second they lay their eyes on you. Especially your mom.

One look at you and she’ll guess exactly what occurred. Or some of it at least.

It’s been like this since you were brought into their home as a little girl.

Nothing ever gets past Demetria Plinth’s keen eye.

Then who knows what they might ask you to do to preserve your honor and dignity? 

The thought makes your insides twist in knots.

You tossed away your virtue out of wedlock, you betrayed William, you besmirched your family name. You’re a disgrace.

There aren’t a million options in cases such as yours, and it’s a scenario you’d like to avoid. 

It guts you to imagine not only ruining your life, but Coriolanus’ as well. All because of one stupid drunken mistake. 

Besides, while it might be foolish and presumptuous in your current predicament, you still want to marry William. He’s the man of your dreams. You suppose it’s just a matter of whether or not he’ll even want you now.

Folding your knees, you tuck them against your chest and wrap your arms around your ankles. Tears stream down your face as you quaver, “I don’t know what to do.”

Silence hangs in the air as you weep, Coriolanus rubbing your shoulder in quiet support.

After a while, he suggests, “You could come to my place.”

Your head snaps up.

“What?”

His thumb presses along your collarbone.

“Just for a few days. It’ll give you time to rest, get yourself together.”

“No, Coryo, I can’t ask you…” You shake your head, guilt clawing at your heart. “I’m horrible and I should-”

“You’re far from horrible,” he interrupts, placing his long fingers on the side of your face. “But you need a little time, right?”

You give a shaky nod, despising yourself. You’re a coward. Instead of facing your actions and their consequences, you’re running away, hiding. 

“Just let me handle everything, princess.” His knuckles sweep over your cheek, collecting more fresh tears. “I’ll take care of it and it’ll be like none of it ever happened.”

“W-Where are we right now?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the storm of anguish raging inside you.

“Oh, this is one of the many spare rooms of the Dovecote estate,” he replies casually, though you discern a hint of something. Disdain, perhaps? 

“Clemensia…”

“I talked to her,” he reassures. “Don’t worry, she won’t tell a soul.”

You can’t imagine Clemensia doing anything to help you but you suppose, for Coryo, she would.

“She also made sure to quell any rumors before they can start.”

Your forehead creases. “Rumors?”

He gives your hair absent strokes as he sighs. “People know how close we are, princess.” Your heart skips a beat. He angles your chin upward, his gaze confident. “Don’t you worry, okay? I’ll take care of you. All you need to do is trust me.”

You acquiesce and it elicits a broad, tight-lipped smile from him.

He rises from the bed.

“How about you grab a bite?” he offers, bending to graze his lips over your forehead. “The car will be here in less than an hour.”

A car, already? Part of you is astounded by his swiftness but your distress overtakes everything else. You should count your blessings that no one else knows about last night.

You take perfunctory bites of the toast on the tray and sip a few gulps of the tepid coffee.

Once more, you try to remember. You wince when another throbbing headache hits you. 

All you can see are Coriolanus’ bright blue eyes and his smile. Nothing else emerges. 

So, you give it a rest. Maybe in time, everything will come back to you. 

For now, you just need to trust your friend. 

You shroud yourself in silence the entire drive to Coriolanus’ home. He keeps smiling at you from the seat near yours and you return it meekly. While you know it’s not his fault, you find it nearly impossible to meet his gaze, an uncomfortable feeling pitting in your stomach whenever you do. Anxiety bounces in your gut when the Corso comes into view. 

You haven’t been here very often, though your dad often spoke of moving here, where most of Panem’s elite resides. The thought of leaving your childhood home doesn’t thrill you but you’re keenly aware of what the Corso represents in Strabo’s eyes. The sign that the Plinth family made it. And to add this kind of feather in his cap, your father would move you and your mother to a smaller place in a heartbeat. You know he is only waiting for the paperwork to be signed.

It’s something you’ve tried to forget as of late. And now you’re cruelly reminded of it.

The car comes to a stop in front of an antique apartment building. Your eyes wander above the window. Piles of rubble still sit amidst the place, a reminder of the Dark Days perhaps.

Coriolanus opens your door and offers you his hand. You accept it and stagger out of the car.

He removes his coat and throws it on your shoulders, swaddling your shivering frame. You’re thankful. You’re still wearing the same red dress from the night before and it hardly shields you from the cold. 

You can’t help but soak in every detail as you and Coryo take the elevator to the penthouse. You sometimes wondered how the wealthiest in Panem lived. Your parent’s house is nice but this is different. Every inch of the building from floor to ceiling screams luxury.

As soon as you’ve crossed the doorstep of the penthouse, slender arms wrap you in a warm hug.

Tigris’ eyes glimmer as they rest on you.

“Coryo said you’re going to stay with us for a while,” she chimes. “How wonderful.”

“Only for a day or two,” you correct.

She squeezes your hands. “Then we’ll have to make the best of it.”

An old woman appears from an adjacent room. She strolls to you, a small smile etched on her lips. Uttering no word, she presses a white rose between your hands. You examine it. It looks exactly like the ones Coriolanus sometimes wears on his breast pocket. 

“Is this your grandma?” you whisper as the old woman wanders off, humming a tune you vaguely recognize as Panem’s anthem.

Tigris’ lips curl skywards. “Yes, but we call her grandma’am.” She giggles. “It’s much more distinguished.” Sadness glistens in her amber gaze. “She isn’t…all the way here these days, but she still tends to her roses.”

Coriolanus wedges himself between the two of you.

“She’s tired, Tigris. You have to let her rest,” he informs.

“Of course. We’ll catch up tomorrow. Promise?”

You give a weary smile. “Promise.”

“I’m so very glad you’re here,” she says, hugging you again before taking her leave.

Coriolanus guides you through the apartment, his hand curled around the small of your back.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

He takes you to an opulent room with a massive bed in the middle. 

“I had a bath drawn for you,” he announces.

Your eyes round as you note the copper clawfoot tub sitting near the bed. Stunned, you approach it. Your fingers drag along the edge of the tub.

Flower petals float atop the steaming water. 

“I’ll leave you to it, princess.” He drops a quick peck on your forehead before disappearing.

You lock the door as soon as he leaves and peel the crimson dress off your body. You’ve half a mind to destroy it once you return home. Your mother would probably be appalled at that considering its price…but you can’t see yourself wearing it ever again.

The water’s burning hot when you plop inside the tub. You welcome it.

You bring your knees to your chest as you stare at the rose petals. You wish your worries could melt away in the water the way dirt and grime can.

But no such luck. So you’re left contemplating the tiny ripples form above the surface as you swallow yet another surge of tears threatening to spill.

A soft high-pitched voice draws you back to consciousness. Groggily, you sit up in the bed.

Tigris’ beaming face greets you.

“Are you okay? You slept past dinner. Coryo said not to disturb you.”

You look around.

Stars pepper the night sky outside the stained glass windows. You can’t believe you took such a long nap. You vaguely remember burying yourself between the sheets after your bath. You didn’t want to think, or even be awake. You wished for oblivion. So you let sleep ensnare you as soon as your head hit the pillows.

Your features scrunch. Your memory’s still foggy, but the headaches have abated at least.

“The maid can warm you a plate if you like,” Tigris offers.

You shake your head. You have no appetite.

“I just hate that I overslept.”

Sympathy dawns on the young woman’s face.

“Your body must have needed it. Coryo said you guys partied pretty hard last night?”

Your heart wrenches. But you try not to let anything show on your face, giving a placid nod.

“Besides, you don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” she inquires.

Your stomach sinks. You were supposed to meet with William today, but you can’t imagine seeing him in your current state. 

“No, I don’t,” you lie.

Your gaze meanders about the room. Surprise ripples through you at the wooden trunk you detect in a corner of the room by the wardrobe.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, Coryo had your things brought over,” Tigris replies casually.

You gasp. “But I won’t be staying long. He shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

“He said he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.”

A deep, familiar voice echoes in the room. “She’s right. After all, our home is your home, princess.”

Your eyes find Coriolanus'. His tall frame fills the door. He looks like his usual self now, his blond locks neatly slicked back and his outfit impeccable.

Guilt creeps inside you following his statement.

“I should warn my parents,” you muse aloud as you rise from the bed. 

Coriolanus shares a look with his cousin.

“Tigris, can you give us a moment?”

She nods before heading for the door.

You try to do the same, panic swelling inside you, but Coriolanus blocks your way as he stands before the door. He towers over you with ease, hands clasped at his back as he leans against the doorjamb. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“I already sent them a letter,” he reveals.

“Oh,” you mumble.

“I just told them you’re with us and you’re fine.” He smiles. “It’s the least I could do.”

“The least?” you scoff. “You’ve already done so much for me, Coryo.”

“Like I said, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”

He licks his lips, scrutinizing you a while before continuing, “You’re not just a guest. You’re family. You can stay for as long as necessary.”

This makes tears spring to your eyes. You dip your head but his digits sneak below your chin, tilting it upward so your gazes meet.

“What’s wrong?”

Your voice comes out a watery croak.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” you sob, tears skipping down your face freely now.

You erected a fence around your emotions and now the dam is shattering.

He slants his head. “Why not?”

You don’t reply, a flood of tears blurring your vision. You grow overwhelmed, unable to utter a word as strangled sobs spill from your throat.

Coriolanus’ arms coil around your frame. He cradles the back of your head, tucking it against his chest.

His dulcet timbre breezes over the top of your head.

“It’s okay, princess. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me,” he whispers, letting your tears drench his blouse.

[em-ontv]

—Real sweet, but I wish you were sober.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x hunter!fem!reader

Summary: One too many drinks led him to confess his feelings for you. You loved him, but you knew it was just words that he didn't mean, right?

Content: angst, unrequited love, drunk confession, alcohol/Dean getting drunk, English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes

Word count: 722

You helped Dean back to the motel room, his arm heavy around your shoulders as he stumbled, his steps uncertain. His head lolled to the side, eyes half-closed, but he muttered something about being "fine," even when he felt like a deadweight against you.

His breath was warm against your neck, laced with whiskey. For all the times you had watched him take down monsters without breaking a sweat, he seemed so vulnerable now, trusting you to get him safely to the bed.

You lowered him onto the bed, his hand catching yours, holding it a moment longer than necessary before he let go. His eyes found yours, softer than you had ever seen. You told yourself that it was just the alcohol that had him looking at you like that, like he saw something more than just a hunting partner.

"Y'know..." Dean mumbled, his words slurred and quiet, as if he was speaking to himself. "Sometimes... sometimes I think about things, you know?"

You sat beside him, keeping a slight distance, even though it nearly killed you to. "Yeah?"

His gaze settled on you, and even in his state, it felt almost too intense. "I think about how much easier this would be... if I had someone," he muttered, as though this was something he'd been carrying around for a long time. "Like... someone who's already here."

You kept your silence, hoping that he'd just drop it and let it be, but his brows furrowed, his drunken gaze coming to a startling clarity.

"You… you love me, don't you?" he asked, voice soft and a little unsteady.

Your throat tightened, and you forced yourself to look away, to hide behind a wall of sarcasm like you always did. "You're drunk, Dean. Get some sleep."

But he wouldn't let it go. He reached for your hand again, pulling you closer, his grip unexpectedly strong.

"No," he insisted, voice thick but more sure. "No, I know I'm drunk, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I've… I've known it, but I didn't want to see it, didn't want to let myself…" He trailed off. He moved until his face was just inches away from yours, his voice breaking gently. "But I love you too."

You looked away, holding your breath as the words sank in, leaving a raw ache in your chest. You wanted to believe him, wanted so badly for it to be real—you'd imagined this moment so many times, but now that it was here, it felt hollow. Because you knew it was just the whiskey talking.

"Dean," you whispered, pulling your hand back slowly. "You're not gonna remember this tomorrow. Let's just… let's just pretend it didn't happen, okay?"

But he shook his head, his hand went to caress the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that made your heart ache. "No— no, I'm not pretending," his voice was hoarse, his words barely audible, but each one hit harder than the last.

"I mean it. And I'm sorry I couldn't say it sooner." He pulled your hand close to his chest, his eyes glistening with tears as they met yours, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "But I do..."

"I love you."

The words fell softly from him, the look in his eyes told you that he was genuine, that he meant it, yet clouded by the whiskey swirling through him. And that was what stung the most. You wanted to tell him that you loved him back, for so, so long, that you wanted to hold him and never let go, but you knew he won't remember any of this in the morning.

"Okay... I know. I know you love me." your breath was shaky, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes looked into yours, and it was as if you were everything to him.

"Go to sleep now, okay? You'll feel better in the morning." you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost breaking.

He gave you a soft smile, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before laying back down, resting his head on the pillow. His eyes slipped shut, and he fell asleep.

As you brushed a gentle hand over his hair, you whispered back.

"I love you too, Dean. More than you'll ever know."

[elryuse]

Pt. 5 First Kiss

BABEL'S CHAINS MASTERLIST : HERE

Y/n's Pov

A New Day

The next morning, the air felt heavier than usual as I dragged myself out of bed. I checked my phone almost instinctively, hoping—praying—that Karina, Winter, Giselle, or Ningning had sent me something. An explanation, an apology—anything to acknowledge what had happened last night.

But my notifications were empty. No calls, no texts. Just silence.

I stared at the blank screen for a while before setting it down with a sigh. I couldn’t force them to care, I told myself. Maybe they were too busy dealing with the fallout of the rumors. Maybe they were just protecting themselves. Either way, I had to move on.

When I arrived at college, the bustling energy of Babel felt different, almost suffocating. People whispered as I walked past, some even pointing. I didn’t need to hear their words to know what they were saying.

"That’s him. The guy from the post."

"Why would Karina even talk to someone like that?"

"Pathetic."

I kept my head down and pushed through the crowd until I reached the classroom. Karina was already there, sitting at her usual spot near the front. I hesitated, debating whether to wave or greet her. But she didn’t even glance my way.

She just stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the professor as he set up his materials. The distance between us felt like a chasm.

I took my seat across the room, trying not to look at her, but it was impossible. She was still as beautiful as ever—her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her sharp features glowing under the soft light. But no. I had to keep my distance. It was for her own good.

The class felt like it dragged on forever, the professor’s voice blending into background noise. When it finally ended, I slipped out before anyone could stop me.

The cafeteria was my next destination. Usually, I’d sit with Karina or one of the others, but today, I found a quiet corner by myself. I picked at my food, the loneliness settling in like an old, unwelcome friend.

I was mid-bite when I felt hands cover my eyes.

“Guess who?”

The voice was teasing, playful, and all too familiar.

“Yuna,” I said, my tone flat as I gently removed her hands.

“Bingo!” she grinned, pulling up a chair and sitting next to me. Her friends—Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, and Chaeryeong—followed suit, crowding around the table.

“What are you doing here all alone?” Yuna asked, leaning in closer with that mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’m eating,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“No,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I mean, where are your friends? Karina, Winter, and the rest of the Aespa crew?”

My grip on my fork tightened. “They’re... busy.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy, huh? Or are they just ignoring you after last night’s mess?”

The words stung, but I didn’t let it show. “It’s not like that,” I said, though even I didn’t believe it.

Ryujin smirked, resting her chin on her hand as she watched me. “You’re an interesting guy, Y/n. Getting tangled up with Aespa? Bold move.”

“I didn’t get tangled up with anyone,” I muttered, focusing on my food.

Yuna laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Relax. We’re just messing with you.” She nudged me playfully, her smile softening. “But seriously, if they’re treating you like this, maybe you should hang out with us instead. We’re much more fun, don’t you think?”

I glanced around the table. Yeji offered me a kind smile, Lia looked curious but kind, while Chaeryeong seemed shy but genuine. Ryujin, on the other hand, looked like she was plotting something, her smirk never fading.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, not wanting to commit to anything.

Yuna leaned back, satisfied with my answer. “Good. Because I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine.”

For the first time that day, I felt a flicker of warmth. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. But as I watched Yuna’s confident smile, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far more complicated.

Karaoke?

After finishing my meal, I sat there for a moment, staring at the empty plate in front of me. Normally, this would be the time I’d head to Aespa’s apartment. Maybe I’d cook them something comforting, hear their laughter echo through the space, and for a brief moment, feel like I belonged somewhere.

But not today.

I sighed, standing up and heading toward the exit when a familiar voice stopped me.

“You wanna hang out?” Yuna’s voice was lively, cutting through the dull haze in my head. I turned to see her walking toward me, her trademark grin plastered on her face. Behind her, Ryujin, Yeji, and the rest of her group trailed along, their expressions a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied hesitantly, scratching the back of my neck. “Your group is just as popular as Aespa. I don’t want to ruin your image.”

Yuna tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a softer smile. “And you think we care about that?” she said, her voice gentler this time. Her warm gaze locked onto mine, almost disarming in its sincerity.

Ryujin, standing a few steps behind, let out a loud chuckle. “Do you think we give a damn about what those internet vampires say about us? Please.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “They’re gonna talk no matter what. Might as well have fun while they do it.”

“Exactly,” Yuna chimed in, taking a step closer. “Look, I know things are messy for you right now, but you don’t have to go through it alone. Come with us. We’ll hit up a karaoke place, sing our hearts out, and forget all the bullshit for a while.”

I hesitated, glancing at the group. Yeji gave me a reassuring nod, while Lia and Chaeryeong smiled encouragingly. Even Ryujin, in her usual teasing way, seemed genuine in her offer.

“I don’t know…” I trailed off, unsure if this was really the best move.

Yuna reached out and lightly tugged at my sleeve. “Come on, Y/n. You need this. We all do.” Her voice was soft but firm, her expression leaving no room for argument.

Before I could overthink it, I found myself nodding. “Alright. But just for a little while.”

Yuna’s face lit up, her excitement contagious. “Yes! Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

Ryujin clapped me on the back as we started walking out of the cafeteria. “You’re gonna have a blast. And if not, well, at least you’ll hear Yuna butcher a few songs.”

“Hey!” Yuna protested, laughing as she swatted at Ryujin.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of light cutting through the darkness. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The ride to the karaoke place with Itzy was surprisingly lively. The girls joked, laughed, and bickered like they didn’t have a care in the world. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of comfort, like I wasn’t just some outsider navigating this unfamiliar world.

When we arrived, Yuna grabbed my arm, leading me inside with that radiant, unyielding energy she always seemed to carry. Her grip was firm yet gentle, a warmth I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

“Let’s take the room in the back!” Yeji suggested, her voice decisive.

“Of course,” Ryujin said, smirking. “Far away from prying eyes.”

The staff guided us down a dimly lit hallway to a private room at the end. As the door closed behind us, it felt like we’d stepped into another world—a small sanctuary, away from all the chaos and gossip.

The room was cozy, with colorful lights flashing in sync with the music playing in the background. The girls immediately sprang into action, flipping through the song list and arguing over what to sing first.

“Ballads are boring!” Ryujin protested as Chaeryeong hovered over the screen.

“But they’re emotional!” Chaeryeong retorted, her pout earning a laugh from Lia.

While the girls debated, Yuna handed me a small bottle of Soju, her warm smile making my heart skip a beat. “Here,” she said softly, holding it out. “I figured you could use a little something to relax.”

I hesitated for a moment before taking it, my fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Thanks, Yuna.”

She sat beside me, her presence radiating a strange combination of excitement and calm. “No problem. But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re definitely singing today.”

I laughed nervously, twisting the cap off the bottle. “We’ll see about that.”

The girls finally settled on their first song—an upbeat pop track that Yeji and Ryujin dominated with their energy. The microphone passed around, each girl taking turns belting out lyrics while the others cheered and danced along.

Yuna leaned closer, nudging my shoulder. “This is fun, right? Way better than moping around by yourself.”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah, it is.”

As the night went on, the carefree atmosphere began to chip away at the weight I’d been carrying. Yuna kept glancing at me, her gaze filled with something unspoken—a mix of curiosity, warmth, and something deeper. Every time our eyes met, I felt a strange sense of hope flickering to life within me.

Maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed.

My First Kiss

The karaoke room was a chaotic mess of laughter, music, and drunken antics. Yuna was the undeniable star of the madness, stumbling around, mumbling half-formed words, and breaking into random bursts of dancing. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red, and her energy was limitless.

"Let's gooooo!" Yuna yelled, twirling in circles as if she were on a stage.

Ryujin chuckled from her seat, phone in hand, recording every embarrassing moment with an amused grin. "She's going to regret this tomorrow," she said, glancing at you.

You smiled awkwardly, taking another sip of water to keep yourself grounded amidst the chaos. "Yeah. she's really going all out."

"She's cute, isn't she?" Ryujin's tone was teasing, her eyes narrowing playfully as she leaned back in her seat.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied, feeling your cheeks warm slightly.

Ryujin tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Say, Y/n. Do you have a crush on someone?"

The question caught you completely off guard. "Uh. I. I don't really know."

Ryujin raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean you don't know? It's just a simple question, Y/n. Who's the lucky girl?"

It wasn't simple at all. The tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you made it hard to answer. Karina's coldness still weighed heavily on your heart, but Yuna's warmth and energy offered a strange comfort. Then there was Ryujin, sitting there with her piercing gaze, pulling you further into this unpredictable storm.

"I. " You trailed off, searching for the right words.

Before you could finish, Ryujin suddenly shifted her position, sliding onto your lap without a shred of hesitation. Her arms snaked around your neck as she stared at you with a smirk that was equal parts bold and daring.

