#invincible chatter

[marzipanilla]

I was going to jokingly be like 'three threads one post GO !' lol but then I was like- no, I need to sit down re-read all of this and organize my thoughts better and probably still miss stuff I wanted to say. Time to have multiple tabs open !

Mark and Kate talking about surviving horrific body altering trauma! About struggling to relate to people after enduring horrible shit! yess. Figure out that you can be vulnerable with someone and you don't have to be having sex with them or insisting you love them so much they have to understand- you CAN have platonic meaningful relationships with people! Sometimes it IS very good to have an outside perspective. If TT were essentially Kate's family (and then they just... splinter into nonsense- okay- detour- why the hell weren't TT WAY more up in Robot's bizz about the fact he was a 30 year old man hanging out with teens for years? Aside from just letting the narrative give us general logistics on how they all got together- where are their personal feelings on this? Presumably they did treat him differently bc they believed him to be a robot- how do they feel about that trust being violated? Things they were willing to say to him? Things he might have seen? Why would any of them be okay with someone who lied to them like that still being in charge of their well being? Why am I once again stuck with an awkward romance storyline (Amanda and Rudy) instead of what is naturally there in the TT dynamic? Just?? hello?? Like, 'I violated one of my coworkers bc I realized he made you horny' is wild as it is- but the fact that I am getting that storyline instead of 'my coworker is mad at me because I lied to him for years'? Where are the GoG and TT dealing with liars meetings? Where is Immortal talking to them about what its like to have someone not turn out to be who you thought they were??

TT and GoG 'guess I wasn't the only one being lied to' dynamic we SHOULD have gotten.

On the retiring heroes line- where is more stuff with Samson! He didn't retire, he was SIDELINED bc he lost his powers and then he clawed his way back in. How does he feel about people willingly stepping away? Is he an insane adrenaline junky? Was he going to lose his health insurance if he didn't get back into things? What are his motivations !! If he was a member of GoG why wasn't he at the funeral. Why wasn't he up there talking with Nolan. Why didn't he come by for drinks. Lemme see THAT dynamic. Let's hear what Nolan has to say about his 'coworkers' when one of them trying to mourn is RIGHT THERE. What would his advice be to Mark about loss? Like, people who work jobs like that have a certain degree of disassociation from things/dark humor etc etc, but how would he not have a different outlook than Nolan? Was he pissed at GoG bc he wasn't with them after his powers were gone? How did he feel about the Nolan reveal? Secretly glad that you weren't around with the deaths happened? Insanely guilty that you weren't?

Aside from Atlantis being pissed about their dead king, like... did any other country demand reparation for what Omni-Man did? Was all that destruction apparently limited to the USA? Were aide packages sent? Refused? How many times even outside of contexts like that, were heroes sued for interfering in the matters of other governments workings? What are the extradition laws of superheroes? If they are all secret identity types- how do you identify where to send the court order? Do all heroes belong to a global registry official or not, and that is where their rights are determined? There has to be some sort of court for dealing with heroes no ??

Nolan isolating Mark and Debbie initially viewing it just as him being protective, bc it's a dangerous world out there! Stuff happens! But then Mark starts to push back against his dad, and she wants him to have human friends and suddenly it doesn't seem so protective bc Nolan is ALSO keeping him from that. Debbie finding superhero partners but struggling to find superhero PARENTS and just trying to figure out where the line is. Why are so few heroes parents? Just bias of where she is? Do most retire/take a break to raise their kids before going back? Are most too paranoid about the GDA taking an interest in their offspring to risk it? Are there RULES/laws about heroes having kids? How fucked would that be?

Does Mark ever wonder why he's an only child? Did they only want one kid? Was he an accident? Was Debbie willing to have more but Nolan's behavior with bby!Mark weirded her out too much? Was him being absent just enough of a deterrent to her not wanting to deal with all that again? If the GoG were a network for them, was Mark like a weird little celebrity to THEM bc yeah, heroes tend not to have kids? Aside from just being nepo baby, was he basically only child'd by an entire superhero team? What was that like?

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[edgepunk]

the,,

[spookykestrel]

Fighting the scurvy allegations by eating a fruit for the first time in three days

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Thats never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[p0orbaby]

We’ll Do the Things That Lovers Do

summary: you ask, alexia answers

warnings: none

a/n: it’s a cute one

word count: 1.5k

-

The first time you meet Alexia, the sun is a ruthless overseer, searing the already pale blue sky into white. You’re twelve, English, slightly awkward, and profoundly unsure of why your parents thought it was a good idea to send you to a football camp in Spain. You like football well enough, but you’ve always been better at watching it than playing. Still, here you are: standing on a pitch that smells of hot turf and dry grass, surrounded by kids who chatter in Catalan and Spanish. The words tumble from their mouths too fast for you to catch more than fragments, a reminder that you’re out of place.

The ball comes to you with a dull thud. You freeze, and for one breathless moment, the whole world shrinks to that scuffed, overinflated orb at your feet.

“Shoot,” a voice says, startling you. You glance up and see her—Alexia.

She’s smaller than the others but somehow commands the space around her, her presence as steady and deliberate as her movements. Her ponytail is lopsided, and her knees are bruised, but her eyes are bright, alert, the colour of chestnuts split open in autumn. She nudges her chin towards the goal, repeating the word as if it’s the most natural thing in the world: “Shoot.”

You do.

It’s a disaster. The ball veers wildly to the left, nowhere near the goal. You feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but Alexia grins—a wide, unabashed smile that flashes crooked teeth. She claps you on the shoulder as she jogs past, muttering something you don’t understand but recognise as encouragement.

That was the beginning.

-

The pitches look smaller than you remember—disappointingly so, as if the scale of your childhood has been robbed by adulthood’s harsher clarity. Once, they stretch endlessly before you, bordered by mountains shrouded in haze, the kind of expanses that make you feel free and invincible. But now, standing at the edge of the field, the chain-link fencing looks shorter, the goals less daunting, and the turf more contrived—newer, more synthetic, missing the patches of wear and uneven grass that seem like the field’s imperfections were secrets shared only with you.

You’re struck by how time skews memory. Is it really this contained, or is this just another reminder of how the magic of youth magnifies everything? Back then, the setting sun behind the hills paints the whole world in gold, and the air always seems fresher, tinged with the earthy smell of grass and sweat. Now, as the same sun filters through the fence, casting sharp geometric shadows, it feels less grand, more staged—as if the past doesn’t belong here anymore.

The drive here is steeped in silence, a comfortable one, though tinged with anticipation. Alexia leans against the passenger window, her profile illuminated by the last of the daylight. She isn’t glued to her phone like most people would be; instead, she keeps her eyes on the world beyond the glass, mind wandering to a place you wish you could join her. Every so often, you catch her glancing at you—not suspiciously, but with a curiosity that she doesn’t voice. You think she’s learned to trust your mysteries, to follow where you lead, even when you offer no explanation.

You don’t tell her where you’re taking her. She doesn’t ask either, though the slight tightening of her lips gives away that she’s thinking about it. It isn’t a long drive—twenty-five minutes if you discount the wrong turn past the industrial estate. You hadn’t planned to drive at all; Barcelona’s public transport is convenient, reliable, and environmentally conscious. But today feels like a day for small indulgences, for moments steeped in intention.

The Aston Martin DBX707 isn’t the kind of car you use often; its polished bottle-green exterior and tan leather interior scream opulence in a way you sometimes find embarrassing. It isn’t about practicality or subtlety—it’s about craftsmanship, the pure indulgence of owning something that serves no greater purpose than being exceptional. Alexia doesn’t comment on it when you pick her up, though you notice the way her fingers linger over the stitching on the door handle, tracing the lines absentmindedly, as if she’s trying to understand it through touch alone.

When you park just outside the gates of the Espanyol academy grounds, she finally speaks. “You’re being weird,” she says, her voice light but edged with curiosity. Her outfit mirrors her casual confidence—black jeans that brush the laces of her shoes, a white cropped t-shirt that looks effortlessly styled, and a leather jacket that has clearly seen years of wear. It isn’t flashy, but on her, it might as well be runway-ready. The thin gold bracelet on her wrist—a birthday gift from you two years ago—catches the fading sunlight with every movement.

You smile, stepping out of the car and sliding on your jacket. It’s one of those late-March evenings where the air is crisp but not cold, hovering just on the edge of warmth. “You’ll see,” you reply, your tone deliberately vague.

The grounds are quieter than you remember, almost reverent in the stillness. The sleek building that replaces the old equipment shed gleams in the light, its glassy windows reflecting the hills beyond. Everything looks new, improved, as if the years have smoothed over the rough edges you’ve grown to love. Even the pitches seem more uniform, the kind of green that’s cultivated with care rather than worn down by eager feet.

As you walk, Alexia trails a step behind, her eyes roaming the space with a mix of recognition and disbelief. “This is—” she starts, her voice catching. Then she stops, as if finishing the thought might make it too real.

“Where we met,” you say simply, stepping onto the grass.

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she stands still at the edge of the pitch, her hands sliding into the pockets of her jacket. Her gaze is distant, fixed somewhere between the past and the present. “I haven’t been here in years,” she murmurs finally. Her tone is quiet, almost introspective, like she’s speaking more to herself than to you.

For her, this place is sacred. It’s the foundation of everything she’s built—the trophies, the accolades, the flint of the unwavering respect of millions. For you, it’s a piece of your past, formative but fleeting. Yet standing here now, you realise how deeply intertwined your histories are.

You walk toward the center of the pitch, the turf soft beneath your shoes. You’ve chosen your outfit with care: tailored charcoal-grey trousers, a crisp white shirt, and suede loafers that are entirely impractical but precisely the point. Alexia follows, her steps slower, more measured, as if each one carries a memory she hadn’t expected to confront today.

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” you ask when you reach the center circle.

She squints slightly, her expression softening as she searches her memory. “I told you to shoot,” she says at last.

“And it was terrible,” you add, a grin breaking through your composure.

“It was,” she admits, a quiet laugh escaping her. But her smile lingers, her eyes meeting yours with something deeper—a shared understanding, a recognition of how far you’ve come.

You reach into your pocket, the small velvet box heavy against your palm. This isn’t impulsive; you’ve rehearsed this moment in your head a hundred times. But no amount of planning can prepare you for the way her gaze shifts, the subtle widening of her eyes as she begins to realise what’s happening.

Look,” you start, your voice a little rougher than you intended, “I’m not great at this stuff. You know that. But I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and… here we are”

Her eyes flick to the box before you’ve even opened it, and she straightens slightly, her breath catching just enough for you to notice.

“This place—it’s where we met. It’s where all of this started. And I figured, if I’m going to do something as ridiculous as this…” You flip the box open, revealing the ring. The diamond catches the last of the light, though it feels absurdly shiny for how grounded she is. “…then I should at least do it here”

She blinks, her lips parting as though she’s about to speak, but she doesn’t. So you keep going.

“I love you,” you say, the words blunt, unembellished. “You already know that. And I don’t think there’s a version of my life that makes sense without you in it. So… will you marry me?”

For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind skimming over the turf. Then she steps forward, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a grin so wide it’s almost smug.

“Yes,” she says simply, as though the answer was never in doubt.

Your hands are steady as you slide the ring onto her finger, the weight of the moment settling between you like a tangible force. She steps closer, her arms wrapping around your waist, her face pressing into your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you brought me here,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

“It felt right,” you reply, your hand brushing over her hair. “It’s always been you, Alexia”

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (7/?)

Initiation! First time engex with Skywarp <3 Starscream is decidedly not pleased.

Double whammy post bc I need some crack after the last one.

Hammering on the door of Starscream's habsuite is the last thing you'd expect when winding down for recharge. Earlier, Starscream had comm'd you with curt instructions not to wait up because he would be working late - you had no idea who would be here at such a late hour unless it was something urgent.

The door slides open with a grand whoosh to reveal Skywarp, smirking as he leans against the doorframe. It's been a while since you last saw him and Thundercracker, and it's nice to see him again despite the unexpected nature of his visit. He's probably not here for you, though.

"Hi," You greet. "Starscream's not here." Oddly enough, the smirk on his faceplate only widens.

"Exactly," Skywarp drawls. "Wanna go out?"

Out? At this hour?

More importantly, would Starscream allow it?

"I'm not sure I should," You begin, the incident with Ratchet still fresh in your mind, but Skywarp waves your concerns away with a flippant servo.

"Don't get your processor in a twist, kid. Screamer already gave us the A-OK."

You find this slightly dubious, but you don't think Skywarp would outright lie to his trine leader like that, so Starscream must have approved something. In spite of Skywarp's mischievous nature, you do trust Starscream's trine, so you shrug and slide off the berth to follow him. Skywarp makes no attempt to hide his satisfaction.

"It's a bit of flying to get there," he says airily. "Little place off-planet. But that makes it all the more fun, huh? When's the last time you got off this dirtball?"

It's true, you suppose. It really has been a while. You're not high-ranking enough to accompany the officers on off-planet missions, and the war is now firmly situated on Earth, after all.

"Are we even allowed?" You hedge.

"Pfft," Skywarp casually waves your concerns off with a servo. "We'll probably see half the ship there."

He pauses for a second before adding: "We'll probably see Autobots there, too. Just giving you a heads up - Swerve's is kind of a neutral ground, so no storming in with guns blazing, 'kay?"

You know he's joking around - you generally don't do any storming, and your weapons at most are a wheezing ember rather than a blaze, but his carefree attitude about running into The Enemy gives you food for thought. You'd never really aligned yourself with the Decepticon cause, and that run-in with Ratchet and Bumblebee had only strengthened your convictions that war was stupid, but you hadn't expected others to be so open about it.

Quick as lightning, Skywarp transforms, a streak of purple blitzing into the sky, and you quickly follow. Breaking the barrier into zero-gravity is exhilarating - without gravity weighing your frame down, your speed practically doubles. The Terran planet falls further and further behind as stars, twinkling like diamonds, wink in the darkness of space before you.

"This way," Skywarp's voice crackles into your comms, and you jet after him. This airspace is unclaimed - close enough to the Terrans' planet that no race had staked a claim on it, nor bothered to legislate use of it - yet far enough that the Terrans' space technology was still too undeveloped to reach it within the time of one lifespan.

Eventually, Skywarp leads you to a little square block of a building planted firmly on a rock you could really only term space debris. Energon still thrumming in your veins as you land, you feel absolutely invincible. Zero gravity flight really was something else. Skywarp lands next to you and, laughing, slings an arm around your shoulders. "Not bad," He teases. "You kept up pretty well. Looks like Screamer's actually been pulling his weight - I don't have to worry about losing you in outer space, after all."

He hustles you through the door and immediately, raucous chatter and uproarious laughter fill your audials. Decepticon insignias mingle with Autobot ones in a sea of vibrant paints, gleaming as they catch the neon light of the bar's interior. Much like the building itself, the bot behind the bar is square and stocky, broad grin on his faceplate as he cheerfully polishes a square glass.

He turns his equally polished visor on the two of you, grin widening as Skywarp swaggers up to carelessly plunk his elbow on the bartop.

"Look what the turbofox dragged in," The bot - Swerve, you assumed - joked. "I was starting to think that Megatron had finally gotten sick of you."

Skywarp smirked. "What, been missing little old me?"

