#i have been a bit exhausted after the holidays so i wanted to make something fun to get out of artblock

[craftiestsloth]

A little baby bokoblin from Zelda I made for fun

[endless-ineffabilities]

the other side of the door (1/2)

Ewan Mitchell x bestfriend!reader

a/n: so there was this, and now you have this. bish bash bosh.

main masterlist

The one wherein your best friend breaks your heart.

The cast has gathered in Tom's apartment for the night, drinks and conversation flowing freely. Ewan brought you with him, as he always does. You've been his constant plus-one — to parties, premieres, and even group holidays.

You've been around them so much, that the cast members already consider you as their good friend.

When they first met you, they had mistakenly thought you were Ewan's girlfriend.

But no, he profusely fended off such allegations, clarifying that you were his "bestfriend, and other half." Doesn't he know that calling you his other half kind of makes it worse?

Because you want them to be right.

You've been in love with him for a while now.

And he doesn't feel the same. Talk about the sob story of your life.

Not too long ago, you and Ewan were a tangle of limbs on your couch, covered in layers of sweaters and duvets to keep warm. A film played on TV. It used to be one of your favourites, but not after that night.

One glass of wine led to another—a kiss on the forehead, a peck on the cheek, brushes of skin against skin.

And suddenly, you were kissing him.

And he was kissing you back with just as much fervour. Just as much love.

Or so you thought.

"Wait, love," he panted, pulling away, his forehead still pressed against yours. His every exhale fanned warmth over your face, and he was all you felt. All you saw, all you smelled. He was all around you.

"What?"

"We can't," he whispered, and you strained to hear him. "We can't do this."

Your chest tightened, and judging by his worried expression, he can see the distress clear on your face.

"Why not?" you asked meekly, your hands still clutching his chest.

He smiled sadly, brushing your hair away from your face. "We're best friends, my darling. I don't want to ruin this. What we have—it's good. Don't we keep saying that it's forever? I mean that."

"I know," you replied, shaking your head slightly, "but we've known each other for years, Ewan. Did you never think... about us? And how we could be... We could be good together."

"We are good together," he insisted. "Which is why we shouldn't change this. We're only going to mess it up."

"But I—"

"And," he cut you off, "I don't think I want to get into something like that right now. My career's just taking off, and I want to pour my entire self into it." He laughed dryly, as if infusing casual humour into the situation and trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal would make it all better. "Hell, I can't even think about dating anyone."

But I'm not just anyone, you wanted to say, but you kept it in. You know Ewan, and once he has his mind set, there is no changing it. Not without great effort and cause anyway.

You did your best to avoid him for an entire week after that, ignoring his calls and his extensive voicemails, but he eventually wore you down, showing up at your door with a bouquet of flowers and a massive tray of your favourite dessert.

A peace offering. You're his best friend and he can't bear to have a rift between the two of you, he said.

He was right.

You want—need—him around. No matter what. Your true feelings can take the back burner.

This is meant to be forever, after all.

The hour is late and you feel exhaustion setting in. You think of heading home, but you can't find Ewan anywhere, and you have been searching for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, girly!" Phia cheerily says as she stumbles upon you in the hallway. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit tired. Have you seen Ewan?"

"Oh, I don't know," she immediately replies. "He's not in the living area, last I checked. Maybe he's in one of the rooms upstairs? Taking a breather?"

"Oh, could he be?" He normally doesn't leave you all alone during these things, so if he's nowhere in sight, he must really need a minute to himself.

Before you can protest, Phia loops her arm around yours. "I'll come with you, love. Let's go and have a look."

Phia chats your ear off and you are grateful for the distraction, but nothing could have prepared you for what comes next.

You hear hushed voices from inside one of the rooms. As you near the one farthest from the staircase, the voices become clearer. The door is open just a crack, but the guest room is tiny enough that even the softest sounds are amplified in it.

There's a man's voice. Ewan's, as distinguishable to you as your favourite melody. Followed by a lilting, high-pitched giggle.

"I'm serious, Lou," Ewan says, raising his voice a tad, "I think I've had enough to drink."

Louise, the twins' cousin, groans playfully. You hear some shuffling. A mattress creaking under weight. "You're such a lightweight, Ewan."

"Hey! I'm not a lightweight," Ewan counters, humour seeping in his tone.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice drops to a sultry drawl. "So you're sober enough to come here and kiss me then?"

Your stomach lurches. You've only had one drink, yet the room tilts, and the walls seem to spin around you. You catch Phia's eye—her expression mirrors your disbelief, wide-eyed and incredulous.

She is about to push the door open, when you catch her wrist and shake your head vehemently. You whisper urgently, "Phi, let's just go."

"What? But he—" She pauses when the first smacking noises resound from the room. Louise moans against Ewan as she kisses him.

As he kisses her.

So much for him claiming he didn't want to date anyone. Maybe he just didn't want to date you. Let alone want you the way he clearly wants her—the way he's having her behind that door.

"What about the girl you came with?" you hear her ask.

"What girl?" He breathes, actually sounding confused. You feel nothing more than an afterthought. Just some girl he can't even remember.

Certainly not his forever. You're not even his 'right now'.

"Fuckin' hell," Phia curses under her breath.

"Oh," Ewan says, as it finally dawns on him, "she's... she's just my friend."

"Phia, let's go please," you repeat, more insistent this time. She hears the desperation in your tone and takes your hand comfortingly, pulling you along downstairs.

Fabien stands near the foot of the staircase, absently nursing his drink while scrolling through his phone. His gaze shifts when he spots the two of you, eyebrows lifting in mild curiosity.

"Whoa there," he says, his eyes scanning your face with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—"

But Phia interjects roughly. "We're beating Ewan up later."

"Phia, come on," you mumble, growing embarrassed, "It's not a big deal. He can do whatever he wants."

"But he told me—"

"Wait," Fabien says, catching on, "Ewan's up there doing what with who?"

Before Phia can go on a passionate tirade, you exhale loudly, "Look, you guys. I just want to go home. I'll say bye to everyone and get out of here."

Fabien puts his drink down somewhere. "I'll go with you," he offers, without giving it much thought. "Since Ewan's occupied, and we hate him now apparently—"

Your brows raise, while Phia merely gives a thumbs up.

"—someone needs to see you home safe."

You smile gratefully. "You sure, Fabs? I don't want you to miss out on the rest of the party."

"Ah, don't worry about it," he smirks, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders as you head to the main room. "Knowing Tom, there'll be another one of these things next week."

Ewan stumbles down the stairs, his steps unsteady from the weight of too many drinks. But there's something else, a deeper unease twisting in his gut that he can't quite shake.

He needs you to make it all better, but where are you?

When he finds Phia pouring herself a glass of water in the kitchen, he asks for one too.

But she icily responds, "Pour yourself one."

"What?" He asks, but he doesn't dwell on it. "Do you know where—"

"She left," Phia shrugs, and Ewan wonders why she said that smugly, "not too long ago."

"What do you mean she left?" Ewan straightens, growing alert despite the haze of the alcohol.

"She was tired. Wanted to go home. She came upstairs to get you, but you seemed busy. So Fabien offered to accompany her, the sweetheart that he is."

The flood of information overwhelms him, but it's nothing compared to the hollow ache of your absence.

"I... I wasn't busy..."

"We heard you, Ewan," Phia says, disappointed. She watches the realisation dawn on his face for a full minute. The dread. The self-loathing. "I mean, it's none of my business. But maybe wipe that lipstick off your neck. It's bloody gross."

[buckets-and-trees]

Pull the String

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: Friday, September 28, 2017. You have to live a normal life after meeting a larger than life figure. It's doable, and you're not stuck in summer dreams, but you do think of him from time to time. Another encounter in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, kissing, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, overstimulation, hint of praise kink, internal ejaculation, overstimulation, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: I wanted to finish this for your birthday proper, @stargazingfangirl18, but alas, only managed for birthday week. It's not a standalone, so it technically won't fit into your Birthday Bonenanza, but I did use a prompt from your list (bolded dialogue). Credit to @biteofcherry for helping me flesh out Mark from accounting a little bit.

You blinked and then read the text message again.

Something’s come up, sorry, have to cancel tonight.

It was only twenty minutes before Mark was supposed to pick you up for dinner.

A third date dinner.

YOU: Are you okay?

You typed and sent the quick text back.

You saw the three dots that indicated his typing, then they disappeared. You frowned. This was really unlike him. Mark had been nothing but reliable and a gentleman since you’d met him. He worked in the accounting firm on one of the other floors of your office building, and you had seen each other a few times at the coffee shop on the main floor in the morning. He was smart, funny without being a goof. You felt wholly normal around him.

And after having your world rocked on earthquake levels by Captain America over the 4th of July holiday, normal was what you wanted.

MARK: Everything’s fine, but we should probably call this off.

“What?” you couldn’t help actually exclaiming out loud.

You scanned up and down over your texts.

YOU: Did I do something wrong or misread the situation?

You really didn’t think that you had. In fact, you were sure of it, but you’d let him explain just in case.

It had been a few weeks, and the texts had ebbed and flowed naturally. After your second date last Sunday, you’d exchanged a kiss that had been modest but had enough heat to it that it left you starting to think about more. And last night the texts between the two of you had gotten a little spicier than any previous exchanges. Nothing vulgar, but flirty enough that you had shaved your legs and had been debating all day over what to wear.

In your silk robe, makeup finished, and hair nearly done, apparently you didn’t need to make any wardrobe decisions other than slipping into a comfy t-shirt and leggings now.

MARK: No, it’s nothing you did, and I hope we can just be friends.

Your jaw dropped and you threw your phone across the room.

Friends?

You abandoned your mirror, no need to finish getting ready at this point, and went to pick up your phone.

Fuck Mark.

But you opened your text thread with him one final time.

YOU: No hard feelings, if it’s over it’s over, and we can be cordial if we run into each other, but honestly I’m not looking for more platonic friends.

Run-on sentence aside, you felt good about the text after you hit send, and you promptly blocked Mark’s number and deleted all the texts.

And what you said was mostly true.

You actually could use some more platonic friends in this town you’d lived in for less than a year, but you weren’t looking to be friends with guys who did but then didn’t want to date you.

But well into your thirties, you were so used to and exhausted by the runaround of talking, of the dating apps, of the first dates that fizzled into nothings – first dates that you rarely even agreed to go on anymore because it usually turned out to be a waste of time with men who were too boring or too horny. For a moment Mark had been a breath of fresh air, normal and nice and endearing.

And apparently not worth the time and effort you had sunk into the beginning of the blossoming relationship either.

Even at that thought, you were glad you had already followed your self-imposed rule of deleting messages, because you already had the itch to go back and re-read, and so it was good you had removed that temptation. No need to torture yourself.

You turned on your favorite album, cranked up the music, and ordered delivery from your favorite Italian restaurant with tiramisu and extra garlic bread.

You would watch your favorite movie, indulge in your favorite food, and later put yourself to bed with another chapter of the spicy romance novel you were reading and a nice session with your favorite vibrator.

Fuck Mark.

The app said your dinner would arrive in thirty-five minutes, so you slipped into leggings and one of your old comfy t-shirts, and flopped onto the couch to wait, the song from the opening credits of the movie making you feel just a little bit better.

At this stage of life, it was just annoying that Mark had called it off. Make it through dates three and four and people your age were reasonably sure they were headed down the relationship road together. At least that’s how you operated. You knew yourself enough that you weren’t dating someone to try and figure out who you were like you maybe had at times when you were younger, trying to live up to some expectation of society. You were busy enough that your free time was precious, and so you didn’t go on frivolous dates. Most important, as seemingly everyone around you had peeled off and gotten married while you remained perpetually single, you had to figure out if you could be happy alone, and you’d spent time to figure that out and truly find happiness. It was lonely sometimes, but overall you had built a good life, put your time into things that really satisfied you.

When you realized you were more annoyed at having to start over again than over losing Mark, you sighed and realized that was both a good and a bad sign. Good because you clearly weren’t going to be hung up on Mark, but bad because he really hadn’t meant much – you’d just wanted him to.

A small ache in your chest resurfaced.

The person you did miss was Steve Rogers.

And you held no bitterness there – it had been so clear for both of you that it was a summer holiday fling – but you did have some leftover longing.

Who could blame you?

When The Avengers had come together in New York in 2012, you had swooned over Thor, but there was something so steady, charming, and trustworthy about Captain America down to the bone that your admiration had developed into quite the crush. You knew the parasocial relationship that you and the rest of the world developed with him over the years was synthetic. It was fun and harmless.

But then you had met the real Steve Rogers in the flesh – and spent time flesh to flesh with him over the Fourth of July weekend.

The days you spent with him had been both intense and surreal. You had context to who he was from history books and the public persona, but the man behind the shield was naturally and infinitely more than what screens, books, and social media could ever portray. It was clear that being in exile from his country and on the run from most of the world due to their signing of the Sokovia Accords had changed him. But as you talked and spent time together, you suspected that losing his freedom had also freed him in some ways from the burdens of expectation and the colossal mantle and responsibilities of being Captain America.

He hadn’t given up his sense of duty to still help when and where he could, but he could simply be Steve.

In the nearly two days and two nights you’d spent together almost constantly in each other’s company, you’d shared so much, talking over things that were both trivial and meaningful as the conversations evolved. You’d spent time in serene silence together as well.

All of that felt stolen out of the pages of a book on its own.

But then there had also been the sex.

So much super soldier sex.

Rough, intense, sensual, exquisite, and all-consuming.

All of it – the physical and emotional – had been more intimate than anything else you had ever experienced.

Logically you had also come to realize that the pure fact that you both knew the time was so limited and fleeting undoubtedly allowed both of you to suspend boundaries and open up in ways you wouldn’t have if it had been a more conventional coupling up situation.

Yet it didn’t take anything away from the memory of those days together.

Logically you also knew no one would ever compare to him, and you had been realistic about that.

But tonight you wouldn’t worry about letting your thoughts drift to Steve.

It was more difficult to think of the emotional, and so your mind diverted quickly to the physical.

The way he had looked at you, touched you, kissed you, pleasured you. The feel of his cock inside of you. His fingers and his mouth ripping more orgasms from you than…

“No,” you scolded yourself out loud and groaned. “It’s too early on a Friday night to be thinking about sex with Steve.”

Not that it did any good to say so.

You pressed your thighs together, feeling the ache the worst at your core.

No longer paying any attention whatsoever to the movie you had going on the tv, it was the doorbell ringing with your food delivery that saved you from the spiral of desperately horny thoughts you were caught in.

There were two bags deposited on your doorstep, and you snatched them both up eagerly. The larger brown paper bag was emanating some heat, so you opened the smaller one first, assuming correctly that it held your tiramisu. You snatched a spoon from your silverware drawer and went for a sweet, indulgent bite. A little spoiling before you turned to the savory feast.