"Ryujin, what are you doing?" Your voice wavered, completely thrown by her actions.

"Just shut up," she whispered, her voice low and tempting. "You'll like it."

Her lips pressed against yours without warning. The kiss was electric, filled with an undeniable hunger that left you breathless. You froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity, but your body betrayed you. Slowly, almost instinctively, your hands reached up, one finding its way to her hair. Your fingers tangled in the soft strands as you deepened the kiss, caught in the moment.

Ryujin smiled against your lips, clearly enjoying your reaction as she pulled you closer. Her confidence was intoxicating, her touch demanding yet oddly comforting.

Meanwhile, Yuna was still singing her heart out, completely oblivious to what was happening just a few feet away. The room pulsed with music and flashing lights, creating a surreal atmosphere that made the moment feel like something out of a dream-or a dangerous fantasy.

When Ryujin finally pulled back, her lips still dangerously close to yours, she smirked. "See? Told you you'd like it."

You didn't know what to say. Your heart was racing, and your mind was a chaotic mess. This was nothing like you'd ever experienced before, and you weren't sure what it meant or where it would lead.

The kiss with Ryujin still lingered, your lips tingling and your mind spinning in disbelief. As your heartbeat thundered in your ears, Ryujin pulled back slightly, her cheeks warming, though her smirk remained intact. Her confidence was unshaken, but you could see a faint blush creeping up her face, betraying her usual cool demeanor.

Before you could even process what had just happened, a stumbling, drunken Yuna broke through the moment, her flushed face leaning close to yours. “Heeeyyy, why did you kiss him, Ryujin?” Yuna slurred, her words slightly drawn out as she pointed an accusatory finger at her friend. “He’s mine…”

Ryujin burst into laughter, clearly amused by Yuna’s antics. “Oh, is he now?” she teased, crossing her arms as she watched the scene unfold with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Yuna ignored her completely, stumbling closer to you. She placed her hands on your shoulders for balance, her expression shifting to something softer. Her gaze, though slightly unfocused from the alcohol, held a strange warmth that made your chest tighten.

Without warning, Yuna leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was a stark contrast to Ryujin’s. Where Ryujin’s kiss had been fiery and demanding, Yuna’s was soft, tender, and filled with an unexpected passion. Her lips moved slowly, almost lovingly, as if she wanted to savor the moment.

Your eyes widened in shock, but the gentleness of the kiss made it hard to pull away. Yuna’s hands clung to your shoulders as if grounding herself, her warmth seeping into you and leaving you breathless.

In the background, Ryujin’s laughter erupted again. “Wow, Yuna, I didn’t know you had it in you!” she exclaimed, grabbing her phone and aiming it at the two of you. “This is gold! I’m definitely saving this for later.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of your daze. You pulled back slightly, your cheeks burning as you glanced between the two girls. The room felt surreal, the flashing lights of the karaoke machine adding to the disorienting chaos.

Yuna pouted as you broke the kiss, her lips still inches from yours. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like it?” she asked, her voice laced with a mix of drunken innocence and playful teasing.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and the weight of the situation was starting to sink in. Lia, Yeji, and Chaeryeong were still dead asleep on the couches, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding.

Meanwhile, Ryujin was cackling in the corner, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered reaction. She leaned back in her chair, phone in hand, as she continued to record. “This is way better than karaoke,” she said with a grin. “You two are priceless.”

Yuna glared at her. “Stop recording, Ryujin! This is a private moment!” she huffed, though her cheeks were as red as yours.

“Private?” Ryujin teased, raising an eyebrow. “You’re making out with him in the middle of the room. What part of this is private?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. This was definitely not how you had envisioned the night going.

“Can we… maybe calm down a little?” you said, your voice shaky but firm. “This is getting way out of hand.”

Yuna pouted again but reluctantly stepped back, her balance wavering slightly. Ryujin, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed.

“Fine, fine,” Ryujin said, finally putting her phone down. “But seriously, Y/n, you’re not going to forget tonight anytime soon.”

You couldn’t argue with that. As you looked at Yuna, who was still swaying slightly, and Ryujin, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, you realized that this was only the beginning of the chaos they would bring into your life.

Stuck With Them

As the karaoke session wrapped up, it became clear that someone needed to ensure the drunken girls made it home safely. Ryujin, who was the only one relatively sober, took charge of organizing the chaos. You found yourself carrying Yuna, who was barely able to stand on her own, her weight pressing heavily against your side as she clung to your arm.

“Thanks for helping,” Ryujin said with a smirk as she adjusted Lia, who was slumped against her shoulder. “I’d do it all myself, but, well… you’re here, and I’m not one to waste an opportunity.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, though the weight of the situation was far from light. “Yeah, no problem,” you muttered, trying to steady Yuna as she mumbled incoherent words against your shoulder.

By the time you arrived at their apartment, you were exhausted. The girls’ luxurious place was a stark contrast to the wild chaos you’d just endured—a pristine and stylish space that screamed wealth and comfort.

Ryujin guided you inside, setting the sleeping Lia and Chaeryeong onto the couch. Yeji, who had managed to remain semi-conscious, staggered into her room on her own. That left Yuna, who still refused to let go of your arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Ryujin said, giving you a grateful smile as she handed you a glass of water. “Seriously, thanks for putting up with all this.”

“No problem,” you replied, setting the now half-asleep Yuna down on one of the armchairs.

Ryujin watched you for a moment before slipping a small piece of paper into your hand. “Here,” she said with a sly grin. “My number. Call me sometime, okay?”

You blinked, staring at the paper in surprise. “Uh… sure,” you said hesitantly, unsure of what to make of her casual flirtation.

Before you could think too much about it, Yuna stirred and grabbed your arm again, pulling you closer. “Don’t go…” she mumbled, her voice soft and pleading. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so drunk.

Ryujin sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “Looks like you’re stuck here for the night,” she said, shaking her head with an amused expression. “Once Yuna clings to someone, there’s no escape.”

You hesitated, glancing down at Yuna, who was now nuzzling against your arm like a sleepy kitten. Her flushed cheeks and soft breaths made her look almost innocent, despite the wild energy she’d displayed earlier.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you asked Ryujin, feeling a mix of awkwardness and concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Ryujin replied with a shrug. “We’ve got a guest room you can crash in. Besides, if you leave now, she’s just gonna freak out in the morning when she realizes you’re gone. Trust me, it’s easier this way.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Alright,” you said, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest as Yuna’s grip on your arm tightened.

Ryujin smirked and patted your shoulder. “Good luck,” she said before disappearing into one of the bedrooms, leaving you alone with Yuna.

You gently pried Yuna’s hands off your arm and managed to carry her to the guest room. As you laid her down on the bed, she opened her eyes slightly, gazing up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Stay…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, unsure of how to respond. Her words were simple, but they carried a weight that made your heart ache. After a moment, you pulled the blanket over her and stepped back.

“I’ll be right outside,” you said softly, hoping she’d fall asleep quickly.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a long sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was definitely not how you’d expected the night to go, and yet, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel… drawn to the chaotic warmth that Yuna and her friends brought into your life.

You were lying on the guest room bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened over the past few days. The warmth of the blanket was comforting, but your mind refused to quiet down. The tension with Karina, the unexpected moments with Yuna and Ryujin—it all felt surreal, like you were caught in the middle of someone else’s drama.

Just as you began to drift off, the soft creak of the door snapped you back to reality. Turning your head, you saw Yuna standing there in her bed pajamas. Her hair was slightly messy, and her cheeks still carried a faint pink hue from earlier.

“Yuna? What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up.

She hesitated for a moment, clutching the edge of the doorframe like a shy child. Then, in a soft, almost timid voice, she said, “I… I can’t sleep.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “Oh… do you need some water or something? Maybe a pillow from here?”

Yuna shook her head, stepping further into the room. “No, it’s not that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… can we cuddle?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face heat up. “Cuddle?” you repeated, hoping you’d misheard her.

She nodded, looking at you with those big, doe-like eyes that made it impossible to refuse. “I just… feel lonely, and it’s hard to sleep,” she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, this felt dangerously intimate—especially given the events of the night. But on the other hand, Yuna looked genuinely distressed, and you didn’t have the heart to turn her away.

After a moment, you sighed and nodded. “Alright,” you said, scooting over to make room on the bed.

Yuna’s face lit up with a small, grateful smile as she climbed onto the bed and slipped under the blanket. She snuggled close to you, her head resting on your chest and her arm draping over your torso. Her warmth was comforting, and her presence, though unexpected, had a strangely calming effect.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice muffled against your shirt.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “No problem,” you said, your voice barely steady.

For a while, the two of you lay there in silence. Yuna’s breathing eventually slowed, and you realized she had fallen asleep. You stared at the ceiling, feeling a mix of confusion and contentment.

As the night stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder how things had come to this point. Everything in your life seemed to be spiraling out of control, yet in this moment, with Yuna curled up against you, it felt oddly peaceful.

But deep down, you knew this peace wouldn’t last.

Breakfast Sounds Good?

The soft sunlight filtered through the large apartment windows, casting a gentle glow across the living room. You blinked groggily as you stirred awake, only to realize that you weren’t alone.

Yuna was still curled up against your side, her arm loosely draped over your chest. But that wasn’t the only surprise. On the other side of the bed, Ryujin was lying comfortably, her head resting on your shoulder, and at the foot of the bed, Yeji was sprawled out with a peaceful expression, clutching a pillow tightly.

You froze, taking in the scene. The three of them looked so at ease, their breathing soft and rhythmic. Not wanting to disturb their peaceful slumber, you carefully slipped out from under the blanket, tucking it gently around them.

The apartment was quiet as you padded into the kitchen, glancing around for something to do. Spotting the refrigerator, you decided to check for ingredients and whip up something simple. If there was one thing that could start the day off right, it was a warm meal—especially considering how much soju everyone had downed last night.

As you rummaged through the fridge, the sound of a door creaking open caught your attention. Lia stepped out of her room, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. She looked at you with sleepy eyes before a small smile spread across her face.

“How was last night?” she asked, her tone teasing. “I didn’t really get to check what was up.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “It was… rough,” you replied, your voice laced with sarcasm.

Lia giggled as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “I figured as much. Those three can be a handful when they’re drunk.”

“No kidding,” you said, gesturing toward the fridge. “I’m thinking of making some kimchi stew. Something hearty to help everyone sober up.”

“That sounds lovely,” Lia said, her smile widening. “Let me help you. It’ll be quicker that way.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Thanks, Lia.”

The two of you began gathering ingredients—kimchi, tofu, green onions, and some leftover pork. Lia worked efficiently, chopping vegetables with practiced ease, while you prepped the broth.

“So,” Lia began, her voice light but curious, “you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with us lately. Is it always this eventful?”

You smirked as you stirred the pot. “Eventful is definitely one way to put it,” you said. “But honestly, it’s been… nice. Chaotic, but nice.”

Lia laughed softly. “That’s a good way to describe us. Chaotic but nice. I’m glad you don’t find it too overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming might be an understatement,” you admitted, grinning. “But I think I’m getting used to it.”

As the stew simmered, the smell began to fill the apartment, luring one of the sleepyheads from the bedroom. Yeji stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and sniffing the air.

“That smells amazing,” she said, her voice hoarse from sleep. “Are you seriously cooking for us again, Y/n? You’re spoiling us.”

“You’ve got to keep your energy up after last night,” you said with a grin. “Besides, I like cooking.”

Yeji smiled warmly, grabbing a glass of water. “Well, we’re lucky to have you around.”

The three of you worked together to set the table, and as the aroma of the kimchi stew wafted through the apartment, the others began to wake up one by one. Ryujin stumbled out first, her hair a mess, followed by Yuna, who looked surprisingly energetic despite the events of the night before.

When everyone was seated at the table, you ladled out bowls of the steaming stew. The girls dug in eagerly, their groans of delight filling the room.

“This is amazing,” Yuna said, her eyes lighting up as she took another bite.

“You’re a lifesaver, Y/n,” Ryujin added, giving you a playful wink.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them enjoy the meal. Despite the chaos, moments like this made it all worth it.

The lively clinking of utensils and the warm chatter at the table paused abruptly when you asked, “Where’s Chaeryeong?”

The sudden silence was deafening. All the girls exchanged quick glances before Ryujin let out a sharp curse. “Fuck,” she muttered, slapping her forehead.

“She’s still in her room, isn’t she?” you asked, already pushing back your chair.

Ryujin sighed. “Probably. That girl could sleep through a hurricane.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wake her up,” you said, standing up.

The room softened with warmth as the girls offered you grateful smiles. Yuna, in particular, beamed at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You’re too good to us,” she said, her voice dripping with appreciation.

You waved her off with a small laugh and headed toward Chaeryeong’s door. It was slightly ajar, and you knocked gently before pushing it open.

The room was dim, with soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. Chaeryeong was curled up on her bed, her hair cascading over her pillow in soft waves. She looked peaceful, her face serene in her slumber.

You approached her quietly, not wanting to startle her. “Chaeryeong,” you said softly, crouching down beside her bed. “Breakfast is ready.”

She stirred slightly, letting out a faint groan. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she blinked a few times before her lips curved into a sleepy smile.

“Y/n?” she murmured, her voice groggy but sweet.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said, smiling back. “Come on, Chae. Breakfast is ready, and the others are waiting for you.”

She buried her face into her pillow for a moment before peeking back at you. “You made breakfast again, didn’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” you replied. “It’s kimchi stew this time. You don’t want to miss it, do you?”

She let out a soft chuckle, her voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re too good to us,” she said, echoing Yuna’s earlier words.

“Come on,” you said, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder. “If you don’t get up now, there won’t be any left.”

With a groan, Chaeryeong finally sat up, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright, alright. I’m up,” she said, giving you a small, appreciative smile.

You stood up and extended a hand to her, which she took with a bit of hesitation. As you helped her out of bed, she looked at you with a warmth that was hard to ignore.

“Thanks, Y/n,” she said softly, her eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“Anytime,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

Together, you walked back to the dining area, where the others greeted her with teasing comments about oversleeping. Chaeryeong rolled her eyes but smiled as she took her seat.

As you watched the girls enjoy their meal, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment. Moments like these made all the chaos seem worth it.

Somewhere Else

Karina sat cross-legged on the plush couch in their apartment, staring blankly at her phone. The sound of Winter flipping through a magazine was the only thing breaking the silence. Giselle leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee, while Ningning sat on the floor, fiddling with a bracelet absentmindedly.

The once lively energy that used to fill their home felt hollow. The absence of him—you—was palpable, and no one could deny it.

Winter sighed and broke the silence. “It feels...off, doesn’t it? Like something’s missing.”

“Someone’s missing,” Giselle corrected, setting her mug down with a thud. “Let’s be honest, it’s not the same without him.”

Karina’s heart clenched at the words. She hated admitting it, but Giselle was right. Ever since they agreed to keep their distance from you, everything felt muted, incomplete.

“It’s for the best,” Ningning said, her voice low but firm. She looked up from her bracelet and met their gazes one by one. “We talked about this. It’s not safe to drag him into all this mess. Look at what happened on social media. We’re trying to protect him.”

Karina felt a pang of guilt. Protecting you had been the justification for their decision, but now, she wondered if they’d made the right call. She glanced at the framed photo sitting on the coffee table—a candid shot of the five of you laughing together after one of your impromptu cooking sessions. The memory felt like a lifetime ago.

“He was always so patient with us,” Karina murmured, tracing the edge of the frame with her fingers. “No matter how chaotic things got, he just...made it better.”

Winter nodded, setting down her magazine. “I miss the way he used to make us laugh. And the food, of course.” She tried to joke, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Ningning crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch. “You think I don’t miss him too? But what’s the alternative? We drag him through this circus and make things worse for him? He deserves better than that.”

Karina clenched her fists. Ningning’s words made sense, but they didn’t ease the ache in her chest. She missed your awkward smiles, your quiet but comforting presence, the way you seemed to genuinely care about each of them.

“I don’t even think he’s mad,” Giselle said, her tone softer now. “That’s the worst part. He probably understands why we’re doing this, and he’s just...dealing with it.”

The room fell silent again, each of them lost in their thoughts.

Winter broke the stillness, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think we’ll ever fix this? Like, really fix it?”

Karina didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was stare at the photo, hoping that someday, somehow, they’d find a way to bring you back into their lives. Because without you, the warmth and light that once filled their world seemed like a distant memory.

Her Bigger Picture

Wonyoung stared at her phone screen, her thumb hovering over the message box. Her heart beat faster as she sent the text, the words feeling heavier than they ever had before.

Does the plan work?

She waited, her gaze fixed on the screen, her fingers tapping nervously against the table. It wasn’t like her to be this anxious, but something about the situation—about what she was about to do—made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of whether she should jump.

Her phone buzzed, and her breath caught in her throat as she quickly read the response:

"Works like a charm."

Wonyoung felt a mix of relief and unease wash over her. She had known DragonAnonym would handle it. They had been a reliable ally, someone who understood what it meant to have the things you wanted, no matter the cost. But still, the reality of what was happening, of what she was allowing herself to be part of, sent a ripple of doubt through her.

Is this really what I want? she wondered. But then she thought of you—of the way you had treated her, of the way you had looked at her. The way you had made her feel when you had cooked for her and smiled at her, so kind, so gentle. Wonyoung had wanted that warmth, that attention. She wanted to feel special.

She gripped her phone tighter and sent another text:

Send me proof.

A few moments later, another message appeared. Wonyoung’s eyes widened as she saw the photo. It was you—sleeping, calm and unaware. You looked peaceful, innocent even. It was almost surreal. She knew the plan had worked. DragonAnonym had delivered.

Proof enough, DragonAnonym replied with a playful wink emoji.

Wonyoung couldn’t stop herself from smiling, a dangerous, almost predatory grin. This was her chance, her moment to make you hers, no matter what. She had already seen how easily you could be manipulated. You weren’t like Karina or the others. You were different.

She typed back quickly:

Thanks, DragonAnonym. You’ve done well. Now let’s make sure the rest goes according to plan.

After sending the message, Wonyoung leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She had wanted to take it slow at first, but now, the thrill of it all excited her more than she cared to admit. If she played her cards right, you would be hers—completely and utterly hers.

But there was one thing that lingered in her mind. The guilt. It gnawed at her, especially when she thought about you. Would you hate her once you found out? Would you despise her for what she had done?

But those thoughts quickly faded. In the end, you would understand. She was only doing this for the two of you, for the future that could be hers with you. After all, she didn’t want to be alone anymore. And if that meant playing a game, bending the truth, then so be it.

With a deep breath, Wonyoung began to make her next move, her fingers quickly texting DragonAnonym again.

Let’s meet. We’ll need to set up the next step.

As the message sent, Wonyoung’s heart beat a little faster. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. She was finally taking control.

[janeyseymour]

Save Me Before I Lose Myself- part 7

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

Summary: Melissa helps you in any way she can.

WC: ~4.15k

“Miss Schemmenti,” Millie cries, and she lunges for her teacher. The redhead is quick to pull the stressed out girl into her arms and hold her close, providing any comfort she can.

“Sit,” Melissa instructs you. “Sit while I- I-” For once, the woman is at a loss for words. She’s been hoping and praying that you would come to your senses and ask for help, but now that that moment is upon her and you’re in the state that you are… she wishes she could take it all back.

“I- I didn’t know what else to do,” you whisper as you wipe some of the blood away and take a seat. It’s slowed, but there’s still a steady flow coming from the laceration. “I just knew I had to get out of there.”

Melissa hoists Millie onto her hip and heads for the sink in the back of the classroom. She wets a few paper towels and strides back over to you. Your daughter wiggles her way out of her teacher’s arms and flies into your own. The redhead cleans you up as gently as she possibly can, apologizing profusely when you hiss and wince in pain.

“Wh- what happened?” the second grade teacher whispers, and she’s genuinely terrified for what could come out of your mouth. “And don’t tell me nothin’. This clearly ain’t nothin’, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

The words come tumbling out of your mouth, detailing what’s been happening in as little detail as possible while still getting your point across, what with your daughter clinging to you. And then you get to today, and the tears fall at a rapid pace. As soon as one of your salty tears finds its way into your wound, you whine in pain.

“She- I confronted her about your conference this morning,” you whisper as you hold Millie close to you. “Didn’t even deny that she was flirting with you. I told her I was done… and that was before I could smell the booze in her breath.”

“And then what happened?” the redhead presses on, as much as she doesn’t want to know what could have you like this.

“I- I don’t even-” you start to say, but Millie cuts you off.

“Momma got hurt,” your little girl says, and her lip starts quivering again. She tells Melissa what you can’t, because you had genuinely gone into survival mode and blocked it all out. She tells her teacher how she watched from behind the archway as plates and glasses went flying, how Carrie was spewing awful, horrible, hateful things your way. Your heart sinks at the realization that all of that took place, and your sweet little girl had to watch it all go down.

“I had to try to save Momma,” Millie whispers. “If I go in, Mom doesn’t hurt Momma. Usually. It- it didn’t work this time.”

“Millie,” the redhead sighs softly. “I need you to be really honest with me; did your mom hurt you?”

Immediately, you jump in. “No. No, she didn’t.”

“She was going to,” your daughter mumbles. “Momma saved me before she could.”