"I'd be nothing without my highest-paying customer," Swerve threw back, and both of them roared with laughter. You were still soaking in the atmosphere of the bar, far from refined but cozy and harmonious - something you weren't used to - when Swerve finally noticed you.

"You sure this one's legal?"

"As legal as your bar is."

"Oi! I'll have you know this is a licensed establishment."

"There's your answer."

Skywarp winks at you, laughing as Swerve rolls his optics and turns away to make your drinks.

"Swerve's a good guy," Skywarp says, patting the barstool next to him. You settle yourself on the stool as he continues talking. "The place is his. No guns, no swords, no briefcases."

"It's nice," You say softly, and Skywarp glances at you, clearly having picked up on the real meaning of your words.

"Sure is," He finally says. "Tell you what. Say the word, and I'll bring you here anytime you want."

He laughs when you turn your shining optics on him, making zero effort to hide your hopefulness. "Yeah, I know, I'm the best. No need to thank me, kid."

Swerve reappears to plunk two cubes of fizzy pink liquid in front of you.

You blink at it for a nanoklik. It's unlike anything you've ever seen - the energon you're accustomed to is blue, and this liquid bubbles in a way you've never seen before. You lean closer to take in its scent, and Skywarp cackles as a bubble pops irreverently in your faceplate.

"Cheers," He grins, and promptly downs his in one swallow while you watch in a mixture of horror and fascination.

You glance at Skywarp uncertainly.

"...Do I have to do that too?"

"Yes," Skywarp says, with an air of exaggerated gravity, but the look on your faceplate must have been utterly hilarious because he breaks more or less immediately. "No, no. Of course not," He wheezes, as you slump on the barstool in poorly disguised relief. "Take your time. Tiny sips."

You cautiously lift the cube to your intake. The sharpness of it immediately assaults your senses, and you sputter a bit as it burns all the way down. Mindful of your wings, Skywarp thumps you on the back to clear your pipes. "Engex," He chuckles. "Takes a bit of getting used to. But give it another try, yeah? Dunno if you can pick up a bit of smoothness towards the end..."

You're more prepared for the second sip, allowing the liquid to settle over your glossa for a nanoklik. Not viscous, but thick and rich in the way high-grade jet fuel is - it summons a memory to the forefront of your processor. Near the end of every stellar cycle at the Academy, cadets would be given a small allowance of high-grade jet fuel as a reward. Even before the war, high-grade was a rarity - you'd been lucky enough to try it once before it pretty much became a thing of the past. This time, the heat of the engex melds pleasantly with the warmth in your chassis.

Skywarp watches the change taking place on your faceplate with smug satisfaction. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. I'll have myself a real drinking buddy in no time, unlike those party poopers back on base. Hey, Swerve!"

Skywarp's tolerance really is sky-high, you note. You watch him knock back an objectively impressive amount of engex as you slowly nurse your cube. Before you know it, he's unsteady on his pedes and evidently, while under the influence, really, really sociable.

"'m gonna go say hi to a few bots," He cheerfully informs you. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere, 'kay?"

Before you can answer, he's already off, loudly greeting a group of bots who react with equal enthusiasm when they see him. Swerve sighs, shaking his helm, but it's fond.

"You'll be here a while," He tells you. "Take it easy."

For a while, you feel great. Amazing, even. Your frame feels light, your processor clear without the fog of anxiety to cloud it, and you even make some small talk with bots waiting for their drinks. If only you were this confident all the time. Wouldn't that be great?

Unfortunately, allowing your thoughts to stray in the direction of hypotheticals was probably not the best thing to do. You're nowhere near purging, but some long-buried emotions begin to rear their ugly heads when your cube is half empty. What could have been, what hadn't been - and even though you and Starscream had ironed out your little incident about missing training, you still felt guilty about it. You're grateful that Swerve makes a point to come and check in with you every so often, because you spend the next half of your cube fluctuating wildly between immense guilt and wishing Starscream was here so you could direct all your newfound confidence into telling him just how much you looked up to him.

Cube empty, you plunk your heavy helm onto the bartop with a clang. "Oof," Comes Swerve's concerned voice. "You alright there?"

Before you can respond, you suddenly become aware of an unsettled silence that befalls the bar behind you.

"What's Starscream doing here?" A bot whispers. You furrow your brow as you pick up on the unease in the room. The Starscream you knew could be scary, sure, but was there something warranting that level of dread which you didn't know about? Secondly, Starscream, here? You clumsily peel your faceplate off the bartop to look. Sure enough, even as bots uneasily resume their chatter, your commander's frame easily stands out from the rest. There's a scowl on his faceplate as he scans the crowd, snarling as a reveller accidentally bumps into him. While others shrink back, you can't help the silly smile that spreads across your faceplate. You know that scowl - it's been directed at you many times. Starscream is worried.

You barely hesitate before sliding off the barstool, pushing through the crowd to get to him. Your smaller frame is easily hidden by the larger warframes that mill around you, so the naked surprise on Starscream's faceplate when you wrap your arms around his waist is genuine. All at once, the relative return to normalcy in the bar is once again disrupted. You, however, are completely unaware of the atmospheric equivalent of a bucket of ice water being dumped over the room, because you're too busy smooshing your burning faceplate against the cool glass of Starscream's cockpit.

"What the frag," Some bot whispers.

You pay it no mind. Without letting go, you pull back slightly to meet Starscream's gobsmacked expression. "Sir," You say severely, with all the furious determination of a bot who will make themselves heard (even if the furious blue tint of your faceplate robs you quite significantly of your intended decorum). "Have I told you that you're super cool?"

Furious chatter explodes promptly around you, though not without some poorly suppressed snorts of laughter.

"Who is that?"

"...Starscream, super cool?"

"How are they still in one piece?"

"Super cool?"

Starscream looks utterly mortified, servos hovering awkwardly in the air like he has no idea where to put them.

"We're in public, cadet," He hisses. "Pull yourself together."

Yet, he makes no effort to push you away. Just like that, the tense atmosphere in the bar lapses back into one of easy relaxation.

"I talked to them earlier at the bar. Nice kid. Guess Screamer can't be that bad if he's got someone like that looking up to him."

You feel a tremor run through Starscream's rigid frame. His left optic is twitching - he looks utterly torn between interpreting the comment as an insult or a compliment. But soon enough, he seems to realise that shows of power are useless currency in Swerve's bar, and your little show of humanity might actually have elevated him in the eyes of many overnight.

It is at this moment that Skywarp chooses to reappear, supported by an exasperated Thundercracker. He's clearly just purged somewhere out back. "Screamer!"

"I'm going to kill you," Starscream hisses. "I'm going to take you apart, piece by piece. I must have been out of my processor to let you supervise tonight. Look what you've done to my student!"

His threats, of course, are the furthest thing from intimidating considering that you're still clinging stubbornly onto him. Like it's your fault he's so warm, and his presence makes you feel safe.

You blink up at him, all wide and innocent optics. "Are you still mad at me?"

That makes Starscream stop. Did his word really mean that much to you?

"We've been over this," He scolds, even as he's gently wiping engex from your faceplate with his thumb. Starscream carefully tilts your helm this way and that to inspect for any damage - upon finding none, beyond your unfocused optics, he ex-vents and lets go of you. "You've already made up for it with extra training, have you not?"

"Oh," You mumble, decidedly not letting go of him. "Okay."

Burying your faceplate back into his chassis, you feel the steam of his heavy ex-vent before the warmth of his servos settle over your shoulders. He'd rather die than admit it in the middle of a busy bar, but learning that he actually, genuinely, matters to you makes his spark pulse with warmth.

He already knows that there's no way you can fly in this condition and he'll have to tow you back. But just as you'd go to the ends of the earth for him, he would also do the same for you.

"Come on," He murmurs. "Let's go home."

Previous / Next

Edit: NOW WITH AMAZING ART from @xarology !!!!!!!

[chvoswxtch]

Romcom - with Hotch ? 👀🫶🏼

Girl i’ve been waiting for the right time for you to hopefully take this and do your thing with it cuz you’re amazing. I know it’s specific and long so pls feel free to do with it what you like. Also I’m not sure it fits your movie night theme, so then maybe just keep it for when you maybe do wanna write it???? Here it is, whatever….

K so like hotch and reader are like couple goals, been married long, working through everything and are just downright adorable BUT THEN hotch nearly dies…like for real gets shot in the stomach or something - something real scary. And aaaaall the time he’s mumbleling stuff, reassuringly or scared like: you cant tell my wife she’ll end me or tell her I’m fine, gonna be home for dinner…

But maybe she’s there and she’s trying her hardest to make everybody move, but Morgan is just not having it, making her stay tf back…

When she finally sees him she’s s c a r e d…so terrified of might having actually lost him, of it happening again cuz he will be in these situations again and who is she if not supportive and understanding…just scared and hopelessly in love. bye.

honey you essentially just wrote a whole ass masterpiece on your own

but you asked for my dramatic flair & I am nothing if not a dramatic bitch that lives for the ✨ t h e a t r e ✨

headcannon below the cut

if i stay starring aaron hotchner

derek knew you would physically fist fight him in the middle of that hospital hallway if he even dared to try and keep you out of hotch's room. he kept trying to reason with you, that you wouldn't wanna see him in that state, but you were not in a state of mind to be reasoned with

when you got the call from rossi that your husband was in the hospital, that familiar stone of dread sank in your stomach, nearly sending you through the floor. he didn't say what had happened, not over the phone, but you could hear the fear in his voice, which terrified you

the solemn faces of his team didn't help ease your anxiety, and the grisly details sent your nervous system into a full on meltdown. you could only pick up bits and pieces of what the surgeon explained

gunshot. loss of blood. critical condition. touch and go.

being in the bau was a dangerous job, and hotch had gotten hurt a few times over the course of your marriage, but it had never been this bad

nothing could've prepared you for the sight of hotch bruised and bloodied, laying in a hospital bed, connected to a bunch of wires that were keeping him alive, with an oxygen tube in his nose to help his weakened lungs do the most basic of human subconscious functions

panic, fear, anger, hopelessness, desperation, sadness; all of these emotions were crashing over each other like perilous tides and you were drowning beneath their tenacity

hotch was the strongest person you knew, physically and mentally. he was your rock. to see him reduced to something so fragile and broken shattered something within you. it wasn't like you were foolish enough to think your husband was invincible, but he was smart and cautious, he knew what he was doing. but today reminded you just how human he was

all you could do was sit there by his side and hold his hand while you fluctuated from silent weeping to full fledged sobbing. it didn't feel like enough, but it was all you could do. you couldn't help but replay this morning over and over in your head, analyzing every frame. had you told him you loved him? had you kissed him before he left? had you savored the few seconds before he walked out the door, not knowing that he might not walk back through it?

"don't tell my wife."

you'd been sitting there for what felt like an eternity in silence with nothing but the haunting background noise of beeping machines and chatter in the hallway. it was so faint, you almost didn't hear it. hotch still looked like he was sleeping, and you weren't sure if you'd imagined it or not

"what?"

you leaned in a little closer, and when he let out a deep exhale, the first sign of life you'd seen since you stepped into this room, you almost burst into tears

"don't tell my wife."

his speech was slightly slurred as he mumbled, and you weren't sure if it was due to the blood loss or the anesthesia that was wearing off from surgery

"why not?"

he was so out of it he didn't even seem to recognize your voice

"because she'll kick my ass."

you couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your lips at that, covering your mouth with your hand while the most imperceptible of a smile tugged at the edge of his lips

"I promised i'd be home for dinner."

giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you sniffled and wiped at your damp cheeks with a sad smile

"i'm sure she'll understand if you're a little late."

a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff left hotch as one of his thick dark brows subtly arched

"you haven't met my wife."

brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, you reached out with your other to gently push his hair back

"maybe this is a cosmic sign it's time for a vacation."

in the midst of gently carding your fingers through his hair, the next words that left his lips caught you off guard and made you go still

"maybe it's time to retire."

a full minute of silence passed, and then slowly, hotch's eyes opened, and as if drawn by some invisible magnetic force, the immediately found you

the pressure of him squeezing your hand, a silent gesture of not just reassurance, but also his strength returning, had tears welling up in your eyes all over again

hotch slowly turned his head to look at you, his eyes wandering over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail, and then a gentle but weak smile graced his mouth

"I won't be late for dinner ever again, honey."

I made myself emotional and now i'm gonna go cry excuse me

[w1w2]

When the First Snow Falls

Winter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7k

Synopsis: In the heart of winter, Y/N finds herself haunted by memories of Minjeong, the love she lost to her own neglect. When a chance encounter at a Christmas market rekindles their connection, Y/N must confront her past mistakes and prove she’s changed.

EXO– 첫 눈 "1년 전으로 갈 수 있다면 지금 우린 달라졌을까"

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Y/N stood by the large, frost-kissed window of her apartment, the warmth of the room a stark contrast to the wintry chill outside. Snowflakes, delicate and intricate, fell from the sky, blanketing the city in a soft white layer. The sight was mesmerizing, yet it filled her with an ache she couldn’t shake. It was the first snow of the season—just like that night a year ago.

The city below was alive with holiday cheer. Strings of twinkling lights adorned every lamppost, and garlands wrapped tightly around railings and storefronts. Families hurried along the streets, their laughter and chatter carried upward by the crisp winter air. Y/N’s gaze fell on a child tugging a small sled behind her, her scarf flapping as she ran to keep up with her parents. The joy in the air seemed to mock the quiet solitude of her apartment, the silence so heavy it felt alive.

Y/N sipped from a steaming mug of hot cocoa, its sweetness unable to soothe the bitterness of her thoughts. 

Kim Minjeong.

Even thinking the name was enough to make her chest tighten. She turned away from the window and set the mug down on the counter, her fingers lingering on its warmth. The snow had stirred a flood of memories—moments she both cherished and dreaded. She wished she could savor them without the accompanying sting of regret.

Her reflection in the glass caught her eye, and she frowned at the image of herself. The soft, heart-shaped face she was known for felt foreign in moments like this. It was hard to reconcile the bubbly, outgoing girl the world loved with the person staring back at her—a person weighed down by guilt and longing. Her hair, dyed a warm shade of brown for the season, framed her face in soft waves, but even its vibrance seemed muted in the pale light of the snow.

Minjeong had loved her hair. She remembered how Minjeong’s small hands would absentmindedly play with it, weaving little braids or simply running her fingers through it. 

Stop. 

Y/N shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to push the memory away. But it lingered, stubborn and vivid. Memories had a way of finding her on days like this, unbidden and relentless.

She couldn’t deny the truth anymore—she had taken Minjeong for granted. Her relentless schedule, the whirlwind of her rising career, had consumed her. She’d always thought there’d be time, always assumed Minjeong’s love would be steadfast, unshaken by her absence. But love wasn’t invincible. Minjeong had tried to tell her, to show her through the quiet sadness in her eyes and the spaces between their conversations. Y/N just hadn’t been listening.

The thought of that final night sent a shiver through her. She’d replayed it countless times in her head, wishing for a different ending, one where she hadn’t let her pride or fear stop her from reaching out. But regret didn’t rewrite history—it only lingered, feeding on her solitude.