That bite made you moan in satisfaction. You savored the way the cream was perfectly smooth and balanced with the coffee and liqueur-soaked ladyfingers.

Your doorbell rang again, and you rushed over to open the door, assuming the delivery person probably realized they had forgotten a precious part of your meal – likely the garlic bread, and that would have been a sin!

Spoon still in your mouth, you opened the door and then froze.

Wearing the same aviators and non-descript baseball cap, Steve Rogers stood before you, as if it hadn’t been nearly three months since your once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

This couldn’t be real.

And yet his aggressive grip on your hip as he backed you into your place and kicked the door closed behind him was irrefutable.

Your heart raced as Steve pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. Your spoon clattered to the floor. He discarded his sunglasses on the table by the door and then captured your lips in a searing kiss. His beard scratched your skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted for the demands of his hungry kiss, and when he licked into your mouth, his tongue slid against yours slowly for a moment, and you knew he was tasting the sugary sweetness of the bite you’d just savored, savoring it himself.

When he finally broke away, you gasped for air. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "But I couldn't stay away."

Your mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. "Isn’t it risky for you to come back?"

Steve's thumb traced your lower lip. "Some risks are worth taking."

You melted into his touch, your body quickly abandoning reason. You yanked him closer by his shirt collar, kissing him fiercely. You removed the hat that was already askew on his head and tangled your fingers in his hair. It was longer now than when you'd last seen him. He groaned, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch.

Steve laid you down on the cushions, his body covering yours as he kissed a trail down your neck. His beard scratched deliciously against your sensitive skin, making you shiver. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tight muscles beneath his shirt.

"I've thought about this so much since I left," Steve murmured against your collarbone. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

You arched into his touch, desperate for more. "Me too," you breathed, that confession opening a dangerous door you had tried to keep closed inside of you.

Steve's hands pushed your shirt up, exposing your breasts. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp and clutch at his neck. He gave it a hard, long suck before letting his tongue swirl around your nipple again, laving at it as his hand kneaded the other. It was all you could do to moan, arch into him more, and hold onto him like a lifeline.

Steve kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, looking up at you with a nearly feral hunger in his eye, something dark that sent a thrill of both adrenaline and desire through you, and you lifted your hips because no one had ever looked at you with so much need.

Steve slowly peeled your leggings down, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed more of your bare skin. You shivered as the cool air hit your exposed flesh, goosebumps rising on your thighs. Steve's large hands caressed up your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He settled his broad shoulders between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then nipped at your tender flesh, making you yelp, before he soothed it with his tongue and then another kiss, even softer than the first. Then he shifted, and you could feel his hot breath against your most intimate parts, already slick for him. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he placed an open-mouthed kiss to you there, and you sucked in a breath.

"God, I've missed your taste," he growled.

Without warning, he licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, making you gasp and arch off the couch. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. He circled your clit teasingly before sucking it into his mouth, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve's tongue was relentless, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise flicks that had you writhing beneath him. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your inner walls as he continued his assault on your clit. The dual sensations quickly had you climbing towards your peak.

"Steve," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your thighs began to tremble as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. Steve redoubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud.

With a cry, you came undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Steve worked you through your climax, lapping up your release until you gently pushed his head away, oversensitive.

But he growled and bit at the inside of your other thigh. “I’m not done eating my fill of this pretty cunt yet.”

You gasped at Steve's words, a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through you despite your recent orgasm. His blue eyes were dark with desire as he looked up at you from between your thighs.

"Steve," you breathed, torn between wanting more and feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation.

He seemed to sense your hesitation. "Color?" he asked, his voice husky but almost gentle.

"Green," you replied. How could you deny him? This? When you assumed you would never see him again.

Steve's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Good girl," he purred, before diving back in.

This time, his tongue explored you even more thoroughly, dipping inside you to taste your essence before returning to your clit. He alternated between broad strokes and precise flicks, keeping you on edge. When he slipped two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot, tears were creeping up on you for the mingled overstimulation and ecstasy.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against Steve's face as he worked you towards another climax. The coarse hair of his beard rubbed deliciously against your inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's it," Steve murmured against your flesh. "Let go for me, sweet girl."

His words, combined with a particularly well-timed curl of his fingers and another hard suck on your clit, sent you careening over the edge once more. You cried out, your back arching off the couch as your second orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the first.

Steve didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working you through the aftershocks until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess. Only then did he pull away, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels.

You lay helpless, trying to catch your breath. He leaned forward and caught the tears on your cheeks with strong swipes of his thumbs. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Steve's bold declaration. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation.

"I already am," you confessed softly.

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - possessiveness, pride, and a hint of vulnerability. He surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth.

Steve's hands roamed your body, relearning every curve and plane. When he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples, you arched into his touch with a gasp.

"Please" you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You surged forward for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you inside me."

Steve groaned, his hips grinding against yours. You could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and you ached to have him fill you completely. He sat back, quickly stripping off his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your hands roamed over his muscled chest and abs, marveling at the perfection of his body.

As Steve unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down, you took the opportunity to remove your shirt fully, leaving you both gloriously naked. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him, flushed and wanting. His eyes raked over your body with such intensity that you felt more exposed than you ever had before, curves and scars and imperfections on full display. You felt yourself flush under his gaze.

You reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours was electrifying. Steve captured your lips in another passionate kiss as he settled between your thighs. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and you rolled your hips, silently begging him to take you.

Steve broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed inside. You both groaned at the exquisite feeling of him stretching and filling you. When he was fully seated, he paused, but not long enough for you to adjust to his size. But the painful pleasure of it only fueled your hunger for more of him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice strained, words hot against the crook of your neck. "So tight and perfect for me."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the fullness and the intensity of having Steve inside you again after so long. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping with each roll of his hips.

"Steve," you moaned, arching into him. "More, faster."

He growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The couch creaked beneath you as Steve's powerful thrusts drove you into the cushions. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it," Steve panted, his voice rough with desire. "Take all of me."

Your world narrowed to the feeling of Steve moving inside you, the sound of skin on skin, and the increasingly desperate noises falling from both your lips.

Steve's rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, nails digging into his back as pleasure built within you. Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at me," Steve commanded, his voice husky and strained.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw emotion you saw there – desire, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

"I want to see you fall apart," he growled, never breaking eye contact as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. “I want to watch what only I can do to you.”

One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with the precision he perfected in the heat of July.

"Come for me," Steve commanded, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words and the relentless pressure on your clit sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You cried out Steve's name as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. The intensity of your climax triggered Steve's own release. He groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Steve's weight pressed you into the couch, but you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him.

When both of you settled back into even breathing, he planted slow kisses along your jaw and blazed a trail back to your mouth. Cock still inside you, he kissed you slowly. Slow and unrepentant, in no hurry now, only drinking you in, and you let your hands stroke up and down his back, relishing in the impossible and stolen closeness.

You could survive a second encounter with this super soldier.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

READ their next part/later that night: Put Me Back on My Shelf

read more of the: Exiled Nomad Series

[meazalykov]

cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater

barcelona femeni x uswnt!reader

warnings: mentions of betrayal, tiny bit of angst, insecurities

Y/N L/n, an American forward on the Barcelona team had fire in her eyes when she stepped foot on the catalan pitch. 

Leaving behind her life in the States to pursue her dreams in Barcelona was a sacrifice that she didn’t regret. The goals, her skills, and passion increased for football as she got the privilege to play for one of the best women’s clubs in the world. Y/n flourished in Barcelona. But despite her success on the field, her personal life was rocky.

When she left Gotham FC to play for the Catalan club, y/n left behind her boyfriend, Leon. The couple were distraught at the news but y/n promised to visit Leon during international breaks and holidays. At first, she was able to facetime her lover everyday. Guilt plastered on her features during the call sometimes, remembering that the long-distance was because of her decisions, but y/n knew that her career came first. 

Y/N's heart was shattered when she stumbled upon the tweets above which revealed a painful truth: her boyfriend, Leon, had betrayed her trust. The news hit her like a thunderbolt, leaving her reeling with disbelief and heartache. She couldn’t believe it. Not her sweet Leon? Sometimes she trusted the boy more than she could trust herself. 

Without hesitation, she blocked Leon on everything before he had the chance to defend himself. Instagram, Imessage, twitter, facebook, you name it. Y/n was disgusted and couldn’t believe that Leon would betray her, no excuses would make her forgive him. 

The 21 year old girl hated two things. She hated feeling betrayed, and she hated vulnerability. The first one happened to her and she didn’t want to have anybody pity her about what happened. Yes, her two year relationship was flushed down the toilet but she tried her best to forget about it. 

Determined to keep her emotions hidden, Y/N threw herself into her training everyday with even more fire, pushing herself to the limit with every sprint and every launch with her foot that sent the ball behind the nets. However, some of her teammates noticed the change in her demeanor, the way she buried her pain beneath a facade of strength. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” Alexia called out across the grassy pitch. It was 5 in the evening and training ended for the team an hour before. The captain of the team, Alexia, noticed y/n’s familiar gym bag still in the locker room after everyone went home. Observing the younger girl who was dribbling the yellow colored ball with her ivory-colored cleats, she closed the huge space between them and saw the sadness in y/n’s eyes. 

“Oh hi Ale! I'm just training for the game next week. I have to be prepared, you know?” Y/n chuckled to herself. The smile on her face went away when she noticed that Alexia wasn’t laughing with her. 

“You’ve been training for the last three hours. You need rest most importantly.” Alexia said as she looked at y/n’s soft facial features. Something was clearly wrong with the younger adult, but she wouldn’t pester her about the problem until she absolutely needed to. 

“I know. Can I please have 10 more minutes then i will-” 

“No! you need rest. come on” Alexia kicked the ball away from y/n’s feet before holding her arm gently, pulling her into the locker room so y/n would stop overworking herself. 

A week later, at the peak of her game against Eibar, y/n had scored two goals by the time halftime arrived. She's on fire and the crowd was chanting her on for a potential hat-trick. But as the game progresses, so does y/n's exhaustion.

In the 50th minute, she pushes herself a bit too far as she passed the ball towards Mariona. Falling to the ground, her vision goes black for a few seconds before pain shoots up in her lower back. Y/n hisses at the pain as she holds onto her back. Everyone around her knows that she is injured.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" As soon as the girl heard Alexia's feet run up to her and ask that question, y/n relaxes her face and stands up ignoring the pain in her back.

"Nothing, it was just a blow." Y/n looks at Alexia and Patri who stands beside her. The Spanish girls look at each other with a uncertain look before Alexia looks over and yells at their coach Jona, "está lesionada, no puede seguir jugando"

Y/n didn't know much Spanish but she had an understanding on what's happening when she notices her teammate, Esmee, stand up from the bench and start to warm up.

"Ale, I'm okay I promise!" Y/n cries.

"Y/n, we know you're not. Its okay--- You did a great job before this." Patri tries to calm Y/n down.

"You cannot play with a bad back. You aren't playing until the medic clears you!" Alexia gives y/n a stern look.

Despite y/n's protests that she's fine, her coach and teammates, including captain Alexia, are adamant about getting her off the field. Everyone noticed how overworked she was. Some figured out why through social media, others still didn't have a clue.

Y/N is frustrated, not just because of her injury, but because it's a painful reminder of the emotional turmoil she's been going through since her ex-boyfriend's betrayal weeks before. She tried to forget about it but every time she scored a goal, she wished that he was there to congratulate her afterwards.

Each goal reminded her how good she is. After Leon cheated on her with a Washington Spirit winger, she wondered if she was as good as the winger is. Everyone in the soccer world knew that Y/n was miles ahead of the DC player, but insecurities plagued the girl's mind.

Alone in the nurse's room, Y/N lets her tears flow. It's not just the pain of the injury; it's the weight of everything else she's been carrying. The nurse came in and assumed that the crying came from the pain from the girl's back, but y/n had to clarify that it was emotional.

Luckily, another doctor said that her back pain was caused from stress and nothing serious. However, she couldn't play for a few weeks so she could wind down and heal with massage appointments.

Y/n was relieved but felt torn at the idea of not playing until the new year. How is she supposed to occupy her mind from Leon?

An hour later, Y/n heard the door open which revealed Alexia, Ingrid, Esmee, and Frido. All of them entered with hesitation, hoping that Y/n wouldn't kick them out. All of them could see through her facade. They know something deeper was bothering her.

"Hi (reader's nickname), how are you feeling?" Ingrid spoke with a soft voice, sitting beside y/n on the bed as she pulled a piece of hair behind her small ear.

"I'm fine, how was the game?" y/n asked. All of the girls, except for her, look over at Esmee with a smile.

"This girl over here subbed on for you and got a hat-trick. we won 5-0 because of you and her." Frido said. Y/n smiles brightly (for the first time in days) as she looked at her best friend with a shy smile.

"No way! Great job Es!" Y/n hugged the dutch.

"Thank you." Es responded.

"Y/n--- what did the doctor say when she came in?" Alexia spoke up, changing the conversation.

"The doctor said I'll be out for 2-3 weeks." Y/n said. Alexia's eyebrows knitted as she sat beside y/n, opposite side of where Ingrid sat.

"Why?" Alexia asked as she wrapped her arm around Y/n's shoulders.

"She suspects that I've been overworking myself, which is what caused my back blow. I have to go to physical therapy for massage treatments until I am better." Y/n spoke.

"Will you be able to go on international break?" Frido asked as she pulled one of the metal chairs in the room by the bed, she sat down looking at y/n with a sympathetic look. Y/n's eyebrows raised as she realized she had an upcoming friendly with the USWNT.

"I don't think so." Y/n responded.

"Look, we care about you a lot y/n. We've noticed how much you've been overworking yourself. This has never been an issue before, is there something wrong?" Ingrid asked. Everyone noticed the dry tears on her dimpled cheeks, but they didn't want to force the girl to talk.

"Um- I-" Y/n tried to speak before looking at Esmee, who sat at the foot of the bed. The dutch woman looked at Y/n with an urging look. She scrolls online outside of football and came across the source to what might've been hurting her best friend the last few weeks.

"(reader's nickname), is this about Leon?" Esmee spoke up. Y/n flinched at the sound of his name before biting her lip. The older women raised their eyebrows with questions in their minds.

"Yes." Y/n answered before a tear came down her right eye. Alexia wiped it with her thumb before holding the younger girl tightly.

"Niña, did something happen between you and him?" Alexia asks. The blonde never tries to intervene with the team's personal lives, but as a captain it is necessary when moments like this happen. Ale had an idea on who "Leon" was but she didn't know him personally.

"He um--" Y/n coughed. She realized she couldn't say it without breaking down, so she looks at Esmee with permission to speak for her.