Melissa sees red at the thought of Millie being hurt by her own mother. “How did Momma save you?”

“She picked me up, and she got hit instead,” the little girl whispers. Then she turns to you and buries her face in your shoulder as she mumbles out broken apologies. You can only hush her and try to soothe her, but you know it’s futile. She just saw her mother get injured by her other mother, and she herself was in danger. Of course she’s inconsolable.

“H-have you gone to the police?” Melissa asks after a moment of silence.

You shake your head. “I didn’t know what to do,” you admit softly. “It all happened so quickly, and I just knew I had to get Millie out of the house.”

Melissa nods and grits her teeth. God, all she wants to do is throttle Carrie- get some of the people that she has connections with to teach her a well-deserved lesson. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, the redhead manages to keep her focus on you. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

You look to her with broken eyes. “What? We?”

“I’m gonna go get Barb, and she’ll take care of Mill while-”

“I want Momma!” Millie begins to protest immediately.

Melissa’s eyes get wide at your little girl’s outburst, but she starts nodding again. “Okay, okay, you can stay with Momma. Give me… let me get Barb. She’ll be able to… I dunno, think more clearly than either of us can right now.”

You blow out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”

“Promise me you aren’t goin’ nowhere,” the teacher tells you sternly. At your nod, she runs down the hall, yelling for her work wife.

“Barb!” Melissa shouts as she makes her way into the kindergarten wing. “Barbara!”

The kindergarten teacher’s eyes widen just slightly as she halts her preparation for the next few days. “Melissa?”

“Barb,” the redhead comes into sight, and she looks worse than Barbara was expecting. “Barb, I need your help.”

“With?”

“Y/N.”

“Melissa, I must ask why you’re so deeply affected by this one,” the kindergarten teacher asks. “Y/N is not the first parent to go through this with you, and yet you seem so taken with her.”

Melissa gnaws on her lip. She doesn’t want to admit that she’s been taken with you for a while now… pretty much since you’ve started bringing Millie to Abbott. Instead she chooses to ignore the question for now and sighs. “Y/N showed up with Millie,” she relays. “They- they need help. She’s beat up pretty bad, and I- I need your help, and you to keep me from taking a fuckin’ bat to that bitch of a wife Y/N has.”

That’s all the kindergarten teacher needs to hear before she too is practically sprinting down the hallway to get to you and your little girl.

You’re rocking Millie gently, trying to ignore the pain in your face, when you hear both teachers’ voices. Melissa knows the state that you’re in, but Mrs. Howard doesn’t. And therefore, she cannot stop the gasp from escaping her lips when she lays eyes on you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Barbara whispers, hands clasped over her mouth. “Oh my.”

“Please,” you sigh. “Please help me.”

“We’re going to,” the kindergarten teacher promises you gently as she makes her way over to you. And then she snaps into ‘Super Barbara’ mode. Before you know it, you and your daughter are in the back of her car being taken to the hospital. Melissa is on the phone with someone she knows in law enforcement, and she’s speaking rapidly in Italian. You can tell by her tone that she’s not playing around with whoever is on the other end of the line. After a few minutes, the redhead hangs up, and Barbara glances to you in the rear-view mirror.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” your daughter’s former teacher tells you quietly. “As much as I don’t want to make you talk, I need to know what is going on so I can help to the best of my ability.”

You bite your lip as you look to your little girl. She’s finally seemed to calm down now that you’re on your way to get checked out, and you don’t feel like setting her off again. You give the redhead in the passenger seat a pleading look.

“I’ll fill you in while we’re in the waiting room,” Melissa tells her work wife.

Neither woman knows it, but you have a horrid fear of hospitals. It’s what’s held you back from going there for so long- through all of the injuries that you’ve endured, you’ve never once taken yourself to the hospital. But under your eye is still bleeding, and when Barbara saw it, she insisted- you were probably going to need stitches.

The woman pulls up and waits for you to get out, but you don’t so much as move. 

“Sweetheart, you have to get out of the car,” Barbara tells you softly. Still, you don’t budge. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

You fiddle with your fingers. “I- I have a fear of hospitals,” you admit quietly. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“Hun,” Melissa turns in her seat. “You gotta.”

Even Millie looks to you with furrowed brows. “Momma, you always tell me doctors help, even when I’m scared to go.”

You have to fight yourself from rolling your eyes and cursing your past self. “Y-yeah. They do, Mills. Momma’s just… scared.”

“Would it help if I went in with ya?” the redhead asks. At your nod, she unbuckles her own seatbelt and steps out of the car.

With shaking hands and a shaking voice, you’re able to check yourself in and are taken to a more private area relatively quickly. Melissa texts her friend to let her know where you are, and then you’re forced to play the waiting game. Millie keeps you as distracted as possible while the two teachers step out very briefly to ensure that they are on the same page. 

“Look,” Melissa sighs. “I’m gonna make this quick. Carrie was flirtin’ with me, Y/N caught wind of it, ’n’ I guess she confronted her about it. She told her they were done, and then Carrie flew off the handle. Millie got caught in the middle of it, and when the fuckin’ bitch went after her, Y/N stepped in and took the blow. Now, let’s get back in there. Poor girl’s scared outta her fuckin’ mind.”

Barbara nods and grimaces. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. When the redhead goes to head back into the room, the kindergarten teacher catches her softly by the arm. “What are we gonna do about this?”

“Support her in any way we can,” Melissa shrugs as she rubs the back of her neck. “I got my guy on the phone while we were in the car, an’ he’s sending someone here to come speak with Y/N.”

The three of them do everything they can to keep your spirits as light as possible while you sit and wait for the doctor to come in. And when the doctor does come in, the panic creeps into your body again. What you aren’t expecting is for the doctor to look at Melissa with a broad smile.

“Schemmenti?” 

“Oi, Bobby,” the redhead chuckles. “I shoulda known I’d get stuck with ya comin’ in here.”

You give your daughter’s teacher a confused looked.

“I got connections all over the city,” is all she offers up. “But now that I know it’s Bobby Boy, you’re in great hands, Y/N.”

“That you are,” the doctor smiles as he reaches out to shake your hand. He does his examination of your cheek, and he frowns. “Definitely gonna need stitches.” Your heart drops- dammit, Mrs. Howard was right.

He preps you, but as soon as you see that needle, you begin to panic. You’re sweating, your heart is racing, your palms are soaked. And in seeing you so worked up, Millie starts to get upset too. And then the doctor injects the anesthetic, and the yelp that comes from your body makes everyone in the room jump. 

“Get her out of here,” you instruct as you point to Millie, who is near tears. “Get her out.” You just barely manage that statement before they inject it again, and this cry is louder.

Barbara and Melissa glance to each other for a quick second before the kindergarten teacher takes her former student into her arms and out of the room. No sooner is Melissa next to you and holding your hand. She does everything she can to soothe you, and it breaks her heart to see you in such pain.

After what feels like forever, you’re all stitched up, and you don’t even bother to wipe at the tears that fall down your cheeks. What’s the use? The physical pain, along with the mental and emotional roller coaster that you’ve been on today, are too much.

“You’ve got a tough one,” Bobby tells Melissa, although you’re fairly certain he’s only saying that to be kind. You’re a grown woman sobbing in his office right now.

Melissa just smooths a few of your hairs down softly. “Yeah. She’s a tough one alright.”

“Let me just get a few things squared away in terms of paperwork and print the papers for the aftercare, but then you should be free to go,” the doctor smiles at you sadly.

“Actually, hun,” the redhead interjects. “Was wondering if you got enough space to let us stay a bit? Just until Tony can make his way down here to talk to Y/N.”

“Tony’s comin’ down?” At Melissa’s nod, the doctor knows that whatever is going on with you is quite serious. His friend never calls Tony unless it’s absolutely necessary. “Yeah, Mel. It’s quiet today.”

“Thanks.”

“Oi, you stayin’ safe yourself?”

“Always am,” Melissa chuckles. “C’mon, now. You know that I ain’ gettin’ hurt- I leave that up to Kristen Marie.”

“Well, I just gotta make sure,” Bobby rolls his eyes and pats the teacher’s shoulder. “If I don’t get around to seein’ Tony, tell him I says hi.”

“Roger that.”

Bobby hands you the discharge papers a few minutes later before promising Melissa that the two of you can take all the time you need. 

When Barbara and Millie come back into the room, they’re followed by a policeman in uniform. You assume this is Tony- what with the way he greets the redhead still holding your hand. Barbara eyes that, but keeps to herself. She’ll make sure to ask her friend about that little action later.

“Oh, Schemmenti, this better be good,” Tony sighs as he sits in a chair.

“You know I don’ call unless I need to,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I wish I didn’ have to call ya.”

“Well, what do we have?”

Slowly, the policeman coaxes the story out of you- the entire truth of it. You detail as much as you can without going into detail with your daughter in the room, but it gets to a point where you know Millie has to leave. She can’t hear some of the horrors of what your wife has put you through.

“I- I’m sorry,” you wipe at the non-injured side of your face with your free hand. “Mrs. Howard, would you mind taking Millie? She- she doesn’t need to hear all of this.”

Barbara gives you a sympathetic smile before looking down at your daughter. “I think that might be a good idea. What do you think, little girl?”

It’s quite apparent to you that Millie does not want to leave you, but she nods when she sees the pleading in your eyes. “C- can we get dinner?”

You root through your purse quickly and hand Barbara your debit card. “She likes McDonald’s, and please feel free to get yourself anything you’d like,” you sigh. “And Melissa, if she’d like anything.”

Barbara nods, shoots the redhead next to you a look, and allows herself to be pulled away by the second grader. 

You inform the police of everything you couldn’t say in front of your daughter, and by the end of it, the woman next to you is absolutely fuming.

“You see why I called?” Melissa huffs. Then she looks to you, and her tough Philly girl facade fades.

Tony gives his friend a look. “Yeah, yeah I do. Well, Y/N, how would you like to proceed with all of this?”

“I- I don’t know,” you whisper. You glance to the redhead next to you. “I- I can’t keep doing this, but I… I don’t know. I can’t be alone in this.”

“You ain’t alone,” your daughter’s teacher tells you as she taps away on her phone. She’s sending Barbara a text about dinner. She’s also relaying that she is going to offer for you and Millie to move in with her- to keep you safe. “You got me, you got Barb. We’s gonna do what we’s gotta do.”

You look to the man in blue, silently asking him if he understands what his friend means by that.

“Y/N,” Melissa says. “Carrie ain’t good for you. What you need is a restraining order, a divorce- which I can help with, and to get yourself the hell away from that bitch with Millie.”

“I-” You’re not quite sure what to say. “I guess Mill an’ I are gonna have to move back home.”

“You ain’t goin’ back to-”

“Back to Baltimore,” you sigh.

“No,” Melissa states.

“Melissa, I don’t have family here,” you say softly. “I don’t really have another choice.”

“You do,” the redhead argues. “You and Mill will come stay with me until you get back on your feet.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head. “I- I can’t do that to you.”

“You’ll be doin’ me a favor,” the teacher states. “I only know how to cook for twelve, and instead of worryin’ that y’aren’t safe, I’ll know youse guys are okay with me.”

“I-” You look to the cop for help.

He shrugs. “Schemmenti don’t say what she don’t mean,” he tells you. “And while court proceedings are going on, it might be better for you to be in the area and with someone you know will help keep you safe.”

You once again look to the redhead who is still holding your hand gently, searching for any hints of ingenuity- that she’s just doing this in front of her friend to look good. You don’t see anything other than true compassion and care for you and your little girl. So you nod shyly.

“Then it’s settled,” Melissa smiles at you softly. “I’ll call some of my guys, and we’ll get everythin’ in order for ya. Restraining order, we’ll take care of tonight. Divorce lawyer, I’ll call my guy tomorrow. Stuff from your place, I’ll call Cal tomorrow and-”

“Carrie goes into the office tomorrow,” you stop her gently. “I can get our stuff together tomorrow.”

“Are ya gonna be safe doin’ that? What if she isn’t?”

“I’ll- I’ll be okay,” you mumble.

Melissa shakes her head. “I don’t got too many conferences tomorrow. If you go between nine and eleven, I can go with you and make sure you’re safe.”

“Melissa, I’ll be-”

“Momma!” Millie runs back into the room, little hand clutching the toy that came with her happy meal. Barbara comes trailing in behind her, a takeout bag and soda in her hands. She doesn’t miss the fact that her work wife’s fingers are still interlaced with yours- at least until your daughter launches herself into your arms. You quickly untangle your fingers and hold your little girl close, peppering her face with kisses. “Momma, Mrs. Howard let me get an icee with my dinner! And- and when I told her I already had the toy from my happy meal, she talked to the person behind the counter, an’ I got one I didn’t already have!”

“That was very nice of her,” you chuckle softly. You look to her former teacher. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Barbara smiles at you. “Millie and I had a splendid time at McDonald’s, and we got dinner for the two of you too.” She hands the bag to the redhead returns your card.

“Well,” the cop claps his hands together. “I’d say we have everything sorted out on my end, and it seems like everything else is going to fall into place, so I’m heading out.”

“You might wanna stop by the desk an’ see if Bobby’s free a second,” Melissa teases him. “The idiot couldn’t believe I called ya.”

“I can’t believe ya called,” Tony rolls his eyes, but he pats Melissa’s shoulder in a friendly manner. Then he looks to you. “You need me, you call. Or have Melly call.”

The redhead groans at that nickname.

It feels like the ride back to Abbott is forever in Barbara’s car with the traffic. You end up in standstill traffic, and Millie is so exhausted she ends up falling asleep on you before you even make it to the school to transfer her over to Melissa’s vehicle.

“Let her sleep,” the kindergarten teacher laughs quietly. “I’ll bring ‘em over for you.”

“Thanks, Barb,” the redhead smiles with gratitude before climbing into her own car. 

Melissa’s house is both exactly what you expected, and also entirely not what expected. There’s picture frames littering every available surface, and it’s clear that the house is lived in- it’s a home. But it’s also much bigger than you had been imagining- she’s a single woman with a house this big? In Philadelphia?

The redhead ushers you to a bedroom- clearly a guest room, and tells you to set Millie down while Barbara goes through the medicine cabinet and finds a spare toothbrush for you and your daughter, setting them on the bathroom sink. You do so quietly before leaning over and dropping a few sweet kisses to her hairline.

“My little girl,” you whisper. “We’re gonna be alright, my love.”

“Let her sleep,” Melissa tells you. “We got dinner to eat, and a few things to sort out.”

You and the redhead head downstairs where Barbara has made herself comfortable in the recliner and begin to eat.

“Thank you,” you sigh softly after you’ve swallowed your first bite. “Thank you so much for all of your help… with my situation and with Mills.”

“You got it,” Melissa nods along. “We got you.”

“That we do,” the kindergarten teacher smiles at you.

You finish off your meal rather quickly, and then you yawn. Today has been… exhausting, to say the least.

“Go catch some shut eye,” the second grade teacher instructs. “You need it now, and you’re gonna need it once everything gets goin’.”

“Y-yeah,” you yawn out, tucking a hair behind your ear. You look between the two of them with thankful eyes. “Thank you again. You have… no idea how much I appreciate it.” And then you make your way up the steps.

Lying in bed, you pull your little girl close, and sleep comes much easier to you than you would’ve expected after a day like today.

Downstairs, Barbara is eying her friend. “So.”

“What?” Melissa furrows her brow, and the top corner of her lip goes up.

“You wanna tell me the reason you’re so invested in this? Why you let them crash your place when you and I both know your house is your sacred place?”

Green eyes are rolled. “They need help.”

“That is true, yes,” the kindergarten teacher agrees. “But there’s somethin’ else.”

“What the hell are you gettin’ at?”

“Don’t think I didn’t miss the way you held Y/N’s hand the whole time you were in the emergency room with her,” Barbara chuckles. “Or the longing looks you’ve always given her.”

Melissa gives a heavy sigh as she stares up at the ceiling. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m a lot of things,” the woman of God smirks. “Crazy is not one of those things. You have a thing for Y/N.”

“So what if I do?” the redhead asks. “It ain’t like I’m gonna do anything about it. She’s in the process of leaving an abusive relationship, she has Millie to worry about, and her daughter is my student.”

Barb rolls her eyes. “I just wanted confirmation that you had the hots for her. I’ve never seen you so willing to help a parent out.”

“Millie is a special little girl,” Melissa tells her coworker. “And Y/N… there’s something about her. I dunno. Between you and me, I would much rather have her flirting with me than that her bitch of a wife.”

“Oh, I’ve had a few run-ins with Carrie,” Barbara groans. “Don’t have to tell me how terrible she can be.” Then she stands. “Well, I’m off to get my beauty sleep. The lord knows I’m going to need it after today.”

“Yeah,” the second grade teacher sighs. “I should probably get to bed too. I’m sure tomorrow is going to be the start of a very long process.”

The kindergarten teacher chuckles bitterly. “Yes, it is.”

“Thanks for your help today,” Melissa hugs her friend. “If I hadn’t come and gotten you, I’m sure Carrie would be in the hospital right now, and I’d be in prison.”

“I’m sure,” Barb laughs. She heads for the door before turning on her heel. “If you need anything tomorrow or in the future, you know you can always come to me… Melly.”

“Barb!” 

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights

[yaseraphine]

Why I don't really like the 12th house. / observations

How I perceive the 12th house, my real life observations on it and why I don’t really like it 

TW : mention of anx!ety, d€pressi0n, self-und0ing attempt, mental he@lth issu€s, pan!c att@cks

(Sorry in advance for the constant cens0r!ng, I don't want to run the risk of getting shadowbanned like it almost happened before)

In december and january of 2023/2024 I was having 12th house transits (Mars then Venus). This is what I wrote on my notes app about the negative experience I had :

I am currently having 12th house transits at the time (Mars then Venus) and I've been so much sleepier and prone to irrational, unexplainable stress. Like I wake up and I am still tired bruhh I hate it as a Mars Dom I usually instantly and really easily wake up in the morning so it's frustrating because I feel less productive and sloppier and daydreamy but in a bad way. 

Why I don't really like the 12th house...

I genuinely don't understand the "hype" (if we can even use that word) around the 12th house. When I first got into astrology, I saw so many posts about it saying how magical it was, how special it is to have placements in this house, how it means that you have a higher purpose than others, how you are so sensitive, an empath...And I have to say, yes, of course, some of it is true. However, it is clearly a more romantisized description of the 12th house. This idea of a romantisized version of the house was then overtime validated by the fact that every single person that I've met with 12th house placements/stelliums were far from living this almost fantasy like description. In fact, these positive traits seem to be rarely easily expressed for people who haven't studied astrolgy to get to know themselves better and understand their purpose. The people that I know with these placements were mostly d€pressed, too nice, had anx!ety attacks, insomn!as , and sleepless nights. It is honestly such a lonely house. Having these placements in the capitalistic utilitarist world we live in is sadly more of a curse than a blessing...

People I know with 12th house stelliums/ placements

• One of my friends has a 12th house stellium, her Sun in Taurus, Moon in Gemini and Mercury in Aries being there (the sign of the house is aries). She also has an Aries North node in the 12th house.

She always felt overstimulated and often told me that sometimes she didn't know if what she was thinking was really her own thoughts or other people's. She also had this obsession, or more so obsessive fear, with the idea of having to/ being forced to "sacrif!ce herself" for other people, for a job, for school,.. We often discussed this fear of hers and she would tell me this "why do people think we necesseraly have to suffer in life ? Why is struggle and suffering so normalised ? I don't want to sacrifice myself to achieve something, i don't want to purposefully inflect myself pain to live ? This is so weird to think that suffering is inevitable if you want to survive or live. That it's a normal part of life and that we should all be agreeing with it"

She is really empathetic and sweet but sometimes becomes all of a sudden defensive and passive-aggressive. She is also often anx!ous and as a result doesn't eat or sleep correctly.

Another one of my high school friends, less close, has a 12th house stellium in Aries (Sun, Moon, Mercury and Venus). He also has a North node in Aries in the 12th house.

Because I am/was not really as close with him as i am with the previous friend, i can moslty only share my impressions and assumptions from the interactions i had with him. I think it's interesting to say that his energy really stood out to me. He had sleepy eyes and a melancolic aura that reminded me of 19th century poets. If you know about Arthur Rimbaud, there's this one picture where he seems to look away. He basically looked like he was permanently captured by an old antique camera. His energy felt like what sepia looks like if that makes sense. He also had green or blue eyes (i don't exactly remember) that emphasazied the impression that he was mourning for something permanently. They were wondering, pensive almost sorrowful.

He was really gentle with people. His friends often said he was like a teddy bear, despite being almost 2meters tall. It's interesting to point out too that he was a gym bro. I think he would go to the gym probably 6 times a week sometimes, yet was so nice and calm. He wasn't acting like a cringy alpha male, which is pretty surprising for a cis heterosexual gym bro man with an Aries Sun, stellium and North node.

I think part of it is the 12th house influence that toned down this energy a bit, and instead of being selfish like a regualr aries, he was more selfless. He was always respectful towards women and never shamed people. However, he had a lot of insecurities and felt kind of helpless regarding fixing certain problems in his life. He was sometimes a bit too passive, and wasn't too comfortable when met with conflicting energies or situations that required decisive reactions.