Her gaze drifted back to the window. Snowflakes danced in the golden glow of the streetlights, their patterns chaotic yet beautiful. The world was transformed, each imperfection hidden beneath a pristine blanket. It reminded her of how things had been with Minjeong at the start—perfect, or at least it had felt that way. She’d been so sure of their forever.

Y/N reached for her phone on the counter. Her fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to type out a message she’d drafted and deleted too many times to count. What could she say now, after all this time? “I’m sorry”? It felt inadequate. “I miss you”? True, but also painfully obvious. She set the phone down with a sigh, her chest tightening with frustration.

The truth was, she wasn’t sure Minjeong would even want to hear from her. After everything, could she blame her if she didn’t? Y/N had hurt her, unintentionally but deeply, and she didn’t know if words could ever mend what she’d broken. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill that seeped into her thoughts despite the heat of the room.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, piling on windowsills and frosting tree branches. It had a strange way of making everything feel still and silent, even in the bustling city. Y/N let herself be still for a moment, her thoughts slowing as she watched the snow. Somewhere out there, Minjeong was seeing this same snowfall, perhaps feeling the same chill, or maybe she was wrapped in someone else’s warmth now. The thought twisted like a knife in Y/N’s chest, but she forced herself to face it.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or if she’d ever find the courage to send that message, to say what her heart had been screaming for the past year. But for now, she stayed by the window, letting the snow and the memories wash over her. It was painful, but it was hers—every regret, every smile, every laugh that echoed in her mind.

Winter had always been her favorite season. Now, it was a reminder of what she’d lost. But maybe, just maybe, it could also be a reminder of what she still had the power to reclaim.

She drew a shaky breath, her fingers brushing the frost-laced windowpane. The snow outside blurred as her thoughts drifted deeper into the past. No matter how much she tried to live in the present, this season always carried her back to those moments—the ones she could replay vividly, down to the smallest details.

Her gaze unfocused, the bustling cityscape faded, replaced by another time, another place. She could almost hear the laughter and music, see the twinkling lights reflected in Minjeong’s eyes.

It had all begun one December evening, at a small community hall that smelled of cinnamon and fresh pine…

Flashback

The lively hum of chatter and laughter filled the community hall, its walls adorned with festive garlands and twinkling lights. The annual Christmas charity event was in full swing, and Y/N was there as part of her agency’s outreach initiative. She adjusted her red Santa hat, a playful accessory that matched her outfit, as she carried a tray of cookies to the refreshment table.

“Careful, or the cookies might outshine your smile,” a voice chimed from behind her. Y/N turned, catching sight of Minjeong. Petite, radiant, and sporting a mischievous grin, Minjeong was dressed in a cozy green sweater adorned with tiny reindeer patterns. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her sparkling eyes danced with mischief.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is that your way of asking for one? You could’ve just said please.”

Minjeong’s grin widened. “I could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?”

Their banter was lighthearted, the kind that flowed naturally, as though they’d known each other far longer than the few minutes they’d exchanged pleasantries. As the event progressed, they found themselves gravitating toward each other. Between serving refreshments and wrapping gifts for children, they discovered shared interests—love for music, a penchant for adventure, and a mutual appreciation for the joy the season brought.

The highlight of the evening came when Minjeong took to the small stage to sing Christmas carols. Her voice, clear and melodic, captivated the room. Y/N found herself mesmerized, her heart skipping as Minjeong’s gaze briefly found hers mid-song. When the song ended and the applause erupted, Minjeong hopped off the stage and returned to Y/N’s side.

“Well?” Minjeong asked, her tone teasing. “Do I pass your very high standards?”

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks warm. “You’re decent. Maybe a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” Minjeong feigned indignation. “I’ll have to work harder to impress you.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Y/N quipped, already wondering when she’d see Minjeong again.

The next few weeks became a whirlwind of shared moments. Their first official “date” happened almost by accident, a spontaneous decision to grab hot chocolate after running into each other at the skating rink. They laughed over their inability to stay upright on the ice, Minjeong’s soft laughter ringing in Y/N’s ears long after the night ended.

From there, their relationship blossomed like the lights decorating the city. They built snowmen in the park, hands brushing as they sculpted the frosty figures. They explored Christmas markets, their fingers laced together as they navigated stalls selling everything from handmade ornaments to steaming cups of mulled cider. On quiet nights, Minjeong would hum Christmas carols, her voice a soothing balm as they curled up on Y/N’s couch, a tangle of blankets and limbs.

Y/N couldn’t pinpoint when she fell for Minjeong—perhaps it was gradual, like the way snow blankets the earth overnight, unnoticed until morning. All she knew was that Minjeong made everything brighter, warmer. Being with her felt like stepping into sunlight after days of gray skies.

Two years into their relationship, the festive magic they had shared began to fade, not from a lack of love but from the strain of Y/N’s growing career. Her schedule became relentless, each day packed with rehearsals, interviews, and appearances. At first, Minjeong was understanding, her optimism unwavering. She would wait patiently for Y/N to come home late, greeting her with a tired smile and warm embrace.

“I know you’re doing this for your dreams,” Minjeong would say, her voice soft yet reassuring. “I’m proud of you.”

But the cracks began to show. Y/N missed small but significant moments—a dinner date they’d planned for weeks, a family gathering where Minjeong had wanted Y/N to meet her cousins. Minjeong never voiced her disappointment directly, but Y/N could see it in her eyes, the way her smiles began to lose their spark.

One evening, as they sat on the couch in silence, Y/N scrolling through her phone while Minjeong watched the twinkling lights of the city, Minjeong finally spoke.

“Do you ever feel like we’re drifting apart?” Minjeong’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Y/N looked up, startled by the question. “What? No. Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Minjeong’s fingers traced the edge of her mug, her gaze fixed downward. “I just… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I’m not part of your world anymore. Like I’m an afterthought.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch, but she didn’t know how to respond. She opened her mouth, then closed it, fumbling for the right thing to say. Minjeong didn’t press further, but the weight of her words lingered between them.

The cracks widened as December approached. Y/N missed yet another date, this time at a winter festival they had been looking forward to. Minjeong had waited, bundled up against the cold, her breath visible in the frosty air, until the lights dimmed and the crowds dispersed. When Y/N finally called, hours later, Minjeong answered with a calmness that only deepened Y/N’s guilt.

“I know you’re busy,” Minjeong said, her voice devoid of accusation. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting.”

It was the first time Minjeong had given voice to the hurt that had been building for months. Y/N apologized, promising to do better, to make it up to her. But promises alone couldn’t mend the growing distance between them.

End of the Flashback

Y/N blinked back tears as she sat on the edge of her bed, the weight of the memories pressing heavily on her chest. She could still see Minjeong’s face that night, illuminated by the glow of the Christmas lights, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sadness.

“I should have tried harder,” Y/N whispered to herself, her voice breaking. But words spoken into the emptiness of her apartment couldn’t change the past.

The weight of those memories pressed against her chest like a vice. Y/N leaned her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the window as she exhaled. No matter how much time had passed, the ache hadn’t faded; it had simply settled, becoming a part of her. And at the heart of it all was that night—a night she couldn’t forget, no matter how much she tried.

Christmas Eve. The falling snow had been just as gentle, just as beautiful, but it hadn’t brought peace. Instead, it marked the moment everything unraveled.

Flashback

Christmas Eve arrived with a quiet kind of beauty. Snow drifted lazily from the sky, blanketing the streets in white and muffling the sounds of the city. Y/N had promised Minjeong they’d spend the evening together—just the two of them. For once, there were no excuses, no distractions, no last-minute cancellations.

She’d arrived late, but Minjeong had greeted her at the door with a soft smile and a tired look in her eyes. They’d exchanged pleasantries, but the warmth between them felt strained, like a thread pulled too tightly.

The apartment smelled of pine and cinnamon, and the Christmas tree in the corner glowed softly with twinkling lights. Beneath it sat a handful of neatly wrapped presents, the fruits of Minjeong’s careful planning. Y/N hadn’t even had the chance to wrap hers yet. She told herself she’d do it after dinner.

They sat on the couch, mugs of hot cocoa in hand, the space between them feeling wider than ever. Minjeong broke the silence first.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice steady but quiet, “can I ask you something?”

Y/N turned to her, startled by the serious tone. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Minjeong hesitated, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her mug. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, weighing every word before speaking.

“Are you happy?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The question caught Y/N off guard. “What? Of course I’m happy. Why would you even ask that?”

Minjeong’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “You say that, but sometimes… it feels like I’m not part of that happiness. Like you’re happy everywhere else—in your work, with your friends—but not here. Not with me.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. “Minjeong, that’s not true. I—” She faltered, struggling to find the right words.

Minjeong shook her head gently, her expression unreadable. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I need to say this.”

Setting her mug down on the table, she turned fully to face Y/N. The glow of the tree lights reflected in her eyes, making them shine even as her voice trembled. “I’ve been trying to hold on. For a long time, I told myself it was enough—your little notes, the times you made it to dinner, the way you always made me laugh when we were together. But Y/N… I feel like I’m always waiting for you.”

Y/N stared at her, words caught in her throat.

“I’m not blaming you,” Minjeong continued, her voice soft but firm. “I know how much you’ve worked for your dreams, and I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. But I’ve spent so much time trying to fit into your world that I don’t even know where I belong anymore. And that scares me.”

The pain in her voice was undeniable, and Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of Minjeong’s composure beginning to crack.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” Y/N said finally, her voice barely audible. “I love you, Minjeong. I really do.”

Minjeong gave a sad smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know you do. But sometimes love isn’t enough if it doesn’t feel like it’s being shown.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/N wanted to say more, to beg Minjeong to stay, to promise she’d do better. But the words wouldn’t come.

Minjeong stood, her movements slow and deliberate, as if giving Y/N a chance to stop her. But Y/N remained frozen, paralyzed by her own fear and uncertainty.

“I think I need some time,” Minjeong said softly, picking up her coat from the back of the chair. “To figure out who I am without waiting for someone else.”

She hesitated at the door, her hand resting on the handle. For a moment, Y/N thought she might turn around, might say something to undo the finality of her words. But Minjeong only looked back, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and love.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Y/N sat in the stillness, the twinkling lights of the tree casting faint shadows around the room. The mug of cocoa sat untouched on the table, its steam long since vanished.

She pressed her hands to her face, the reality of the moment crashing down on her like the snow outside. Minjeong was gone, and Y/N had no one to blame but herself.

End of the Flashback

The first snow of the season had been falling that night, too, soft and unrelenting. Just like now.

Y/N’s eyes lingered on the snow swirling outside her window, each flake catching the streetlights like tiny stars. A year had passed, yet the pain felt as fresh as the chill in the air. She closed her eyes, willing herself to move, to do something other than sit in the stillness of her apartment.

Moments later, she found herself bundling up in her coat and scarf, her boots crunching against the icy pavement as she stepped outside. The cold bit at her cheeks, but she welcomed it—it was better than the suffocating warmth of her solitude.

The park wasn’t far, and as she walked, memories tugged at her with every step. The snow fell heavier now, the quiet of the night broken only by the faint hum of the nearby Christmas market. When she reached the park, it was as if no time had passed at all.

Her gaze drifted to a familiar bench, the one tucked under a towering oak tree now dusted with snow. It was here, beneath these same branches, that Minjeong had kissed her for the first time. Snowflakes had clung to Minjeong’s lashes that day, and she’d laughed when Y/N had gently brushed them away.

The memory was both beautiful and painful, a bittersweet ache in her chest. Y/N paused by the bench, her gloved fingers brushing the backrest as if it might still hold some trace of that moment. But the cold, empty wood only deepened her sense of loss.

A year.

It had been an entire year since Minjeong had walked out of her apartment, leaving behind a silence that no amount of holiday cheer could fill. Y/N had tried to move forward, but her steps always seemed to circle back to the same memories, the same regrets.

She lowered herself onto the bench, brushing away the snow before sitting. From her coat pocket, she pulled out a small notebook, its edges worn from weeks of being carried around. Flipping to the last page, she reread the letter she had written—her thousandth attempt, it felt like—to Minjeong.

Minjeong,

I don’t even know where to begin. For the past year, I’ve been haunted by the things I didn’t say, the moments I let slip through my fingers. You always said I had a way with words, but now, when they matter most, I feel like I have none that are worthy of you.

I took you for granted, Minjeong. I see that so clearly now. I thought love alone would be enough, that you would understand my silences and forgive my absences because my heart was still yours. But love is more than feelings. It’s actions, presence, and choices—and I failed you in all of those ways.

Every memory we shared is etched into my mind like the first snow on pavement. I can still hear your laughter at the Christmas market, feel the warmth of your hand in mine on those freezing nights, and see the way your eyes lit up when you sang. You were my light, my safe place, and yet I dimmed you with my neglect.

I remember that night—Christmas Eve. I remember the look in your eyes when you told me you felt like you were always waiting for me. I should have stopped you, begged you to stay, promised to do better. But I was a coward, Minjeong. I let my fear of failure keep me from holding on to the best thing that ever happened to me. And for that, I am so deeply sorry.

The truth is, you were never an afterthought to me. You were my first thought in the morning and my last before I fell asleep. I just didn’t know how to show it. I got so caught up chasing my dreams that I forgot to nurture the one dream that mattered most—you and me.

I’ve spent the past year trying to understand myself and the ways I failed you. I don’t blame you for leaving, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But if there’s even the smallest chance to try again, I promise to be better—to show you every single day how much you mean to me.

You are the love of my life, Minjeong. You always have been, and you always will be.

Forever yours,

Y/N

Y/N traced the words with her gloved finger, her heart aching with the weight of her feelings. She had written the letter weeks ago but couldn’t bring herself to send it. The fear of rejection held her back, a barrier she couldn’t seem to cross.

Folding the notebook closed, she slipped it back into her pocket and rose from the bench. The park’s stillness felt too heavy, pressing down on her chest, and she needed to move. She headed toward the Christmas market, hoping the bustling energy might distract her, even just for a little while.

Y/N’s boots crunched softly in the snow as she wandered through the Christmas market, the glow of fairy lights wrapping the stalls in warmth. The air was rich with the smell of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider, but it did little to settle the growing unease in her chest. Everywhere she looked, there were reminders of Minjeong—bright ornaments they used to pick out together, couples laughing over steaming cups of cocoa, and even a stall selling reindeer figurines like the one Minjeong had loved so much.

And then she saw her.

At first, Y/N thought she was imagining it. Her breath hitched, her feet faltering as her eyes locked onto the figure standing by a stall of painted figurines. Minjeong. She was unmistakable, her blonde hair tucked into a knitted beanie, her long camel coat dusted with snow. She stood with a small reindeer figurine in her hands, tilting her head slightly as if trying to decide whether to buy it.

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the noise of the market. She hadn’t seen Minjeong in a year, not since that night. She hadn’t planned to see her now, but there she was, so close and yet so distant. For a brief moment, Y/N considered slipping away, retreating before Minjeong noticed her. But then Minjeong turned, her gaze sweeping the crowd—and froze when their eyes met.

Minjeong blinked, her expression guarded, the hint of a smile faltering as recognition dawned. Her fingers tightened around the figurine she was holding, and she took a small step back, as if trying to decide whether to stay or leave.

“Minjeong,” Y/N said, her voice barely audible above the market’s hum.