"From my understanding, Leon cheated on y/n and started dating one of her old teammates in America." Esmee looked over at Y/n, hoping she explained the situation right. Y/n nodded her head, slowly, showing that Esmee explained the situation perfectly.

"When did this happen?" Frido asked.

"It happened two weeks ago." Y/n whispered. Alexia felt guilty at this news, she knew something was wrong but didn't understand how bad the situation is.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart.. Why didn't you tell us this happened?" Ingrid holds onto y/n's right side and Alexia held onto her left. Y/n started to cry again, realizing she could've avoided her injury if she spoke up about her problems.

"I didn't want to burden you guys with my problems." Y/n responded.

"You're not a burden. We might be your teammates but we are your sisters too. That Leon guy is an asshole and what he did is on him, not on you." Frido spoke as she held y/n's knee.

"Exactly. You're one of the best wingers and what he did to you wasn't because of your performance on the pitch. He is insecure and you deserve better." Ingrid said.

"You can come to us with any problems you have. Or you can come to me if it's personal. You're not alone." Alexia placed her chin on top of y/n's head, still holding onto her.

"I know--- but football was my escape from him. It's not that I didn't trust you guys, but I just didn't want to deal with what happened. As long as I played football and trained, my mind wasn't on him. That's why I've been overplaying." Y/n, in a vulnerable state, spoke up about her mindset on the situation.

"We love you y/n, you'll feel better about this and someday you won't even remember that jerk's name." Esmee spoke up. Y/n giggled at the shy girls statement.

As y/n embraced the comfort from her teammates, she begins to see that her healing now wasn't just physical—it's emotional too. And with her team by her side, she knows she'll come back stronger, both on and off the pitch.

<3

[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.

[cheriladycl01]

Billion Dollar Baby - Grid x Billionare! Reader x Lewis Hamilton (Rom) Part 2

Plot: Girlie loves Formula One, but she also loved Chaos and Drama so she offers the FIA/ the F1 Teams 300 million to do a race … for her under her rules!

You’d been working tirelessly with the FIA and all the teams, making sure that their cars were the same as the ones currently on track and that the teams still had enough time for their regular tasks within the team.

You’d been between the UK, Monaco, Italy and the US. Helping all the teams prepare, going round to get special one time sponsors involved in the name of charity and you were honesty exhausted.

You decided it was time for a break, and therefore time to call upon one of your holiday homes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to go to Greece or Mauritius. But you knew you just needed some time away.

You were walking around London looking for a new suitcase, your 10 year old Louis Vuitton had finally given up and was no longer able to be used. So you knew you needed to find something different.

“Do you guys like this one?” You asked the security guards that were with you. Your personal assistant was also supposed to be there, but since you were about to go on holiday she also decided to take her annual leave.

Apparently she got a last minute flight to Canada, and you knew she worked extremely hard to make your horrendously busy like a little easier so you knew this would be important for her.

“Mmmm very nice Miss” one smiles and you cock your head to the side with a little laugh.

“No passion, I definitely needed Lysa here” you sigh jokingly making security laugh.

“Miss, where do you wish to go after this? Harrods is close enough” he offers and you nod, knowing it was safely walkable.

As your walking you spot someone across the street from you, and before you can even look to see if there are any cars coming down the one way street you’re crossing the road to that individual.

“Lewis! Lewis! Hi!” You smile running over to him, your group of security chasing after you.

“Y/N? What are you doing in the UK?” He asks looking over you. He hadn’t seen you since the meeting with all the teams and the FIA, you looked more tired. Not that you looked bad tired, Lewis thought it was impossible for you to look bad at all, he’s seen you at your worst and still thought you were gorgeous.

“Just here before I go on holiday for a little bit. Most of my work is done with the teams so I wanted a little break from work and this race that I’ve been organising. I hope you’ll find it fun, and get a chance to see a new light of the sport” you smile calmly and be smiles back at you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, knowing you had a few comfort vacation sports and if he were to guess you’d be going to one of those rather than somewhere new.

“Mauritius” you smile and he grins, you guys always went there together. He was shocked that you hadn’t sold the Villa on after the two of you broke up considering how many summer or winter breaks you’d spent there.

“At the Villa? Or?” He asks.

“Mmmm at the Villa, say you guys have a nice little break now. Do you want to come with me?” You ask out if the blue.

“Oh, erm you want me to come with you?” He asks a bit shocked that you’d offered.

“Yeah for old time sake?” You smile awkwardly and he just coughs with a little laugh.

“Look, I thought about what you said and you were … are it for me too. And if you want to, I’m willing to try again. Only if … that’s something you wanted” you admit and he just stands there with his jaw dropped, the security guards are awkwardly trying to act as if they aren’t actually there.

“Y/N, I thought …” he says and you cock your head in confusion.

“You thought?” You push him to finish what he was about to say.

“You hated me in all honesty. And I thought you’d never give me another chance. I don’t even know if I deserve one with the way I ended things” he sighs.

“We needed things to end when they did Lewis otherwise it was going down a route neither of us would have been happy down. But I think we’ve both had time to grow since and I think part of me always knew if make my way back to you!” You smile at him and a soft grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course I’ll come with you! What are you doing right now?” He asks finally smiling and nodding at your security and saying a small little hello.

“Suitcase shopping the Dior one has officially been decommissioned” you smile and he nods knowing the exact one you were on about considering it was brought to every race, every business trip and every holiday you joined him on or he joined you on.

“Ah yes. The one that the spider from Qatar travelled back to the UK with us in” he laughs at the memory and how you both freaked out seeing the thick bodied brown spider that to you and Lewis thought could be some kind of Tarantula.

“Oh god don’t remind me! That was terrifying! Do you want to come help me look for a new one, we were about to go to Harrods” you offer and you smile at him.

“Yea, I think I’d like that!” He smiles taking your hand.

deuxmoi

Liked by y/user and 37,478 others

deuxmoi Spotted in London last night, y/user and lewishamilton ex partners … is there a rekindling of their relationship that ended in 2021? Or are they just hanging out as exes who bumped into each other. 📸 beckylecky2

View all 238 comments

estiebestie: please omg mum and dad NEED to get back together

lecsainz: omg this wasn’t on my f1 bingo card

landoscurls: y/n ~ best WAG

-> valtteripeaches: she’s been my fav since 2016

avengermaxv1: damn thought that was done and dusted in 2021

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[lisenberry]

We drift in and out

Chapter 3: Did I find you, or you find me?

E/NSFW/MDNI

CW: Consensual Somno, Light Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst

6k (I know, I went nuts)

10k COMPLETE!

This whole fic started with one picture of a man with hairy arms holding a baby. Everything that came after was a fever dream.

Ch. 1 , Ch. 2, AO3

You had one last night together.  Eighteen short hours before a black Land Rover would pick him up and take him away.  Off to catch a plane to some forward operating base in a remote, foreign place.

He’d been home with you for four months, by far his longest leave yet.  With each day, you’d gotten more comfortable, wondering if maybe he’d become permanent.  That instead of just playing house, you were living something real.  Building something special together.

That your plans could change, and you could let the fearful part of you rest.  That doubtful voice that kept you always prepared.  Always on.  The survival mode that kept you moving forward but also stopped you from slowing down long enough to breathe.  To enjoy.

It was a skill that benefited you in your work.  The single-minded attention to detail and success.  And when you’d learned you were pregnant, it had kept you from giving into the panic of the unknown.  But once she was born, you didn’t have a choice, but to sit with it all.  The joy, and the exhaustion.  Slow, blissful days had become your routine.    

Now you were facing the plan again.  The one he wasn’t in.  You’d survive, of course, but the bleakness of it cut like a wound.  You should’ve known nothing so perfect could last forever.  Maybe you did know, deep down.  Maybe he did, too, and that’s why you kept each other just a bit out of reach. 

But you still had a little more time.  A few more memories to make before it came to an uncertain end.

You popped out to Marks & Sparks for supplies to make dinner.  It had become a little holiday for you in the last few months.  He’d stay home with the baby, and you’d put on real clothes and do your hair and escape for a few hours to squeeze the fruits and smell the cheeses.  Go aisle by aisle and daydream about new recipes to try.

Not this time.  This time you hurried through as fast as you could.  Wasted not a minute as you snatched up everything on your list and rushed to get back to them.

They weren’t in your apartment when got home, so you crossed the hall and knocked on the door to his. 

“It’s open!”  His voice rang from inside, as you tried the knob and walked in.

He had the baby’s highchair in the kitchen, and the dining room table set with fine china and candles.  Music crooned from some hidden speaker, something classical you’d never heard before.

“What’s all this?”  You asked, as you set down the bags of groceries on his counter. 

“I thought we could eat out tonight.  Something different.”  He stood with his hands at his hips, and a burp cloth strung over his shoulder.  A scheming smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.  They didn’t crinkle at the edges the same way you’d gotten used to.

“You’re okay with me making a mess of your kitchen?”  You teased.  “You know I’ll use every pan and utensil at my disposal.”

Your place was lovely, but his side of the building had twice the space, and a balcony that overlooked Hyde Park.  During the few times you visited, it had felt like stepping into a different world.  Like a fancy hotel suite in a far-off country, in the way that it had visitors but never really felt lived in.  Sanitized into a blank slate, adaptable to anyone who crossed the threshold in search of an escape from their mundane reality.

Or like a museum, it was a place that existed outside of time. 

“You cook, I’ll clean up.”   He leaned his hips back against the granite and opened his arms to it welcomingly. 

It made sense that he’d want to spend his last night in his own home.  His own bed. 

“Suit yourself,” you plopped a smacking kiss on the baby’s downy head as she sat contentedly in her chair, chewing on a colorful toy.

When you turned your attention back to him, he waited patiently for his greeting.   The longing with which he first looked at you and your daughter the day you’d come home was back again.  It had seemed like the start of something then.

This time it felt like the end, as you pulled up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.  Short and sweet.  If you hooked your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, like every corner of your soul was aching to do, you’d never let go.

The food would rot on the counter and the hard things would never get done. 

So, you settled back down and unpacked the bags in front of you. 

“Will you pick the wine?  I’m making your favorite.” 

In lifetimes past, you would’ve dressed up and gone to The Midland in King’s Cross for dinner.  Fed each other oysters and champagne.  Danced until the early hours of the morning and crashed wildly into bed.  Shared a cigar afterwards, naked but for the shelter of each other’s arms.

This time, you made roast beef with fingerling potatoes, minty peas, and glazed carrots.  Topped with gravy and with a side of Yorkshire pudding to sop it all up.

It’d be some time before the baby could join in on the feast, but she flailed with enthusiasm at the smells and the excitement with which the two of you ate.  Oblivious to how much her lukewarm cereal and the bottle that she could now almost hold on her own paled in comparison.

In place of a West End show, there were airplane spoons and milky sneezes to keep you laughing.  Something to focus on besides the future.  Besides each other. 

The chasm that was too deep and too far to cross, let alone name.

As if on cue, with the last sip of wine, she started to fuss.  Fisted her eyes and arched her back in surrender as John rose to soothe her.  You’d have many more nights to put her to bed, but who knew what awaited him.  You gave him the time alone as you collected the place settings and started the cleaning that he’d promised you.

The little one sighed so heavily against his chest as she curled into him, burying her fingers in his shirt.  You knew the feeling, ached for it as you silently cursed your ability to dirty so many dishes making a meal. 

He was gone long enough for you to handwash the china and fill the dishwasher, and you wondered if she fought sleep, or if he simply lingered a little longer.  Did he tell her a story, or share some secret that was just between them? 

The polished wood floorboards creaked under his weight when he finally returned to the kitchen.  There was a stiffness to his towering form, as if he was flexing under an invisible weight.

“Just in time.  Everything’s already done,” you chided, gently, as you dried your hands on a towel.    

“I set her up in the portable crib with the monitor.  In the bedroom next to mine.”

“Her first sleepover.”  You still couldn’t look at him.  You hadn’t yet, had you?  Not really.  Not since he got the call earlier that day.

Since you’d told him he was never meant to be a part of your life.  That you could live without him.

A lie that he’d surely seen through, but you needed to keep for yourself as you busied your hands and kept your back to him.

But he wouldn’t let you hide, as he stepped behind you and pulled you in. 

“Don’t pull away.  Please.  Not yet.”  He tucked his grizzled chin into the curve of your neck. 

“I’m trying.”  You let your head fall back against him, vaguely aware that the music was still playing.  Something sad and slow as you swayed to the beat of it.

His hands rested on your hips as he spun you around to face him.  If a kiss could fix everything, you gave it to him then.  Did your best as you fisted his hair and pulled him down to you, while his palms roamed lower to cup your ass and lift you onto the counter.

Like meat and wine, you savored his lips and his tongue as he delved even deeper.  Splitting you open and demanding more.  Demanding everything. 

Your shirt was over your head and his roughened fingers scratched along the skin of your back, massaging and kneading the sides of your spine while he unhooked your bra.  The same muscles you’d kept rigid all day he coaxed into pliancy with each stroke as a weak moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s a girl.  Be soft and sweet for me, will you?”  He started off slow at the tip of your ear, trailing light, tickling kisses down the shell and to where the lobe met your neck.    

It sent shivers down your arms, and your naked breasts budded to peaks as they grazed against the cool smoothness of his shirt.  You didn’t want cool, or smooth, just heat and texture as you pulled it off his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his hips.

He groaned at the contact, a fierce and hungry sound as he took one of your hands and slotted it between you.  Pressed your palm against the bulge in his pants and grinded against it, letting you feel the way it grew and hardened at your touch.

“Tell me you’ll miss me.  Fucking lie to me, just say it,” he grated out, against your collarbone.  Miss him?  Lie to him?  It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t.  “I need to hear you to say it.” 

“I miss you already,” you whined, as you slid your hands from his groin to his ass and anchored him closer to the dampening heat at your core.

“I’m right here.” 

“Then take me to bed.  And show me how much you’ll miss me.”  It was your turn to grind against him, rubbing the bud of your arousal greedily along the lip of his fly through your thin linen pants as your tits bobbed wantonly against his furry chest.

“Not going to last long if you keep doing that, love,” he growled, lifting you up again and carrying you down the hallway.  “I’d rather take my time.”

And he did, starting with his fingers, then his mouth.  Drawing out each sensation like he was mapping the stars.   Exploring the far reaches of your body and forging new paths until you were shaking and spent. 

You marked him in return.  Staked a claim on the meat of his pec with a dark red love bite as he came hard and hot inside your pulsating quim.  Filled you up with a contented smile on his face, as if there was no better feeling in the world.  No place he’d rather be.

“Be back before it fades, okay?”  You nuzzled the hair around the spot with your nose as you drifted off beside him, his fingers lazily circling your hole to push the leaky drops of his seed back in. 

Did he have hopes that it would take? 

Did you?