My sister has Lilith in the 12th house and her subconscious thought processes can become easily extremely s€lf destructive. She was diagnosed with severe depr€ssion and had to go to the mental h0spital once after doing a self-vndo!ng attempt. When her symptoms were still intense and she was still struggling a lot, she had to go to see a psychiatr!st and a therap!st on a weekly basis. It was a scary and crazy time. Until this day, she still has terrible sleeping patterns, many ins0mn!as, and often has pan!c att@cks. I distinctively remember one time it was so intense I thought she really was going to pass aw@y. She also used to have (and still a little) a huge victim complex, where she felt like she was condamned and doomed to live a miserable life, and that she is deeply misunderstood.

What drove me to come on here is a new student that I have met in college this year. We instantly clicked then she told me she was an Aquarius with an Aquarius rising and a Sagittarius moon. 3 of her personal planets fall in the 12th house, which means that, just like the two friends I have mentioned, she has a stellium. She then went on to explain to me how she was diagnosed with an anx!ety dis0rd€r. She said that she used to have, at some point, three pretty intense panic attacks on a daily basis. She told me that when she saw a therap!st for an appointment, the th€rap!st was shocked and said that it was probably one of the worst cases she has ever dealt with (update 21/10/24 : she actually didn't say that it was one of the worst cases of her career, she was just genuinely shocked at how my friend was able to survive living like this for such a long time).

This made me realize that there is definitely a theme with the 12th house surrounding chaotic sleeping patterns, restlessness, overthinking, numbness, emptiness, hightened anx!ety, melancolic tendancies, s€lf-sacrif¡ce and depr€ssi0n.

All of that to say that this house is somehow terrifying to me. I get the fascination for it. I just find it too eerie in a way. My chart, despite being a Sagittarius rising, is filled with fixed and cardinal signs. Pluto is prominent in my chart as it is thigtly conjunct my ascendant, so I don't behave and move through life like a stereotypical Sagittarius rising. On top of that, I have an 8th house stellium in Leo... I need to have control over things and situations, my ego is strong (i am working on it lol) and it is hard for me to surrender.

Therefore, the hyper mutable energy of the 12th house, its uncertainty and blurriness, gives me "anx!ety" and unsettles me. I never know what a 12th houser really thinks and neither do they themselves in a way. My fixed *ss finds that so stress inducing. I like when things are made direct and clear, but nothing about this house is direct nor clear.

[hyypnotix-writes]

Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

Part 1 Part 2

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.” 

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

“What on earth are you doing?” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong with that?” 

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

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

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

Yikes. You really are an idiot.   

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

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

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

“Will she be there today?” 

“Mhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, you do.”      

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

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

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

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

“The usual way.”       

“A man sucked on your neck?”      

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be less annoying!” She begs.       

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

“Traitorous.” She grumbles.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he nice?”      

“Mhmm.”      

“Is he attractive?”      

“Mhmm.”      

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Em.”   

“Ugly cheating bast—”     

“Okay, Em. Enough.”     

“But he was an ugly cheating bas—“ 

“Enough!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I already told you that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s linked?”     

“Enough, please.”   

“No. What the fuck, Y/N?”      

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

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

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

“Don’t justify it.”    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could you not?   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn.   

What a loser, you are.   

Shit.   

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

Woo!  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all you get.  

You’re already out of the race.  

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

Good grief! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm! And that?”  

“Not a bloody clue!”  

“For fuck’s sake.” She grumbles.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? Looked like that, didn’t it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You really are a shameless little hypocrite.

  

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

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

All for a girl, what has gotten into you?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm. Thank you for bringing me here.”  

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suddenly find yourself, very stressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get up. Please get up.  

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

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

Please get up. Just get up.  

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

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

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

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

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

Just get up.  

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

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

Get up. Please.  

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

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

Get. Up.   

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

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

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

Please. Get up.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”  

“Mhmm. I’m fine, sorry.”  

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

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

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

“Mm.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

“We can hang out again tomorrow?”  

“Aw, I appreciate that, Em. Thanks!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re biting at your thumb again.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit.  

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. 

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. Exit. Exit.  

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

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

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

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

Maybe it’s too strong.  

It’s impossibly strong.  

It’s a delusional level of strong.  

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

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

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

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

You can get a clean break.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gràcies.”  

“Is your knee okay?” 

“Yes.”   

“Are you sure?”  

“Yes. I promise.”   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm. She left me.”  

“Why?”  

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

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

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I think so.”  

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”  

“And you worried about me getting hurt?” 

“Mm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.”  

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

“That could be a lot of work.” 

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s so many eyes watching you.” 

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

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

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

“Do you not get nervous at all?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That must seem ridiculous to you.” 

“Not at all. Are you good at it?” 

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

“Have you really?” She giggles.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit! For being drunk and angry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was an accident.” 

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

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

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

“I didn’t kiss any of them, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All on her own. In the shower.   

Alone.  

Showering.  

You really just can’t help yourself.  

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

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

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

“Mhmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uno.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After our shower ..yes please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No..” 

“Then we’ll go back to mine.” 

“You told me Nala was a Pomeranian?” 

“She is.” 

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

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

“Is she unfriendly?” 

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

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

“Mhmm. I’d have to kick you out!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now we might have to worry about it.” 

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

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

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

“Mhmm. I think I’d be crazy not to.” 

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

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

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

“These are all your trophies?”  

“..Some of them.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi!”  

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

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

“I don’t care.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I have something on me?” 

“No..” 

“Well ..now you’re staring.” 

“Mhmm.”  

“Are you okay?” 

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

“What?” 

“Children.” She repeats.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would that scare you, dating a woman?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re already in love with this woman.  

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

“Mhmm ..I’m fine.” 

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

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

“You can talk to me.”  

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

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

“I know, I just—” 

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

You cut her off this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d better be.” You tell her. 

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

“Are you quite comfy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scrumpledorph]

I feel compelled by some recent realizations to share the story of my lifetime experience with weight, weight loss, fatphobia, and self acceptance.

I weighed 180 lbs for a lot of my early childhood, and got bullied constantly for it. It was comorbid with severe, impairing asthma that limited my ability to use my body at any pace faster than a brisk, if I was lucky, walk. Nobody ever blamed the asthma, they just called me out of shape, lazy - all the usual insults. I got kicked out of high school gym class in both grades it was a required course because I couldn't run fifteen laps of the gym. I never signed up for it again.

I was the school whipping boy wherever I went. (I moved schools a lot, because I'd lash out violently about this happening to me) One time in elementary school a group of boys hid behind me because they were being bothered by some girls, and knew they wouldn't get within ten feet of me outside the classroom where they were forced to. The first guy I ever hooked up with negged me to lose weight and join him at the gym if I wanted to do anything more serious with him.

Then a growth spurt combined with a two week vacation where I only ate ramen twice a day in high school shaved literally a third of that off. 120 lbs. My parents and I considered it a miracle. Suddenly I really liked how I'd come to look. I went from a frumpy, comely child to a heroin chic rockstar like David Bowie, and all the other imitators that chased after him, and I wasn't even trying!

I was skin stretched over bones. If I lifted my arms up every single rib from the collarbone to the stomach was pronounced, with gaps you could run your fingers along. This was before I realized I was trans, so I was mostly putting myself into the world as a twink (femboy hadn't really come into parlance yet, I'd probably have used it if so). People started treating me well for the first time in my life, I was popular. My romantic advances were reciprocated instead of pushed away in disgust for the first time in my life, I went on dates, I had a couple short lived girlfriends.

Some time in my twenties, I realized I was lactose intolerant. To both truncate and avoid needless disgust; once I took steps to mitigate that my weight rebounded back up from the 160 it had ended up settling at as my metabolism evened out, to 216. So I tortured myself with the most bland, boring diet in the world: plain oat cheerios, cashews, barely seasoned salads and coleslaw, microwaved chicken wiener sandwiches. It sloughed off the pounds, at first.

I hit a hitch around 180. I had originally wanted to go back down to 160, with the height I'd gained since high school that would put me in about the same ballpark range as how I looked then, and it's what the BMI scale says is healthy for my body proportions. But I simply could not go under 180.

Even a single cheat day a week, the recommended amount for any diet, would make my body snap back up by two pounds the next day, which took me the entire rest of the week just to get back to where I started. It was truly miserable, checking the scale every single morning and beating myself up over every single time my family took me out to eat or brought me leftovers.

So I stopped. I said fuck it, let my body sit at 185. Now? I can eat pretty much anything I want and it barely makes a dent in the long run. Recently checked in after three nights of stacked turkey dinner plates for the holidays, with eggnog and ice cream and a whole bag of christmas candy sitting on my desk next to me that I take occasional nibbles from. 184.8, exactly where I want it to be. The BMI scale says this is the borderline of overweight for my height.

An acquaintance who had known me while I was in that emaciated point in my life recently reconvened with me, and said that I looked a lot healthier. It was genuinely the first time anyone in the world had made a positive comment about my body outside of that short lived stint of emaciation. It was a genuine shock, because I hadn't up to that point considered for a second that I could possibly have looked bad to anyone at that point.

An article I doubt I could find with how bad google is nowadays once said that around 97% (I might even be lowballing it) of diets fail, because the body will slash your metabolism by 30% if you drop even 5% from where it wants to sit. I guess all I have to say is: listen to your body.

If maintaining your slim figure is a hobby all unto itself: with a meticulously crafted diet and double digit hour exercise regimen that you lock yourself in by checking the scale every morning? It's not worth it, holy shit. Maybe you'll end up with an extended illness that keeps you from working out for a week or two. Maybe your willpower will just finally give out, and you'll spend a week catching up on all the pleasure you'd denied yourself while you were dieting. But I know, from experience, that one day you'll just end up where your body wants you to be, whether you're comfortable with it or not.

I promise you that the freedom of accepting the weight your body wants to be at and being able to treat yourself guilt free will bring you so much more joy than having a thigh gap does.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

@jilymicrofics august 12: bride

“Oh!” James stammers. “Sorry, I thought this room—er, never mind. I’ll…just—”

She looks up, and James nearly stumbles backward, shocked and horrified by the sight before him. He knows the makeup streaking down her cheeks in dark smudges was perfect just half an hour ago. She’s entirely perfect, in fact, a fact he clocked from the moment he showed up to the venue this morning, camera bag in tow, completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to meet the most beautiful girl in the world.

The only issue, of course, being that she’s marrying someone else in approximately two hours.

Well, that and the now-added issue of her crying in an empty room of the church.

“Oh god,” she gasps, her voice cracking. She wipes at her snotty nose with a crumpled tissue, trying to smudge away the tears that have left her face a wreck. “You must think I’m mad. Two hours before the ceremony and the bride is having a meltdown...”

James forces a nervous smile, shifting his camera bag to his other shoulder. “I dunno,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “I reckon I’d rather see you crying now than after the ceremony.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, which quickly dissolves into a snort that he probably should find unattractive but bloody hell, she really is gorgeous. “What if I told you I’m not showing up to the ceremony at all?” she asks.

“Er…” His eyes widen, and he glances anxiously over his shoulder. “Should I—get someone…or…?”

She waves him off, the fabric of her voluminous dress rustling as she shifts on the floor. “No, no, my sister’s handling it. I’ll be hearing about this moment for the rest of my life—and the next one too. But Petunia’s thorough. She’ll make sure everyone gets cleared out and—” She pauses, looking up at him with a curious tilt of her head. “You’re the photographer, right? She’s probably looking for you.”

With some effort, she rises from the floor, the gown making her movements clumsy. James instinctively takes a step toward her, but she manages to stand on her own, brushing off the dress as best she can.

“Well,” she says with a forced cheerfulness, “consider yourself relieved of your duties.” Her laugh is a mix of hysteria and genuine amusement, and then her eyes widen as she adds, “You’ll still be paid, of course!”

“I’m not—” He shakes his head, frowning. “Are you alright?”

She glances over her shoulder, as if expecting someone else to be there, then turns back to him. “I…I don’t know. I’ve done something pretty awful, haven’t I? It’s not like I just started having these feelings today and Benjy deserves better than this...but I truly didn’t realise until I put the dress on today—” She gestures dramatically toward the gown. “—and then it just… What’s your name?”

“Er, James?”

“I put the dress on, James, and then I just knew. I think I love him, but—I mean, I’m only 22. How can I be sure? How can anyone be sure?”

I’d be sure about you, his brain immediately supplies, and he barely manages not to slap himself in the face, because what the fuck?

But his name sounds really, really good coming out of her mouth.

“So I just—I told Mary I needed a moment and I found Benjy and…” Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening in some sort of realisation.  “Oh my God.”

James steps closer, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

She giggles, a sound that’s somehow equal parts relief and disbelief. “I actually did it, James!”

“You…”

“I called off the wedding! Saved myself from a lifetime of unhappiness.”

“That’s…good. Right?”

“It’s great, James.” She looks around the room. “I wish I had something to drink. I need alcohol.”

“There’s…” He gestures vaguely over his shoulder. “Champagne.”

She looks at him for a moment, then bursts into laughter. “You’re fit and funny,” she says, still giggling.

Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit.

“Sorry,” she adds, though she doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “I’m a single woman now, you know?” James’s mouth opens and closes, lost for words, until she mercifully steps in. “I’m joking, James. Not about the fit thing, though. You are ridiculously good-looking. But I suppose you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m…not sure what to say to that.”

“Can I see?” she asks suddenly.

His brow furrows. “What?”

She points to the camera slung over his shoulder. James isn’t sure of the etiquette for showing a recently single bride pictures of her ex-fiancé and the wedding party, but he can’t imagine a reality in which he is capable of denying this woman anything. With a resigned sigh, he slings the camera around and turns it on. She crowds over his shoulder, the full skirts of her dress fanning out around them as she peers at the screen.

“Ooh,” she sighs, delighted. “You’re quite good.”

Something prompts him to ask, “Good enough to still frame a picture of you and your ex-fiancé above the mantle?”

She turns her head from the camera to look at him, the shift bringing her mere inches from his face. Her freckles are beyond lovely, and her eyes—Jesus.

“I reckon only I get the right to make jokes about my failed wedding, yeah? Seeing as I called it off all but half an hour ago.”

He swallows, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Right.”

Her face lights up with the most brilliant grin. “Did you know you smell spectacular, James?” Before he can respond, she adds, “I’m Lily, by the way.”

“Yeah, I…” He takes a breath. “Can I get you anything? More tissue? Champagne?”

She gazes at him with a look of fondness. “If you’re determined to be a sweetheart, you can stay right here with me until I’m absolutely sure I’m done crying.”

“Oh.” He nods, his movement slightly awkward, if not ridiculously eager. “Yeah. I can… do that.”

[harrystylesfan2686]

Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the break up has different effects on both, Azriel and Reader.

A/N: yall I'm sick🥲 the updates might be late but I'll try to post as much as possible. Hope you like this one!

Pieces Masterlist

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It's been one month.

One month of Healing.

When azriel left, I told myself that I will not contact him until I'm ready. Doesn't matter how much I'm missing him or wanting him. I will not talk to him until I know I won't take him back the second I see him again.

I gave myself two days. Two days to sulk all I wanted. I spent the whole time crying and feeling miserable about myself. Before Az left at least, I wasn't by myself. At least I saw him once a day.

Now? Nothing.

I am totally alone. His absence hit me Hard. Everything I saw, almost brought me to my knees.

The kitchen where we would make dinner together, laughing and joking with each other that many times ended with us covered in flour and syrup.

The couch where we would sit cuddling and talking until we fell asleep, always waking up with strained muscles.

His office where he would sit on his chair in front of his desk, writing out reports and whatnot while I sit in his armchair reading my book. Just enjoying each others company and occasionally taking breaks to make out on the very deck, and then some.

After those dreadful days though, I called Feyre and Mor and had a very much needed girls night. We took out a wine bottle and I spilled everything to them. My mind was too drunk to think my feelings about Elain might offend Feyre but she genuinely felt sad for me and embarrassed about her sister. The poor girl even apologised to my about Elain's behavior to which I immediately told her it wasn't her fault.

When I told them how lonely it got being alone in a big house like this, they suggested maybe I should get a job or something to keep my mind distracted and promised that they'll visit me often. So I did juat that.

I found a part time job at a local library. I have to admit, I'm really enjoying it. I'm the second assistant to the sweetest lady, Hilda, who owns the shop. I don't do much, just help her in small things like adjusting books on self or helping in shipping books out or in. Layla, the first assistant, handles most of the work around the shop. My job is basically doing what she asks of me. The salary isn't much but I don't care because it's never been about money.

The first week was very hard. Everyday after I came home, the silence felt like a slap on the face, reminding me of everything I lost.

But, slowly, I became comfortable with it. Now it's doesn't hurt me as it did before.

There were many times when I think of Azriel, tears filled my eyes, but I never let them free. I sucked them in and did anything else that didn't made me cry, like taking baths, baking my favorite chocolate brownies, reading in front of the fire place while drinking hot coco or calling my friends to take me shopping.

And as time went. I started to heal. I started to feel good, happier with myself. And without even realizing it, I started to love myself.

-☆-

Azriel

It's been one month.

One month of regretting everything I did to my mate.

I've spent my whole month sulking in this room, crying and regretting everytime I chose Elain over my wife. I haven't slept at all since I came here, just enough to keep me functioning. My appetite is gone. I don't eat unless Rhys come and force feeds me like I'm some baby.

I told Rhysand and Cassian everything the first morning i stayed here. Which earned me a flick to head by Cassian and a very disappointed look from Rhys. Even though they didn't give me any scolding(which I very much deserved), the flick and expression said enough.

Rhys has refrained me of any work, handling it himself or having someone else do it. While I have been sitting around here and hating myself. It seems like even my mind has declared itself an enemy, showing me memories of everytime I dismissed Y/N and hurt her in any way at most random times, cutting a deeper cut in my heart everytime.

"Hey Az, I was thinking if we could go out for dinner tonight? There is this new amazing restaurant I saw while walking near Sidra. I really want to try it." She told me as I put on my coat, ready to go.

"I can't, I have a mission for today. Rhys told me it's important so I can't skip. We'll go some other time. Okay?"

"Ok."

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she asked me and the hurt when I rejected her and promised to go another time. The time never came. She never asked again. And I never noticed.

"Az, are you awake?" She whispers in the dead of night. Both of us sleeping on the bed. My back to her, hoping to fall asleep quickly because I have early training tomorrow.

Cassian is spending time with Nesta more, so Rhys has told me to go to an illyrian camp to check how things are going. I have to wake and go there early to catch them off guard to see what's truly going on.

I can't do that if Y/N doesn't let me sleep.

I didn't answer her that night, hoping if i dont respond, she'll think im asleep and doesnt call me again. She really didnt call me again. I prioritized my sleep over her. Her voice sounded so small. She needed me. And I didn't care.

"So, I saw a really cute baby in garden today and..." I drone out her babbling and try to quickly I can get out of here, I promised Elain to help in her garden today. She'll be disappointed if I show up late.

"Az? You're listening to me right?" She suddenly questions, I clear my throat and answer a small, of course, she nods and takes a deep breath, not saying anything anymore. I sign in relief of the silence.

I put my head in my hands and tug hard on my hair, wanting to feel hurt, hurt the kind that she clearly felt and I didn't care.

I hate myself more and more as memories flash through my mind. I can't even cry at this point. I wished she'd hit me when we fought. Slaped and paunched some sense into me. I don't blame her at all for not talking to me. Gods, I wouldn't even blame her if she left me. I deserve it.

How do I fix this?

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Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten

[gay-dorito-dust]

I came from your Saltburn post, I will do anything to read some Oliver quick fluff. Wether the reader is sick or how they’d get along at a party and be drunk together 🫶

Oliver, upon overhearing from your friends that you had come down with a common cold, immediately decides to take advantage of the situation in hopes of getting closer to you; by proving to you that he would be there for you in your time of need. Sick or otherwise.

Oliver would act overly sympathetic towards you during your recovery period, considering how vulnerable and susceptible you looked, especially as you took respite within the comfort of your bed; in hopes to evade going through yet another violent episode of cold shivers as you stared at him through bleary eyes.

‘Oliver.’ You asked, voice raspy from the continuous coughing you’ve been doing since this morning. ‘What’re you doing here, didn’t nobody tell you I was sick?’ You add, not wanting him nor your worst enemy to experience what you were currently going through. It was hell, pure, genuine hell. You couldn’t even stick one limb out of bed before immeditly retreating back under the covers.

It also didn’t help that your favourite pair of fluffy slippers were halfway across the room…

‘Oh, I overheard from a few of your friends that you weren’t well, and took it upon myself to bring a couple of things that I’d think would help.’ Oliver replied as he then awkwardly lifted the bag full of snacks, medication, amongst many other things with a sheepish shrug of the shoulder. You smiled softly. How sweet. You thought to yourself as you watched Oliver begin to unload the contents of the bag onto your bed. ‘You didn’t have to do this all for me Ollie, I don’t want you getting sick or anything because of me.’ You told him but Oliver only gave you a smile in response as his beautiful eyes stared at you intently with an expression you couldn’t quite place your finger on…

Oliver on the other hand was thriving, sure he wanted you to get better in due time, but until then he’ll engrave your dependency on him so deeply and so intricately into the depths of his mind forevermore; acting more or less as a delusional self serving reminder to himself that you needed him to function in this life filled with vapid cunts and losers.