Minjeong didn’t answer right away. Her lips parted, but the words seemed caught somewhere between her thoughts and her tongue. When she finally spoke, her tone was measured, almost cautious. “Y/N… hi.”

The air between them was heavy, a mixture of surprise, unease, and something unspoken. Y/N took a tentative step closer, her hands stuffed deep in her coat pockets to steady their trembling. “I… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Minjeong’s smile was polite but distant. “It’s a small city,” she said simply. Her gaze flickered briefly to the stall, then back to Y/N. “Are you… here alone?”

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Just taking a walk, I guess. What about you?”

“Same,” Minjeong said, her voice softer now. She held up the figurine, the small reindeer painted in bright reds and greens. “I always liked coming here this time of year. It feels… familiar.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. She wanted to say something, anything to bridge the growing tension between them, but the words wouldn’t come. All she could think about was how different Minjeong seemed—still warm and kind, but guarded, as though she were holding herself together with careful precision.

There was a beat of silence before Y/N spoke again, her voice tentative. “Minjeong… I know this is unexpected, but… would you have time to talk? Just for a little while?”

Minjeong hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the figurine. Her gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, searching for something—sincerity, maybe, or a reason to walk away. Finally, she let out a small sigh, her shoulders softening slightly.

“Okay,” she said quietly, placing the figurine back on the stall’s table. “But just for a little while.”

Y/N’s breath caught, relief flooding her chest as she nodded quickly. “There’s a café nearby,” she said. “It’s quiet. We can talk there.”

Minjeong hesitated for another moment, then nodded, her expression unreadable. She paid for the figurine, tucking it carefully into her bag before turning back to Y/N. “Lead the way.”

As they walked side by side through the snow-dusted streets, the tension between them was palpable. Y/N’s mind raced with everything she wanted to say, but she kept silent, stealing glances at Minjeong. Minjeong, for her part, seemed lost in thought, her steps slow and deliberate.

When they reached the café, Y/N held the door open, and Minjeong stepped inside, pausing to glance at her briefly. There was something in her eyes—hesitation mixed with a flicker of the warmth Y/N remembered so well. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep hope alive.

They were greeted by a cheerful barista who directed them to a cozy corner table near the window. Outside, snow continued to fall, muffling the sounds of the bustling Christmas market.

Y/N ordered two hot cocoas, her hands trembling slightly as she handed her card to the cashier. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the nervous energy coursing through her. As they waited for their drinks, Minjeong removed her coat and settled into the chair opposite Y/N, her expression calm but guarded.

“So,” Minjeong began, her fingers tracing the rim of the small ceramic sugar bowl on the table. “What did you want to talk about?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her chest tightening. The moment felt fragile, as if one wrong word might shatter the delicate balance between them.

“First, I just… I want to say I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For not being there for you the way I should have been. For making you feel like you weren’t important. I’ve thought about that night every single day since it happened, and I hate that I let you walk away.”

Minjeong’s gaze was steady, but she didn’t interrupt.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “I know I can’t undo what I did, but I want you to know how much you meant to me—how much you still mean to me. I was so caught up in everything else that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. And by the time I realized, it was too late.”

The barista arrived with their hot cocoas, breaking the tension momentarily. Y/N murmured a quiet thank you, her hands wrapping around the warm mug for comfort.

Minjeong stirred her drink slowly, her spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. “You really hurt me, Y/N,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm.

Y/N’s heart sank, guilt washing over her like a tide. “I know,” she said. “And I hate myself for it.”

Minjeong’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes still held a trace of sadness. “I’ve spent the past year trying to understand what went wrong. At first, I blamed myself—maybe I wasn’t enough, maybe I should have tried harder. But the truth is, I forgot to prioritize myself. I spent so much time waiting for you that I lost sight of my own needs.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of Minjeong’s words settling heavily in her chest. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she said. “But I want you to know that I’ve been working on myself, too. I’ve realized how much I took for granted, and I don’t ever want to make that mistake again. Not with you, not with anyone.”

Minjeong looked out the window, her gaze following the falling snow. For a moment, Y/N thought she might brush her off, politely decline any possibility of reconciliation. But then Minjeong turned back, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“You know,” Minjeong said, her tone lighter, “you were pretty terrible at time management.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “That’s… fair,” she admitted, a small, nervous laugh escaping her.

Minjeong’s smile grew, and for the first time, the tension between them began to ease. “Do you remember that time you promised to meet me at the ice rink and showed up almost an hour late?”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me. I was so sure you were going to throw your skates at me.”

Minjeong chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “I thought about it. But then you bought me hot chocolate and let me laugh at how terrible you were at skating. It was hard to stay mad after that.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the small corner of the café and pushing back the weight of unspoken pain.

As the conversation drifted to happier memories—snowball fights, late-night karaoke, and stolen kisses under the city lights—Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the cocoa.

“I missed this,” Y/N said softly, her eyes meeting Minjeong’s. “I missed you.”

Minjeong’s smile faltered for a moment, her expression growing thoughtful. “I missed you too,” she admitted. “But missing someone doesn’t erase the hurt.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tightening. “I know. I just… I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it right. If there’s even the smallest chance—”

Minjeong held up a hand, her gesture gentle but firm, stopping Y/N mid-sentence. “Let’s not rush anything,” she said softly. “I need to think about this—about us. But… I’m glad we talked.”

Y/N’s heart both soared and ached at her words. It wasn’t the immediate reconciliation she had secretly hoped for, but it wasn’t a rejection either. It was something—a fragile thread of possibility, a glimmer of hope.

As they finished their drinks and prepared to leave, Minjeong glanced at Y/N, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve changed,” she said quietly. “I can see that. And I’m glad. Just… give me time, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her voice catching slightly as she replied, “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

The café door jingled softly as they stepped out into the crisp evening air. The warmth of their conversation lingered between them, like a fragile cocoon shielding them from the bustling noise of the nearby Christmas market. The faint scent of roasted chestnuts and pine drifted toward them, but neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.

As they walked side by side, Y/N tilted her head back, noticing the way the streetlights illuminated the delicate flakes of snow. The sight stole her breath for a moment, and she murmured, “It’s snowing again.”

Minjeong stopped, lifting her gaze to the sky. A small smile formed on her lips as a flake landed on her cheek. “It is,” she said softly, her voice tinged with quiet wonder.

For a moment, they simply stood there, the snow drifting down around them, their breaths forming soft clouds in the chilled air. The world seemed to pause, leaving only the two of them in the golden glow of the streetlights. It felt surreal—like stepping back into a memory when things between them had been so easy, so effortless.

Y/N’s gaze fell on Minjeong, her heart clenching at the sight. Minjeong looked serene, the snow catching in her hair and on her lashes, the tension from earlier melting away. It reminded Y/N of the countless times she’d seen her like this, moments she had taken for granted. She wished she could freeze this one, hold it forever.

A sudden breeze swept through the street, and Minjeong instinctively reached out. Her gloved hand brushed against Y/N’s, and without hesitation, her fingers curled around Y/N’s, the gesture as natural and familiar as breathing.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. The warmth of Minjeong’s hand felt like a lifeline, pulling her back to a place she thought she’d lost forever. She tightened her grip slightly, as if afraid this fragile moment might slip away.

“Minjeong,” Y/N began, her voice soft but steady. She turned to face her fully, searching her eyes for any hint of what she might be feeling. “Do you… do you think we can start over?”

Minjeong blinked, her expression unreadable at first. Her fingers remained intertwined with Y/N’s, but she didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle sound of snow falling around them.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on her. She was about to say something more, to explain, to plead, when Minjeong’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” Minjeong said, her tone light, laced with both amusement and something softer—something hopeful.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Not when it comes to you,” she said honestly.

Minjeong’s gaze softened, and for the first time that night, the walls around her seemed to lower. “I don’t know if it’s that simple,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “There’s a lot to figure out. A lot to rebuild.”

“I know,” Y/N said quickly, her grip on Minjeong’s hand firm but gentle. “I don’t expect it to happen overnight. I just… I want the chance to try. To show you that I’ve changed. That I can be better.”

Minjeong studied her for a long moment, her eyes holding a quiet intensity as the snowflakes fell around them. Finally, she nodded, her smile growing just a little. “Okay,” she said softly.

Y/N blinked, caught completely off guard by the response. “Wait… really?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Minjeong’s lips curved into an amused smile. “Don’t make me change my mind,” she teased lightly, though her tone carried warmth.

A laugh bubbled up in Y/N’s throat, a mixture of surprise and overwhelming relief. “I—I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so soon,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

Minjeong chuckled softly, her fingers still curled around Y/N’s. “Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes. “It’s a tentative yes. We’ve got a lot to figure out.”

“I know,” Y/N said quickly, her voice steadier now. “But just hearing you say it… it means more than I can put into words.”

Minjeong’s expression softened, and she gave Y/N’s hand a small squeeze. “Then let’s start there.”

As they continued walking, still hand in hand, the snow fell heavier, blanketing the world around them in a clean, fresh start. For the first time in a year, Y/N felt like she could truly breathe again.

The evening unfolded like a dream. As the snow thickened and the market’s lights twinkled, Minjeong turned to Y/N with a thoughtful look. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Not really.”

“Then…” Minjeong hesitated for only a moment before offering a small smile. “Would you like to come over? We can—well, I don’t know. Just spend Christmas Eve together?”

Y/N’s face lit up, her chest tight with gratitude and relief. “I’d love to,” she said softly.

Back at Minjeong’s apartment, the air was filled with the familiar scent of cinnamon and pine. The small space was cozy, adorned with fairy lights and a modest tree sitting in the corner, its decorations simple but warm. Y/N felt a pang of nostalgia as she took it all in, the setting so reminiscent of their past Christmases together.

“Help me with the tree?” Minjeong asked, holding up a box of ornaments.

Y/N nodded eagerly, her smile wide. “Of course.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, hanging ornaments and teasing each other about their differing tastes in decorations. Minjeong laughed when Y/N insisted on placing the slightly crooked star on top, calling it “quirky charm.”

Later, they moved to the kitchen, where Minjeong unearthed an old recipe for sugar cookies. The two of them worked side by side, the counters quickly becoming a mess of flour and frosting. Minjeong smeared a dollop of frosting on Y/N’s cheek, laughing at her exaggerated look of indignation before Y/N retaliated with a sprinkle shower.

After the cookies were baked, Y/N reached into her coat pocket, pulling out the letter she had carried with her for weeks. She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing, before offering it to Minjeong.

“I wrote this for you,” Y/N said softly, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know if I’d ever have the courage to give it to you, but… I want you to have it now.”

Minjeong unfolded the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the paper. Her eyes scanned the opening line, and a quiet sigh escaped her lips. Y/N’s handwriting hadn’t changed—slightly messy but earnest, the ink pressed deeply into the paper as if to anchor the words in place.

As she read, emotions washed over her in waves. The guilt, the sorrow, the yearning—they were all there, raw and unfiltered. Minjeong’s chest tightened when she reached the part about Christmas Eve, her mind instantly flashing back to that night. She had replayed it in her head countless times too, though she’d never admitted it to anyone. Hearing Y/N recount it now—acknowledging every hurtful moment—both soothed and reopened wounds she thought had healed.

Her fingers traced the words "you were my light," lingering as her breath caught in her throat. Y/N had never been good at voicing her feelings, and yet, here they were, laid bare in a way Minjeong had always longed for. Was this enough? Could this letter bridge the gap between them?

By the time she finished, tears blurred the ink slightly as she refolded the paper. Minjeong pressed it to her chest, her heart warring between cautious hope and lingering hurt. It wasn’t just the words that moved her—it was the vulnerability behind them, the promise that maybe, just maybe, Y/N had changed.

She looked up at Y/N, who sat across from her, nervously twisting her hands. Minjeong’s lips parted to speak, but for a moment, no words came. Instead, she reached out, placing the letter gently on the table between them. Her voice was soft but steady.

“You really poured your heart into this,” she said, her tone layered with both gratitude and uncertainty.

“I meant every word,” Y/N replied, her gaze steady. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. How much I regret letting you slip away.”

Minjeong nodded, folding the letter back and clutching it to her chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Later that night, they ventured out into the park, retracing steps they had taken so many times before. The snow was heavier now, blanketing the world in a hushed stillness. As they reached the oak tree where they had shared their first kiss, Y/N stopped, turning to face Minjeong.

“I know I’ve said this a lot tonight,” Y/N began, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I need to say it again.”

She dropped to her knees in the snow, looking up at Minjeong with wide, earnest eyes. “Minjeong, I promise I will never take you for granted again. I will do everything I can to be the person you deserve, if you’ll let me.”

Minjeong stared at her, the snow catching in her hair and lashes, before a surprised laugh burst from her lips. “Y/N, get up! You’re going to freeze.”

Y/N laughed, feeling a surge of relief as Minjeong reached down to pull her to her feet. The next thing she knew, she was wrapped in a tight hug, Minjeong’s arms warm and steady around her.

“I missed you too,” Minjeong whispered, her voice barely audible but so full of emotion it made Y/N’s chest ache.

The night ended with the two of them curled up together on Minjeong’s couch, a thick blanket draped over their legs. The glow of the fairy lights bathed the room in a soft warmth, their gentle twinkle matching the rhythmic rise and fall of Minjeong’s breathing. Outside, the snow continued to fall, coating the streets in a quiet serenity that seemed to insulate them from the rest of the world.

Y/N glanced down at Minjeong, who was nestled against her shoulder, her golden hair brushing lightly against Y/N’s cheek. Minjeong’s eyes were half-closed, her expression peaceful, her hand resting lightly on Y/N’s arm. It was a sight Y/N thought she’d never see again, and it filled her chest with a warmth that no amount of holiday cheer could match.

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Minjeong stirred slightly, tilting her head up to meet Y/N’s gaze. “For what?” she murmured, her voice heavy with drowsiness.

“For giving me another chance,” Y/N replied, her voice trembling just enough to betray the depth of her emotions. She reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from Minjeong’s face with a tenderness that felt both familiar and achingly new.

Minjeong’s lips curved into a small, sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that made Y/N’s heart swell.

“Merry Christmas,” Y/N replied, her voice steady but thick with emotion. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if it was too much, too soon. But then, with a quiet breath, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Minjeong’s forehead. Her lips lingered for just a moment, enough to feel Minjeong’s warmth beneath them.

Minjeong let out a soft hum of contentment, her eyes fluttering closed again as she leaned further into Y/N’s embrace. Y/N tightened her arm around her, as if to shield her from the world, her other hand finding Minjeong’s beneath the blanket. Their fingers intertwined naturally, the gesture grounding them both in the present.

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the heater and the muffled sound of snowflakes brushing against the windowpane. Outside, the snow-covered streets glistened under the soft light of the moon, reflecting the hope that Y/N finally felt in her heart.

For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a future—one where they could rebuild, where every step would be taken together. And as she held Minjeong close, she silently vowed to never let her slip away again.

[authortelevision]

“can you stay with me”₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,869 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ drunk arthur hill, looking after arthur, fluff

you go out with arthur but when leaving to go home you try to get off the train and can’t help but stay when arthur looks at you like you’re his entire world

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inspired by this clip

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The night began as a blur of lights and a sticky floor. The club was alive with the sound of thumping bass, smell of sweat, and voices rising over the music. You were there with Arthur Hill and your closest friends, a rare night where everyone managed to be free and in the mood for a good time. Arthur, as always, was magnetic, his easy smile and loud laugh reminding you of his presence throughout the night.