Later, a strangled sound, like a wounded animal woke you from a fitful sleep.  At some point, you must’ve turned to your side and faced away from him because he was behind you.  Pulling at your hips and burying his head between your shoulder blades.

“John?  What is it?”

“Just a dream.  A bad dream.” 

You felt the swell of his cock as he sought out the smooth shelter between your thighs.  Arching against him instinctively, you curved onto your back and parted your legs as he absently rutted around to find your opening.  Still brimming with the sticky spend from your last bout.

He’d always been a giver, but this one was just for him as he worked out his nightmare on your flesh, your insides, your soul.  It felt like a battle.  A whole damn war as he smothered you with his heavy, dead-weight body and took ground, pounding away at your sensitive, stimulated cunt.

You wondered if he was even awake, or if he was still in the dream, as he fucked into you roughly and muttered far away words.  Bit back his own tears as they mixed with the sweat on your skin.

“Mine...Fucking mine...Not letting you go...Not to anyone else...”

Deprived of oxygen from his bulk on your chest, you almost blacked out with the force of your climax, caught by surprise at the way the mound of hair at his base aroused your clit into bloom with each thrust.  A tenderness amidst the brutal onslaught.  A divine mercy. 

If you had air, you’d have screamed at the intensity of it.  Spotty flashes of light broke the darkness as you felt the last of your spurting aftershocks flutter around him, soaking you both and easing the incinerating friction from the stretch of him. 

You could only clench your teeth and your walls as he shuddered with the strength of his own fresh release.  With his face buried in your shoulder, you knew he didn’t smile this time.  The sorrow of it hit you like a blow to your heart as you felt him stiffen with awareness, the fog of sleep clearing from his consciousness.

“I’m yours.  There’s no one else, John,” you panted, begged, as he eased up onto to his elbows to give you enough space to take a breath.  “Only you.”

********

Before you knew it, the black Land Rover was waiting like a harbinger along the street below.

“Here’s the keys to the truck, and to my place.  Just in case.”  He tossed a set into the bowl you kept on the sideboard.  “I know how much you’re dying to go spying in my cupboards.”  He raised a amused eyebrow to match the gentle hitch in his mustache.

“I wouldn’t do that.”  Except you totally would.  At the first opportunity.

“Afraid of what you’ll find?”

“An expired box of Earl Grey in the kitchen, perfectly sorted socks in the bedroom.  Stinky smelling beard oil in the bathroom.”  You flashed a cheeky grin at the last, in an effort to keep the tone light. 

If he could be strong, so could you.  You wouldn’t be the one to break.  No matter what you felt like on the inside.  You’d save it for when he was gone.

“Beard oil?  This is all natural.”  As if you’d insulted his manhood, he smoothed his mustache down with two hands, in a way you’d seen him do a thousand times.  He’d trained any willfulness from his facial hair with nothing but nose grease and perseverance.  Molded by time and patience, like marble cliffs and silt-shined creek beds.

“But I was right about the socks though, wasn’t I?”

“And the tea.”  He hitched his mouth into a smile and turned his focus to the gurgling baby perched on his hip, yapping and cooing like she was in on the conversation.

The way he looked at her gave you hope that he’d call it all off.  He’d sit back down on the couch and turn on the football.  Put his heavy feet up on your table and let his flight leave without him.

“I’m sure we can find some priceless antiques in there she can teeth on.”  They would start coming in soon.  Another change he’d miss.

“Look, you don’t have to wait.”  He paused to clear the words he was looking for from his throat.  “I understand if you—”

“I just got you, John,” you cut him off, saving him from the self-sacrificing speech, and looked down at her chubby fist wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around his finger.  “You’re not getting rid of us yet.”

Don’t let go, sweetheart.  Don’t let him go.  You willed it into her with your own thoughts.

Your world had gotten so small since she was born.  You’d gone from having a job that needed you, coworkers and clients with a network of responsibilities, down to having just one job. 

One person who needed you.

But it would’ve been a lot smaller without him.  How lonely would you have been without someone to share it all with?  How much of him had seeped into your life, and your heart?

“Be nice to your mum,” he whispered against her soft head, as he kissed her cheek and passed her back to you quickly.  Looking everywhere but at you.  “You have Kate’s number?  In case you need anything?”

You pulled him closer with your free hand to his waist, forcing him to see you.  Eyes wide and blue, he looked scared.  For the first time.

Anything more than a kiss to the forehead would have broken you both.  You’d already said your goodbyes the night before, and again that morning.  So, you simply tilted your head up to him, your own eyes kind and trusting, and felt his beard graze your skin one last time.

And then you watched him go.

********

By the third week, nothing in your apartment smelled like him anymore.  Everything had been washed, and the windows had been left open too long to let in the cool fall breeze.  Looking around, you realized that nothing in your home was his.

He’d come through your life with a force and left no trace behind, as if he was never even there.  It wasn’t right.  You wished with renewed clarity that you’d taken more pictures of him.  That you’d recorded every moment. 

Something to show your daughter, someday, if she ever questioned whether or not she was loved.  Something you could show yourself, when your mind tricked you into believing it was just a dream.

It was the need to seek out that connection, that comfort, that had you unlocking the door to his flat and letting yourself inside.  It was dark, and too quiet.  Cold and cavernous, like he was the one who heated it and gave it light. 

With the baby bouncing on your hip, you explored from room to room.  Three bedrooms and four bathrooms.  And still, you couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere there either.

His sheets had been washed since you’d spent the night.  His bathroom scrubbed of any lingering soap by the cleaning company that came once a month to keep it free of dust and spiders while he was away.

Trapped in time until the next visitor passed through.

Your grief and frustration sprung anew as you moved into his office.  Surely it would have something.  The indent of his body in a leather seat, or the half-burnt end of a forgotten cigar.

But his chair was too firm to leave a crease, and his ashtray was clean.   

There were no medals or honors hung along the walls, and the top of his desk was empty, except for one framed photo.  It was exactly what you were looking for, but at the same time, something you never expected.

It was from four years before, when he’d talked you into running a marathon together for a charity for wounded veterans.  You remembered the day clearly but never knew someone had taken a picture.  It must’ve been at the end, because you were both dewy-faced and soaked in sweat, smiling like mad.

His arm was around your shoulder and yours was at his waist.  You looked like a couple.  Like you were in love.  Was that how you always looked when you were together? 

Was this what you’d been missing out on all this time?

Surely, there were others.  You’d open a drawer and find photos of him with other people.  His parents, his friends.  Other women.

But as you pulled them apart one by one, you only found files of old bank statements and tax forms.  Until you got to the bottom.  A lone manila envelope, padded and thick.

With your name written in the wonky, hurried strokes of his hand.

Your own hands shook as you turned it over to find it sealed.  He must’ve wanted you to see what was inside, or else it wouldn’t have your name on it.

Right?

It felt like paper, documents of some kind, but with something else to give it bulk.  You shouldn’t have seen it, shouldn’t have gone digging through his stuff.  But he’d known you were going to snoop.  Had practically dared you to, didn’t he?

You tucked it back in where you’d found it.  Whatever it was, he could give it to you when he came back.  You’d promised him that you’d wait, and you would.

However long it took.

Just as you shut the drawer, your phone began to buzz in your pocket, jolting you guiltily as if you’d been caught.  You took it out, expecting it to be just another spam call, but paused in immediate horror at the name across the screen. 

(John’s) Kate

He’d saved the contact in your phone in case you needed to get in touch with him.  You couldn’t think of a situation where you’d be justified in pulling his attention away from a job, but you could only think of one reason she’d be calling you.

“Hello,” you answered.

*******

Two hours later, your apartment was full.  Well, there were only four guests gathered around your coffee table and perched with varying degrees of curiosity and tension along your couch and side chairs, but it felt overcrowded considering their size.

Three men that you’d never seen before, and then there was Kate.  Somehow, she took up just as much space as they did.  She carried herself with an air of authority that made your spine straighten reflexively. 

“He didn’t tell us he had a family.”  The clean cut one in the ball cap, who’d introduced himself as Kyle, spoke first as you poured him a cup of tea.  “We all wanted to express our support in person.”

“There wasn’t much to tell until recently,” you smiled, slightly, trying to be a good hostess despite the circumstances.

“You’ve been his emergency contact for the last five years,” Kate added as she declined your offer of milk and sugar.

“I didn’t know that.”  That was as long as you’d known each other.  Did he really not have anyone else? 

“He’s a very private man.”  She did you the favor of talking about him as if he wasn’t gone.  As if there was still hope.

“How did you know about it?”  MacTavish, the stocky Scot with the close-cut mohawk intoned back to her, with a bristling hostility you couldn’t miss.

“I’m CIA.  It’s my job to know everyone’s secrets.” 

You thought maybe she was trying to make a joke, but her face was dead serious. 

“We never would have let him—” He looked regretfully from you to your baby as the blond one with the black surgical mask cut him off with a supportive hand to his knee.

“Have any of you ever successfully talked him out of something once he’d put his mind to it?”  You looked around at the faces of the men staring back at you.  The people he spent all his time with when he wasn’t with you.  “I’m sure that’s why he didn’t tell you.  Afraid you’d treat him differently if he was a real person.”

Perhaps for the same reason he’d never told you how he felt.  Afraid to make it something real.  Something it would hurt to lose.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, please,” you continued, bracing for the worst.

“A massive fuck up from the beginning, is what it was—”  Kyle interjected, heatedly, before he was interrupted by a pointed look from Kate.

“It’s mostly classified, of course.  So, we can’t go into details.  But John requested an indefinite leave of absence about four months ago.  In the interim, his team was assigned to assist another task force in a sensitive operation.”  She spoke evenly as if reciting a sequence of events before a committee.

And you listened, all the while searching for the bits she left unsaid.  The parts that she hid behind her narrative. 

Phrases like, ‘severe loss of life’, ‘pinned down in hostile territory’, and ‘unable to ascertain status’, were cold, calculated ways of saying something went horribly wrong.

You weren’t a naïve civilian who devoured sound bites at face value.  You worked with government contracts all the time.  American, British.  They were all the same.  ‘Cover your ass,’ was their collective motto.

When she finished, you had more questions than answers.  But one thing stood out in your mind.  He hadn’t been home for so long by accident.  He’d chosen to stay.  He’d given up his team, indefinitely, to be with you. 

“So, if I understand correctly, it was a massive fuck up.  You him called away, despite his clear wishes to be left alone, to save your ass and theirs.”  You turned your attention from Kate over to the team.  “And he got you out.  And you left him behind?” 

He’d quit for you.  But he’d gone back for them. 

“Not willingly.”  The one in the mask, Lieutenant Riley, spoke up for the first time.  His eerily dark eyes shot daggers at Kate, as if the fault was hers.

“He knew what he was doing.  We needed to reassess the objective and regroup.  And I’m available to discuss it at length with you another time, Lieutenant.”

“We know he’s alive.”  MacTavish reassured you.  “If he was dead, they’d be broadcasting his body and celebrating all over the dark web.” 

Oh, what a relief.  The visual turned up bile your throat.

“And if he’s been taken prisoner or something?”

“He’s an exceptionally valuable hostage.  We’ll have a few weeks at least, while they interrogate him, before he’s ransomed.”

Tortured, she meant.  The bile turned to acid, and you forced yourself not to be sick. 

“So, what now?”  You were in a daze.  Kate’s firm, rational, voice grounded you and kept you present when all you wanted to do was breakdown.  To scream and cry and pound your fists against their chests to get back out there and find him.

Her position demanded it, you imagined.  Judging by the tension flowing between the team, they ached to do just that.  It was as if they were held back by some invisible muzzle.  Reined in by years of service.  One strong woman was all that kept them from charging off to take matters into their own hands.

“We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have news,” Kate answered, softer than before.  Perhaps aware that her words alone held little comfort.  That they were as grim as hollow condolences.  “But here, standard protocol.  We had it stripped of anything sensitive.  There’s only a few pictures and text messages left.  It’s unlocked.” 

She handed you his battered old phone.  The screen was scratched up, and the case was cracked enough to be useless protection.  You didn’t think they even supported this model anymore.  You couldn’t help but smile when you saw it. 

‘It’s busted to bloody hell, but still hanging on’, he’d said about it once with a proud laugh.  You prayed that he was the same, wherever he was.

“Thank you.  It was nice to meet you all,” you replied, politely, suddenly anxious to be alone.  To fall apart in peace.  “I wish it was under better circumstances.  Maybe next time we can have a drink and a proper laugh.  When he’s home.” 

“We’ll get him back, Mrs. Price.”  It was Kyle who pulled you into a hug, as if you were family.  “I promise.”

It was the first time anyone had called you that, and you didn’t correct him.  In the moment, it was a comfort.  A universal truth that you longed to hear from someone else’s lips. 

The others followed suit with their goodbyes, but their warmth and concern were a shallow replacement for the man you were missing.  Kate settled for a stoic handshake before you closed the door on them all and set your back against it for support.

The phone in your hand was heavy as you pulled it up to see his text messages, looking for any possible clue or something to keep hope alive.  There were a few off color jokes between him and his mates.   Notes to you about what was for dinner, and silly photos he’d taken of the baby.

One single text exchange with Kate.  As if he’d deleted them as soon as they came in.  Or perhaps Kate had wiped them as part of her pruning.  It was from four months prior. 

I hope you know what you’re doing.

Never more certain in my life.

Were they talking about you?  Of his choice to leave?  It reminded you of something else he’d left behind.  Something you’d forgotten in the whirlwind of the last few hours.

When you held the envelope again in your hands, you didn’t think twice about ripping through the seal.  Inside was a stack of handwritten letters, all dated and signed with his name.

You focused on the one on top, from the day before he’d left.

Hey love,

If you’re reading this, then something must’ve happened to me.  Or your curious nature got the best of you, and you went snooping around my desk.

I hope it’s the latter because it’s time you knew, and who knows when I’ll get the courage to tell you myself.  But if it’s the former, then I’m sorry.

I can’t say I’m surprised, though.  There’s only so many times I can dare death to find me before it wins.  You just have to know that I did my best, for whatever it’s worth.

I never felt like I could have a family.  I didn’t deserve that sort of peace after the things I’ve done.  I’ve taken too many lives to have any chance at a happy one.  Killed too many sons to be entitled to any of my own.

It’s been my purpose.  What I’m good at.  And I never wanted to bring that burden home to anyone else.

Then I saw you again after I made myself a promise to stay away from you this time.  You were so fearless and calm.  I just wanted to be near you.  Close enough that you might scare away the darkness in me.  

If someone like you, and her, could trust me and see any good in me, then maybe I’m not such a monster after all. 

You made me believe in fate.  In something bigger that was beyond my control.  I just hope that it’s not done with me yet.  That it’s not done with us. 

If this is the end, then I just want to say thank you and leave you with everything.  Everything that I have, and everything that I left unsaid.