He was all you needed in life and he was more than willing to risk catching your sickness if it meant furthering his ambitions of further integrating himself into your life fully. If anything Oliver hopes he catches your sickness so that you would feel the need to pay the kindness he had displayed towards you forward.

‘It’s alright y/n, honestly.’ Oliver said with a chuckle as he made sure you were tightly tucked in and your pillows were fluffed for extra comfort, making sure that you see the effort he puts in just for you and only you, just like he always has done before seating himself comfortably on the edge of your bed, always conscious of being fully within your line of sight as his body acted as a blockade for your sight of the doorway; forcing you to look at solely him.

‘I’m not scared of getting a little sick if it meant helping you back to full health, isn’t that what friends are for? Helping each other?’ Oliver adds in an odd tone, but you were adamant it was the cold talking, and only continue to smile at his seemingly sweet and caring actions. ‘You’re the best Ollie, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ You uttered whilst biting back a yawn, the need for sleep having begun to take over once more as your eyelids began to grow heavy and harder to keep open with each blink. ‘You’re truly a lifesaver Oliver Quick and I love you for that.’ You added on in a sleepy daze.

To Oliver on the other hand, you might as well have been cohesive and clear as day, with how intently he hung onto those words, feeling a strong fluttering sensation within his chest; something he always got whenever you said anything that remotely encouraged his obsessive and suffocating behaviour. Slowly but surely he was getting what he wanted and he wasn’t about to rush the process now, not with how much meticulous planning he had put into every chance encounter he got with you.

Oliver had to practice his patience more but you were too tempting of a person for him not to lunge towards. A forbidden fruit laid within the garden of Eden in every sense of the word.

‘I love you too.’ He said in a low murmur before running his hand across your forehead, collecting the accumulated sweat there. ‘Get some rest, it’s fine,’ Oliver utters as he watched your eyes close and your body settles in for sleep, ‘ for I’ll be here when you wake up.’ He finishes, eyes never once leaving you for a single second.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXXIV. “the affliction of pity”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce is forced to look in the mirror after the next morning’s antics with you.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, bickering, hurt/comfort, splash of angst

words: 7k

a/n: more Alfred in this chapter !! let’s goooo !! more of a few things 😌 pretty significant chapter, might I say 💬 setting some seeds…

As you rolled over in bed the next morning, everything felt normal. Until you remembered you were in his clothes, in his house, and you’d hugged.

And the gun to your head. That too.

You checked your phone, at a measly eight percent. There were two missed calls from Dr. Crane. You sat up in a rush and called him back, worried something might have changed. He picked up on the last ring this time, a shift that caused a wash of anxiety to run through you.

“Ms. Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I missed your call.”

“As am I. How was Mr. Wayne last night?”

Shit. In the bustle of the evening, you’d forgotten. You lowered your voice. “Fine. We were able to touch base, and everything seems to be going well.” You stammered along. “I didn’t see any of the side effects you mentioned, either.”

“When will you see him again?” His tone was terse. Evidently he didn’t like when you didn’t answer.

“Today, actually.” You hoped he wouldn’t ask why. He didn’t.

“I don’t need to remind you of the stakes. I anticipate another update tonight or tomorrow.” The line clicked off. You wished you hadn’t taken the call first-thing, and struggled to shake it off as you walked down to get more Tylenol. You wondered if this much acetaminophen was good for you, but figured this much pain wasn’t, either.

Thankfully you didn’t have to dig for the Tylenol, or a glass, because they both sat at the counter beside the fridge. Your head hurt less, but your leg was positively throbbing. Bruce wasn’t in the kitchen, which you were grateful for. Last night’s memory was rapidly sinking into you with an anchor weight, particularly how you’d offset your conversation until some time this morning. You didn’t feel nearly as uninhibited now, and didn’t know if you’d be able to bring anything up.

You grabbed a protein shake and walked up the first stairwell. You held in a gasp when Alfred appeared, dressed immaculately as ever, as if he got a lovely full night’s rest. Part of you suspected he heard your shrieking cries, but he didn’t give it away if he did. “Morning, Miss. Would you like breakfast?”

You held the shake up. “I can just have this, thanks.”

“It’s no issue. I’ll be making some for myself and the boy. Come down in ten minutes.” He waved dismissively at your ‘meal’ and headed downstairs. You wondered what the hell he could make with only a few veggies, chicken, and ice cream. Maybe he had a secret butler lair with anything Rapunzel could ever want.

You turned to walk up the second set of stairs when a sleepy voice halted you. “How’d you sleep?”

You didn’t look at him, forcing your eyes to remain forward. Anxious butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the memory of him, on the brink of passing out, holding you while you sobbed. Your throat tightened, shy. “Fine.”

“Want to talk while Alfred cooks?”

You didn’t, but that gave you a time constraint. Alfred would save you from whatever awkward, embarrassing territory you and him might venture into. You still didn’t face him. “Okay.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Where is there?”

“The study, your room, mine. Anywhere.”

Your cheeks reddened at how genuine he still seemed. You’d fully expected him to act like last night never happened. You didn’t want to go in either of the bedrooms, and you eyed the old man’s study just up the stairs. You gestured to it, and heard him follow close behind.

The room was exactly as you remembered it; a thick wood table with a seat behind and in front. There was a decent-sized rug by a fireplace with some newspapers scattered around it. You cringed thinking about sitting across from him so officially, so you went to sit on the floor. He followed your lead, sitting a few feet away, closest to the papers. You fiddled with the unopened drink in your hand, moving its weight from palm to palm.

“How’s your pain?”

You sighed, an embarrassed grin exploiting your cheeks. “An attentive host.”

He waited, and you glanced up at him for the first time since you’d hugged. He had the same pants, and a different shirt. You inhaled so quickly you almost coughed. “I’m sorry about last night,”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m serious. It was weird and awkward of me,”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You shook your head loosely, biting your lip. His eyes focused there a moment before flitting down.

“I want to help.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears beginning to well. You were frustrated and self-conscious of how much strain you’d put on him. “You’ve been nothing but helpful.”

Bruce was quiet, watching you try to force back tears and channel your energy into one of his protein shakes. He didn’t know how helpful he’d be perceived when, after breakfast, he’d have to have another talk with you, essentially demanding that you’re never seen in the city again. He pondered how manipulative it was not to disclose that prior to asking you to open up, which clammed him from speaking.

The room felt staticky, like if you reached into the air, the tip of your fingers might spark. You figured he was being quiet so you had space to speak. The skeptical part of you wanted to tie your lips closed, ranting about how he didn’t want to give this to you, he felt he had to. The sensitive side yearned for someone to hear your pain, and he was being persistent about it. It was blood-curdlingly difficult, but you took the first step—chucking the words out of you while forcing your anxieties to the back.

“I’m just lonely.” You stared down at your hands, setting down the drink so you could wring them. “I thought coming here for school would give me community.” Your voice was shaky but you tried not to think about it, throwing the words out as quickly as they formed. “It made it all worse. I had this fantasy that the size of the city would energize me, but it’s just spitting me out.” Tears sprung to your eyes, forcing you to pause, rubbing your eyes hard. “Sorry.”

He could feel the desolation oozing off of you. Every time you apologized made him more indignant. “I’m not judging.” You glanced at him as you removed your hands from accosting your delicate corneas, and he nodded for you to continue.

The combination of his attentive presence and kind reassurance made the tears pass the floodgates. The words were coming quicker now, less inhibited. “Being home isn’t fun either, my mom’s cancer is just, they don’t want to talk about it.” Frustration bled. “They’re acting like everything is fine, like nothing is different. I don’t like being around them and I hate being away.” Your throat was constricting as you held back full-bodied sobs.

Anger was beginning to creep in, your face contorting into a glare. You still weren’t looking at him, looking off to the side, unfocused. “I had this friend group back home but they don’t give a shit about me. I don’t know if they ever did. I have Mar here, but she just parties all the time, and she didn’t even, she didn’t even ask how I was before she left yesterday.” You could hardly believe it hadn’t been twenty four hours yet. You could hardly believe how whiny you were acting.

The devastation and anger was riling you up, making the words spill out before you even comprehended them. “And I fucking hate that I’m even saying all of this right now. The gun, the fucking, the interview, you breaking down in that fucking alley wouldn’t have even happened if I weren’t meddling!” You were beginning to pant.

“Hey,”

You didn’t hear him, and started shaking, breathing so fast you could hyperventilate. Your thighs were starting to become a receptacle for your tears. “I thought he was gonna kill me, I’ve never seen a gun that close; I yelled at you and, kicked you out and, and, you’re tied up and,”

His hand on your knee made you shriek, slapping your palms to your cheeks as you folded over, wailing. “Everyone’s gonna die, everyone around me,” you gasped between every word, which rapidly devolved into trying to catch your breath in painful puffs.

He was melting like butter. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“Look at me.”

You wanted to say no, but you didn’t want to further inconvenience him. Meeting his concentrated gaze filled you with cavernous shame, your eyes stuttering down to his chin in subtle avoidance.

“Stop apologizing.”

Another lump jumped to your throat.

“Can I hug you?”

You nodded, relief pooling in your stomach at his request. You wanted another hug from him even if you weren’t losing your mind. “Please.”

This was foreign to him, but it was the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped his arms around you again, and it felt just as desperate, just as necessary, even for him. You didn’t cry as much as when he hugged you the night before, seemingly getting a lot of it out beforehand, and he struggled not to stiffen when your breathing began to even out, and your sniffles waned. Quickly. Very quickly. Your shaking slowed until the only movement was your breathing. That ‘please’ stuck to him like velcro.

It was extremely disorienting. He’d experienced people clinging to him in the suit, looking at the cowl with a frantic desire to be soothed, but never just as him. Not once. He didn’t know he could calm someone like this as Bruce.

You pulled out of the hug and sniffed, getting up to leave. You almost apologized. “I need to blow my nose.”

Alone in the study, he was worried he’d panic. The way you’d said it, it seemed not like you’d wanted a hug, but that you’d wanted a hug from him. ‘Please’ like you’d wanted one already but wouldn’t ask. ‘Please’ with your eyebrows knitting with neediness, ‘please’ cutting through the tears and shame even when his words didn’t make a dent.

He sat in a haze of dismay as disappointment crowded him at your departure. This wasn’t good.

He stood up to leave, mentally rehearsing a ‘need to shower before breakfast’ shout as he walked past the hallway bath, but you’d already come back.

Both of you wanted to hug again, but neither said so.

“Setting the table.” Alfred’s voice floated from downstairs. It almost sounded like he was whistling.

Bruce walked past, but you caught his elbow. “Thanks.”

Your lashes were still clumped together from crying. Your eyes were puffy and red. His hand twitched to wipe the tears still lingering on your cheekbone, but he cringed instead. “Don’t thank me.” He hurried down the stairs and hastily shut the door to his room.

Doing your best to ignore the tinge of frustration coating his tone, you met Alfred in the kitchen. The scent of a fresh omelet wafted from the stove out to the foyer. He had three table settings in the same fashion as last time, and you sat at your place with your hands tucked in your lap. Alfred was whistling, a jazzy sort of tune, as he scooped up the first one and walked toward you. “Same ingredients as your last visit. No peaches.”

Visit. What a kind way to dress it up. You thanked him as you took the plate, suddenly struck by a hazy memory of Bruce tilting your chin up to drink Benadryl. You swore you could feel his finger there now. You swallowed.

You weren’t in love with eggs by any means, but Alfred made them look salivating. It was plated to perfection, intimidating you nearly into not wanting to eat it. When he walked over with a pitcher of orange juice, you wondered where they’d come from—until you noticed an empty bag of orange netting sitting across the kitchen in the pantry. A few rinds were discarded near the stove, and you hurried to pour some for yourself. Bruce was woken up every morning with fresh squeezed juice? Or at least had the option?

The coolness of the juice was everything you needed, a balm to your hot throat. A satisfied chuckle came from the stove as you reached to pour a second glass. “Sumo citrus. Out of season, but still quite stunning.”

“I’ll drink you out of house and home.”

Alfred finished dishing up, and pulled out his chair before frowning. You followed his eyes to Bruce’s empty seat. After the short pause, he wiped his hands. “Ah, well. We’ll get started without him.” His cheery demeanor was infiltrated by a short grimace, undoubtedly perturbed by Bruce’s absence. “If you fancy any salt, pepper, let me know.”

He’d seasoned it spectacularly, and you told him so after your first few bites. Your stomach felt like an empty pit, realizing you hadn’t eaten more than the odd granola bar in days. You finished quickly, leaving little space for conversation, and he gestured to the stove. “Would you like more? I made an extra.”

You nodded, and he took your plate with a wink. “Finally I have someone who enjoys my cooking.”

“It’s stellar, really.” You eyed the orange juice, now with only a third of the pitcher remaining. You ate the second omelet, surprisingly just as warm as the first. Alfred had just finished his, taking a sip of his juice.

“Thank you. I needed that.” Your eyes trailed across the table to the glaringly empty seat, feeling dejected. He probably hadn’t come because you’d been too much, gone too far. Not only had you pushed the boundaries, you’d obliterated them. Why had you agreed to hug him again? Why had you let yourself lose control in front of him, again?

You’d forgotten how perceptive his butler was, too. He set his utensils in the middle of the plate, untucking his napkin from his lap. “I apologize for his behavior, Miss. It’s truly abhorrent.”

You shook your head so fast you saw stars. “No, it’s fine. He’s had a long day, and night,”

“So have you.” He gathered both of your plates and disposed of them in the sink. He rested his hip against the counter, tucking one hand into his pant pocket, the other grabbing the cane resting nearby. He sighed. “Feel free to have the rest of the juice, a shame for it to go to waste.”

He looked tired. Not as tired as the last time you came, but nonetheless. You obliged, already feeling the pressure on your bladder. You must’ve had half a gallon of this stuff.

Alfred’s head cocked toward the foyer. Bruce appeared not a moment later, his expression distant and cold. He slid into his seat and dug in without comment, not looking at either of you.

You set your glass down, your stomach flipping. You had half a mind he had simply taken too long in the shower, and tried his best to hurry, but no. In the same outfit, same dry hair, like he’d just been ignoring you.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Alfred glance up to the ceiling before tossing a dish rag over his shoulder, getting to work at the sink. You stood to join him, but he waved you off. “Appreciate it, Miss; you need to recuperate. I’ll manage.”

You stood there between the table and the sink, the already dim energy in the room withering further with every second Bruce remained unspeaking. You blinked a few times, unnerved and upset, walking quickly out of the room. You ducked around the corner, hoping they thought you gone. A few moments later, Alfred spoke.

“Bruce.”

“Don’t want to hear it.” They were both speaking hushedly, though Bruce was admittedly not trying as hard to muddle his volume.

Alfred’s tone was the coldest you’d ever heard it. “I’ve never been more embarrassed.”

Bruce didn’t respond, only scraped the fork against the plate as he likely hurried his meal.

“She’s been in a terrible situation,”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.” His tone was back to that very first night; back to the hallway at City Hall when you’d blackmailed him. That same haughty, defensive, biting timbre.

“I’m telling you regardless.” The sink stopped. “I fear you’ve become too desensitized for your own good.”

More scraping.

Alfred sighed, his tone gentling. “I know the last week has been difficult,”

Bruce pushed his seat out. “Going to talk to her.”

You tiptoed further into the corner, cloaking yourself in shadow.

“What about?”

“Getting her to leave.”

You’d never before heard Alfred scoff, but now you had. It was freakily uncharacteristic. “You’re better than that, Bruce. Do not.”

“Or what?” Bruce’s tone was mocking, the chair making a final thud into the table. You bit your cheek to abate the rising anxiety. Of course he wanted you gone. Of course you were nothing more than a nuisance. Rage nipped at your skin thinking about how he’d led you on, thinking that he might have cared.

Before Alfred could reply, Bruce emerged into the foyer, and immediately caught on to your presence. You glared at him, feeling tears smart your lashline again. His face fell with his shoulders and you huffed past him. “Y/N,”

“I’m grabbing my phone and you’re taking me home.” You were already halfway up the stairs, but he was catching up.

“Stop,”

You pressed on, breaking into a run up the second set.

He grabbed your wrist and you yanked it back, barely catching your balance. You whipped around, chest heaving, eyes wild. “Sorry for overstaying my welcome.”

You spun around and ran to your room, trying to slam the door but his foot stopped it. Tears streamed down your cheeks in silent fury. You grabbed your dress, shoes, and phone. “I won’t bother you at City Hall, don’t worry.”

“It’s for your safety.” His stepping into the room crowded it. He sounded exasperated. “You need to leave Gotham. Immediately.”

“You don’t get to boss me around.”

He scoffed. “Less than a week and you’ve already been threatened.”

“And he’s in jail whether I leave or not.” No longer giving a shit, you shimmied off the sweats and yanked off his shirt, leaving you in your bra and underwear. He averted his eyes and stared at the wall, audibly scowling. You threw them at him and they hit his shoulder. You wrangled your dress back on, still damp and awfully smelly. You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on your loafers.

“It could happen again. You’re a target now.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He side-eyed you, checking if you were clothed. He loathed that he knew the color of your underwear now. “And I’m not cleaning you off the sidewalk.”

“Bruce Wayne would never have to do such custodial work.” Your tone was dripping in sarcasm and mockery, forcing him to grit his teeth. You were riling him up, you both knew it. You were riling each other, teetering on the precipice of words better left unsaid.

He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. You glared at it. “You were going to leave last week.”

You finished fighting with the heel of your shoe, finally able to rush past him. He stepped in front of the door and your heart lurched into your mouth, eyes flashing. “You are not blocking me.”

He hesitated before stepping aside. When you put your hand on the doorknob he did too. “If this is because of last Thursday,”

“You don’t want it, I get it.” You jerked the door open, the phone falling out of your hand. You both stooped to reach it at the same time, your hands colliding once more. His hand tightened atop yours, forcing you to look at him. You ripped the phone away and swung the door open, leaving into the hall. He followed you out, draining the last bit of resolve you had.

“Is it a sin to make sure you’re alright?” You bit back the last half of what you wanted to say: ‘I already see how Alfred’s being punished for it’.

Bruce glared at you. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“It’s not just you.”

“None of it should be.”

“I wanna see where this election goes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You bristled, hard. “I do. I want to report on it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that? In a city you hate?”

“I hate the culture. Which I could influence.” You made the mistake of wincing down toward your thigh, and he stepped closer.

“I want to help you.”

You glowered at him, unappreciative of his indecisiveness. Did he want to help you, or hide away in his room to try and forget you existed? “Would’ve been helpful to show up to breakfast.”

Bruce groaned. You had a physical reaction to the sound.

You hated it more than most things, more than you hated humid hundred degree days and men catcalling—but even when he was angry, and distant, and weird, you wanted to stay in his orbit. You needed to, or Dr. Crane would have your head… and maybe his. “I’m the only one outside of this place who knows. I can be a tool.”

“I have enough tools.” He hated the piece of him that wanted to give in. He hated how his voice lost its edge the closer you got to the stairs.

You were also excruciatingly aware of how close you were to the exit, and how much you didn’t want to take it. Squeezing your eyes shut and imagining the Bruce that cried into your palm was the only way to cool your temper. His hugs lingered not too far behind… if they were even real. The only thing that actually moved the words past your teeth was remembering how deeply you regretted being cold to him at your apartment. “I want you to have someone to go to. And I want someone to go to.”

Your candor surprised both of you.

“It’s not worth throwing your life away.”

The wear of this argument wasn’t sitting right in your chest, and it forced your expectations lower. You shifted quickly back to the matter at hand. “I’m staying in Gotham, at least for now, whether you want to acknowledge me or not.” You didn’t need to be on good terms to keep an eye on him. He’d still come to City Hall meetings, and you’d be able to give some updates to Dr. Crane until he was out of the woods. It would only be a few more weeks. And you would enjoy getting to hear the city’s voice, trying your hand with more interviews.

You turned and set off downstairs. “What’ll it be this time? Packing me in the trunk?”

He barely registered what you said, his eyes fixed on your back as you descended the steps. ‘I’m just lonely’.

He grabbed his keys and walked to the garage with you, instructing you to lie flat again. “I’ll drop you off a few blocks away.”

Staring at the black ceiling of Bruce’s car while you bumped through back alleys and cobbled streets was, to put it lightly, depressing. You were starting to get used to the pain, utilizing it to distract from your whiplash disappointment and deep-seeded fear about being home alone tonight. At some point you must have closed your eyes and been lulled asleep, because his voice startled you into sitting up.

“Just a few blocks south. Closest I could get.”

When he noticed you’d fallen asleep, he drove around a few more miles so you wouldn’t be disturbed. He only started winding back in the direction of your apartment when he heard you begin to whimper. His hands had tightened on the wheel, his teeth gritting, as they so often did around you. He thought he’d mastered letting Alfred’s disappointment seep like guilt through his skin, but he couldn’t stop the thought he might be misrepresenting you.

Selfishly, he’d been centering himself in your distress, when in actuality… your life was bigger than that. You had parents to worry about. Friends to be disappointed with. A burgeoning journalism career to dive into, to which the corners of the internet were behaving like piranhas. A gun to your head, and an empty apartment in a city that genuinely seemed hell-bent on hurting you. Spitting you out, as you so eloquently put it.

Maybe he was pitying you, now.