You found yourself dancing with Arthur at one point, your hands crossed over themselves behind his neck, his voice close to your ear as he joked about your questionable dance moves. The way he looked at you tonight wasn’t the same as he had before. Or maybe it was just the alcohol clouding your perception.

By the time you all piled onto the last train home, the world had tilted on its axis. Your friends filled the carriage with their chatter and laughter, and you joined in, feeling invincible in the dark streets of London. Arthur sat across from you, leaning back, his head lolled to the side, staring absently at you.

The train pulled into your stop, and you and your friends gathered your things, ready to tumble out onto the platform. You stumbled slightly, still laughing, as the doors slid open. But just as you turned to leave, a warm hand caught yours.

“Can you stay with me?”

Arthur’s voice was slurring now, almost hesitate, his usual confidence slipping. His hand lingered, fingers brushing yours as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. You froze, your friends’ voices fading into the background as they stepped onto the platform.

You glanced back at him, your heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He looked at you with a desperation you hadn’t seen before, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

The train doors began to close.

You stopped for a heartbeat, the train doors sliding shut as your friends call out in confusion from the platform. But you don’t move. Arthur’s hand is still holding yours.

Without saying a word, he guides you back to your seat. His grip doesn’t slip, instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, as if afraid you’ll change your mind and leave. It’s not like him to be quiet, Arthur’s the life of the party, the one cracking jokes and unaffectionally kissing random guys. But now, he’s uncharacteristically still.

As you sit down, the train lurches forward, the train station lights casting soft shadows on his face. Slowly, Arthur leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your heart is pounding, the adrenaline of the night replaced with something more intimate.

“Thanks for staying,” he murmurs, so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You don’t know what to say. Instead, you squeeze his hand gently, hoping it says enough. He sighs, a long exhale that feels like he’s been holding it in for ages. The train rocks gently, the world outside a blur, and for once, neither of you seems to care about getting off at the right stop.

“Arthur,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, but he shifts slightly, his face turning into your shoulder.

“Shh,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “Just… stay like this. Please.”

So you do. You sit there, his hand clasped tightly in yours, his head heavy against your shoulder. The loud rattling of the train fades into the background, the neon remnants of the night melting away. It’s just you and him, in this quiet moment that feels like the start of something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

And as the train barrels onward into the night, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is where you were meant to be all along.

The train finally pulls into the stop closest to Arthur’s flat. He’s still leaning on you as you walk off the platform together, his grip on your hand still tight. His steps are a little uneven, his head drooping slightly, but he’s still Arthur, softly murmuring jokes and light apologies under his breath.

“I’m fine,” he insists when you adjust his arm over your shoulder for balance. “Totally fine. Just…maybe a little sleepy.”

You roll your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I can see that.”

By the time you reach his building, you’re practically holding him up, the exertion making your breath come a little faster. You fumble with the doorbell, and a moment later, George and Chris, Arthur’s flatmates, swing the door open.

“Arthur!” George says, his voice laced with amusement. “What state has he gotten himself into this time?”

Chris steps forward, taking Arthur from your side. “God, mate, how much did you drink?”

You shrug helplessly, wiping your forehead. “Honestly, not that much. He’s just.. well, I think he’s had enough for one night.”

Chris chuckles as he steadies Arthur, who clings to him like an overgrown vine. George, meanwhile, gives you a curious look. “You stayed with him this whole time? Thanks for looking after him. Are you sure he didn’t drag you into any trouble?”

“Not this time,” you reply, grinning. “Anyway, I should head out. He’s your problem now.”

You turn to leave, but Arthur’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“No, no, please,” he says, his words slurring slightly. He pushes off Chris with surprising determination, reaching toward you. “Don’t go. George, tell her to stay. Please, can you stay?”

George raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “Stay? For what, exactly?”

Arthur’s head lolls toward George, his expression earnest despite the alcohol fogging his eyes. “Because she’s…she’s great, okay? And she makes everything better, and—” He pauses, his voice softening, almost pleading. “I don’t want her to leave yet.”

Chris snorts, muttering something about Arthur being dramatic, but George nudges you gently. “Your call,” he says with a half-smile.

Arthur’s gaze meets yours again, his hand still outstretched. “Please,” he says, quieter now, but just as desperate.

And before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping back inside, letting the door close softly behind you.

You sit down on the worn but comfortable sofa in Arthur’s living room, your body sinking into the cushions as the adrenaline of the night begins to wear off. Chris plops down next to you, sprawling out like he owns the place, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he says, turning toward you, “Arthur’s roped you into staying the night, huh?”

You shrug, trying to play it off as casual. “He asked, and I didn’t really have the heart to say no. Plus, I didn’t want him to throw himself down a staircase or something.”

Chris snickers. “Yeah, that tracks.” He nudges your shoulder lightly. “But you’re the first person I’ve seen who actually manages to keep him in check. It’s impressive.”

Before you can respond, George shouts from somewhere down the hall. “Hold on, I’m looking! I know I’ve got a hoodie or something you can borrow.”

Chris leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “You’re lucky it’s George and not Arthur picking clothes for you. Arthur would hand you some ridiculously long jeans and hope you don’t heave on them.”

You laugh at that, the tension in your shoulders easing. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure to avoid his wardrobe in the future.”

“So,” Chris says, his tone shifting to something lighter, “what’s the plan for the rest of the night? You want to just crash here, or should we put on a movie or something? George and I usually end up binge-watching terrible TV and ordering pizza after a night out. It’s kind of a tradition.”

“Terrible TV, huh?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris replies with a grin, “stuff that’s so bad, it’s good. Horror films, weird reality shows, that kind of thing. Honestly, it’s the best way to end a night.”

Before you can answer, George reappears, a bundle of clothes in his hands. “Found something!” he announces, tossing them onto the arm of the sofa. “There’s a hoodie, some joggers, and socks. Should fit well enough for tonight.”

“Thanks, George,” you say, smiling as you pick up the hoodie.

“No problem,” he replies, dropping into the armchair across from you. “So, what’s the verdict? What are we doing while Arthur sleeps off his dramatics?”

You stand up getting ready to go get changed. Chris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly waiting for your answer. The warm energy of the room feels easy, unhurried, like you’ve all done this a hundred times before. You glance between them, trying to decide if you’re ready to commit to a night of terrible TV—or maybe something else entirely.

After changing into George’s clothes, Arthur stumbles into the room, his hoodie a tangled mess around his shoulders and head, you sigh and rise from the sofa. He looks completely defeated, one arm trapped in the sleeve, his hair sticking out in every direction. Chris and George are already chuckling at the sight, but you can’t help but feel a tug of sympathy for him amidst your amusement.

“Arthur,” you say, walking toward him, “just sit down for a second, would you?”

He hesitates, his head still half-covered by the hoodie, before nodding slightly. You guide him back to his room, and he drops down onto the edge of his bed, his legs sprawled out as he tries to free himself with one last, futile tug.

“Stay still,” you say, stepping closer. “You’re going to dislocate your arm if you keep flailing like that.”

Arthur huffs, clearly frustrated, but he obeys, his head tilted slightly forward to give you better access. Standing over him, you tug gently at the fabric, trying to maneuver it off without pulling too hard.

“This would be so much easier if you weren’t moving so much,” you mutter, half-joking as you work.

Arthur lets out a soft laugh. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I’m not usually this much of a mess.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, finally freeing his head and tossing the offending hoodie onto the bed beside him.

When you look down at him, about to make some sarcastic remark, the words catch in your throat. Arthur’s looking up at you now, his face still slightly flushed, his hair a rumpled disaster. But it’s his eyes that hold you still, half-lidded, almost desperate for something.

Your breath quickens as the room suddenly feels smaller, quieter, the sounds of Chris and George’s laughter from the other room fading into the background. Arthur’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes darting briefly to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours.

“Thanks,” he says softly, his voice rougher now, like the tension between you has stolen some of his usual ease.

You nod, your throat tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “It’s…no problem.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air feels intensely thick, the distance between you both almost nonexistent. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling the same pull that you are.

The sound of George calling from the living room breaks the moment, shattering the spell. “Oi, is Arthur decent now, or is he still stuck in his wardrobe malfunction?”

Arthur blinks, the intensity in his gaze faltering as he gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I owe you one,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile in return, stepping back to give yourself room to breathe. “You can start by not getting stuck in your clothes again.”

Arthur laughs quietly, the moment slipping into something lighter, but the feeling lingers, hanging in the air between you like an unfinished sentence.

As you step back from Arthur, tossing his hoodie onto the bed, his gaze lingers on you a little too long. You’re about to say something to break the awkward silence when his eyes narrow slightly, trailing down to what you’re wearing.

“Wait a second,” he says, his voice low and almost accusing. “Is that…George’s hoodie?”

You glance down, tugging self-consciously at the oversized hoodie George had lent you earlier. “Uh, yeah. He grabbed it for me so I’d have something to wear for the night.”

Arthur’s expression darkens, his lips pressing into a thin line as a faint flush creeps up his neck. “George gave you his clothes?”

“Yeah?” you reply, a little confused by his sudden change in tone. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t exactly bring a change of clothes, did I?”

Arthur stares at you for a moment longer, then suddenly turns toward the door, yelling out, “George!”

From the other room, George’s voice floats back, casual and distracted. “What?”

“You should’ve put her in my clothes!” Arthur shouts, his voice loud and indignant.

There’s a moment of silence, followed by Chris bursting into laughter. “Oh, this is rich,” he calls. “Arthur, you’re literally wearing your own clothes. What were you gonna do, lend her your socks?”

“Shut up, Chris!” Arthur fires back, his face growing redder by the second.

George reappears in the doorway, a bemused look on his face. “What are you shouting about now?” he asks, crossing his arms.

Arthur gestures toward you, his frustration clear. “You gave her your hoodie. Why didn’t you grab one of mine?”

George blinks, then raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, mate. Maybe because I was trying to help, and you were too busy getting stuck in your own clothes to be useful?”

Arthur groans, rubbing the back of his neck, and mutters something under his breath. His eyes flick back to you, still in George’s hoodie, and he looks almost sulky.

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Arthur, it’s just a hoodie. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he grumbles, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then, quieter, he adds, “It just…would’ve made more sense for you to wear mine.”

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard, and you don’t quite know what to say. Before you can respond, George claps Arthur on the shoulder, a teasing grin on his face, before leaving. “Well, next time, mate, maybe try not to get stuck in your clothes first. Then you can play hero.”

Arthur glares at him, but there’s no real bite behind it. Instead, he looks back at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Next time,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s already planning how to make up for it.

You had barely taken two steps away from Arthur's room when you heard his voice call out, soft and desperate, as if he'd been holding it in until now.

"Hey.." His voice croaked, softly whispering to you, penetrating through the silence, pulling you to a halt. You turned back toward the doorway, your heart beating faster as you saw Arthur propped up on his elbow in bed, his face flushed and eyes wide-vulnerable making something in your chest tighten.

"Arthur?" you asked quietly, stepping back toward him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the alcohol still clouding his judgment.

"What's wrong?"

He hesitated for a moment, struggling with his words. Finally, he swallowed hard, his voice forcing its way out his throat.

"Can you stay here tonight?" he asked, his words slurring slightly. "I need you... Please."

For a moment, you stood there, the world narrowing to just the two of you. It was hard to ignore the way his gaze held yours, the sincerity in his request, even if it was a little muddled by the alcohol. He was asking for something more than just company—he was asking for your presence in the most vulnerable way.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check. “I already am, Arthur,” you said gently, your voice quiet but steady. You took a step closer to the bed, your hand instinctively reaching out to touch his arm, your fingers brushing his skin softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But Arthur’s gaze didn’t soften. His face, though still clouded by drink, seemed to express something else now, a deeper need. “No… I mean here,” he clarified, his voice shaking slightly. “In my bed… please.”

His words hit you like a jolt, sharp and honest, and the air between you two thickened with the intensity of what he was asking. He was no longer speaking in the detached, carefree way he usually did when he was drunk. This was real. This was him, raw and unguarded, reaching for something, someone, he needed in this moment.

The tension in your chest grew, your mind racing with the implications of his request. You hesitated for a second. You’d always been there for him, but this… this was something different.

You met his gaze again, and the weight of the moment was undeniable. “Arthur,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm, “you’re drunk right now. You don’t really mean this. You need to rest.”

But he shook his head slowly, his expression pleading, his hand reaching out for yours. “No, I do mean it. I need you here. I don’t want to be alone.” His voice cracked slightly, and the vulnerability in it made your heart ache.

Everything inside you told you to stay, to help him through this, even if it was a blurry line you weren’t sure you should cross. You could see the fear in his eyes now—not just the intoxication, but a deeper fear of being alone in this moment. And you knew that no matter what happened next, the night had already taken a turn that would change everything between you.

Sighing quietly, you finally nodded. “Alright, Arthur,” you said softly, your hand finding his again, gently intertwining your fingers. “I’ll stay.”

You watched as his shoulders relaxed, as though your acceptance was exactly what he needed to hear. Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the bed, his body sinking into the sheets, still reaching for you with his eyes. You sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of how far you should let this go, but in that moment, all you knew was that he needed you, and for whatever reason, you couldn’t turn your back on him.

Arthur didn’t say anything more, his eyelids fluttering closed as if he were finally allowing himself to let go of everything. You stayed, your hand still resting on his, feeling his warmth and the quiet rhythm of his breathing as he drifted back into a fitful sleep.

The night stretched on, and though your mind raced with thoughts and uncertainties, you remained by his side, holding onto the fleeting moments of quiet comfort, unsure of what tomorrow would bring but knowing that tonight, you weren’t going anywhere.

The bed creaked slightly as you carefully climbed in, your body still slightly buzzing from the intimacy of the moment, from the warmth of Arthur’s presence so close to you. You pulled the blanket up around you, your back facing him, trying to maintain some distance in the confusion of what was happening. The room was dark except for the soft glow from the streetlights outside, casting faint shadows across the walls.

You closed your eyes, your mind racing with the whirlwind of emotions, but still, the quiet lull of the night seemed to settle around you. Arthur was drifting into a deeper sleep, or so you thought. But then, you felt the bed shift. The air around you stirred as he moved closer, his body pressing gently against yours.

His arms slid around you, pulling you back toward him until your back was flush against his chest. You froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. Arthur’s body was warm and solid against yours, and his breath, warm and slow, fanned over the back of your neck. He nuzzled into your hair, the weight of his head heavy and comforting against your scalp.

“Arthur” you whispered, your voice betraying the mix of uncertainty and curiosity you were feeling.

But he didn’t respond with words—he only tightened his hold, as though there were no room for anything but the two of you, tangled together in the quiet dark. His lips brushed lightly against your hair, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, both from the unexpected closeness and the way his touch felt so natural.

“I wish you wore my clothes,” Arthur murmured softly. It wasn’t just the alcohol this time. There was something else, something deeper in the way he said it. “You’d look so good being mine.” His voice trailed off, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

A flutter of heat spread through you, and you felt your heart race at his confession. You knew he was drunk, but that didn’t make it any less intense, any less real. The words settled in your chest, making everything inside you feel tight, your thoughts spiraling as you tried to process what he meant, what he was feeling.