These letters are from all the other times I’ve done this.  The other missions that called me away since we met, in the event that I didn’t come back.  You were the only thing worth coming home to, and I’m sorry I didn’t share them sooner. 

If you’re just being nosy, and I’m already warm in our bed with the baby drooling on my chest, I hope I’ve already told you a thousand times how much I love you.  How lucky I am to have known your love in return.

And I hope you’re already wearing one of these rings.  I couldn’t decide which one, so I’ll let you choose.  They’ve been in my family for ages.  All yours now.

All my heart, John.

The pages were flooded with salty tears by the time the jingle at the bottom of the envelope caught your attention.  Five different rings.  Yellow and white gold, glistening diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires.  Old and new.

But not yet.  You didn’t dare to touch them yet.  Didn’t choose.  You believed in fate, too.  He wasn’t gone, and it wasn’t the end. 

*******

The next days passed by in a blur, waiting by the phone.  You were thankful for the baby, as she didn’t let you wallow or crumble the way you wanted to.  There were still diapers to change, and bottles to fill.  Smiles to fake and colic to soothe.

You wondered if she missed him, too.  If she even noticed he was gone.

It was three in the morning when you got the call, and you shot up in bed, sleep quickly forgotten when you answered.  You didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

“John!”

“Hiya, darling.”  His voice was a faint groan of relief. 

“Where are you?”  You held the phone away from your face just long enough to see the long, foreign number with a country code you couldn’t place.  “Does Kate know where you are?”

“I don’t have a lot of time.  I’m in the blind.  I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You flung off your covers and rushed to your computer.  He was in trouble.    

“I’m here.  Are you hurt?” 

“Not bad.”  You could hear him smiling, the way the words huffed out through pained lips.  It was definitely bad.

You had to keep him talking, to stay on the line long enough for you to work.  The laptop took forever to start up.  You hadn’t used it since you’d left your employment, and it must’ve needed a hundred updates.  But you didn’t have time as your fingers trembled anxiously over the keys.

This was what you did.  This was your job.  You designed software that could find people.  Find targets.  Needles in the giant haystack that was the world.

You set the phone to speaker mode and plugged it in to your program.

“Whose phone is this, John?”  It would be encrypted, you presumed.  You wouldn’t be lucky enough to have its location turned on. 

“An old friend.  I’d put him on, but he’s not with us anymore, I’m afraid.  Poor fellow took a fall.”  Another gurgled laugh.  “But his name was Makarov.  When you talk to Kate, tell her the mission’s complete.”

“You can tell her yourself.  You’re going to be fine.  Just keep talking to me.”

You buzzed through lines of code, searching for the one you needed. 

“How’s the poppet?  Is she being a good girl?”

“She’s sleeping.  She’s okay.  Misses you.  Can’t wait to see you.”

Got it!  You broke through the encryption and pinned his location using satellite GPS.

“It’s not looking good, love.”

“Do you believe in fate, John?”  You asked, as you used your laptop’s connection to call Kate.

There was a reason you’d met each other.  You were certain now that nothing had been by chance.  You were meant to find him.  You were meant to find each other.

“Ah, went pawing through my drawers, did you?  Which ring did you pick?” 

“I’ll show you when you get home,” you promised as the line finally connected.  “Kate!  I know where John is.  You have to hurry.”

You sent her the coordinates to the exact centimeter.  He was deep underground, in some kind of a bunker.  Or an old mineshaft.  To her credit, Kate didn’t argue or ask where you got your intel.

Two hours later, you were still on the phone with him.  The light began to creep slowly through the curtains, bringing with it a brand new day.  But his breath had slowed, and his words came thicker from his throat.

“Just a little longer, okay?”  You didn’t let him sense your fear as you quietly willed your life into him, to keep him hanging on. 

Where the fuck were they?

The line had gone too quiet when you heard the blast. 

“John!  John, what was that?”  You prayed it was the team, and not a fresh wave of enemy combatants come to finish the job.

“In here!”  John’s voice, with a renewed strength. 

“Bravo-7 to Watcher.  Eyes on Bravo-6.  We’ve got him.”  You heard Lieutenant Riley’s unmistakable accent breakthrough as he got closer to the phone.  “Have med-evac waiting topside.  He’s in rough shape.”  He switched from his comms to John.  “Can you walk, Cap?”

“Well, you aren’t fucking carrying me, Ghost.  That’s for bloody sure.”

“Please don’t leave me.”  The tears that you finally let fall were of release.  Of relief.  You didn’t know if he still held the phone, or if it lay forgotten on the ground as they carried him away.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

[tsumtsumrry]

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry. 

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face. 

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is. 

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it. 

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back. 

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways. 

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm. 

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple, 

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him. 

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it. 

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff. 

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan. 

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.” 

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more. 

“Show me. Take me home, H.” 

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt. 

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it. 

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips. 

“Whatever you want. Kiss?” 

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle. 

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something. 

“Harry…” 

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter. 

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you. 

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter. 

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly. 

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement. 

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.” 

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie. 

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips. 

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time. 

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly. 

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top. 

“Wanna be my sous chef?” 

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry. 

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.” 

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed. 

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.” 

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–” 

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?” 

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.” 

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you. 

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out. 

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly. 

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes. 

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles. 

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there. 

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone. 

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around. 

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes  a mental note to check on you later. 

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer. 

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at. 

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears. 

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers. 

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable. 

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.” 

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.” 

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end. 

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out. 

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?” 

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response. 

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.” 

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch. 

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him. 

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?” 

“See you soon, petal.” 

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry. 

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs. 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder. 

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response. 

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that. 

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face. 

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.” 

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth. 

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out. 

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you. 

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group. 

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love. 

Dangerous. 

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.” 

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips. 

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.” 

Ever the flirt, he is. 

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know. 

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.” 

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him. 

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him. 

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches. 

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit. 

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there. 

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess. 

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands. 

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.” 

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.” 

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh. 

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night. 

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are. 

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.” 

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.  

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit. 

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind. 

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for. 

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage. 

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in. 

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner. 

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice. 

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it. 

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger. 

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under. 

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind. 

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.” 

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. 

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family. 

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face. 

Uh oh. You know that expression. 

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?” 

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind. 

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.” 

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

  Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow. 

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face. 

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims. 

Your smile drops. 

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore. 

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date. 

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman. 

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless. 

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone. 

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse. 

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over. 

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break. 

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.” 

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go. 

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,”  you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.” 

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home. 

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes. 

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“I want you to meet—” 

You can’t do it. 

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up. 

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now. 

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears. 

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt. 

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry. 

December 24, Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside. 

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die. 

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day. 

Harry. 

Over and over again. 

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good? 

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me. 

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please? 

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me. 

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did. 

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried. 

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead. 

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back. 

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me. 

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more. 

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and  go to open it nonetheless. 

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door. 

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here. 

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck. 

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put. 

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―” 

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.” 

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―” 

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.” 

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters. 

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face. 

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest. 

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours. 

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. 

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it. 

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t” 

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little. 

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—” 

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression. 

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication. 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–” 

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away. 

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply. 

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs. 

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout. 

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind. 

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time. 

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes. 

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels. 

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours. 

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you. 

“I know, I know H.” you nod again. 

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?” 

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist. 

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies. 

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear. 

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will. 

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks. 

“Do me a favor, honey?” 

You nod eagerly. 

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action. 

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts. 

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting. 

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.” 

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage. 

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased. 

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?” 

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?” 

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are. 

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you. 

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well. 

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.” 

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?” 

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking. 

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good. 

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.” 

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you. 

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips. 

“Did such a good job.” 

“M’so proud of you.” 

“You come so pretty.” 

“So beautiful.”  

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come. 

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face. 

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye. 

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is. 

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit. 

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”  

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?” 

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later. 

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.” 

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home. 

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit. 

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop. 

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before. 

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?” 

“Meant what?” 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” 

December 31st, New Years Eve. 

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist. 

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. 

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks. 

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life. 

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him. 

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks. 

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you. 

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look. 

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb. 

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold. 

9

8

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look. 

6

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?” 

4

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

[ninuwrites]

Moth to a flame LN4

summary: charles makes you realise that lando is not treating you right

warnings: angst and fluff

a/n: FINALLY i finished this and i hate it tbh. but idc really i am just happy i wrote it. SORRY FOR THE GRAMMAR MISTAKES feel free to correct me🙏🙏so enjoy and i love you all, sending kisses💋💋

———————————————————————————

1:30 AM

L Norris

«Can i call you?»

you looked at Charles that was cuddling to your side. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. you didn’t even have time to reply, your phone already vibrating.

you carefully left your bed and went to the bathroom. you looked at yourself in the mirror, the feeling of guilt spreading through your body.

Lando was like a virus that you couldn’t get out your body. it was never anything serious between you two. you were just very good friends that decided to start hooking up.

you always had some attraction to Lando, who would not. he was handsome and charismatic young man. the problem was that you started to develop feelings for him during your “relationship”. and that was it for you.

first of all you knew that he definitely didn’t want anything serious, at least nothing serious with you and second of all you knew that you weren’t the only girl he hooked up with and after you caught feelings it was something you could not stand.

so you distanced yourself a bit but lando knew what was happening and somehow you were spending more and more time with him.

you felt special, who wouldn’t, he took you everywhere and he was treating you like a princess . you went to see his races, he took you on holidays with him and you even got to know his parents.

but apparently…

you weren’t the only one.

one evening you had planned a date because you haven’t seen each other in a while but lando wasn’t picking up his phone and didn’t reply on your massages.

it started to make sense when your friend sent you paparazzi pick of lando and some girl holding hands and having dinner in restaurant YOU should have been in with HIM.

that was the first strike.

you needed time off, you didn’t want to see him, hear from him or meet him. you were hurt and offended. did he really forget about your date and just took some other girl with him?

after three days he started to call and text you but you just ghosted him until he showed up at your door.

he showed up with the most beautiful bouquet and beautiful necklaces.

and that’s how it always was.

he did something, you ignored him, he came to apologise and you fucked.

it was exhausting, you really tried to change your relationship but it never worked out.

and than you met charles.

you got to know him on a party of landos first win. you shared room with lando and all evening he talked about how he’s so lucky to have you and that he can’t wait to celebrate with you.

but somehow when you were in the club he disappeared from your sight and you couldn’t find him anywhere. you gave up and went to sit on some couches with a drink in your hand.

“ do you mind if i keep you some company?” you looked up and saw clearly tired charles.

“i would actually love some company right now.” you smiled

you talked for hours. he listened to you, you listened to him. you always had something to talk about.

you started to feel tired so charles decided to accompany you to your room.

as you came upstairs you took the room card from your purse. as you came closer to your room you already felt off so you hoped that lando was there and okay.

well he was more than okay.

you stood in front of the room door and clearly heard a woman moaning landos name from your room. you just stayed still and tried not to cry.

charles took your hand and led you to his room. as he closed the door you hugged him and started crying like a child.

you explained your relationship with lando to charles and he listened carefully to everything you had to say.

he didn’t understand why would someone play with you like that. he wanted to help you, he wanted to show you that it doesn’t have to be like that with everyone.

you slept at charleses room that night.

in the morning he ordered breakfast straight to your room and you ate at on a balcony with beautiful view and sunny weather.

after you finished you knew that you should go and pick up your bags from yours and landos room but you really didn’t have the mood to deal with him. you thought about every possible way of how to not go to go there but none of them seemed to work.

“what are you thinking about?” charleses soft voice snapped you back from your thoughts.

“nothing important, i just need to get my stuff and i really don’t want to see him.” you sighed and closed your eyes.

“i’ll go for them.” charles said and immediately stood up.

“no no no you don’t have to, i will get them in a minute.” you didn’t want to bother him with such a stupid thing.

“i want to do it for you. i’ll be right back.” he said and before you could answer he was gone.

i want to do it for you. this sentence meant everything to you. you’ve never met a man who would really took an action and not just say sweet words.

he came back minutes later with your bags and you went straight up to him. you hugged him tight and said “thank you charles.” you looked up “for taking care of me.”

“that is what you deserve chérie.”

and that’s how your soon to call relationship started.

you started going out on dates and few trips and to be honest you never felt better in your life.

charles was sweet, caring and his love for you is true. but he doesn’t know that you still call lando from time to time.

charles understands that you still need somee time to get over him and he doesn’t want to rush things.

after that night in miami lando tried to reach out many many times but you’ve never replied. you were really hurt and he was annoying you with every call and text more and more.

until he showed up at your doorstep and you felt like you’re reliving the same moment every month.

“can we talk, please?” he asked giving you flowers. you nod at him to come inside and while he’s sitting on a couch you put the bouquet in a vase with water.

“so… you and charles…” he started but you immediately cut him off.

“lando if you came here just to talk shit you can leave.” you were pissed off. the audacity this man had. unbelievable.

“sorry… i mean, i missed you and i just can’t go on without being either you.” he said while look into your eyes.

you hated the soft spot you developed for him. you didn’t even listened to what he was saying because every time it was the same, but he looked so handsome in his white button up shirt, two buttons unbuttoned, his tan skin peeking through and his messy hair.

“can i kiss you?” he asked and you went straight in. you didn’t want to admit but you missed his soft lips and curls. you straddled his hips and kissed his neck slowly.

“i hate you norris.”

“i know.”

after that you gave him some rules on how your relationship will be working.

first of all texts and calls only at night. second of all no day to day communication and third just sex. nothing more, nothing less.

you knew that this wasn’t right, that you needed to get rid off him and keep no contact but somehow you just couldn’t let go of your past.

soon enough your love for charles seemed to grow more every day. he treated you like a princess and he gave you reasons to fall in love with him more and more.

but as your lando situation was never solved you could not devote your heart to charles for 100%.

you haven’t seen lando in two months just photos of him and his new girl on the socials.

until the call.

“hello? babe are you there?” he asked as if you were full on his girlfriend.

“i’m here. how are you? ” you whispered.

“fine, portugal is beautiful, i’ll take you here some time.” he said confidently.

you laughed. “when are you coming back?” you asked.

“next week. what miss me that much?” you could hear him smirking.

“yeah right, i just need to talk to you about something.” you said while closing your eyes.

“oh, okay, can’t wait. i need to go love see you next week. love ya.” he replied and hung up.

“everything okay ma belle?” you heard charles outside the bathroom and the guilt just grew bigger.

“yes baby everything alright.” you said, turned off the light and opened the door. he hugged you and kissed you on top of your head.

“can sleep without you.” he murmured and you giggled and hugged him tighter.

“let’s go back to sleep.”

the thing you wanted to talk about with lando was breaking everything up. it was draining you, the relationship you kept just for nothing. you felt guilty because of charles and you could not keep it up anymore.

you truly loved charles and you to stop loving lando you needed to let him go.

you were in his apartment laying on the couch. “so what did you want to talk about?” he asked definitely bot expecting what you were going to say.