The Moore was not-so-conveniently located on one of the main streets of town, forcing him back into a side alley between an old pharmacy and a deli that wasn’t open half the time. In the early days he’d stow the Batmobile here. The brick hadn’t changed much, a few new potholes. Wasn’t frequented enough to be as decimated as the roadway. He parked here when he’d visited you those few times.

He woke you, and while you roused, pulled your recorder and notebook out of the passenger glovebox. He’d circled back to Miller’s car on the way to your friend’s before the police got to it. He just hoped you didn’t make too big a deal out of his remembering.

Thankfully, you didn’t. You looked a bit surprised, but took it without comment. You looked disheveled, tired, pained. The passenger door swung open after he told you which direction to walk.

“Can your friend stay with you?”

You’d nearly shut the door on him before he spoke. Too tired to lead with irritation, you gave him a lackluster response. “It’s Friday. She’ll be out clubbing.”

You hesitated before shutting the door, wanting to thank him, but too hurt to commit. You fought not to think about how his laser eyes were focused on your back as you walked away. Struggled not to recall the weight of him.

Walking around Gotham in midday was like walking around an entirely different environment. Late morning to mid-afternoon was the only time kids were seen, and only with older siblings or adult family members. You couldn’t imagine growing up here. How it might harden a person.

It was a massive triumph pushing open your apartment door while holding a feeling bordering on terror that someone was waiting to jump you. You rushed in and shut the door like when you’d watched something scary as a kid. When the anxiety got too high, and you were positively certain a demon was rushing behind you to beat you to your bed.

In a blink you’d shoved a chair under the handle. Once in your room you walked its perimeter, checking all corners of the bath, under the bed, and resigned to shoving the couch in front of the door. A hazard if there was an emergency, but you couldn’t prioritize anything else right now.

You went to get water at the sink, feeling like a paranoid freak inspecting the jenga at your entryway. Once a-fucking-gain your thoughts wandered to the city’s prince; how silly did he think you? All this over one gun? I take fifty billion a night. A dark streak of violence ran through him, one that wasn’t evident in his arms, or gazing into his sleepy puppy eyes… You slammed the rest of the water, almost choking on it.

If you thought too long, you would break down, so you drew up an imaginary list of tasks to keep yourself tethered, trying to ignore how the water was beginning to sour the more you smelled the city’s backwash on your clothes. First: shower. Second: nap.

It was a Herculean effort not pressing DOWN when the elevator doors opened. Alfred was sitting across from it in the kitchen, his hands clasped together on the table. His gaze was focused precisely at eye-level, like he’d been a statue primed for Bruce’s arrival. “I want to talk with you.”

He looked at the ground, stepping out. “I’m going upstairs.”

“No, Bruce.” His tone was deadly serious, with a shaky undercurrent. Bruce conceded, as he so often did once Alfred got to this point. He didn’t come closer, only stepping out enough for the elevator doors to close, making up the difference by stepping to the side.

“I’m disappointed in you. Deeply.”

Bruce stared at the ground. He figured he’d have something to say to him about your leaving, like he had any idea what he was talking about.

Seemingly sensing his frustration, Alfred’s tone softened. “Seems to me you both could use a friend.”

“Look where it got you.” With a shrug of his shoulder, he gestured to where Alfred was sitting. It was evident by the way Alfred’s face fell, and his strict tone, he was referring to Riddler’s blowing up the top of Wayne Tower.

He didn’t miss a beat with his curt response. “Look at where it’s gotten you.”

Bruce slowly glanced up, struggling to see the full features of his face in the unlit kitchen, but still managed to meet his eye, sensing plenty more where that came from.

“Dory and I are getting older. If you keep following this path,”

“Alfred, stop.”

“I’m afraid you’ll end up entirely alone.”

The room’s ensuing silence chewed at that word, alone. Bruce wondered how he could slip past the man without escalating things. He knew he wouldn’t be let off without responding. He knew these situations all too well. “So I should risk someone’s life, for what? Temporary company?

“People come and go, that’s how life works.”

Bruce stepped forward, trying to work up the courage to storm past. The fuel wasn’t entirely there yet. “I’m not speeding up the process.” No matter how many times he explained this to him, he never got it. He never understood he was doing what he had to do, and that—

“The least you can do is be kind to her.”

Alfred was slipping under his skin again. “I am.”

The butler’s voice raised slightly. “By leaving her alone?”

“It’s for her safety.” He took another step, tempting a getaway.

“Or for yours?”

Bruce blinked hard. The old man never failed to tie a rocket to his shoes, and he propelled himself across the kitchen and nearly made it halfway before he spoke again.

“Don’t think I forgot what you said that night.” Alfred shifted in his seat, the boy now a few feet closer. He knew he was losing him, his hairpin trigger temper always half pressed when he spoke. Sometimes he felt like Bruce was waiting for him to give up with his fingers crossed behind his back.

“Year after year you’ve denied my every demand for your safety. Every time you’ve struck it down, as if each night you’re out planting flowers.”

Bruce looked everywhere but the table’s vicinity. “I don’t know what point you think you’re making.” He cloaked his words in as much snarl as he could, hoping he would get the hint and stop where he stood, before stuffing the air with more life lessons.

“Yet, after my accident, I noticed you changed the suit. You began coming home earlier.” Alfred stood up, and Bruce stepped back. He leaned on the cane, taking off his glasses with the other hand. “You know what you do is dangerous.”

He let out a brittle, taunting laugh. “That’s what I‘m saying.” Maybe he was finally getting the point. Maybe he would finally stop wasting his time and keep his projective, sentimental thoughts to himself instead of dragging them both down with it.

“Not in that way, Bruce.”

Sometimes Bruce wished Alfred could read his mind, hear all the things he wanted to say but kept hidden. Right now it was a lot of grumbles, some pointed accusations, but nothing unfurled on his tongue. Instead, his body reacted, quickening his heartbeat and narrowing his eyes.

“I think it goes both ways.” Alfred set his glasses on the table. “I believe you’re afraid if you let someone close, you’ll put them in the same position you once were.”

Heat bloomed in Bruce’s throat, and he tried to storm out of the room and escape the clouds weighing down the ceiling, but Alfred tossed another hook into his arm near the doorframe.

“And if you were honest with yourself, truly faced what you endure each and every night, it would feel like looking down the barrel all over again.”

Bruce could’ve screamed. He wanted to. He could’ve done a lot of things, but his mind was fuzzy. All his tired body did was tremble. All his mouth did was bite his cheek. Say the most benign version of the dialogue swarming inside. “You don’t know what I think.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a bluff. He felt the tips of his fingers go cold.

“It’s far easier to disregard your life when you have no one to answer to.”

“I’m answering to you, aren’t I?”

Alfred paused, his voice lowering and slowing. “I often think you wish you didn’t have to.”

He locked eyes with him in an instant, Bruce having a visceral reaction to what he was insinuating. Did Alfred really think he didn’t care about him? Was his behavior being represented that poorly? His body filled with blue and purple emotions, his stomach tightening, face heating. The bruise fronted as defiance. “I’m doing what I need to. I—”

Alfred’s voice was bored, frayed. “‘Have a duty’. Yes, boy.”

Bruce bristled, hard, and visibly so. Alfred caught it, and felt a desire to rescue him, looking decidedly dejected. After the last week, however, he knew he couldn’t let things slide as he used to. The path he was on was destructive, and walking away wasn’t going to change anything. “You also have a duty to yourself.”

Bruce shook his head, his vision blurring slightly. “I don’t care about that.”

Alfred hesitated to go this route usually, and reserved it only for occasions supremely deserving—this was one of those times, though he was concerned how it would go over. Bruce was standing a few feet from him, between the fridge and the kitchen’s entry, his eyes darting across the ground like his head was swarming with thoughts. “Your parents would want you to be happy. Are you happy?”

As expected, Bruce responded with silence. Silence that cut Alfred’s heart in two. He knew he wasn’t. He hadn’t seen a genuine smile from him, or a full-bellied laugh for that matter, in decades. It might have even been since that night. The boy held so much pain, and kept so isolated. He gulped back tears.

“What I’m doing is more important than that.”

Against his better judgment, he folded. Bruce never liked to see him cry, going stiff and static. He didn’t do it often, but worried about burdening the boy so soon. So he sighed, shifting the subject. “If you don’t check on Y/N tonight, I will.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it near his glasses, moving his hand up to massage his temple.

“She doesn’t want pity.”

He held back another sigh, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Care and pity are not the same, Bruce.”

Alfred left first, not wanting to chance the boy’s tender conscience with any more guilt at having left preemptively. It wasn’t unusual for these conversations to end with Bruce coming into his room later that night with a thinly veiled olive branch.

Once in the confines of his room, Bruce nearly missed the edge of the bed, fighting off disorienting swells of emotion that left no energy for proprioception. Possibly more than he ever had, he wanted to curse Alfred out. Run into his study and tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. But his body was telling him otherwise. Telling him he was right. He was isolating. It was obscenely dangerous. He didn’t want to look at it.

Care versus pity. Every face from his childhood stuck to the back of his retinas. The pouting, downturned faces at the funeral. The ‘gentle’, rather condescending tone that echoed off the tower walls for years, until people stopped caring. Until he stopped trying. Until he stopped visiting his parent’s room and bolted the lock.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and clenched his core, subtly rocking back and forth, juxtaposing the two scenes, a task which felt like drowning—whatever happened last night and this morning, and absolutely everything he’d ever experienced from everyone else.

One felt warm. Uncomfortably so, but nevertheless comforting. The other was distant, and cold.

He tried to avoid it again, unclenching his stomach and stripping as he walked toward his bathroom. He turned the shower to scalding, and stepped in, hoping it would soothe his aching muscles to sleep, maybe beam Alfred’s confrontation out of his brain.

One felt like a balm, or a salve. The other felt like it carved him out deeper, eviscerating his insides. One told him it would be okay, and the other said he’d never be the same again. Their eyes gutted him. Told him his parents were gone, slaughtered, murdered. He ran some shampoo through his hair.

He lathered his body while it sat, feeling every pass over scar and scab. He loathed being in his body. Being aware of the injuries painting his skin. The drain in his bones. He was usually adept at avoiding it. Grinding until he passed out the instant his head hit the pillow. Sleeping in until it was time to suit up. Time to plan. To think about anyone else’s problems besides his own.

A bubble of soap slipped in his eye, and he flinched.

He suddenly felt like crying.

Pulling on your own sweatpants and a baggy hoodie was a luxury as you prepped to visit Rai’s. Frustrated at your screaming stomach that wouldn’t let you simply sleep the rest of your life away, you popped a small-dose edible so it would kick in after you’d come back and finished eating, letting you have a semblance of peace the rest of the evening. At the very least it would lower the risk of you screaming into your pillow all night.

Same walk, same street, same people, same sky. The constant ebbs of injury had colored you blue. A leaf startled you on its crunch, the sudden movement and barely-tempered shout causing the parents and children to slink away from you on the sidewalk. You kept your head down the rest of the route.

Rai was helping another customer when you arrived, but he gave you a small wave. You never liked to crowd people, especially the older customers that came in who lived in the historic buildings nearby. They treated Rai’s like a full-on grocery, sometimes bringing their own cart to fill. This lady, with her wispy gray hair and thick red sweater was one of those patrons.

You pulled a sweet tea from the drinks, and an orange soda. Rai was chattering away with the lady, who had ostensibly selected one of everything in the store. You reveled in having less time to spend in your apartment, and wandered to the chip aisle while you waited for your turn at the counter. Your fingers traipsed through rows of Ruffles and Lays, when you felt a buzz in your pocket.

Alfred.

Jesus, fuck. You raced to set the drinks down, your heart pounding. You’d left him in another state again. Too harsh, too unforgiving, fuck! “Hello? Alfred?”

“Hey.”

Bruce answered, and a concoction of relief and bitterness settled on you like a blanket of snow. “Hey…?” Your fingers tightened around the phone.

“I was wondering,” he drew a sharp intake of breath. “If you wanted to watch a movie or something.”

Shit, how out of sorts was he? “Like tonight?”

“Like tonight. I could go to your place, or,”

“Mine’s fine. I’ll bring the TV by the couch.” You were buzzing. You couldn’t very well decline, or what might he get up to? Was this his way of asking for help? You also couldn’t very well ignore the twinge of relief that having company would bring, even if it was his. Or the single atom in your body that preferred it to be him.

“Want me to bring anything?”

Your eyes flickered to the deli. “I’m good.”

“Half an hour work?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Bruce hung up, heaving a deep breath. He flopped onto his back on his bed, Alfred’s phone falling out of his hand near his pillow. He felt better now. And worse. A little bit of everything.

What does someone wear to watch a movie?

After a few minutes he strolled to his closet, and thumbed a hole in his only clean pair of jeans. Hmm.

Dior. Prada. The sound of metal hangers sliding on a metal rod. Gucci. Dolce & Gabbana. He eyed the black jeans again, and the matching pair of trodden Converse in the corner. He pulled them on and grabbed the least distressed tee from his dresser… they were all worn thin.

It didn’t matter. Did it? No.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the basement. He’d have to leave through Wayne Terminal, take the beater car, drift. He passed Alfred on the stairs, noting the fresh outfit and shoes. “Going out?”

Bruce nodded, not saying anything until he turned into the kitchen and was fully out of view. “Checking on her.”

Alfred grinned with the sound of the elevator’s descent.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

As Weak as You are Strong

Part 2 of Mutually Assured Disaster, as usual this isn’t edited so if you see any errors let me know!

-----------

Training Danny did not go the way that Hood had expected it too. First off it started way sooner then he had expected or wanted, he had wanted Danny to rest and fully heal before they started anything, maybe settle in fully to Gotham. But by the end of the first week he had realized that keeping the boy still was a fucking impossible task, he was so fucking restless! Jason attempted it for another four days before realizing that he had to give Danny something controlled and safe to do before sitting still drove him crazy and he did something stupid.

The easiest way to do that just then was to start training Danny, he was able to put it off a few more days by telling Danny he wouldn’t start training until he was signed up for school because the teen didn’t want to go back to school. But it was only a couple days before he seemed to decide that even school would be better then nothing.

Danny accepted being given a new identity, Danny Nightingale and let Hood forge paperwork to have legal guardianship and then enroll him in a decent school. Though he wouldn’t be starting till next semester to give him a chance to settle in to his new home. Jason wasn’t entirely sure when he’d decided Danny belonged with him, but he had, and was looking into bigger apartments for him and his new ward. After all it was official now.

“Okay the first step will be for you to show me what you can do to get a baseline, so we’ll go to gym I usually use after breakfast,” Jason finally said one morning as pulled a bottle of milk out of the fridge. Usually he cooked breakfast for them but it was a bad idea to eat to heavily before a work out, he’d take Danny out for lunch afterwards instead.

He heard Danny pause from where he was digging around in the cupboard grumbling about how healthy Jason’s cereal options were, as if he wasn’t the one who’d already eaten the box of sugary shit Tim had left here. The silence went on for too long and Jason scowled, turning to put the milk down on the counter and stare ad Danny hard.

“What’s the issue Wisp?” Jason asked sounding more annoyed then he actually was.

“Well, it’s just, I’m really strong and I have, like, a lot of powers? A Lot, I don’t even remember all of them half the time! I think it might be better of we leave town for me to show you? Like, if you want to see my most powerful ability that’s my Ghostly Wail, which is a pretty powerful sonic thing I don’t have great control of and I’m worried if I tried to do it inside I might bring down the building.” Danny rambled as casually as he could while he went back to digging for cereal and brought them over to the table.

Jason blinked as he processed that and then nodded slowly. “Okay, we haven’t talked about this much, what powers do you have?”

“Well, the sonic scream I mentioned, super strength, flight, intangibility, I can make and control ice, I have enhanced senses, I can shock people though that’s a hands on attack… Oh, I can sort of hypnotize people, I can possess people as well but I don’t like doing it… I can shape shift a bit though I’m not very good at it yet.” Danny said, counting them out on his fingers and looking a bit unsure as if he might have forgotten some.

“Damn Spooks what Can’t you do?” Jason asked, making light of how genuinely shocking Danny’s power level was.

“I think eventually I’ll learn how to shoot lasers.. Oh! I forgot my ecto beams! I can shoot ecto from my hands with some force, it’s corrosive to humans. And I can’t duplicate yet, the one older member of my species I met could so I assume I’ll learn eventually? I’m not really in a rush to learn though, I already kind of scare myself,” Danny admitted, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Alright, can you show me everything accept the wail inside?” Jason asked tapping his fingers absently against the table, before Danny shoved the box of cereal across the table to him and he remembered they were supposed to be eating.

“I think so, as long as I’m careful. But if I break anything you’re paying for it,” Danny joked around a mouthful of cereal, pointing his spoon at Jason.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jason said automatically, forcing himself to power through the realization he was fucking parenting this kid. “If I have to pay for anything you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me, you’re not my dad,” Danny shot back with an exaggerated pout, at least his mouth wasn’t full this time.

“So you’re not living under my roof, eating all my food, and asking me to train you?” Jason asked, raising his eyebrows, Danny stayed silent, pouting and poking at his cereal, steering the last few bits around the bowl. “If you have so little control of your power that you would break something you might seriously hurt a human in the field even if they don’t deserve it, and we don’t want that so if you break anything you’ll be grounded and it’ll be longer before you get into the field. Until we’re both confident in your control,” Jason explained firmly, he watched Danny consider that then deflate and nod.

“Fine,” He mumbled, drinking his cereal milk and bringing his bowl to the sink, washing it quickly.

Jason let it go, he knew Danny didn’t want to hurt anyone, he was a good kid, he was just disappointed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a shit attitude when he was Danny’s age as well. Jason finished his breakfast quickly, cleaning up before he grabbed the keys to his bike. “Alright let’s get to the gym, I already made sure it would be kept empty for the morning, so no one will see what we do.” He had been going to this place for ages and no one had found out he was Red Hood after all, in Gotham businesses that catered to vigilantes and rogues were deeply valued.

Danny nodded and grabbed the helmet Jason had bought for him in the first couple days. He left the apartment and went down the stairs ahead of Jason as he locked up. Danny bounded down, jumping a flight of stairs at the time and waiting on the landing for Jason to catch up before leaping down the next one. Jason didn’t understand why he was doing but he had learned gravity didn’t affect Danny the same way as most people did so jumping that way wouldn’t hurt the kid. And if it made him happy Jason didn’t give a shit, he just hurried to keep up.

Danny sat on the back of Jason’s bike, making him think about how he should really look into getting a sidecar or something, even though Danny seemed to enjoy riding on the back. Actually, it was the first time Jason was genuinely considering switching to a car for regular use, that would be safer right? And what if Danny wanted to have a friend over once he started school? Jason couldn’t bring both Danny And a friend home like this. Ya, he should definitely get a car.

God fucking damn it, he was a dad.

They reached the gym no problem and Jason lead the way this time, Danny hanging back just a little, clearly nervous. Jason marched on ahead, leading by example that there was nothing to be afraid of, and Danny hurried to keep up. There were a few people there still there so Jason whistled loudly and reminded the room at large the gym was privately booked out for the next couple hours and it was time to clear out. There was some grumbling but everyone went, it wasn’t exactly the first time this had happened.

“Okay the first thing is a test of strength, help me move all this shit out of the way,” Jason said, he was joking really but Danny didn’t seem to notice. He nodded firmly and went and grabbed one of the pieces of exercise equipment, lifting it and all the weights attached with no trouble at all. Jason had to pause to process that, watching as Danny moved it off to the side. “How much exactly can you lift?”

“I don’t know, I lifted a bus once and it wasn’t to hard,” Danny told Jason casually, as if that was fucking normal! Jason really had his work cut out for him with this kid. He sighed at Danny and then went to grab some targets since Danny had mentioned some sort of blast.

“Alright now that we have a clear patch show me what else you can do,” Jason said once he’d set up the targets. Danny nodded with a determined set to his jaw and in a flash of light that made Jason blink Danny had changed, his hair turning white and his eyes a green that would have made Jason’s stomach turn if he wasn’t already half used to Danny’s eyes flashing that colour randomly.

Over the next hour he watched as Danny blasted the targets with green beams that seemed to melt through what they hit and then eat through the rest, shock, freeze, and fight. When Jason told him to hit a punching bag as hard as he could Danny fucking broke it! The chain snapped and the bag flew across the room.

“I’m so sorry!” Danny yelped as soon as he realized what he’d done, before Jason had fully processed it. “You told me to hit as hard as I could! I should have known to hold back a bit but-“ Danny cut off on his justifications, ducking his head and biting his lip.

Jason took a deep breath, watching the sand that spilled from the split in the punching bag and trying not to think about what that force could do to a human body. “It’s alright, I did say to hit it as hard as you could. Now I need to see if you can punch just hard enough to drop a person without hurting them badly,” he said, ushering Danny over to a bag that wasn’t broken. He wanted to spar with Danny but he needed to make sure it wasn’t overly dangerous to his health first.

“I can do it in my human form,” Danny offered, eager to be helpful. “I have some access to my powers when I am but they’re much weaker when I am so it might be safer.”

“Safer for others but what about for you? You’re more vulnerable when you’re in your human form right?” Jason demanded and Danny winced, nodding reluctantly. “Alright then we’re going to work on you being able to control and restrain your strength in this form. You should be able to do that anyway, pulling a punch takes just as much strength as following it through and the control is even more impressive.”