You shifted slightly, not knowing exactly how to respond. His arms were still wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he settled deeper into the curve of your back. You could feel the weight of his body, the steady pulse of his presence against yours, and somehow, it made you feel both safe and vulnerable at once.

His hand slid lower, resting at your waist, his fingers splayed out across your side, as if marking his territory without words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that raced through you at the feel of his touch. His breath tickled your ear, and you could sense how deeply he was affected by the closeness, his body pressing closer as though he couldn’t bear the distance between you.

“You promise you’ll stay with me?” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with something possessive. The question was gentle, but there was a sharpness to it, as though he was testing the waters, trying to gauge how far you were willing to let him go.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “I’m here, Arthur,” you said softly, the words barely more than a breath. You couldn’t say anything more—didn’t know what to say. His words had already crossed a line, and you didn’t know whether to pull back or let it unfold.

He nuzzled your neck, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the skin there, sending a wave of warmth through you. “Good,” he mumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine tonight.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, but you didn’t pull away. Something in you was drawn to him, drawn to the need that radiated from him. And even if it was muddled by the alcohol, even if the timing was all wrong, you didn’t want to push him away.

You both lay there in the stillness of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around you, your heart hammering in your chest. Neither of you spoke again, but his body against yours said everything.

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a/n: love u arthur tehehe

[ceesimz]

Stand By Me

Two weeks.

That's all it had been since you last saw each other.

Considering it was only the start of the relationship, it felt like a life time. Work had kept the two of you apart; Alexia seemed to have to travel constantly at the moment, and the busyness of your own job had picked up too. Even when you were in the same city as each other, there still wasn't enough time, and it felt like torture knowing you were just miles away from each other.

But that's what made your relationship so sweet. When the pair of you got together, it was like the rest of the world went away. If it was just the two of you, you saw a different side to Alexia and she saw a different side to you. You felt invincible when you were together. You could never take for granted the soft, tender, shy, and tooth-rottingly sweet persona of Alexia Putellas off the pitch, and you thought maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way about you.

Apparently not.

Here you now were, sat alone at the restaurant that you were supposed to be meeting her at, slowly harbouring a glass of wine as you watched the time tick away on the clock opposite you. Despite the chatter, laughter, music, and general background noise of the restaurant, bustling as it was on this Friday evening, you swore you could hear the hands move on the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Five minutes - fine! Not a problem.

Ten minutes - still alright.

Fifteen minutes - well... a text sent.

Twenty minutes - a bottle of wine ordered.

Thirty minutes? This was unfair. Not even a reply of warning. In fact, you hadn't gotten a single text all day.

Still, the clock, tick, tick, ticking away, mocking, teasing.

Where the hell was she?

"Perdónarme, señorita, if you are not going to order, we have a lot of people waiting for a table."

There we go. The last straw.

At the waiter's words, you stood abruptly from the table, gulped down the rest of your wine, before grabbing your coat and storming out. That was nothing short of utterly humiliating. You were in half a mind to take the bottle of wine with you and drown your sorrows on the walk home, but you'd already had enough embarrassment for one night. Walking out of a restaurant full of lovers on your own with nobody holding your hand, nobody carrying your coat for you, nobody guiding you out to a pre-booked taxi with their hand lingering on your lower back. You had yourself and yourself only, and being seen gaining comfort from a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine was not the impression you were trying to achieve.

Still, that didn't stop you from throwing your heels off in the corridor of your small Barcelona flat and heading straight to the fridge for one of the beers you kept in there. You could only fall asleep later that night after your best friend back in your home town in England called you up and criticised the woman you thought could do no wrong, having you belly laughing until you succumbed to your exhaustion, feeling significantly lighter.

Frustratingly, that was only a temporary thing. The first thing on your mind the following morning, was how badly you missed the feeling of a certain Catalonian's arms being wrapped around you. Again, it was just the start of the relationship (if that was even a thing anymore), so there had only been a few... sleepovers, but that didn't diminish the longing you had.

"Fuck sake." You grumbled, swinging your body to sit on the edge of the bed as you sighed heavily, head dropping back and eyes closing.

Waking up sad and alone in a foreign country, no matter how long you had lived there, never got any easier - especially when you had been so cruelly ghosted the previous night. The embarrassment lingered heavily in your chest, and you wanted to do nothing all day but sulk in your flat, then get drunk in one of Barcelona's many night clubs. Previously, you had rejected your friends' plans for tonight in the hopes of spending time with Alexia, but that had obviously flown out of the window after last night's events, or rather the lack of events.

So, you sent a text to the group chat containing your favourite friends you'd met so far in this beautiful city, informing them of your new decision, smiling when you instantly received an influx of messages conveying their joy. However, to your own annoyance, you found yourself pressing on Alexia's chat to see that she had left you on read.

Un-fucking-believable.

That night, you made sure to put on the little black dress you'd been keeping at the back of your wardrobe, hoping to one day wear it when you were going out with Alexia. But boy had she ruined that chance now.

When you got drunk whilst carrying a variety of angry emotions (especially when it came to relationships), you knew you had a habit of acting a little... petty, to say the least. That habit came in full force at 2am, when you decided to post a picture of yourself in your outfit, a smug and knowing grin on your face, hoping for Alexia to see it on your Instagram story.

Still drunk and awake at 6am, however now thankfully in the comfort of your own bed, you checked your Instagram story views, and there it was. Alexia had seen it. And... liked it? Was she serious right now? With a frustrated huff, you threw your phone down on the bed beside you and tossed onto your side angrily, refusing to let this get to you. Admittedly, that was a little hard to do in your drunk and emotional state.

You weren't entirely surprised to find your pillow coated with the after effects of tear-streaked mascara the next morning, but you were more worried about the pounding on your front door that caused your head to throb. Not quite jumping out of bed, it was more of a stumble really, you threw on your dressing gown and very quickly washed your face as to not scare off whoever was meer minutes away from bashing your door down.

"Fucking hell, it's early, who are-" You cut yourself off when you swung the door open, only to be met with the one person you were not expecting. "No."

Spiteful laughter bubbled out of you before you could control your reactions, and you slammed the door shut in her face.

...okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but in your hungover state, you didn't really have the sympathetic capacity to feel sorry about it.

"Please. I need to talk." Alexia pleads, a tired frown on her face as she held onto a bouquet of flowers.

"Why?" You leaned back against the door, bending over a little to rub stressfully at your face.

"I messed up, I know it. Please. I want to, to explain myself."

You would be lying if you said her English accent, sounding much sadder than you'd heard it before, didn't pull at your heart.

"I'm not in the mood right now, Alexia. It's early."

"It's two o'clock." Comes Alexia's confused voice.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at the digital clock on your coffee table, seeing it was indeed 2pm.

"Well... just not now, Ale!" You groan, rubbing your temple.

"Vale, vale." You just about hear her sigh exasperatedly on the other side of the door. "Soon, por favor. Tengo algo qué admitir." (I have something to admit.)

"What, that you're an arsehole?" You snort, before grimacing at yourself. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm sorry."

"No, it is okay." Alexia sounds a little humoured rather than offended. "I did not mean to... not show up to our date. There was a confusion with my schedule, and I did not mean to hurt you, guapa. I would really like to explain it. Please let me have a chance."

It falls silent between you both for a second as you consider your options. Your head was pounding, you were in a horrendous state appearance wise, and judging by your peculiar actions within the past few moments, you're pretty sure you're still a little drunk.

"How about we meet for coffee in an hour?" You suggest, because you really needed a shower and perhaps 1 or 2 or 10 glasses of water.

Sure, she'd already seen you in your current state, but you were not about to have an adult conversation with panda eyes and awful morning breath.

"Sí, I would like that." Alexia lets out a breath of relief. "At our bakery?"

You smile sadly at that - there was a bakery down the road from your apartment, a tiny but heavenly place with the best coffee and pastries that you had immediately claimed as your favourite breakfast spot within days of moving to Barcelona. When you introduced Alexia to it after your first night together, she had grown to love it just like you. From then on, most times you were together, you would go there.

"Yes, at our bakery." You confirm, closing your eyes as you picture her solemn face behind the door.

"Okay, I will be there. I... your flowers?" Alexia says, again with a hopeful lilt to to her voice.

You pause, before turning to open the door ever so slightly, half your face showing in the gap. This gave you the chance to take in Alexia's appearance, and it caused your defiance towards her to crack a bit. Her eyes were quite red, there seemed to be a frown permanently etched onto her face, and a pair of dull bags under her eyes seemed to drag her skin down. It was quite heartbreaking, to say the least. You're brave enough to think even you looked better than her right now in your current state of appearance.

"Gracias, Ale. Qué son hermosas." You take the bouquet from her, looking down at the abundance of stunningly colourful flowers organised perfectly.

"Tus favoritos." Alexia offers a semi-genuine smile as you meet eye to eye. You return the smile, seeing hers grow at the sight. "I swear I am so sorry for my actions, guapa."

"It was really humiliating on Friday, Ale." You admit. Alexia pinches the bridge of her nose as her frown somehow intensifies.

"Lo siento mucho, de verdad." Alexia mumbles, looking at the floor as she's too ashamed to look you in the eye. "It was not my, my... intentions?" She looks up at you briefly as you nod to confirm she's said the right word. "Sí, it was not my intentions to have you feel like that. I need to explain, please."

Alexia Putellas was not one to beg, you knew that.

"You can, later." You tell her. She nods and brushes her hair back with her hand.

"Gracias. Really, thank you."

"I'll see you soon."

"Vale. I will show up this time." She jokes light-heartedly, making you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head.

"If you don't, I'm never talking to you again." Her eyes widen at that and she nods nervously as you hold back a laugh.

"I will be there." She states firmly.

"Good." You offer a small smile. "Bye, Ale."

She nods once more and takes a few steps backwards, just gazing at you.

"Bye, amor." She murmurs, before turning around and walking away.

To your relief, Alexia stuck true to her word. An hour later, you saw her sat at one of the outdoor tables of the bakery, a hat and a hood allowing her to stay mostly incognito. But you knew her all too well and instantly recognise her despite her shoddy disguise. Her posture was slumped slightly, another sign that maybe mentally she wasn't doing that great.

"Hola." You greet her, making her raise her head immediately and look at you with a face of relief.

"You are here." She states simply, almost in disbelief.

"I could say the same about you." You hit back, wincing as the words leave your mouth.

"Mm." Alexia grimaces, trailing her eyes back down to where her hands rested on the table.

You take a seat across from her, noticing she'd already ordered your favourite pastry and hot drink for you.

"Thanks for these." You smile up at her.

"You want me to... get straight into it?" The English phrase sounds funny coming from her, it sitting unfamiliarly on her tongue.

"Please."

You watch as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair and sighs, folding her arms on the table and keeping her eyes cast down.

"Friday, I was with my family. Friday was... ten years of my Papí's death."

Well, shit.

"Oh my god." You freeze, eyes wide as you stare at her. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You didn't know, amor, it is not your issue." Alexia reasurres you. You put your head in your hands and groan quietly.

"I could have been less petty and immature about it though. Fuck, I am so sorry, Alexia. I had no idea." You ramble, mentally kicking yourself and looking at her through your fingers. She responds silently with a soft smile as she gently pulls your hands from your face.

"No, I am sorry, guapa. I didn't talk to you, I left you... in the dark. Or, alone at a restaurant." She jokes, and you let out a breath of relief.

"A text would have been nice." You mumble after a few moments, eyes focused on your connected hands as Alexia brushes her thumbs over your knuckles.

"I know. That is another reason why I feel bad. I left you, and I didn't send you a text to tell you. Really, I am so sorry. It was just... a hard day." It's said in a quiet tone that's laced with emotion, and that paired with her appearance, you knew instantly she was telling you the absolute truth.

"I bet it was." You smile sadly at her.

"I know I should have been... should have told you the truth. But I am now. I did not mean to hurt you, no way. My head was... full. It did not stop running and running. I didn't look at my phone on Friday at all, I just noticed yesterday what I had done. When I knew, I was so angry with myself." Alexia explains. "Alba shouted at me too."

You giggle at that, and she chuckles along with you.

"I believe you. I'm not mad." You admit.

Alexia drops her head so that her chin is to her chest, her anxiety now almost entirely eased thanks to your understanding.

"Dios mío, muchas gracias. Lo aprecio más de lo qué crees, amor." She mumbles, shaking her head before looking back up at you with tears in her eyes. (I appreciate it more than you know.)

"Just please don't do it again. Let me in next time. If we want to have a relationship, we need to communicate better, we need to be clear and honest, okay?" You tell her.

"Sí, I know. I know. I will try." Alexia says affirmatively. "I am not perfect. But I will try. I want this, I do."

You stand up from your chair, and at first Alexia panics internally, but when you offer your arms out for a hug, she leaps up and embraces you tightly.

"Neither of us are perfect, pero tengo muchas ganas de qué funcione también." You whisper in her ear, rubbing your hands up and down her back. (But I want it to work too, so much.)

"Yo también, cariño." Alexia places a handful of light, apologetic kisses on your neck.

"I'm sorry for being rude and petty earlier. I think I was still drunk." You admit sheepishly, Alexia laughing into your skin.

"I think you were. That was not like you." You grimace and nod in agreement. She pulls her head away and clutches at the back of your neck, her eyes searching yours. "We are okay?"

"Sí, amor. Más qué bien." (More than okay.)

When your lips finally connect, all is forgiven.

It's three weeks before the next incident.

In that time, Alexia had done a lot of grovelling. You had reasurred her many times that, as long as it was a one off occasion and due to the event she had missed your date for, you weren't angry. Not only had she surprised you with weekly flowers, date nights, and a night away together, she'd also asked you to be her girlfriend. It was a no-brainer, of course you said yes. Both of you had never been happier.

However, as you lay on the sofa of your apartment, sick supplies and tissues surrounding you and a blanket borderline suffocating you despite your temperature, you could only focus on the pain you felt for your girlfriend as the whistle blew for the Champions League Final.

Barcelona 1 - 3 Lyon.

You felt tears brewing uncomfortably at the sight of the white-kitted team celebrating, but that was nothing compared to the sight of your girlfriend lay on the field, sobbing her heart out.

If you were heartbroken, you can't even begin to imagine her pain. This was her dream, every footballer's dream, and it had been brutally pulled away from her and her team at the very last stage. And it all felt worse because you couldn't be there for her. Instead, you were stuck on your sofa, your whole body hurting and your chest rattling with every breath, completely ruined by a nasty chest infection.

It wasn't meant to end like this for the Barça Femení team. You knew it.

But Alexia... she couldn't even begin to fathom what had occured.

The moment the whistle blew, she went into shock. When she awoke the next morning, she couldn't remember much. The whole evening was a blur. She vaguely remembers the utter disgust she felt when a silver medal was placed around her neck, the anger she felt giving the Lyon team a guard of honour, and the stab in the heart when golden confetti landed on her.

She remembers feeling her mother's arms wrapped around her along with the reasurring whispers of her sister, but she had no idea what was actually said. She doesn't remember picking up her phone once at all that evening. She doesn't remember the silent coach journey back to the hotel. She doesn't remember getting into bed, and she has no idea how she fell asleep. Most importantly, she doesn't remember just how ill her girlfriend was.