“listen, i really like you lan, i really do but i can’t do this anymore. i want a relationship, i want someone i can rely on any time, any day and i do not want just simple hook ups. i loved you enough and i’m not willing to spend any more of my love on someone who does not feel the same way i do.” your eyes started to water. “it was very hard for me to come up with this topic because i still have some feelings for you but in past months i’ve realised that there are people out there who can treat me better.” you finished with tears streaming down your cheeks.

lando just looked at you, too stunned to speak. he was in shock.

“so… you want to break up?” he asked.

“we were never together lando, i never had you.” you whispered.

“you have me now.” he whispered back, his eyes watering too.

“it’s too late lan, i waited too long and i went through too much pain because of you.” you smiled through the tears.

“no i it’s not i want you, just you. it was always you.” he said, and cupped your cheeks. you were slipping out of his grasp and he could do nothing to save you.

“lan stop with this nonsense, just last week you were with some new model, or we never discussed your night in miami.” you laughed at him.

“please, don’t end this.” he hugged you and cried on your shoulder.

you stayed like that for maybe minutes maybe hours. “i need to go lan.” you moved away and caressed his cheek.

“i know, i’m sorry… for everything.” he said and walked you to the door.

you stayed by the door for a few minutes just looking at each other. until you kissed him one last time.

“i’ll always have a soft spot for you norris.” you smiled.

“i’ll always be one call away baby.” he sniffled and smiled back and you closed the door behind you.

[softhairedhotch]

comfortember day sixteen: coffee/tea break aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader aaron takes a holiday from work and comes back with a beard, leading to something neither of you would have expected. word count: 1.6k warnings/content: minor injury (burns), mentions of being shot, kissing, one use of Y/N,, idk what else. comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3!

beards and burns

You sigh at the computer in front of you, feeling exhaustion beginning to weigh you down. Looking around the bullpen and seeing similar expressions across your co-worker's faces, you stand up and ask, “Does anyone want any coffee?” The chorus of yeses and pleases makes you laugh as you begin walking toward the kitchenette. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”

“Our saviour!” Emily calls after you.

Derek laughs as he gestures toward you. “The true hero of the BAU.”

You roll your eyes and begin making the coffee, scrolling through your phone as it heats up. As you laugh at a funny post from your friend, you hear a few collective gasps fill the room and glance up to see your team all talking in hushed voices. Raising your eyebrow, you wonder to yourself what they’re up to as you grab the finished coffee pot and your mug.

“Good to see you again, Y/N,” a voice from behind you says, startling you and making you jump. “Oh, sorry.”

Recognising the voice as Aaron, your boss, who’s been on holiday for almost two months (everyone was as surprised as you when he announced his break from work), you turn around to greet him with a smile. However, at the sight of him, the words die in your throat and all you get out is an embarrassing noise of shock. And if that’s not embarrassing enough, the coffee pot–both fresh and boiling to the touch–falls out of your grip and smashes to the ground.

Aaron is quick to run over to you, his face dropping into deep concern as you flinch back and hold your hand with a pained sound. It’s almost too much, his soft brown eyes looking over your face, one hand on your shoulder and the other hovering over your burnt hand, and the beard. 

God, he has a beard. 

An actual beard.   

One that frames his face so perfectly and makes him look ten times more attractive, something you were sure couldn’t be possible and it has your mind reeling. Your face feels as if it’s been engulfed in flames as you stare at him, his mouth moving to words you’re too unfocused to hear. 

He moves you over to the sink and runs the water on the coldest setting, testing the temperature on his hand before putting yours under the tap and shaking off his own. Embarrassment courses through you. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking a step away from him and looking at the shattered glass on the floor. “I don’t know what happened there.”

You can feel everyone in the office staring at you and you wish the floor would simply swallow you up. Derek cackles to himself, trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably, and you make a note to yourself to smack him over the head when you get a chance.

“Maybe you should go home and get some sleep instead of drinking more coffee, hm?” Aaron suggests. 

Despite the pain in your hand, slowly easing up under the cold water, you manage to laugh. “Jesus, Hotch, you take a month off and suddenly you’re an advocate for going home and getting some rest? What happened to you?”

He grins at your words, his dimple hidden by his perfectly trimmed beard but still managing to look as stunning as ever, and you melt at the sight. “It made me open my eyes a bit.” As he speaks, he reaches out for a neatly folded towel on the counter and throws it over the coffee on the floor, kneeling beside it. His eyes catch yours from where he’s on the floor, the light reflecting beautifully over them and making the black ring around his iris more noticeable. “I’ve clearly been missing out.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to clean that–”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He moves the towel over the floor briefly before standing up and looking at your hand in concern. “You know what? Your hand is more important than this floor.” He glances around the room before his eyes land on a still-grinning Derek and he squints his eyes with the smallest of smirks–it almost makes you collapse on the spot. “Morgan, clean this glass up, please.”

That wipes the smile off Derek’s face immediately and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Seriously, Hotch? I didn’t even make the mess, man!”

“You can treat yourself to another pot of coffee afterwards,” Aaron replies, reaching out for your shoulder and gently guiding you toward his office. Once you’re inside and the door is closed, he takes your burnt hand in yours and sighs. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”

“It’s just a small burn,” you shrug, “nothing I haven’t been through before.”

He hums. “True. I mean… you’ve been shot.”

“True,” you reply with a grimace, “that wasn’t very pleasant. Neither is this but I’m being very brave about it.”

Aaron laughs, the noise soft and sweet, and you’re sure you might melt. “Yes. Yes, you are. Now let’s make sure you’re okay, hm?” After looking over your hand for a few moments, Aaron hums again and smiles at you, eyes bright. “I think you’ll survive.”

And then he does something you would never have expected in a million years. Everything feels as if it’s in slow motion as he gently swipes the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips and pressing a soothing kiss over your skin. Your cheeks warm the moment his lips make contact and the cage in your stomach bursts open with all the butterflies fighting to get out.

“There,” he whispers, “kissed it all better.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, finding him endearingly cute as you stare at him with a fond look. “Thank you, that really helped.” As the two of you stare at each other for a few moments, you move your burnt hand closer to slide it over his jaw, feeling the soft bristles of his beard under your fingers. The sensation makes your heart hammer in your chest, and when Aaron smiles and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, you’re sure you might have a heart attack right then and there. “Aaron…”

“Yeah?”

Running your thumb over his jaw, you smile at him. “I missed you.”

Aaron grins and his dimples move under your hand. “I missed you too.”

And then he’s moving closer, reaching out to cup your face in his own warm hands, angling your head so that his lips slot perfectly against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, and you find yourself sinking further against him as he smiles into the kiss. When it’s over and the two of you pull apart, slowly so as to not separate so soon, his eyes find yours and his smile widens.

“That was…” you start, trailing off as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek and close your eyes.

“Something we should have done a long time ago?” 

You let out a huff of laughter. “Definitely. But I’m glad we did it now.”

“Me too,” he mutters, pressing his lips against yours again. The short hairs of his beard rub against your face in a satisfying way. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my beard though, would it?”

“Oh, it has everything to do with it,” you reply, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “You better be keeping this, Agent.”

“If you say so, Agent,” he chuckles. “Although I’m not sure Jack will like it.”

“Kids can’t always get what they want, tell him to suck it up.”

Aaron snorts at that. “Maybe you should be the one to tell him that; I don’t think he’d like to hear that from me. Maybe over dinner later this week?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to have dinner with you and Jack already?”

His face falls ever so slightly. “I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I just figured that you and Jack already know each other pretty well and–”

“Aaron,” you laugh, interrupting him. You smooth your fingers over his beard, admiring the way it frames his face perfectly for a few moments before meeting his eyes again. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d… I’d love that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Does Friday work?”

“Friday, Friday,” he mutters, looking down at the ground in thought. “Hm, I don’t know…” He meets your gaze and laughs when you give him a look. “Yes, yes that’ll work. How about 7pm?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply, pressing your lips against his one more time. “I should get back to work now.”

“Right, yeah. See you later.”

You wave to him and make your way out of his office, immediately aware of all the eyes on you. Derek is both smirking and glowering at you, no doubt mad about the fact he had to clean up the mess, but there’s a coffee in his and everyone else’s hand so there’s no doubt he did it. When you glance back at the office, you realise that Aaron’s blinds were open the entire time and the team had a view of everything that just happened. 

Great.

Ignoring the small anxious pit in your stomach over that, you stroll over to casually pour yourself a new coffee before making your way to your desk. You sit down and turn on your screen, focusing on the task at hand, when Emily approaches you with a smirk.

“What?”

“So, you and Hotch, huh?” 

You laugh and gently push her away. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Nothing! Just didn’t realise you had such a thing for beards!”

“Shut it, Prentiss.”

“Or what?” She cackles.

You roll your eyes and laugh again, looking up at Aaron’s office once more to see him already looking back at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. It makes you feel light and you can’t wait until Friday rolls around. 

tags: @hotchs-big-hands @criminalskies

[kachowden]

hihi!! can you say more about cameron?

Cameron (Yandere Therepaist) Facts and Info

Tw: Mild Yandere themes, Nsfw mentions

In terms of what type of yandere Cameron is, he’s actually a fairly manageable one.

You have to keep in mind, that before you came into the picture he was a normal dude.

I mean a wealthy normal dude but yknow still normal. Went on dates. Experienced break ups. Though after college he focused more on his career than anything.

As a romantic partner, he’s actually quite the romantic. Maybe a bit more, marital, in his behavior, likely referring to you both as if you’ve been wed already, but other than that he’s really not that bad

He’s very willing to help around house, and will gladly assume the role of either being the breadwinner or the househusband.

Money isn’t really a problem for Cameron, the problem is that he can’t help himself but to spend it all on you.

Expect a lot of gifts. Constantly. On random occasions. It doesn’t even have to be a holiday

Realistically you could probably give him a compliment one day and within a few hours he’ll be a blushing mess handing you a new present wrapped with a pretty bow. (He’s good with his hands)

While Cameron is willing to clean the house and take care of any of your needs, I will admit he’s not the best cook.

If he offers to make something for you, I’d recommend takeout instead.

Now if we have a look at his more, not so great qualities, it’d be important to mention his jealousy problem.

He’s good at hiding it in public don’t get me wrong! He’s pretty well behaved when it comes to someone flirting with you in front of him

A charming smile, a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek, simple stuff like that to get the other person to take a hint.

If all else fails he may call the cops and report them to authorities as a dangerous criminal. Whyd they confess to a bunch of crimes they didn’t even commit? Who knows.

Despite how he acts in public though, at home it’s a considerably different story.

He’s not an angry guy, but everyone has their limits.

And sometimes he needs to blow off some steam after having those limits tested.

If he’s feeling more neglected and needy, then expect a night full of worship and adoration.

He’s on his knees all night for you. Consider yourself pillow royalty for the night. Just make sure you have your attention on him the whole time.

And if you’re feeling particularly sweet, you can have fun reducing him to tears as well! He’ll definitely let you take the reigns.

He wants you to remember how wonderful of a partner he is. How obedient he can be. How good he can make you feel, and how no one else will make you feel this way.

If he’s feeling particularly ignored or disrespected though, you’ll be on the receiving end of some deliciously exhausting hours.

He won’t hurt you, no not in a million years.

But he might take you so many times that either your brain turns to mush or are reduced to tears.

All while he keeps whispering how much he loves you in your ear

How much you need him. How he should be the only one allowed to touch you like this.

But on nights where you’ve merely been gone for a long time, just expect to come home to a wonderful partner, dressed in the most revealing of clothes, and ready to service you however you want.

A/N: tysm for the support anon <3

[strawbeerossi]

Just Know, I Love You

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Reader hasn't been her usual self after a breakup months prior. Spencer takes notice of this, using her love of Valentine's Day and his own plans to try and bring a smile to her face while telling her how much he cares about her.

Content Warnings: Nothing bad, tooth rotting fluff, Spencer being sweet, pining, admitting feelings, ends with a kiss 🩷

Word Count: 1.1K

This blurb is my most favorite thing that I have ever written. Enjoy this little blurb that I thought of today on my lunch break.

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“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope." Maya Angelou

Spencer was never one for romance, mainly because he wasn't the type to have women falling over each other to get to him. He would admit that he didn't have a clue on what he would do anyway. He wasn't going to trouble himself with those thoughts for any hypothetical relationship.

Y/N was a great exception to his rule though.

It was a few months ago that she and her boyfriend ended up breaking up. Spencer could recall her coming into the office looking purely broken and exhausted. From what she had told him, they were doing well.

They were even looking for houses, he remembered. However, things came crashing down on Y/N's world when she was made aware that her boyfriend was cheating on her the entire course of their relationship.

Now, personally, Spencer didn't even understand how anyone could ever think of finding anyone else when they had her. She was the whole package; a good sense of humor, kind, a beautiful smile, and the best laugh that he'd ever heard. One that he missed terribly.

Y/N used to come in with a big smile on her face every morning, bringing coffee for Spencer because those two liked more sugar than the bitter black coffee that they would see Hotch or Rossi drink. They would joke about how they had to have had sugar packets hidden in their offices, maybe even hidden creamer and other things.

Valentine's Day was coming up, it usually being one of Y/N's favorite holidays. She was a hopeless romantic, loving the idea of a whole dedicated to nothing but love and appreciation.However with a sour view of love, she wasn't as upbeat as she was.

He noticed her all week, quietly moping around the office. It killed him inside. Spencer even asked if she wanted to decorate the office with him, something she usually would've been way too eager to do. This time though, he was met with glassed over eyes, a sad smile that even had a little bit of a lip quiver, and the assurance that the day was just any other.

That killed him more than anything. She was hurting to the point where she was avoiding the day entirely.

Spencer had a plan. So, the morning of Valentine's Day, he was picking them up an overly sugary coffee, stopping to get a red velvet cupcake from one of the bakeries in town, then Spencer even stopped to pick up a bouquet of yellow roses. the night before, he was racking over all the ideas in his mind for what he'd write on the little card attached to the flowers, he still had time to write something up.

When he made it to the office, he was letting out a sigh of relief when he realized Y/N wasn't at her desk just yet. He hoped she wasn't going to try and pull off a sick day, mainly because his whole goal was to make this a Valentine's Day that she'd never forget.

After the flowers, the coffee cup that was elegantly decorated for the holiday, and the cupcake box that was wrapped in a beautiful satin red bow were placed in an aesthetically pleasing set up, he was sitting at his desk while doing his best to quickly write down the note that he hoped wouldn't be overly sappy.

Boy, Penelope was gonna be so proud of him for this set up, she'd definitely approve.