“This is going to take forever,” Danny groaned.

“Well then we’d better get started then shouldn’t we?” Jason said, repressing his smile in case Danny thought he was making fun of him.

Danny groaned dramatically again, wallowing but only for a moment before the determined set to his jaw returned and he nodded. “Good, do you think you can spar with me without throwing me into a wall?” Jason joked, Danny wouldn’t want to hurt Jason so it really was the best way to help him practice.

Danny barked a startled laugh and grinned. “Oh ya! Don’t worry I’ll go easy on you~” Danny teased making Jason laugh in return, the kid really liked to banter.

“Don’t hold back to much, I’m plenty strong,” Jason shot back as he lead the way to the mat. “After this though I’m taking you to the shooting range. A gun with rubber bullets will be a good way for you to have a ranged attack without shooting fucking acid, and it’s a lot gentler then you can hit. The last thing we need is for you to get worked up or spooked in the field and really hurting someone by accident.”

“Turns out I’m not a gun, I’m much, much worse,” Danny joked and Jason rolled his eyes at the movie reference.

He dropped into a fighting stance once he reached the mat. “I’m on the attack now, I just want you to show me how well you can dodge and block Without using your powers.” Once he had Danny’s confirmation and the younger man was in his stance Jason lunged without a count in.

Danny wasn’t bad for someone who didn’t have any actual training, he was quick and his reflexes were good but he was clearly used to relying more heavily on his powers and took a couple pretty hard hits. Just as importantly though he took those hits, stumbled, recovered, and kept going. They could never avoid every hit, being able to keep going in spite of it was a crucial skill in this line of work.

Jason pushed it until he could see Danny starting to get frustrated so Jason had a good measure of both his abilities and his capacity and then backed off. “Alright we need to work on that, and your patience,” Jason said as he left the mat for a moment to grab their water bottles.

“Why?” Danny asked, maybe a little petulantly, he was eager to get out on patrol and he had always been able to rely on his powers before. Still Jason chose to answer the question in good faith.

“What if your attacked as a civilian and need to hide your powers? What if some day you’re up against something who Can actually hurt and hit you? They obviously exist given how you found me. What if some day you lose your abilities?” Jason pointed out. “Your life is the most important thing so if you have to use them so be it but we need to make sure you can handle yourself decently without them.” He handed Danny his water bottle and they both drank while Danny processed and valiantly attempted not to sulk, he was still a teenager after all and a bit immature.

“As for your patience, you don’t have anger issues like mine but if you lost your temper you could do a lot more damage.” Jason noted the way that made Danny flinch, he’s ask about that later.

“Alright now your turn to attack, show me how you fight without those powers of yours. You can turn back now if you want to, though I think you should patrol in this form so you should learn to control your strength like this. It’ll help keep your identity secret too. Though if the people in this city haven’t figured out who Nightwing is their obviously fucking idiots,” Jason told Danny as he put down his bottle and returned to the mat.

“I don’t have a lot of practice fighting humans, just other ghosts, so until I get a better feel for that I think I’d rather spar as a human as well. I mean, I’m still strong like this,” the same flash of white light around Danny and he once again had black hair and blue eyes. “But not as strong so it’ll be a good way to ease into it right?”

“Sure that makes sense, come on,” Jason said beckoning for Danny to come at him. Which he did, sloppily. He was fast, but he was untrained, his strikes were wide and telegraphed, Jason dodged and grabbed Danny’s arm, flipping him and putting his back on the ground before letting him up. Danny stood up again, looking a little more wary this time, he took a moment to consider Jason before attacking again, his attacks a little more considered and precise, but still pretty damn obvious.

Jason blocked and dodged mostly, letting Danny land at least one hit to see how hard it would be, he pulled it pretty well actually, it might leave a bit of a bruise but it didn’t even knock Jason over. Jason took Danny’s moment of triumph for landing a hit as an opening to put Danny on the ground again with a chuckle, he had to keep the kid humble after all right? He offered Danny his hand to help the boy up giving him a warm smile.

“Alright, not bad but there’s a lot you could learn. I think we’ve got a good baseline of what your capable of, and I’ll start training you in MMA and other fighting styles tomorrow, and shooting lessons this afternoon. First lunch, what do you want to eat?”

[purplecoffee13]

The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 3*

Summary: “Y/N finds out the complicated truth about the reason for her role as fake-girlfriend, and gets a bit possessive over Harry.”

Wc: 4.2k

Tropes: semi-enemies-to-lovers (she hates him)

Warnings: possessiveness (mostly from her), oral (m!receiving), cursing, dirty talk, sexual tension THROUGH THE ROOF, angst and insecurities

The next morning, I awake by the sunlight beaming through the window and right onto my face. I open my eyes, my body more relaxed than it has been in weeks, and my lips can't help but form into a lazy smile at thinking of the reason why.

However, the reason why isn't here.

A small frown creases my forehead, especially because I'm not hearing any noise from the bathroom. I lean towards Harry's side of the bed, and spot a note on his nightstand.

'Fulfilling groomsmen duties.

Breakfast is on the dresser.

Catch you later, H.'

Though it was sweet of him to leave a note, and to let me sleep in and leave me breakfast, my heart still churns at the idea that I won't see him until the afternoon. I had hoped we could talk about whatever the fuck happened yesterday, but I guess it will have to wait.

My heart flutters though, as I munch down my breakfast before hopping in the shower. Since I slept in, I have to hurry a little bit if I want to be ready in time.

Luckily I have my hair and make-up done in time, and I manage to strategically shimmy into my dress without ruining any of it. I send a silent prayer as I put on my heels, hoping the blisters will not form until after the ceremony.

After checking the itinerary, I start to make my way to the garden where the ceremony is to be held. Upon exiting our room, I run into a hard body which manages to catch before I fall onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Matthew spits out as he helps me balance myself out again. I nod at him, smoothing my dress and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going." I awkwardly smile at him. He waves it off, and extends his arm to me.

"Need an escort to the garden?" He asks with a genuine smile. I hesitate for a moment, but from his body language, I gather that he got Harry's message from yesterday.

"That would be great."

We begin to walk and I immediately spot other people going the same way as us, easing my anxiety about getting there too early.

"Where is Harry?" Matthew brings me back into the moment after momentarily getting caught up in my thoughts.

"Uhm— groomsmen duties, he said." I answer, and Matthew hums. We walk down some stairs that are needed to take in order to reach the garden.

"You're not a groomsman?" Maybe it was a little too intrusive, but it was too late to take it back now. Matthew shook his head.

"Jimmy and Harry were in a football team together since they were little. It's how our Rosa met him. Jimmy and Rosa kind of see Harry as the reason why they got together, so even though they are not as close as they used to be, Jimmy made him a groomsmen." He explains, and I nod my head. That's an interesting part of his family history I did not yet know, and it makes me wonder. Maybe Matthew knows about the girl Harry's family wants to set him up with, the reason I’m here.

"What's with that frown?" Matthew goes to stand in front of me and lowers himself down to my height. I widen my eyes at him and force an exaggerated smile.

"Nothing, nothing..." I chuckle, shaking my head. He raises his eyebrows, not believing me one bit, but laughing along anyway.

"Let's go sit." He says, and leads us to the assigned seats, secretly rearranging them so we can sit next to each other. I laugh at his inability to be subtle, but he manages to pull it off nonetheless. We sit down, and I take in the garden and its beauty. Slowly, I spot the people who are here, and it dawns on me; everyone is very beautiful, especially the girls.

I spot a lengthy blonde in a baby pink dress, chatting with two brunettes whose dresses look like they were picked out from a runway. My brows crease at the sight of everyone's perfect hair, and I find myself smoothing out my own, which seems like a poor excuse for a head of hair now. My heart begins to beat faster and— oh my god I'm going crazy.

"Matthew." I say his name, sounding a bit more urging than I wanted to. His head shoots towards mine.

"Yeah?" He asks softly, a bit of concern evident on his face.

"Uhm… Harry– well, he told me about this girl–"

"Ophelia?"

Ophelia? That's her name?! If that is her actual name then I can't imagine what she looks like. Probably as ethereal as her name.

"I don't know, he never gave a name. But, he said she was going to be here." I tell him, and he hums. I wait to see if he's going to give me any information, but he doesn't say anything. "What– um, what do you know about her?"

My attempt at casualness falters with the stutter of my voice. Matthew lets out a breathy laugh at my nervous question, and is quick to stroke my arm.

"You have nothing to worry about, Y/N." He tries to assure me, and I give him a quick nod.

"I know, I know... I was just wondering, that's all." I turn my body away from Matthew, realizing how pathetic I was beginning to sound.

So what, Harry gave me an amazing orgasm and I think I'm developing a crush on him? I lost my best friend because of him. Well, I guess she was always a bit mean in hindsight, but still. Just because he was nice yesterday, doesn’t mean I should be acting like this.

"Ophelia's mom is good friends with Harry's mom, so they've known each other since middle school.” Matthew suddenly speaks up, and I can feel the blood rise to my cheeks. “They dated for about two years, went to prom together and everything, but they broke up when they graduated."

They dated..?

"Ophelia got a new boyfriend not long after the break-up. They got engaged and everything, but the guy cheated on her so they broke off the engagement like six months ago. Since then, Harry's mom has been forcing him to reconcile with Ophelia, but he was actively opposed to it. Sheila wouldn't let it go though, and usually Harry doesn't mind doing his mom a favor, but this time he was really against it. Now we know why." He smiles at me, like I should be glad with the end of this story.

He dated her for two whole years. They went to prom together, they've known each other since middle school, and his mom is a fan of hers. She wants her son to end up with that girl. I stand absolutely no chance. There is way too much history there. I could never stand above anything like that, ever. God, I hate that. Why do I hate that so much?

My eyes refuse to meet Matthew, but I give him a sad excuse for a smile anyway, to make it seem like he didn't just unintentionally put a serious damper on my mood.

Then, the music starts, and the ceremony begins. I didn't even notice the groom and his men standing by the altar already, but when I look, I catch Harry's eyes on me. He looks confused, or rather concerned. His brows are deeply creased.

I tear my eyes off of him when the bridesmaids walk in, and I immediate know, I immediately feel who Ophelia is.

Gorgeous, long blonde hair with sparkling green eyes and a smile that every Hollywood celebrity pays a good amount of money for. Her petite figure makes me feel immensely big and I hate myself for comparing myself to someone who could not look more different from me. She is stunning and I understand why everyone is so enamored with her. I'm sure she's very nice too.

I know my insecurities are not her fault, but damn do I feel vulnerable when I catch her staring at Harry. My gaze flies towards my fake boyfriend, but it seems that he is still looking at me. I throw him a smile and give a thumbs up, but I only receive a weak, half-smirk in return.

The ceremony seems to last forever, yet I don't catch everything of it. I'm met with a constant pit in my stomach that needs to be flushed away with a glass of wine. I need to get my shit together, and then put it aside, at least until this trip is over. I can figure out my intricate feelings when we're back on the campus, but until that time, I need to play the part and I need to play it well. If anything I should be lucky it isn't as difficult as it was a few weeks ago.

After the bride and groom have gone off to take pictures together, we are all given a glass of champagne. I gladly take one and clink my glass with that of Matthew as we talk about the ceremony and the wedding vows. Harry has disappeared once again, along with the other groomsmen and bridesmaids, so I guess I won't see him until dinner.

I chat a bit with Harry's parents, and Matthew introduces me to some friends of Jimmy's. They're all very nice, some them a bit too flirtatious, but it takes my mind off the Ophelia of it all.

About ten minutes have passed and we make it to the dining hall, where Matthew and I are separated, not before he escorts me to my table of course. My table is very close to that of Rosa and Jimmy, who have seated all of their bridesmaids and groomsmen together.

I sit down and am tapped on my shoulder by Quinten, one of Jimmy's friends who Matthew just introduced me to, and who is sitting at the table behind me. I turn around and begin to chat the time away with him. So much, that I don't notice someone standing besides us until he coughs awkwardly to get our attention.

When I look up at Harry, my mouth falls open a little bit. He looks criminally beautiful in his suit, and his jawline looks to prominent from this angle. I suck in a deep breath at the realization that I had temporarily stopped breathing altogether, and all of my insecurities and blues are washed away by the need to drag him to the nearest bathroom.

"Hi." I manage to let out, a sheepish smile on my face. Harry doesn't look very amused, hands still in his pockets, as his eyes dart from me to Quinten.

"Hey man." Quinten says, but he gets nothing more than a murmured 'hey' from Harry before he tugs on my arm, pulling me out of my chair and into his embrace, where his nose buries into my neck and I feel him taking in my scent. He leaves a couple of kisses there before pulling his head back to look at me.

"You... are breathtaking." He slowly says, staring into my eyes. My cheeks burn at the flattery, but it's impossible to look away from him. My mind is dizzy from his hands — one on the small on my back and the other one on my waist —, and I am feeling too many things at the same time.

I'm still frustrated with him for throwing me into the lion's den without properly telling me what I was getting myself into, I'm giddy because he is too pretty and his eyes glisten in this light, but most of all I'm horny and I want him right now. Ophelia may have him when all of this is over, but for the remainder of this trip he is still mine.

"And you are a shit excuse for a fake boyfriend." I tell him, and look to the side with my nose high up in the air. He raises his brows, clearly taken aback by my response. He doesn't lose his playfulness, though; a wide grin on his face as he lowers his head until the heat of his breath reaches my ear.

"Didn't you read my note?" He asks lowly, before planting a kiss on my ear.

"I did, but it didn't include you saying I wouldn't see you the entire day." I sputter, crossing my arms together. He pulls back with a wary smile.

"Did you miss me today, love?" He asks. I don't initially respond, because I did miss him and that reality is too terrifying to confess.

"So, you and Ophelia dated, huh?" I change the topic, deciding that I might as well throw it on the table. Just so he knows, that I know. "You know, you could've told me this is about making someone jealous."

I purposefully imply something there, solely to see if it's true. Harry's face falters for just a second, and I ask myself whether I even want him to answer this question.

"Y/N, it's–"

"I'm just saying," I cut him off and take a step closer to him, because I, in fact, do not want to know his answer. "If I would've known, I would've played my part better. But I'll be good for you tonight."

"Y/N..." he sounds almost whiny, and that sounds a bit too good to me to stop.

"I promise I'll be a good fake girlfriend, alright?" I smile at him, my arm snaking around his neck. He swallows, then gives me a firm nod.

***

Dinner is excruciating. Harry and I are leaned towards each other the entire time, trying to sit as close to each other as we can. He keeps his hand firmly on my thigh, and in between courses it sneaks to the back of my neck, doodling traces on my skin with his fingertips.

We exchange our so-called love story with everyone at the table and all of them assure me that they have never seen Harry so in love before. I laugh when I turn my head to him and he says it's true. Partly because I know it isn't, and partly because I find it hilarious how a part of me almost believe it to be true anyway.

After dinner, everyone scatters a bit around the room, and the dance floor gets cleared up for the first dance. I don't miss the perfect girl from the past that starts nearing our now empty table, and neither does Harry.

Ophelia awkwardly waves at the both of us; Harry waves back but I only give her a half-smile.

"Can I talk to you for a bit?" She asks Harry hesitantly, and I can't help but fight the smile at the audacity of this girl. But then again, they've known each other for a long time, so technically I am just a temporary nuisance to her.

Harry's head shoots towards me. He doesn't want to be left alone with her, it seems, but I don't make a scene like he secretly wants me to. His green eyes bore into mine and I resent him for a moment just for how pretty he is. I really don't want his eyes on Ophelia, but it is inevitable. A bold thought enters my mind.

I kiss him, just a soft kiss that lasts no more than a few seconds. When I pull back, my mouth travels to his ear and I trace his jawline with my fingertip on the other side of his face as I whisper into his ear.

"I just want you to picture me on my knees in front of you, returning your favor from yesterday, while you talk to her. Something to look forward to after your little conversation with her, hmm?"

Harry doesn't have time to respond because I have already stood up and started walking towards the bar by the time I finished my sentence.

As I wait for the drinks I ordered, I run into two other guys Matthew introduced me to. Robert and Simon, if I remember correctly.

"Getting drinks?" Simon rhetorically asks, pushing some of his blonde hair away from his face, and I raise my glass at him to answer his question. The two chuckle at me.

"Yes, what about you guys?"

"We're just wondering why a woman like you is getting drinks for herself at the bar." Robert smirks, and I playfully roll my eyes. Just at that moment, the bartender sets down Harry's drink in front of me.

"For myself and my date." I correct them with a smile, but they don't seem intimidated by the fact that I am here with someone.

"Shitty date." Simon quips.

"Yeah, you deserve better than that." Robert says, brown eyes full with empty confidence. He earns a supportive nod from his friend.

"Are you guys implying that I can't get my own drinks?" I reiterate, catching them a bit off guard. I can tell they have no idea what to say, they're confused by the contradiction of my supposed sweet smile and my sneering words. As if it was meant to be, I feel a hand on the small of my back.

"Sorry gentlemen, I'm taking back my girlfriend for a minute." Harry's voice suddenly sounds from beside me, and his hand press against me more, urging me to walk with him. I wave goodbye to Robert and Simon and follow him along as he walks — rather fast — towards the exit of the dining hall.

He takes me to a door and opens it, revealing a pitch black room. I frown at it, but hurry in anyway when he grits 'get in' through his teeth. I flinch when he turns on the light and reveals the broom closet we are currently finding ourselves in.

I am about to criticize the harsh lighting of the room, when all of a sudden Harry grabs my waist, turns me around and plants his lips on mine with a need I thought only I was feeling.

I stumble back a bit but he snakes his entire arm around my waist and pulls me into him, turning us around and then backing me up against the door. After a while of making out, he begins to move his lips from jawline to my neck, and lower...

I pant as he assaults my skin by sucking, kissing and biting every part of it. I whimper at the sensation of his skin against mine and close my eyes to enjoy it most optimally.

"You drive me insane, do you know that?" He growls into my neck, and I moan when his hand grabs one of my breasts and starts massaging it.

"No, you do." I push him off of me, and he lets go very easily. I take the opportunity to turn us around, pushing him against the door with all my strength, a few of his curls land in front of his face as his back hits the surface. I go to unzip his pants, and sink down in front of him as I pull his trousers down.

"You disappear all day..." I slowly lower his underwear down his legs, and he hisses at the sensitivity his hardened cock feels from the restraint. I know Harry's big, my ex friend told me about it, and the tent in his underpants only confirmed it for me. "And I find out you spent the entire day around your ex-girlfriend."

His cock springs out of its confinements when I finally pull his underpants all the way down, and I try not to look intimidated by the actual sight of his size. Instead, I lean forward and let some saliva slowly trickle onto the top of his cock, and spread it out with my hand. The immediate groan at the touch of my hand makes me feel things I shouldn't, so I try to ignore it and focus on making Harry come.

"Fuck, baby... I–"

"Such a bad fake boyfriend today, weren't you?" I begin to pump him, and delight in the way his breathing becomes heavier with every stroke. When he doesn't respond right away, I tighten my grip around his dick a little bit, earning a moan from him.

"Yes baby. I'm sorry, baby." He mutters, and my stomach twists in every which way at the sound of the pet name he’s given me today.

I decide that enough is enough, I won't make him wait any longer — also because I can’t wait any longer — so I take him in my mouth. He is quite big, so I have to use my hand to make up for the parts my throat isn't able to take just yet. I take my time working his cock deeper and deeper into my throat.

Making sure to keep an eye out on him, I look up at him through my eyelashes, my panties pooling as I watch Harry falling apart above me. He’s clenching his jaw hard, head leaned back against the door.

"Jesus, fuck!" He curses, out of breath from the pleasure I am giving him. That notion alone gives me a dizzying rush of power. His hand finds it way to my hair and he softly plays with it as I keep sucking him off. "Such a g–good girl, fucking hell."

I take him out of my mouth for a moment and get back to rubbing him off, a devilish smirk on my face as he succumbs almost entirely to my touch. The moans that leave his throat almost make me orgasm myself. I can’t contain the moan I let out.

"Tell me Harry, did you think of me?" I pick up the pace just a little bit more. "When you talked to her, did you imagine me like this? Bruising my knees for you?"

"Fuck— yeah baby... Always think of you." His eyes are tightly shut as he rasps out a response. I take him back into my mouth, needing his release almost as much him.

"Oh... Y/N, if you keep doing that I'm gonna come." He says when I take him as deep as I can and his dick touches the back of my throat. I am too busy controlling my breathing, and besides, I want him to come right here, right now.

"Baby, baby, fucking... hell!” He groans out and I begin to feel spurts of his hot cum launch into my throat. I meal at the feeling and the idea of his cum in my mouth and I wait until he's ridden out his high to completely remove myself from his dick.

I get up and make sure he watches me as I swallow the load he just gave me. He stares at me with big eyes, completely out of breath.

“Was it just like you imagined?” I ask with a devious smile, wiping off the remains of him from the corner of my mouth. He lets out a chuckle of disbelief, and my heart is racing at the way he is standing there, entirely defeated, but a hand on my waist anyway.