Fuck.

Her girlfriend, her sick girlfriend who was devastated to not be able to fly to Turin with Alexia and her family. Her sick girlfriend who was all alone back in Barcelona, feeling worse than she ever had in her life.

Alone.

Alexia was completely unaware of the fact that you had managed to get ahold of Alba to try and find out how your girlfriend was. And when Alba had cared for you more in the space of a twenty minute phone call than Alexia had in the past 24 hours, you knew just what kind of situation you were in now. Despite the pain your girlfriend was feeling, you were nothing short of furious. Not that you could do much about it though, considering everytime you moved, you would cough so hard your vision went fuzzy. But your closest friend, who had dropped whatever she was doing to come to your flat and stay with you, at the request (demand) of Alba, she took all of that fury on for you and held onto it until you could handle it.

Even still, Alexia went down to breakfast shortly after waking up like she hadn't just ignored your messages that she briefly glanced at, along with the flurry of other messages from family and friends. She ate on her own in silence, airpods in with nothing playing in hopes of some peace. That wasn't achieved though, it was a futile and pathetic attempt. Her mind wouldn't stop.

For the whole of yesterday evening and this morning, the defeat ate at Alexia more than any other mistake she'd made. But as she sat there, alone, staring at her empty plate, she knew she had royally fucked up again with you, and this realisation took over every other mistake she'd made. Not only that, but she had also left her phone in her hotel room, and right now that felt like adding fuel to the fire.

Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back quickly, darting off to the elevator and spamming the button for it to pick her up. When it arrives, she almost runs straight into some other hotel guests, but she doesn't apologise. She steps to the side and waits for them to get out, before pressing the button for her floor and willing the doors to close before anyone else could get on. They did, thankfully, and she urged the lift to move quicker, watching the floors increase until finally she got to the right one. As she ran to her room, going past a few of her teammates who simply just stared at her, she stopped outside the door and checked her pockets for her keycard.

She'd left it in the room.

"¡Joder, no!" She shouts, banging her palms against her own door angrily. Her chest heaved as she rested her forehead against the door, finally feeling the tears she had resisted.

"Ale? ¿Qué paso?" Mapi approaches her cautiously, Ingrid standing back and watching on with concern.

"Dame tu teléfono." Alexia demands, holding her hand out. (Give me your phone.)

"Ale-"

"¡Dame tu teléfono ahora!" She shouts, Mapi glancing back worryingly at Ingrid before handing her phone over immediately. As quick as she could, Mapi unlocks the phone for her and Alexia types in your phone number.

"¿Hola?" It's not your voice.

"Where is she?" Alexia questions, hastily wiping away the tears dripping down her face.

"No, Alexia. Too late." Your friend replies angrily.

"Let me talk to her, ahora." Alexia requests weakly, her cold, strong demeanor cracking by the second.

"She is asleep. She cried herself to exhaustion after staying up all night worrying for you. No way am I letting her talk to you." Your friend spat out brutally, before hanging up.

Alexia drops the phone and slumps back against the wall, sliding down against it until she's on the floor.

"Who did you call?" Mapi asks softly, sitting beside her friend.

"Mi novia." Alexia sighs, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her face.

"You have a girlfriend?" Mapi couldn't stop the surprised answer from bursting out of her, and in turn she received a kick in the shin from Ingrid.

"Do you need a new key?" Ingrid questions. When Alexia nods behind her hands, Ingrid looks expectantly at Mapi.

"Why me?" Mapi responds but she gets up immediately when her girlfriend glares at her. She walks away with her hands in the air, going back to the elevator. Ingrid sits in her place.

"¿Qué paso?" Ingrid wonders softly, wrapping an arm around Alexia's shoulders.

"She is really sick. And I have pushed her away, again." Alexia reveals, grabbing her shirt by the collar and pulling it up to cover her face.

"Again?" Ingrid pushes gently.

"Sí, again. I am an idiot. I keep doing it and I do not know why." Alexia groans, angry at nobody but herself.

The two women talk for a while, Ingrid managing to help Alexia work through some of her emotions before Mapi comes back with a new keycard.

"Gracias, mis amigas." Alexia mumbles, being pulled into a hug by Ingrid, quickly joined by Mapi.

"Let us meet her." Ingrid requests with a smile, Mapi nodding in agreement with a grin.

"Who has tamed Alexia?" Mapi teases, earning a smack on the head by her girlfriend. "Ay, lo siento."

Alexia shakes her head at the pair of them, a tiny slither of a smile on her face as she turns to open her door. The couple walk away with a wave, before Alexia closes the door behind her and rushes over to her phone.

The influx of messages from you break her heart. You sent your last text at 04:17AM, and even though Alexia sensed you were angry at her, it was still filled with love and care.

Yes, she'd hugely messed up.

She was sat on the end of the bed, head in her hands, when her phone rang. Her heart hoped it was you, but her brain knew it wasn't. Instead, it was her sister, and she knew she was about to be in for a lecture and a half.

As expected, she answered and was immediately met with an overload of Spanish being bellowed at her down the line. There was no way she could get a word in as Alba went on and on, and with every word that came out of her sister's mouth, the guilt she felt increased tenfold.

How had she done it again?

"Sí, lo sé, Alba. Lo sé." Alexia mumbles when Alba finally pauses. (Yes, I know, Alba. I know.)

The younger woman goes to speak again, but she's interrupted by broken sobs that wreck through Alexia's body. That's when Alba realises her sister didn't need a lecture now, she had realised her mistake, and what she needed was advice. So, for an hour, that's what she gave. Until the cries of her older sister finally subsided, and there were only background sniffles to her solutions.

After they hung up on each other, Alexia went onto your contact and took her time typing out a message to you. She knew the likelihood of receiving a reply was very low, but it was the first step in making up for her idiocy.

Alexia: Amor, I have no words, no excuses for my actions. I have messed up and broken your trust again. I should not have let the defeat get to me as much as it did, and because of it, I neglected you. It is unforgivable but I know I really messed up and I will really try hard to win you back. I'm coming back to Barcelona tonight, I want to see you so bad but if you don't want me I understand. I hope you're feeling better, I'm so sorry I have been so selfish and I wish I was there to look after you. I hope to see you soon, amor. Feel better soon ❤️

Turning her phone off, she drops it beside her and lays back on the bed. Her forearms cover her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths, overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"Venga, Ale, tenemos nuestra reunión de equipo ahora." Mapi knocks on her door and shouts through. (Come on, Ale, we have our team meeting now.)

With a heavy sigh, Alexia once again wipes her face on the inside of her t-shirt before getting up - taking her phone with her this time - and leaving her room, accompanied by her good friend.

Meanwhile, back at your flat, you had woken up to the sounds of clattering from your kitchen as your friend made you some grilled cheese toasties and tomato soup. You notice your phone wasn't anywhere around you, so you clamber out of bed, not without a cough, and head towards the kitchen.

"Bon día!" Your Catalonian friend smiles brightly at you from her place in front of the stove.

"Have you got my phone?" You croak out, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"Sí. I'm not sure you want it." Your friend sighs angrily as she turns back to the food.

"Why?" You ask with a frown. "Has Alexia replied?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me see then." You reply flatly, walking over to take your phone from where you spotted it in her jacket pocket. She steps out of your reach and shakes her head.

"I'm so angry with her, chica, I'm not letting you just walk back into her arms." Your friend warns you.

"I'm not just gonna walk back into her arms, I'm not stupid." You argue, and your friend sighs again.

"I never said that. I didn't mean that. Sorry. I just mean... she always throws you to the side when she's going through a hard time. You are the most caring person I have met, I don't see why she acts like the way she does when she's upset. It makes no sense, chica, and you don't deserve that. Especially when you are so ill like you are." Your friend tells you softly, dishing up your food.

"I know and I am fucking angry about it." You mumble, moving to sit at the tiny dining table in your kitchen.

"Good. You better know your worth, because that woman doesn't." She mumbles, bringing your food over and placing it in front of you. "Te amo, amiga."

You smile as she sweetly kisses your forehead before going off and cleaning her mess. The two of you make small talk as you eat, until she sits down in front of you with a pointed look.

"Hm?" You hum, waiting for her to get out whatever she was about to say.

"I will give you your phone. I'm going to do a grocery shop for you, so I'll give you your phone, but please do not sit on it and just make yourself more upset. I will be quick as I can, sí?" You nod and smile at her as she slides her phone over to you. "Call if you need. See you soon."

She grabs her coat and walks out the door. When she's gone, you immediately go on your phone and look for Alexia's message. You read it, your heart being pulled in about a million different directions emotion-wise, and... as much as you hate to admit it, you believe her. Ultimately though, you choose not to reply to it. She doesn't deserve that yet.

Instead, you move over to the sofa and collapse onto it, a devastated frown on your face as your bottom lip quivers. Tears sneak their way out, soaking the pillow you rest your head on, tired of being ill and tired of being cast aside by your girlfriend.

A few hours later, as you sleep with your head on your friend's lap, there is a knock at your door. You don't hear it of course as you got some more much needed rest, so your friend gently slides out from underneath you and answers it.

"Are you fucking serious?" She growls when she opens the door to see Alexia on the other side. "Are you really here right now?"

"I know you have looked after her when I've been gone, but I am here now, and I need to see her, please. I am so sorry." Alexia pleads, her infamous frown seemingly etched permanently on her face nowadays.

"She is asleep, so I'm going to lower my voice but don't forget how angry I am with you." Your friend takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "She has been desperate to speak to you. She didn't stop crying for you and your loss all evening yesterday, and then all night too when she realised you had begun to ignore her again. Imagine how she feels, knowing you are in pain, but being shoved out? And then double her feelings, because she knows that you know she is so sick right now, yet you still choose to act how you have. Her head is all over the place: one part of her is so unbelievably angry at you, another part of her just wants you to hold her until she is better, her mental state seems to just take constant hits because of you. So no, while I am here, you will not see her. I'm taking care of her, giving her my love, doing chores for her since she can hardly breathe, all the things you as a girlfriend should be doing. You are childish and selfish and so fucking egotistical if you think you can march in here and say 'ooh, lo siento bebíta' and expect her to fall back into your arms. You do not deserve her, so go away."

Despite the supposedly calm voice your friend speaks with (it was not calm, it was brutal, spitting, and patronising, with each word hitting Alexia like a bullet), you were woken up by the commotion just a few metres away from you. Neither of the two at your door could see your face where you were on the couch, so you laid still and listened to them.

"I know I have done wrong. I'm a shit girlfriend, I fucking know it. But I still care for her, more than anything in my life. I forgot that for a few hours and I regret it more than anything in my life because I... I love her."

Your eyes widen at that - you and Alexia hadn't admitted that to each other yet. Was she saying it now just to get to you, or did she actually mean it?

"You better mean that, if you are saying that just for the sake of an argument, just to try to win her back, I swear... I can't even think about that. Are you being serious?"

"Sí, absolutely serious. I love her. So much." Alexia's voice cracks from emotion, and you lift your head up a little to see her wipe away a tear. "I can't even explain how much I love her. She... she is the best thing in my life, and I don't know why I keep messing it up but I hate it as much as you do. I cannot even stand myself."

She talks about herself with so much disgust in her voice, it's unsettling to hear.

"You..." Your friend sighs and shakes her head. "Why, Alexia? Why do you do it?"

"I don't know. My, my head gets so... so dark and... clouded. I don't even remember what happened after the game. Uh... mi hermana says I went into shock. I think that's true because I remember nothing. I didn't drink, I had no alcohol. But I don't recall anything. There are... hours that are empty for me. All night. Until I woke up this morning and it's like my life outside of football slowly came back to me and I felt terrible. It's never my intention to neglect her, never. I'm ashamed when it happens because I know she is perfect for me and doesn't deserve me when I am being selfish and stuck in my head. But I love her, I have loved her for a while and I'm sad and fucking disappointed of myself that she doesn't know that." Alexia explains, her hands constantly swiping at her face, determined to not let her tears fall.

"I do know that, Ale." You say quietly, coming to stand beside your friend at the door.

The woman next to you has to suppress an eye roll, but she'd be lying if she said her anger towards Alexia hadn't diminished a little at her seemingly honest words.

"Amor..." Alexia breathes out at the sight of you.

"You can go back to rest, I have this." Your friend reasurres you softly, but you shake your head.

"I want to talk to her." You say, not taking your eyes away from your glum looking girlfriend who gazes at you wordlessly.

"You are sure?" You nod, and your friend walks away to give you both some space.

Alexia watches you, unsure if she should be the first to say anything. But before she can ponder that any longer, you wrap your arms around her tightly. You hide your face in her chest, knowing your friend is watching from the sofa absolutely seething at the image in front of her, but right now you needed this. And judging by Alexia's reaction of crying quietly into your neck, she needed it too.

"I... I am so, so sorry." Alexia says shakily, pulling back and tenderly cupping your face. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit." You mumble, not meeting her eyes. "Do you mean everything you just said?"

"All of it, every word." She answers, and for now, that's all you need.

"We will talk another time because I'm so angry at you, Ale, but right now I think we need each other more than anything." You state in an exasperated voice. Alexia doesn't think she's ever heard a more relieving sentence.

"Sí, sí, amor. I understand you are angry, I really do. Anything you want." Alexia rambles, softly stroking over the skin of your cheekbones.

"Give me a second. Wait here." You tell her. She nods vigorously and doesn't move a muscle when you're away from her.

"Amiga, are you sure this is what you want? I will beat her puta ass right now." Your friend offers, standing up from the couch and placing her hands on your shoulders.

"You don't need to do that. Not right now, anyway." You reply, chuckling at the suggestion and the subsequent image in your head.

"Vale. You call if you need me, I will be here in seconds, you know it. Let me know how it goes. Eres como una hermana para mí, te amo mucho." (You are like a sister to me, I love you so much.)

You smile up at her and gladly accept the hug she offers.

"I love you too, chica. Thank you for everything you've done. I'll speak to you soon." You tell her, squeezing her arm before she walks away.

Silently, you laugh as she glares at Alexia and bumps into her shoulder on her way out of the door. That girl.

"May I come in?" Alexia questions in a shy voice. You nod, and she quietly closes the door behind her. "Is there anything you would like me to do? Anything you need?"

Now that you were alone with her, you were torn. Your brain told you that you should be cautious, that you shouldn't trust her, but your heart wanted you to dive right into her arms and never leave again.

"I, um... I think I need to take my tablets now. The doctors gave me some antibiotics." You answer, your cheeks flushed red as you spoke sheepishly.

"Get yourself comfy on the couch. I will get them for you, and anything else you need or want." Alexia takes a few steps closer until there was less than a metre between you both. "Tell me. It's my job to look after you."

You bit back a nasty response to that, it wasn't the right time. If you wanted to keep the atmosphere as civil and comfortable as possible, now was definitely not the right time to spill every insult and emotion pent up inside you.

"I... I just want my girlfriend, Ale." You admit tearfully.

Alexia didn't think it was possible for such a short sentence to completely crush her heart.

"I am here. Here now." Alexia tells you, pulling you tight against her as yet more tears fall. "I will never forgive myself, amor."

"Please, just..." You sigh frustratedly, moving back from her arms. "Don't talk. I need you, not your words."