Even if Y/N wasn't there yet, the rest of the team was. Emily watched in amusement, a smile on her face as she leaned back against her chair. "You know that you are really gonna brighten up her whole year, right?" She asked, making the youngest on the team peek up from his writing.

He felt a rush of pride run through him, his cheeks and ears starting to get hot from his blushing over the thought of seeing that beautiful smile spread across his coworker's face again. "You think so? I really hope she does. I like her a lot.. I just want her to see that she still deserves to feel appreciated." He rambled on while keeping his gaze on the card.

"Pretty boy, I'm almost jealous." Derek commented, ruffling Spencer's hair while looking over the spread with a chuckle. "You gotta give me tips, kid." He was teasing, though he felt like a proud big brother watching his younger sibling make his own moves.

By the grace of god, Spencer had placed the card on the flowers as soon as Y/N was making her appearance into the bullpen. Like Spencer suspected, she looked like she just didn't wanna be there.

However, her whole demeanor changed as she approached the desk, her eyebrows raising in curiosity. "What's all this?" She asked, looking to the coworkers who were close by. "No idea, mama. I seen all of that sitting on your desk when I got in this morning." Derek commented, a smile on his face as he was leaning against the edge of the desk. "There should be a card." Emily also commented, the two making a point to hang around the desk just a little longer.

Which Y/N had already had a small smile on her face from the surprise, as soon as she picked up that card though, her smile was growing wider, the appreciative tears already starting to burn her eyes.

'We both know I don't know how to do stuff like this. So I am gonna leave you with a quote that means a lot to me, almost as much as the amount that you mean to me,

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - William Shakespeare.

I hope you know that no matter what you may be going through, I'll always be here for you.

Just so you know, I love you. -Spencer.'

The note really tied the whole ensemble together, Spencer turning in his chair as she began to read the note allowed, a smile on his face. He felt so proud of himself for pulling this off, especially after feeling like he was going to royally mess it up at some points while planning.

"Thank you." Y/N smiled, her gaze now on her best friend in the office while she was heading over to wrap her arms around Spencer with a tight hug, making Spencer hold her just as tight.

"Although.. I do have one thing to say." She spoke while pulling from the hug. The words made Spencer's heart fall into his stomach.

What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if this is weird? Oh god, what if-

His thoughts were coming to a screeching halt when he felt a pair of soft lips against his own.

Oh.

"Just so you know, I love you so much more."

[lemotmo]

They closed their ask box. I hate people 😭😭

I hope it's temporary

A. Hi anon. Before I respond, I want to take a minute to say that I think this will be my last answer for a bit. My ask box needs a break, lol. It's a little hostile in there right now. Some of the asks/messages are lovely, thank you for those and I will see how I feel after the holiday.

Now with regards to your question. You can absolutely headcanon. No one is saying you can't. I would never say that. That's part of fandom and it's fun. What I was saying to that particular anon was that there's a difference between headcanoning scenarios you would like to see for your favorite ship/character and outright stealing another characters actual canon history to give to a character you prefer. That history belongs to Eddie not Tommy. You're correct though that Tommy shares some characteristics with Eddie, pretty sure that's the point. So in theory, sure, they could have similar storylines but they don't. The reason they don't is because Tommy is a minor character, and as such he will never have a storyline written for him. That's the way plot points work. They're designed to push a main character's storyline forward. Eddie is a main. Buck is a main. Tommy is a plot point, at least as of this writing. Pointing that out is not mean. It's not bigoted. And it's definitely not homophobic. It sucks to love a character the show doesn't care about. Most of us have been there at some point. We have fallen for a C or D character and have headcanoned a reality for them far better than their show was ever going to give them. It happens. There's nothing wrong with it. But it still doesn't make him anything more than what the show is telling you he is. And again, as of this writing, he has been written as nothing more then the guy Buck is currently seeing. But lots of you don't even seem to care about Buck with regards to the ship. There are messages in my ask box from people telling me that they don't care if Buck and Tommy break up because they will just ship whoever they pair Tommy with next. They won't pair Tommy with anyone next. When his Buck storyline is done his services will no longer be required. And that is what all of your anger is really all about.

If season 8 has Buck telling Tommy he loves him then that will be canon, you're correct. It is also canon that Buck told Taylor he loved her. I don't think you will get much argument from people on that. But it didn't matter. They broke up. She's gone. That is also canon. It's Buck's canon history. And you can't erase it. Just like you can't erase Eddie's canon history. That was my entire point. I've said from the beginning Tommy not being Buck's endgame doesn't mean he's not important, in some capacity. He will always be Buck's first. And him just being that is okay. That's important. There is no need to make it more. Fandom is meant to be fun and this has become unnecessarily exhausting on every level. I have been very pro Tommy, for what I believe the shows purpose for him is. Refusing to pretend he's more doesn't make me homophobic. That argument is juvenile and stupid and is only being made because there's no actual argument to have. Unless the show makes him more, than what they have so far, you all are just shouting in circles. Love him. Ship him. It's okay, I promise it is, but you have no reason to be angry that others don't. You have no right to be angry at Oliver for not promoting it. You have no right to be angry at Ryan for playing the character most of the audience wants with Buck. The show promised you nothing. Oliver said nothing. Ryan didn't do a thing.

You admitted in your ask that you have been blocked by Oliver, Ryan and the official show account. Do you know what you have to send to an official show account for them to block you? You have to send something pretty disturbing. And one person having multiple accounts doesn't fix the block. It's very easy to identify multiple accounts being run by the same person/IP address. That's not hard and it doesn't require advanced computer knowledge so I promise you the moderators running the show account know how to do that. So you can create all the accounts you want, and you said you have multiple, but like you also said they're all blocked. Ten or so people pretending to be 50 or 60 different people is still a very tiny fandom and I have no idea what you think that's going to accomplish. Other than getting all 60 accounts blocked. We have no proof that Tim is the one who put a stop to the cameo videos, you can't make that statement, but if he did, he had every right to do so. They got entirely out of hand. Like I said in a previous answer Lou wasn't' talking to a wide audience, none of the view counts ever went past 2,000 people. The count may be higher now if people uploaded them to YouTube, but those extra hits mean nothing. That is a tiny, tiny fandom, and there is nothing wrong with being a tiny fandom. But it was clear the same 8 and 9 people were the ones purchasing the cameos and then they were turning around and spouting his PAID content as canon facts, and anybody who dared say otherwise was homophobic. That's not how any of this works. Lou was very careful to say, each and every time btw, "yeah I can see that", "sure I guess you can say that", "I played it as...". Zero part of any of those words should lead anyone to believe he was stating facts. Those same people though then turned around and openly bragged about demanding the show give us a Tommy begins episode. Openly sending Oliver hate because he didn't follow him back on Instagram or promote the ship. And most inexcusably disgusting of all bragged about telling Ryan they wished he had committed suicide. That is sick, immature and highly disturbing behavior. And for what? There was never a reason for any of it. So I hope it was Tim who ended it. Oliver and Ryan didn't do anything wrong. They have every right to want to tell the story they want to tell for their characters. You have every right to disagree with them. It's that simple. You have no right to the abhorrent behavior that followed. And Oliver, Ryan and the show have the right to block you over it, but you don't get blocked by them just for saying you ship Buck and Tommy and everyone knows that. I have no doubt that this is not the response you were looking for, and in spite of everything, ships are meant to be enjoyed by whoever enjoys them. So ship away. Enjoy it. But you cannot force them onto others. That is a simple truth and it shouldn't be that difficult to understand. 💗

I really hope it's temporary but I do understand it. Great response though.

Once again, thank you for sending this Nonny.

First of all, it's a sad state of affairs when someone is pushed to stop talking basic common sense and truth on their own personal fandom blog. All because others don't like their opinion and have decided to spout hatred. I'm so tired of this insane behaviour of attacking people for having an opinion on a character or a ship.

So much to unpack in this post. But I'm just going to pick out a few topics that I have something to say about. The rest of it has all been explained so well by the OP's answer.

The fact that some of these people got blocked by the cast and the official account is crazy. When I read about the fact that someone bragged about telling Ryan they wished he commited suicide??? Seriously? Are these people for real? All of this over a fictional ship on a fictional show? This isn't just one bridge too far. This is ten million bridges too far. It disgusts me on a basic human level and frankly? It should disgust everyone.

The fact that some of these stans are saying that, even if Buck would break up with Tommy, they would want Tommy to have someone else? It's once again rooted in this stubborn resistance to see what is truly happening on the show. Tommy isn't going to stick around. He is going to play his part and leave as plot devices tend to do. I don't understand what they are hoping to gain with this shortsightedness? It will only get them hurt and disappointed in the end.

The whole Buck will tell Tommy he loves him in season 8 is also, once again, based on a headcanon. This time a headcanon made by one BT shipper who claims to be in secret contact with Tim. He gives her secret season 8 spoilers. I mean... really? How is it that people fall for this kind of nonsense? If some Buddie shipper would make a post about having contact with the showrunner and him telling them that they said Buddie is going to kiss in episode 2 of season 8? I would laugh out loud and bring out the 'Sure Jan' GIF. I mean, people cannot be that gullible, can they?

I admit though, the one thing the BT fandom do have is that Tommy will always be Buck's first when it comes to his experiences with a man. And I also admit that, personally? I hate it. I wish they would have found someone else. Someone who had the acting chops to actually show some emotional depth in his scenes with Oliver. Someone who didn't have a shady past. Someone who was more understanding and less dissmissive. But I guess that was also part of the story the show was trying to tell us. It was showing us that Tommy isn't 'the one' for Buck. In every scene it became more and more apparent that this relationship isn't going anywhere. But I'm just bummed that Buck, once again, fell into a relationship that ultimately is going to cause him hurt. I'm so tired of that. His next relationship better be with Eddie, so he can finally be completely happy with someone (after a lot of drama no doubt) and settle down, which is something he obviously really wants. The same goes for Eddie by the way. I just want to see that man happy at this point. I want him to figure himself out and fall for Buck. No other boyfriends necessary. Just let them be happy together. Do you hear that 911? LET 👏 THEM 👏 BE 👏 HAPPY 👏 TOGETHER! Thank you!

So yeah, that's about all I wanted to add. Just some observations really. Their message doesn't really need explanation or addendums. It's perfect as it is.

This will be the last update from the anonymous OP for now. I get why OP wants a break though. Dealing with fandom used to be a fun experience. These days it's like taking a walk in a swamp. You never know what's going to happen when you're there. Things could be peaceful or you could be attacked by a giant alligator, without any warning. It's exhausting, that's what it is.

Anyway, OP? Whoever you are. Wherever you are. Take a break, relax. I wish you sunshine and happiness during your break. I'll leave you with another anon message I received yesterday:

"I hope this gets back to that one anonymous blog we all love but I'm so sorry you're getting hate from those people for simply stating not only your opinion but the obvious truth that most of us have been able to see from the beginning. Your answers are always so eloquent and concise yet never malicious, it's truly a blessing to see a Tommy fan with actual common sense lol."

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[rascal-xo]

Hi :) first of all, I already made a request for you a month ago. And I was very happy with the outcome of it. So if you are bored sometime in the future, here is another request:

Its Holidays (You can choose which, I believe spring would be cool because it would probably rain) and the whole 141 are by their family members. So since Ghost got none, he stays at the military. Since the reader is new in the crew she doesn't know that he always stays at there.

You came home late from a mission which took longer than expected. You go to bed and can't sleep so you decide to make tea and you are surprised the you meet Simon there. You tell him that you don't have a family too and it gets kind of angsty. From then on you could decide how the story goes on...

Are they just sleeping together on the couch or is it going to continue in a more smutty way? Who knows?

Thanks in advance 🪸

When It Rains, It Pours | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader |

Chapter Summary: You and Simon happen to be the only two on base during spring break.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, mentions of loss, trauma, a bit of sexual undertones.

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: I’m so happy you liked the last request I wrote for!! I hope you enjoy this one too :)) Might do a pt.2 so lmk 🫶🏼

PT. 2 HERE

You had just returned from a 2 week long grueling mission, and the rain was pouring down on you as you stepped off of the plane, and onto base.

It was almost night, and the sky was gloomy and dark. You're were still wearing your gear, and the weight of it had been pressing down on your tired muscles, making them ache even more.

Your head was pounding, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. You let yourself look up at the sky and let the rain wash over you, feeling the cold drops soaking through the layer of your clothes that weren’t covered by the vest, and let it seep onto your skin.

You were exhausted and sore, but you knew that you had done your duty and completed the mission. Despite the rain and the fatigue, you felt a sense of satisfaction that came from knowing that you had gone through with your orders successfully.

Laswell had a lot of hope on the line with you as the new Marine recruit for the 141. Herself and Captain Price had picked your file from the dozens of qualified soldiers.

As you stepped inside the familiar lodging’s building, you were met with a silence. You dropped your duffel bag, then remembering you would the only one here.

The team had all been given time off for the spring holidays, to go to their respective homes and find some rest. You on the other hand had taken on more work instead, not having the ‘luxury’ of something to go back to.

It was better that way. You would be far more comfortable here where you had a sense of security on base, even if you were alone.

You made your way to your room, shedding off your gear and leaving it in a neat pile by the door. You could feel your muscles relaxing just from the act of removing the weight from your body.

You decided to take a warm shower to ease your sore muscles, hoping it would also help to clear your head. You turned the faucet on and stepped into the warm stream, feeling the hot water wash away the grime and dirt from your skin.

Taking your time in the shower, not wanting to rush the experience, you washed your hair, feeling the suds massage your scalp and the warm water rinse it away. You ran your hands over your body, feeling every inch of your skin, enjoying the sensation of finally being clean.

After what felt like an eternity, you reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. You walked over to your small closet and grabbed a random Marine labeled t-shirt that you had around from your BMT trainee days. You slipped it on and felt the familiar comfort of the cotton against your skin.

Despite the warm shower, you found yourself unable to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in your chest, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof only added to your restlessness.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally gave up and sat up in bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. You rubbed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion weighing heavy on your body, but your mind refused to let you rest.

You decided to get up and make yourself some tea, hoping the warm drink would help soothe your nerves somehow. As you made your way to the kitchen area, you were lost in your thoughts, trying to gather your uneasiness.

You didn't notice another person hunched over, sitting on the couch until you were only a few feet away. Startled, you let out a gasp, and Simon looked up at you, his knives in his hands.

"You scare easily, Sergeant." He spoke, teasing yet absolutely serious in his tone.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was here." You answered softly, before going to find any sort of tea you could make. Unbeknownst to you, Simon watched you going about your business, trying not to let yourself make eye contact with him.

As you busied yourself with making tea, Simon remained silent, observing you with a keen eye. He had been on a mission as well, but he had managed to complete it earlier and had returned to base before you, staying true to his callsign.