“I don’t know what I did right to deserve that.” He mutters, a joking tone to his voice, but my cheeks still heat up at the compliment. I realize, I have never taken this much pleasure out of pleasuring someone else. I’d pay serious money to have him crumble for me like that again, and because that thought scared me to death, I push it far away into the back of my head.

“Put on your pants. You’re taking me to dance.” I order him around, and he raises his brows in surprise, and leans down to put on his trousers.

“You like being in control, don’t you?” He asks as he zips his pants. A few curls have fallen to the front of his face and I don’t think I have ever seen an image that screams ‘sex’ more than that one. I shrug.

“I like seeing you fall apart for me.” I confess, because it’s true. I’ve never explicitly liked being in control, I’m a bit more submissive in that sense. But seeing him in that state of euphoria, and knowing it’s because of me… that is what I enjoyed the most.

“Do you now?” He looks up at me with a soft half-smile, and he pushes some hair from the front of my face behind my ear while pulling me into him with his other hand. I nod at him.

He stares at my face a for a bit, analyzing every feature in the comfortable silence that overtakes us. My shoulders automatically tense when his gaze, and thereby the entire energy around us, shifts from soft to almost… sad?

He fixes his posture and plants a kiss to my forehead before moving away from the door, opening it, then turning back to me.

“Dance?” I ask him almost desperately, hoping his energy will shift back.

“Drink, first.” He gives me an awkward smile, and I know there’s no going back to how it was just a few seconds ago. He saw something when he looked at me just now. I don’t know what it was, but it’s almost like it scared him. This relationship is getting too complicated, and I don’t know what I should take as the truth while we are still here.

Maybe, whatever scared him, is something I should be scared of too. Perhaps, taking a step back is the best for both of us, even though it feels like the last thing I want want to do right now.

“Drink first.” I weakly lift the corner of my mouth, and walk past him out the door…

Part 4

Link to my masterlist

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Romantic Ending Ch. 24

Chapter 23 Letter

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

I don't know what to call this heart-wrenching pain, but morning comes nonetheless.

My feet are heavy as I tread the dry earth leading to the city, and the scorching sunlight makes it harder to breathe than usual.

Emma: This is terrible...

The city in the Land of Illusion has completely changed since the other day.

Things are scattered about as if a war had taken place, and exhausted people are busy cleaning up.

The soldiers patrolling the city are filled with tension, and small disputes are breaking out here and there.

Man: Are you saying God has abandoned us?

Woman: What else could it be!? We've been forsaken!

Woman: The sanctuary has been taken over by traitors, and the worst criminals are still roaming the streets!

Woman: Even in this state, God doesn't show himself. The God who was supposed to protect us...!

Man: Surely something has happened to the Living God!

Woman: There's no way anyone could do anything to the Living God!

(...Kamal is still on the run, and the sanctuary, the symbol of the sacred, remains captured.)

(Distrust of Azel is growing, and the people who don't know a world without God are divided in their opinions.)

(Unaware that all of this is going according to God's plan.)

I make my way to the back of the city, passing by the small squabbles.

As rumored, the sanctuary seems to have been taken over by the forces that rebelled against God. I can't see inside the sanctuary, which is surrounded by a high wall, but I can see the red moon flag standing at the gate.

What does this flag, which defiles the beautiful moon, mean? – The breath I inhaled felt like it was burning my chest.

Soldier: You there, wait!

I am called out to by one of the soldiers surrounding the sanctuary, and I show my face.

Soldier: ...You are Miss Emma, aren't you?

Emma: Were you looking for me?

Soldier: The apostle has ordered us to "protect" you.

(It's a hostage situation under the guise of protection.)

The soldier calls out to his nearby comrades, cutting off my escape route.

Soldier: Will you please come with us?

It was a situation where I had no say in the matter.

I lower my eyes and hide my loosening lips with my hair.

Emma: Gladly.

(...I've been placed under house arrest.)

It's not quite like being treated as a criminal, but there are soldiers stationed outside my guest room, and I can't come and go freely.

I heard the Owner protesting outside, and a short while ago I passed a note to the soldier that said, "Don't worry."

Perhaps everyone is sensing the end somewhere, because the castle, like the city, is filled with tension.

I opened the window, wanting to let the heavy air escape outside.

(...When that sun turns to moon, it's goodbye.)

(...Really... was there no other way?)

There's a gentle knock on the door, and I answer.

Even before I see them, I can guess who the visitors are.

Apostle: Miss Emma, I'm so glad you're safe. I noticed you were missing after that and was worried, but...

Enis: What happened to your arm?

Both the apostle and Enis stare at the bandages covering half of my body.

Emma: I was slightly injured... Please don't worry.

Apostle: How dreadful. Enis, please arrange for a doctor later.

(...But the apostle is the cause.)

The frightening thing about the apostle is that his words of "dreadful" feel genuine.

Emma: By the way, you two came to ask about the Living God, right?

I push aside my complicated feelings and bring it up myself. Enis gasps audibly, and the apostle hides all emotion with a benevolent smile.

Apostle: So you did meet the Living God, Miss Emma.

Emma: It was Prince Azel who treated this injury.

Emma: He entrusted me with a "divine oracle" to be conveyed to the The Reverend Apostle and King Enis without fail.

(...I was the one who said I was a priestess, not a slave, but...)

(I never thought I'd actually be doing a priest's job at the very end.)

*flashback*

Azel: A priest is a public servant who serves God.

Azel: Their duties are varied, but the most excellent priests are given the right to become God's spokesperson.

Emma: So, you mean like the apostle?

Azel: He's more of a phony scammer than a spokesperson, a scammer.

Azel: In the first place, my generation didn't establish the position of priest. It's just a hassle.

Azel: Therefore, as the one and only priest, I grant you the right to become my spokesperson.

Azel: Tell everyone what I'm about to say... and tell that dreamy old man.

*flashback over*

Emma: "The last moon rises in the sky, and the people awaken from their long dream."

Emma: "The incarnation of the moon departs from the mundane world, and a new moon is born."

Emma: "The newborn moon pierces through nothingness, and the promised reality also returns to nothingness."

Emma: "When the moon reaches its zenith, the final oracle will be given."

Emma: "Tonight, gather at the stage of offering."

Emma: "May you all awaken from your dreams and tread upon the earth of reality."

As I convey every single word entrusted to me by Azel, a dry wind enters the room.

My hair is whipped up, and the unicorn earrings sway.

Emma: Please tell the people.

Emma: That is the Living God's final wish for the apostle and Enis.

The silence continues for a long time.

Next to Enis, who has a gloomy expression, the apostle may be calculating all sorts of things.

Apostle: Thank you, Miss Emma. If those are the words of the Living God, we must make them public.

Apostle: However, I find it very distressing to convey the words of the Living God to the people in this current situation.

Apostle: If we convey the divine oracle of the Living God to the people in the midst of chaos, it will only incite further fear.

Apostle: Even if it is the will of the Living God, I cannot condone words that would lead to disorder.

Apostle: I pray that you will understand.

(...This is all unfolding exactly as Azel predicted.)

(He reads the opponent's moves like the back of his hand and makes the next move with certainty.)

(Now that I'm his ally, I can feel the full extent of Azel's fearfulness.)

He's reassuring as an ally, but as an enemy, I can't see any chance of winning.

The more God's script progresses, the less likely it is that unexpected variables will occur.

Emma: Do you feel the same way, King Enis?

Enis: ...Yes. The apostle's judgment is also my judgment.

Emma: Then, it's fine if you pretend you didn't hear the oracle just now.

Emma: However, you can't stop people from talking... I hope it hasn't spread.

*flashback*

Aisha: To put Miss Emma under house arrest, I will protest strongly!

Nadia: To subject Miss Emma to such injustice is unforgivable, even for the king or the apostle!

Emma: Thank you. It's reassuring that you two came to my aid immediately, even in this situation.

Aisha/Nadia: "Miss Emma..."

Emma: Actually... there's something I'd like to ask of you two. Would you listen?

Aisha: Of course! We are Miss Emma's caretakers.

Nadia: Is it about meals? Baths? Or...

Aisha: Is it a secret you can't tell the king or the apostle?

Emma: ...Hehe, you see right through me.

Emma: I want you to spread what I'm about to tell you throughout the city.

*flashback over*

Apostle: ...This is troubling. To think you had already made arrangements.

Apostle: The Living God has always been wise; a mere mortal like me is no match for him.

(He says that, but the apostle isn't very surprised. He must have had some idea.)

Judging from the fact that the maids were able to meet with me, it seems he isn't seriously trying to stop the oracle from spreading.

(Even if he stopped me, someone else would spread it, so perhaps he decided it was a bad move to allocate personnel here.)

Apostle: Miss Emma, at this rate, we may truly lose the Living God.

Emma: That's why you gathered King Enis and me here, isn't it?

Emma: The Living God is watching this commotion from somewhere. It's because the apostle is certain of that...

Emma: ...that you intend to publicly execute us as accomplices of the great criminal, aren't you?

When I present the next development in advance, the apostle's benevolence deepens.

Enis, who is next to him, only makes a bitter face.

Perhaps he had anticipated this from the beginning.

Apostle: Is "that" also a prophecy from the Living God?

Emma: It is.

*flashback*

Azel: When that old man is cornered, he tends to resort to simplistic ideas.

Azel: He's probably confident that if he crucifies you and Enis, I'll definitely show up.

Emma: ...Am I going to be subjected to such a terrible fate?

Azel: You're going to be my ally, right?

Emma: ......... I-I'll do my best.

Azel: Don't agree! It was a joke! That's not the part you should be trying hard at!

Azel: Besides, if you're crucified, Akatsuki will turn into a weapon of mass destruction.

Emma: That's no good...!

Azel: ...If that really happens, I might end up killing the old man too.

Emma: .....?

Azel: Anyway, to prevent you from being humiliated, we need to take action first.

Azel: This is the time to use our trump card––

*flashback over*

Apostle: ––The Living God must have bestowed his protection upon you, hasn't he?

Apostle: It's been strangely quiet outside for a while now.

(Now that he mentions it, I can't hear anything.)

(It's not like there's a ban on passing in front of the guest room, so there should be the sound of people coming and going...)

Perhaps realizing that we are standing on the stage of a script written by God, the apostle tilts his head sorrowfully.

As if I were the villain and he the victim.

Apostle: Miss Emma, do you truly have no regrets?

Apostle: What you are trying to do is the grave sin of killing God.

Apostle: Even if you are not directly responsible...

Apostle: If you are indirectly involved, it is the same as you killing the Living God.

Apostle: If you cooperated with me now, we might be able to stop it.

Emma: .........

Emma: ...Once, I asked Prince Azel a question.

Emma: "What is true love?"

Emma: Prince Azel, the Living God, is loved by more people than anyone else.

Emma: But to me, that love didn't seem real.

Apostle: ...That's a very interesting story.

Apostle: If your feelings towards our God are not love, then what is love by your definition?

(...I love that unscrupulous God.)

(Because I came to love him, I hope my current choice is the answer to that question.)

I gently cup the unicorn earring swaying by my ear with my fingers.

Emma: To wish for what is best for that person, not for yourself...

Emma: Even if it means getting hurt, wouldn't continuing to think about what's best for the other person be love?

Apostle: ......

Apostle: ...I cannot agree. How can one wish for the best for another without being happy themselves?

(Perhaps the apostle has a point.)

(But he doesn't know how much that "own happiness" has caused Azel pain...)

???: ...Did you hear that? That's truly a Big Love.

???: Hey, read the room.

(.....!)

The voices coming from beyond the door were not something I had been informed of beforehand.

???: That's why I didn't want to use you guys. It's a hassle.

(!?)

Taken aback even further, I rush to the door and throw it open with all my might.

Immediately, the two people who seem to have been eavesdropping outside lose their balance and fall into the room.

Clavis, who has fallen on top of Luke, raises his hand in greeting as soon as he sees me.

Clavis: Long time no see, Emma... wait, what happened to your arm?

Luke: That's a serious injury. Who did that, that old geezer?

Clavis: What has he done to my daughter?

Luke: It's okay to do him in, right?

Emma: This was kind of an accident! I'm glad you're both alright, Prince Clavis and Prince Luke.

(I was worried when I heard you were missing...)

Clavis: I was caught up in the schemes of a certain noble. I was enjoying a super fun captive life, but...

Clavis: I heard you were in danger, so I kicked aside the soldiers and rushed here.

Luke: I mean, if you just said "move aside," they'd all move aside.

The "you" that Luke addressed was not Clavis.

???: No. The soldiers are on the apostle's side. Because no one wants God to die.

???: I can't move freely without hiring private soldiers like you.

A figure with their face deeply hidden by a sand-shielding mantle enters the room and closes the door.

The face that emerged as they removed their hood sent a wave of tension through the room from behind me.

Enis: ...The Living God.

Azel: If you hide a tree, hide it in the forest; if you hide sand, hide it in the desert; if you hide a prince, hide him in the castle... right?

(I wasn't told Azel was coming.)

(He said he was going to stay hidden until the time came.)

Apostle: I never expected the Living God himself to come all this way.

Azel: Oh, I didn't come here to see you, old man.

Azel: My business is with...

The mystical eyes turn towards Enis, who stands frozen in place.

Azel: Your Majesty. Have you heard about Kamal?

Enis: ...Yes. That he is a traitor who deceived the Living God.

Azel: What do you really think?

Enis: ......

Azel: You're a grown man now. It's time to let go of the past and move on to the future.

Azel: The old man is not someone you, as king, should fear.

Azel strides forward leisurely and holds out something in front of Enis.

(It's the unicorn clasp.)

Azel: From now on, you must lead the country with you at its center.

Azel: If you're afraid of such a small fry, the future looks bleak.

Enis: ........

Azel: It's alright. I guarantee it.

Azel: You are a capable king, and once faith falls, you will be in a more advantageous position than the apostle.

Azel: I will surely shatter the false faith and give you your rightful authority, so...

Azel: Would you grant me my request, "brother"?

Enis has an old, unhealed wound in his heart.

Now, being glared at by the apostle who has lost his smile, it must take courage to make that decision.

Enis slowly opens his tightly clenched fist.

And––he takes the offered clasp.

Enis: I will stop the search for Kamal by the soldiers.

Enis: He is not a traitor, but a brother to be welcomed.

Apostle: Enis....

Enis: Apostle, I, like you... do not wish for the Living God to choose death.

Enis: But, looking him in the eye and speaking with him like this, I realize that this end is what God strongly desires.

Enis: If Kamal is cooperating, then surely this end has meaning.

Enis: If that's the case... I, too, want to be a brother who can consider "what's best."

(Enis... must be hurting just as much as I am, or even more.)

As if accepting that pain, he attaches the unicorn clasp to his clothes.

Enis: Guests of Rhodolite, I apologize, but would you be willing to be hired?

Enis: I want to confine this old man for a while...

Enis: In this country, only those of a different faith can do that.

Clavis: I don't mind, but you're not going to make this an international issue later, are you?

Enis: Certainly not. I want to build a friendly relationship with Rhodolite.

Enis: How about we have a meeting about trade privileges later?

Enis: Tanzanite's economy has been developing rapidly lately. I'm sure I can make a proposal that would be beneficial to your country as well.

Clavis: Hmm... well, that's fine then. We wouldn't want to do it for nothing, would we?

Clavis: Come on, Luke, it's time to work. What kind of traps do you think an old man can withstand?

Luke: Don't do anything unnecessary. We might have to lock you up first.

(What Azel asked me to do was spread the oracle and rescue Enis who was "taken hostage"...)

(With this, I have nothing left to do.)

Azel: Miss Emma, please come with me.

Azel: It would be helpful if you could find a place with me where we can hide until nightfall.

-

A place close to the stage of the end, where there are no people at all––

As we searched for the place Azel desired, the sun began to set.

While dodging the eyes of the people, we finally arrived at a place where we could take a breather. Azel removed the hood that he had been wearing deeply and looked up at the sky.

I finally calmed down and breathed in the air that had cooled with the setting sun.

Emma: I can finally ask you.

Emma: Why did you give me a "different script"?

(I don't understand why you didn't tell me you were coming to the castle.)

Azel: There's nothing wrong with the script I gave you.

Azel: The words I just said to Enis, I was originally going to ask someone else to say them.

Azel: If we're found by the crowd now, the plan will be ruined.

Emma: Then why...

After a silence that made me wonder whether I should speak or not, those mystical eyes look away.

Azel: ...It was you who was looking for a job where we could be together until the very end, wasn't it?

(...!)

Azel never tries to look at me.

My chest felt like it was going to burst.

Emma: Prince Azel... can I say something conceited at the end?

Azel: No.

Emma: Well, listen.

Azel: I can't hear you, I don't know anything.

Not wanting the end to be in a somber atmosphere, I forced the corners of my mouth up.

Emma: Prince Azel, you said at first that being loved was abhorrent...

Emma: But I think you loved me.

Azel: .....

Azel: ...That's really conceited.

Emma: Forgive me, it's the end.

Azel: I won't forgive you. You have given me the greatest humiliation.

Emma: You don't have to be so shy–– Ow!

As expected, he pinched my cheek strongly.

(But I'm confident.)

(It's true that I'm being conceited, but there are many things that can't be explained otherwise.)

Azel: What are you going to do about this awkward atmosphere?

Emma: It's just Prince Azel who's feeling awkward... The cheek pinching really hurts!

Azel: In the first place, what's your basis?

Emma: You gave me what's best for me now, didn't you?

(You used your precious last moments on me.)

Emma: No, not just now, but from before...

Emma: Maybe you were head over heels for me.

("Last night" too... if that's not love, I don't know what else to call love.)

Azel: You're really being too conceited today, aren't you?

Emma: It's the suggestive God's fault.

The unrepentant Prince Azel furrowed his brows with a grumpy look and glared at me.

When I glared back in defiance, he awkwardly averted his eyes again—and I embraced him.

Even when I put my arms around his back, he didn't push me away.

Taking advantage of that, I pressed my ear against his heart.

Azel: –...I don't love you.

Azel: I don't like you or anything, you're more of a nuisance.

Azel: To think that I'm parting with you now, it's rather refreshing.

(...Doesn't he notice that his heartbeat is going crazy?)

(Or...)

(Maybe this is also the "best" for me, in Prince Azel's mind.)

Emma: If that's Prince Azel's answer...

Emma: I'll accept it as that.

In this fleeting time, like an illusion where the sun and moon switch places—

I burned the sound of his racing heartbeat into my ears and pushed my blurring vision to the back of my eyelids.

-

—The divine moon rose in the night sky, and the people gathered at the stage as prophesied.

Unable to contain the crowd, who were trampling the Al flowers, they overflowed from the stage and filled the main street of the market.

Azel: Thank you all for gathering here today.

The raging clamor returned to nothingness at the God's single word.

Without using any special loudspeaker, Prince Azel's voice resonated to every corner, capturing the attention of the people.

Even without any barriers, no one tried to step onto the stage.

The sacred air that Prince Azel wore was different from the one I knew.

This is the God that exists on the continent—I looked down on the stage from the best seat in the house.

Azel: Right now, anxiety must be swirling in your hearts.

Azel: The prophecy left by the first Living God is a "guaranteed reality" and also a trial he left for you.

Azel: You will eventually drift on the open sea without a star to guide you.

Azel: But there is no need to despair.

Azel: Sailors navigating the sea invented the compass to indicate direction in place of the stars.

Azel: You have wisdom. You have the talent to live without relying on the heavens.

Azel: In fact, you have already experienced a world without divination.

Azel: When you realized that relying on inaccurate divination would ruin your lives, what did you do next?

Azel: That's right, you used your own minds to carve out your own path without relying on God's guidance.

Azel: ...Once, there was nothing in this wasteland.

Azel: It was too harsh for people to live in, and without God's protection, you couldn't even build a civilization.

Azel: But that era is over.

Azel: Tanzanite has water, food, a rich culture, and you have come to live out your natural lifespans.

Azel: And the country that stood in the wasteland has now grown to become one of the major countries on the continent.

Azel: I am proud of you all, who built a great nation in the desert.

Azel: And that was probably the first dream that the first Living God saw.

Azel: Now that the dream has been fulfilled, you no longer need God.

Azel: But please don't grieve.

Azel: I believe that the prophecy of the end is also the prophecy of a new beginning.

Azel: ......

Azel: Now, it is time to awaken from the dream that God has shown you.

The God looked up at the sky.

The people also looked up at the sky.

I looked up at the sky too—and my breath caught in my throat.

The divine moon that illuminated Tanzanite was being dyed a reddish-black.

As if eroding the God, it gradually stole away his divinity.

Azel: "The incarnation of the moon departs from the mundane world, and a new moon is born."

Azel: "The newborn moon pierces through nothingness, and the guaranteed reality also returns to nothingness."

Azel: "May you all awaken from the dream and tread upon the earth of reality."

Azel: From the next dawn, you will build your future with your own feet.

Azel: I look forward to seeing what kind of future the "country of man," free from God's hands, will build.

Everyone's eyes were glued to the disappearing moon, and screams and cries erupted before the end—

A sharp sound pierced through it all, drowning out everything else.

(This sound... it's the gunshot I heard when I was a Belle...)

When I looked back at the stage, the God was no longer there.

Just like the reddened moon, the Living God was also dyed red and lying on the ground.

One by one, the people who noticed were losing their words.

Emma: ...Ah...

My voiceless scream dissolved into the noise of the end.

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Romantic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

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