After a few moments, he stood up and walked over to you, his knives left on the coffee table where he had been cleaning them off. "Why aren't you home, Sergeant." His voice was deep, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to open up to someone, but something in his demeanor made you feel like you could trust him. "There's no home to be at." you admitted, taking a sip of the hot tea a little too quickly before it had cooled, making you bite back a hiss. "What about you?"

Simon took a moment to consider your question, his expression unreadable. "I stick around here, Sergeant." he finally replied, not going any further into detail. "Can't sleep?" You leaned back against the edge of the counter, a couple of feet in front of the Lt.

His demeanor was a bit more relaxed than you were accustomed to seeing him. His heavy camo and skull mask were replaced with sweats and a plain black balaclava, only revealing his deep brown eyes. For the first time you could clearly see his tattoos, with his sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

"Can't catch much of it these days." You spoke, letting the hot mug rest in your hands. You could feel his piercing gaze on you, while you tried not to meet his eyes.

Simon remained silent for a moment, taking in your words. "Doesn't get much better if you're always this tense, I'm afraid." He might not have been joking, but you found humor in his blatant honesty.

"I'm not the tense one." You claimed back, a small tired smile playing at your lips. It was strange yet comforting to have someone else here, especially that someone you had never really spoken to before. outside of a professional setting.

He suddenly walked up closer to you, taking the mug from your hands and placing it on the counter. "Turn around." He asserted. You wondered if his field voice was just his all-the-time voice, but nonetheless you followed his direction.

He wasn't completely what had gotten into him so suddenly, seeing you in the kitchen barefaced and vulnerable to your surroundings. He had taken a keen liking to having you on the team, but even more having you to himself.

His hands found themselves on your upper shoulders, causing you to jerk a little. He immediately felt how tense you were, but being under his touch didn't exactly lighten that sensation.

Simon began to knead your shoulders, you felt the tension melting away. He worked his way to your arms, his strong hands working out the knots and kinks in your muscles. You couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you leaned back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. It felt wrong, letting your Lieutenant touch you like that, but it felt too good to stop.

"You don't have to, Lt-"

"Simon." His voice was low this time, soft, but he didn't stop. You suddenly felt self conscious, realizing you had failed to put on any pants under your t shirt that was coming down your upper thighs.

Your heart started racing a bit as you tried to subtly pull your shirt down, hoping to cover more of your legs. Simon must have noticed your movement, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he continued massaging your arms, his touch firm yet gentle.

His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, and you found yourself relaxing into it despite your initial reservations. As the tension in your body continued to melt away, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Simon's unexpected gesture.

After a few minutes, his hands gradually slowed down and eventually came to a stop. You turned around to face him, feeling a little bit awkward but also strangely comforted by his presence. You weren't sure what had just happened, but you knew it was something you couldn't ignore.

Your tea had gone cold, being the last thing you could think about in the moment. You stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. The air between you heavy with unspoken words, and for a moment it felt like he was seeing right through you.

You finally broke the silence, "Si-" Which was suddenly cut off by his mouth coming down onto yours.

Your mind went blank for a moment as you felt Simon's lips pressing against yours. The sensation was both familiar and foreign at the same time. You had never imagined that anything like this could happen between the two of you, but now that it was happening, it felt almost inevitable.

You tentatively kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. It was like a floodgate had been opened, all the pent-up desire and attraction suddenly spilling out between you.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you both looked at each other with a mix of surprise and intensity. This was new territory for both of you, and you weren't quite sure what to do next.

Who knew something so wrong could feel so right.

[helplessautomaton]

Hey can I get prompt 2 and 15 with Chuuya from the valentine event?

2 (“even if you do hate me, it doesn't matter, i really love you”) + 15 (“stop crying, please stop crying, you’re ruining our perfect day together..”)

sorry if the ending is rushed a little!, i genuinely had no idea how to end it but hope you enjoy nonetheless!

-WC 705 // valentines event open!! tws?: kidnapping mentioned but like, after that you're good? maybe some self-dehumanization from reader

You’ve been at Chuuya's house for a good time now, unsure the day you even got kidnapped, everything blended together and melted making everyday mistaken for the day before. Time didn't exist inside and at this point you’re unsure if time should even matter to you anymore. However, Chuuya always kept up with the dates and holidays, making time for them in the house and forcing you to participate in them. Outside was still cold but warming up, you remember noting that just to keep your sanity but as of late it no longer matters. You're locked up like an animal, but the only difference is you don't love your owner. You thought it was all so sweet until he couldn't take you being free and not with him. You don't remember but it felt fast, meeting him, loving him, getting captured, the events blended in together.

You could only let out a huff or sigh everytime the door opened, signaling he was home. You had noticed there was wine on the table, seemingly unopened, you ignored it thinking it was new and to be stored away pridefully. Stationed in the kitchen you were here for food and nothing else, somewhat glad you were even able to roam freely and not being locked up in a room like at the start. 

As your hand gripped the handle of the fridge, you heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen, of course he knew where you were, he always did. You only had freetime when he was at work, something to claim just a bit of sanity back from the exhausting nights before. “I'm home, what are you doing in here?” 

You knew his question was rhetorical, only just wanting you to have a conversation with him, for it to feel normal. Shading your eyes, you put your attention back on the fridge, opening it and seeing what there was to eat. “Oi, i got us food from my way home, i'm sure you’ll like the fresh made food instead.” begrudgingly you closed the fridge door, it seems he had set another date up that you would be forced to play a part of. You held up with a blank expression as you watched Chuuya sigh and put the bags he had down. “Even if you do hate me, it doesn't matter, I really love you.”

His words were soft, it would've been so sweet if you didn't feel like an animal, maybe you’d even smile. Instead you went and sat down, not feeling up to having a fight you’re gonna lose but at the same time you know it's not gonna be enjoyable. This seemed to surprise him, nonetheless Chuuya didn't say anything but only gave a tender smile. He handed over a steak cooked just the way you liked, the wine on the table was finally opened and he was pouring himself a drink. You hated all of this, you want the normality of life back, the one you took for granted and messed it all up.

Wanting to go back to that park, shopping, personal care, not being stuck in a life that could’ve gone so much differently but you’re stuck. Stuck in a hell you ever regret dreaming about, at least that dream had freedom to it. Tears started forming rapidly at your loss, you just wanted it all back. Shakily bringing up a hand to your mouth, this isn't fair. Chuuya started panicking at this, quickly going over towards you and he was trying to hold you. “Hey hey, what's wrong?, what's the matter?”

Seeing you suddenly in tears threw him off as Chuuya tried his best to calm you down by physical touch and hushed words. “stop crying, please stop crying, you’re ruining our perfect day together…” 

His voice was quiet but the tears kept flowing, unwilling to listen to his attempt at calming you down. Any words you tried to speak came out incoherent while your tears shed everywhere. Chuuya kept trying to soothe and calm you down yet nothing was working, he didn't want to get angry at you, he didn't know what else he could do. So there you were left in the kitchen still crying while Chuuya left.

[gentaro-kinniecom]

⦕Halloween headcanons as a couple<3⦖

Characters: Yuuki Makoto, Oogami Koga, Morisawa Chiaki, Itsuki Shu, Amagi Rinne, Kanzaki Souma, Sakasaki Natsume, Narukami Arashi, Mikejima Madara and Ran Nagisa

C/w: fluff, a bit of suggestive in Natsume’s part, Alcohol in Rinne’s part…general sweet headcanons for everyone <3

A/n: I had to at least do something halloween-themed since this month has been so stressful 😭😭 I’ll still do the two requests I got sometime during this year even if its not for flufftober but then again thank you all for the support!! I hope you guys continue to enjoy my fanfics !!! <3

Makoto Yuuki

Still loves trick or treating at his age and suggests wearing a couple’s costume this year

Even going to lengths of going to a party city and looking at his favorite video game characters costumes

It’s no wonder when the rest of Trickstar decided to join on what was supposed to be your date.

Makoto doesn’t mind but, his mood changes, thankfully at some point they decided to visit a friend’s home around the block, leaving you both alone.

He then invited you to his apartment, watching scary movies while sharing a blanket and snacks sounded like the ideal date

After some moments, you fell asleep on his shoulder as he kissed your forehead and slept with you

Koga Oogami

Since Undead was doing a small Live, a halloween special for the Ensemble Square, he invited you to join them, getting you a vip ticket to later on spend time together.

As the event reached it’s climax, they had a small reunion for the vip’s, as soon as you reached the room, Koga held your hand softly while smiling.

His eyes were on you during the rest of the night, your outfit made his heart beat, he couldn’t help but admire you even more

After a while of mingling with fans and his own bandmates, Koga craved some alone time with you, walking around the illuminated streets wasn’t uncommon for them

Koga placed your arm on his, making sure you felt safe around him

Throughout the night, before it struck 12am, it was always a tradition for him to kiss you in the course of it, in any special holiday, anniversary and even your birthday. Koga wants you to feel special and cared for in every aspect

Chiaki Morisawa

It’s certain that Ryūsetai most likely will make an act for their younger audiences in the same park as they’ve done all their previous shows

Chiaki is surprised when you arrived to help them get ready with makeup kits or helping out with their lines, he’s truly grateful to have someone like you in his life

While doing the mini show, his eyes were on you whenever he could, it gave him comfort. As soon as it ended, Chiaki couldn’t wait to hug you backstage, and he did, spinning you around while kissing you afterwards

He’s definitely exhausted after the entire thing but suggests going to a small party that Starmaker production held

His eyes contained so much tiredness that he began to sleep on your shoulder while standing up

That’s when you both decided to go home, shower and cuddle throughout the night

Shu Itsuki

He’s not into big halloween parties but, he’ll go if you attend and if you wear the matching outfits he prepared for months in advance

Every year he comes up with new themes and always wins the best costume award, it’s not shocking at all

Mademoiselle is usually in Shu’s arms during the night but will hand her at some point to you, admiring how gently you hold her, almost as if she was a fragile porcelain doll

Despite not celebrating halloween a lot, he’ll definitely give the best candy around his neighborhood, the kids are always excited to see Shu’s beautifully decorated house.

He’s intolerant towards kids, however he enjoys seeing the faces of happy, calm children complementing and saying how pretty his costume and home is

Mika regularly visits him in France, specifically when this holiday is around; hanging out with you two (mademoiselle included), gathering candy and having a wonderful time all together

Rinne Amagi

Undoubtedly he throws a halloween party in his dorm, booze included

Kanata and Hiyori invite some of their friends as well as Rinne, who had obviously invited their lovely partner to enjoy some quality time..perhaps even playing beer pong/truth or dare

He buys the costumes no one wants nor likes but always makes them look good somehow

There’s not a single moment where he parted his hands away from your body, holding your hand, waist or even carrying you at some point as a dare, while kissing you that is

Rinne is such a bold person, no matter if it’s a specific holiday or not, he’ll always be like that with you

Even after he’s drunk and everyone went home, he mumbles ‘I love you, Y/n’ so drunkly yet sweet, it’s almost sickening. The only thing he really wanted was to express how much he truly loves you, it’s no doubt what he says is the truth

Souma Kanzaki

Souma loves doing live shows and performing for an audience, no matter if it’s the day where you both had plans on going out, Souma wished the live could’ve been done some other day

He was so upset yet as soon as he saw your face in the crowd, a smile appeared, now happy yet nervous, Souma did his best for you

His eyes were watery, it looked like he had been crying before you entered backstage, sighing in relief as you hugged him, comfort filled his heart, Souma was truly content now

After talking and leaving, Kuro suggested going to Rhythm Link’s halloween party, even if Souma was tired, he agreed after hearing the whereabouts of the party, which was held in the aquarium

When you reached the aquarium, instead of joining everyone at the party you both went towards the turtle exhibition, he seemed so relaxed that Souma didn’t even notice falling asleep on your shoulder

Souma barely remembers how he got home, he smiled as he sees you preparing breakfast for him the next day with his favorite sea themed apron

Natsume Sakasaki

He goes all out on this specific holiday, like dressing as witches together with Tsumugi, Sora and you

Natsume’s goal for halloween is to actually teach you magic; even if it starts by making potions, he’s sure on making it a memorable experience

Tsumugi insists him on taking Sora trick or treating this year since every previous one they would usually give out candy, Natsume sighs, reluctantly agreeing to it and dragging you with him

His eyes are all over you, his hand on your waist as he compliments and flirts with you

Eventually, you both sneak out to kiss and spend time together while Tsumugi continues to trick or treat with Sora

Back at his apartment, Natsume had prepared a small bath for you both to enjoy after the long day; soon sleeping in each other’s arms

Arashi Narukami

Expect a full on halloween glam from this girl, she’s so excited to do your own makeup and wear stylish costumes

Since New Dimension had a small gathering with their idols, Arashi decorated the place so elegantly with some people as support, her face brightened up as she saw you

She won’t shut up about you throughout the party, anytime someone asks about you both, it’s always compliments and praises from Arashi

Arashi later on ends up making non-alcoholic margaritas or handing out drinks to people at the beverage station, casually talking about her day while preparing you a drink

At some point, she takes you to dance under the stars outside, it was such a romantic moment for you both, even kissing you softly, smiling as she held you close

Izumi sighed, looking at you with a faint smile, he was happy Arashi had found someone who complemented her life

Madara Mikejima

Unfortunately, he had to go undercover for a mission that night, after double face disbanded, he ponders if taking you with him would be a good idea, but that quickly disappears when he sees your lock-screen of him in your phone

When he gets home, all bruised up and neutral after a good mission, Madara finds you awake in bed, sighing softly as he apologized for leaving without telling you at such an early hour

Halloween isn’t his favorite holiday, so he likes celebrating it his own way: baking some sweets , watching movies and more

Madara, despite his nature of being friendly and welcoming, wants to only spend time with you, especially after what he had to do during the early hours of the day, he feels safe in your arms and home

He proposed cooking together instead of ordering takeout, wrapping his arms around your waist while you help him out, kissing your shoulder slightly while smiling

Since he’s really tired from the mission, Madara cuddles with you and falls asleep while a movie played in the background, you kissed his forehead before joining him

Nagisa Ran

He’s still getting used to how halloween works, dressing up as your favorite character/movie, getting candy from random neighborhood houses and more

All he could think of was that halloween special in his favorite crystal shop, it’s no surprise when you spend most of your day there with him

Upon entering the shop, Nagisa held your hand the entire time, looking at the many precious gems around the establishment

Even if you both didn’t wear costumes, Nagisa bought matching jade bracelets, walking out the door with a smile, hand in hand once again

Eden had a small gathering during the night and Nagisa dressed up as a mermaid with the rest of his unit. When he spotted you, he couldn’t help but smile, going to hug you after the crowd of fans left

Since Hiyori wanted to go to a Karaoke booth, Nagisa sang his favorite songs while glancing at you first comfort, holding your waist as you joined him for some duo songs