Alexia nods affirmatively, and from then on, the evening was spent with no more than a handful of words shared between you both. She helped you take your tablets, held you tightly on the sofa as a movie played on the TV, rubbed your back comfortingly whenever you coughed, cleaned your apartment quickly when you went off to get ready for bed, and whispered the sweetest words imaginable in your ear until you drifted off to sleep.

She didn't sleep at all that night, instead simply just cradled you in a position to ensure your chest wouldn't bother you. It wasn't exactly comfortable for her, but she'd go through anything to you make you feel better. As it often did, her mind spiralled uncontrollably as she sat in silence, the only sounds being your wheezing breaths, and she couldn't stop the stupid tears that leaked from her eyes.

Alexia despised crying. That was only something she had discovered later in her adult life, but she loathed it more than anything. It wasn't something relieving for her, she didn't 'feel better' after it like everyone always says, if anything she felt worse. Frustrated, pathetic, weak, and fucking tired.

But what did she hate more than crying?

Crying because of her disgraceful actions. Crying because you were crying as a result of her.

Whatever it was that was so fucked up wrong with her, she had to deal with it because she couldn't live like this anymore, you couldn't live with her like this anymore. She knew if she got this time right and you forgave her, she had no more chances. One more time of acting like this, you were gone. You didn't even have to say it for her to know it.

Life had no guarantees, she knew her future wasn't going to be perfect and there will be occasions that will have her hating the world, so she must sort through her mind to figure out why she reacted this way and how to fix it, how to react better.

Barcelona had a team of trusted psychologists and psychiatrists, so after her next training session, she would pay them a visit and ask for help.

"What's on your mind, Ale?" You croak out, feeling her tense body underneath you and knowing she was awake. The sunlight was shining through the curtains of your room, signifying it was now the next morning.

"Nada, amor. Vuelve a dormir." She shushes you, lightly trailing her fingers up and down your back. (Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.)

"No." You reply, shifting off of her to sit up against the headboard beside her, mirroring the position she'd been in all night. "Talk to me."

"It's early, we don't have to right now." She brushes you off and feels the temperature of your forehead with the back of her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

It was a lie, you still felt like crap, but you just wanted to talk. Alexia was probably right though, first thing in the morning wasn't likely the best time to talk, but you wanted it over and done with.

"Are you sure?" Alexia checks with a shaky sigh.

"I want to talk. I want you to talk." You demand gently, Alexia nodding. "Be honest with me, Ale. Really fucking honest."

"Sí, I will." Alexia tells you. "Where do you want me to start?" You just stare at her wordlessly. "Okay. Okay."

She clears her throat nervously before she begins.

"Everything I said to your amiga yesterday was absolutely the truth. I swear it. I really don't remember much from after the match, but that's never really happened to me before. It's... a bit scary."

She pauses, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts.

"I didn't want it to happen. And I already know I need to speak to somebody about it because it was so scary when I realised what happened, and I never want it to do it again. I was just so set on us winning, getting revenge, defending our trophy, I guess I... didn't even consider us losing. It wasn't an option. But then we did lose and I was..."

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as she absentmindedly stared off into your room.

"I was hurt. I gave it my all and it wasn't good enough. I felt like I had no more to give. I must have been really tired, I think I was for a long time, because when I got to my hotel room I think I went straight to sleep. Which again, never happens. I can't really sleep after a game, so for that to happen was really unusual. But I know this isn't what you wanted to hear or expected to hear, you want to hear me talk about how I felt about you. About the situation I put you in again."

She takes a deep breath and turns to look at you.

"I told you all that because I want you to know it wasn't a... a con- conscious?" You nod. "It wasn't a conscious decision or a purpose to act like that. I wasn't even in my head to make my own decisions. But I'm not going to blame my actions on that, I still blame myself for it. I need to make sure that won't happen again, it's only my responsibility, nobody else. It's not fair for me to react that way and for it to affect the people around me. I promise I am going to talk to a mental health helper about it."

Your lips turn up into a tiny smile at her skewed English translation of a therapist.

"But sometimes, when bad things happen, my head gets so negative and it's not a nice place to be. It's dark, and I don't... I don't want you to see that, amor. Because I get really negative. Mamí told me I apparently said I don't even want to play football again after the loss yesterday. That's how bad my mindset was."

The look on Alexia's face is one of pain as she speaks, and you're quite shocked to hear what she's saying right now - you can't remember a time she's ever let you in to her headspace like this. So openly and honestly, telling you her most intense and personal thoughts.

"I think I automatically push people I love away from me when I'm like that because I really, really don't want to hurt anyone. I am going to talk to the mental health team at Barca and set up some sessions with them because I am so serious about you, amor. I want to have this relationship, I want it more than anything. And I would choose to quit football than choose to upset you on purpose. I should have checked on you, cared for you, and let you in. But I was in my own head too much and acted like a selfish... selfish brat."

You huff a breath of laughter at the description choice of herself, something that sparks a bit of hope in her chest.

"If you choose to forgive me, I'll never let you forget how grateful I am. If you want to take it slow, I will take it slow. If... you want me to leave, I will leave. The ball is in your box."

"The ball is in your court." You correct her humourously. She blushes and shakes her head.

"The ball is in your court." She repeats, looking at you with such sincerity and tenderness that it takes away your breath away slightly.

"I'm going to be honest now, okay?" Alexia nods, ready for whatever you're about to say. "I was so upset when I realised you had started to ignore me again. All I ever want to do is care for you, Ale, and when you need it most you push me away. It hurts, it makes me insecure, it makes me feel like I'm not good enough or I'm doing something wrong or-"

"No, no, no, you don't, you never have." She wants to carry on, but you stare at her, unimpressed, and that's enough to stop her in her tracks.

"I know it might be hard for you to open up, but when it comes to hard times like this, the relationship feels quite one-sided. I'm not doing that, Ale. Plain and simple. That's not how a relationship works, you have to let me in. You have to let me be there for you. No protecting your reputation, no shutting off, none of that. You let me do my job as your girlfriend because I care for you. You can rely on me, you're allowed to lay off some of your emotions onto me because that's the only way to survive healthily; accepting help from others when you need it. You can only survive on your own for so long, and this relationship can only survive for so long if you continue like this."

You warn her sternly, looking at her with a firm glare that strikes fear in Alexia.

"If anything like this happens again, Alexia, I'm out. I'm not doing it."

There you go, your last line delivered to perfectly finish off your explanation. To be honest, at such a time in the morning and when you're ill, you can't really believe how well-put together your argument is.

"I hear everything you say, amor. I hear it and I'm going to do better. You are an incredible person. You deserve better than I have given and I swear to you I'm going to be better from now on. I recognise my stupid mistakes and I know how I'm going to start fixing them. I cannot promise I will be perfect, but I do promise that I'm going to work on my flaws and be the best version of myself for you. All this, because I love you."

Is it a bit soon to forgive her? You hope not, because right now you don't think you've ever felt more admiration for someone. She's done everything you've asked for and more in terms of being honest and opening it. Perhaps it almost came too late for other people's standards, but you can't just forget the person she is when she's not being a stubborn mess. You just have to trust her now; trust that she's going to stick to her word, trust that she's going to be better for you. And if she doesn't, well... you'll be ruined.

"Am I... do you forgive me?" Comes Alexia's insecure, tired voice.

"Almost. You just need to stick to your word, please, Alexia." You sigh, returning back to your previous position on her chest. She freezes for a moment, before delicately wrapping her arms back around you and pressing a firm kiss to your warm forehead.

"I will. I promise. I promise." She rests her head atop yours, closing her exhausted eyes.

The room falls silent as you take in the feeling of each other, both relishing in it more comfortably than last night now that everything is mostly just water under the bridge.

"Ale?" You say, lifting your head up to look at her. She hums, smiling slightly deliriously down at you, completely sleep deprived. "I'm so sorry about your game. I know how much it meant to you."

She smiles sadly this time, shrugging her shoulders a little.

"Thank you. Let's not think about that now though, amor. I will be okay with it soon." She responds, leaning her head back against the headboard and closing her eyes.

"Ale?" You say again.

"Mhm?"

"I love you too."

Her eyes shoot open and her head jerks forward at that.

"¿Hablas en serio?" She asks immediately, moving a hand to rest on your cheek. (Are you serious?)

"Sí, absolutamente en serio." You tell her in a quiet giggle. "Te amo, Ale." (Yes, absolutely serious. I love you.)

Alexia gazes down at you, this time not loathing the tears in her eyes, before hugging you tighter than she ever has. It's a moment you'll both cherish forever - the absolute whirlwind of the past 24 hours were an important turning point in your relationship, for the better.

And when it gets to July, that turns out to be more true than you could have ever guessed. Your relationship was thriving, you didn't think it was possible to stay in the 'honeymoon phase' for so long and so intensely, but you were. Every moment possible was spent together, you introduced each other to your individual friends, and even went on holiday together to spend some important time together pre-tournament. That holiday was the best time of your life, being there with Alexia's family and closest friends outside of football, it was a special time that bonded you closer to each other and you'll never forget it.

Now though, you were back to being hundreds of miles apart. Alexia was in training camp in England for the Euros, whilst you were still in Barcelona for unmissable work events before you were due to fly out the night before Spain's first game.

However, you were in a terribly familiar predicament. It had been a few hours since Alexia had finished training that day, it being a morning session, but you hadn't heard a thing from her. That might not seem like something to worry about for others, but nowadays when you two were apart, you were both teased by your respective friends for constantly being on your phones texting each other. So now, you were beginning to worry.

Surely not.

Surely, it cannot be happening again. You had given her a clear warning last time, if she was to do it again then you were gone. Three strikes, and she was out.

But it was indeed radio silence from her for the past few hours. It was nearing 4pm now, signalling the end of your work day, and you had a bad feeling.

No, not anger, it was worry.

And as you reached the door of your apartment a short while later, your worries were confirmed.

Alexia: Hi guapa, sorry for not replying. I got injured in training and they sent me to hospital. Nothing serious but I had scans and they said I have broke my ACL. Not great but I'm okay🫶🏼

"Ale! ¿Eres estúpido?" Mapi scolds her friend after peeking at her phone to see the message she had pressured her to send for the past hour. (Are you stupid?)

"No quiero qué ella se preocupe." Alexia mumbles, sliding her phone back in her pocket and looking out the window of the van. (I don't want her to worry.)

"Ay ay ay." Mapi sighs. She knows what she has to do. "Mujer tonta." (Silly woman.)

Mapi: Chica do not listen to your girlfriend. She is stupid, she is not okay. She needs you, please ring her!!

You read the text from Mapi as soon as you get it. Quickly, you barge through your door and set your bag down before going to your room, flopping down on your bed, and ringing your girlfriend.

"Ni se te occura ignorarlo. Contestarlo." Mapi demands when your call comes through, slapping Alexia's shoulder lightly from her seat in the row behind. (Don't even think about ignoring it. Answer it.)

"Hola." Alexia answers your call quietly.

"Ale. How are you?" You ask in a concerned sigh.

"Um." Her eyes shift around uncomfortably at the question, struggling to answer. "I don't know."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry." You close your eyes and will the tears to leave; now was not the time.

"There is nothing to do now." Alexia states harshly, not really directed at you but just at the world in general.

"I know." You frown. "So many people are there to support you though, my love. So many people. Including me. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?"

"There isn't anything you can do. I don't need you to do anything, this is obviously something I have to do on my own. I don't need you."

Alexia's response feels like a stab in your heart. You know in her current circumstance, with it being so fresh still, you shouldn't take it personally. But after everything you've been through together, everything she's put you through, it slips through the cracks of your insecurities. The only comfort you get is the background noise of Mapi swearing and shouting at Alexia in thick and fast Spanish.

"Don't be like that, Ale. I want to support you, do you not remember everything we've been through?" You hit back instantly.

Alexia feels a lump forming in her throat as she recognises herself slipping back into that mindset she had tried so hard to destroy. She hadn't planned for this to happen though. As naïve as it might be, she didn't think this would ever happen to her. But, it has. Now not only does she have to accept that, she has to accept that she has people around her to make the journey easier. And that starts with you.

"Sorry, amor. I didn't mean that. I need you. More than anyone, I am so sorry for saying that. I really, so wish you were here." Alexia admits brokenly, covering her eyes and clutching at the phone almost desperately.

"I wish I was there too." You whisper back, placing a hand over your heart. "Let me in, please."

"I will, I do need you. I just... never thought this could happen." Alexia cries silently as she hides her face in her jumper. "I don't know what to do."

"What you are going to do is take the necessary steps to ensure your health, Ale. It's going to be as much a mental journey as it will a physical one, so you need to take time to come to terms with this, however long that takes, before doing anything else. But we've got you. We're going to take care of you, and you will get through this."

"I don't know, amor. I... it's too soon to know." Alexia admits as much as it pains her. There's too many thoughts in her head, too many possible outcomes, setbacks, and challenges she could face along this long road before she even considers the end result.

"Okay, I understand." You get up from your bed and dart back to the main room to get your diary from your work bag. Checking it quickly, you make a key decision. "How about I pack my bags and get on a flight to you tonight?"

Immediately, Alexia's first instinct is to tell you no, tell you she doesn't need that, that you don't need to worry, it's not necessary. But that's muscle memory, not her true feelings.

"You would really do that?" Alexia mumbles hopefully.

"I absolutely would. I want to be with you, and you need me." You tell her truthfully.

"What about work?" Alexia wonders, looking down at her swollen knee that really hardly even hurt anymore.

"Forget work, amor. You are more important." You answer definitively.

"I would feel so much better if you were here."

That's all it took. By midnight, you were 36,000 feet in the air, on your way to your girlfriend.

When you arrived at the hotel in the early hours of the morning, she was awake and waiting for you in her room. You hug her immediately, and Alexia can't recall a time she had desperately needed to feel the warm embrace of another person outside of her family. It was tender, sensitive, and healing in its own way despite everything that was down the road.

The first and probably the most important challenge came a week later, back in Barcelona. You were sat in the pre-surgery waiting room with Alexia who had been prepped for her reconstruction surgery, gripping one of her large hands with both of yours as she lay, wracked with nerves.

Questions, worries, and insecurities bounced around her mind so intensely, she could hardly even land on a single thought. It was severely overwhelming, which she knew was not needed right now before such a crucial moment. Yet, she couldn't stop the barrage of questions that began to spill out of her.

"What if I never recover?" Alexia murmurs, an arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. You frowned and squeezed her hand - this wasn't the first time you'd heard this question.

"We can't know that yet, Ale. Qué será, será." You remind her. (Whatever will be, will be.)

"Fútbol es mi vida." She states ever so quietly, it was hard to catch but of course you did.

"I know. I have no doubt you'll be back playing football, Alexia. But if for some reason you don't, there are so many options. You can do anything you put your mind to."

"What if... I am not Alexia again? On the pitch?"

You sigh and stand up to move towards the top of the bed where her head lay.

"Mírame." You request in a soft voice. She turns to look at you with glossy eyes and a quivering lower lip. "We have to get through this surgery first, vale? I hear all of your concerns, amor, they are normal and I understand each and every one. But the most important thing right now is ensuring you are in the right head space going into this operation. So, we're going to take some deep breaths together, wipe those irritating tears-"

She chuckles and at that and rubs her eyes; one time, she had voiced her distaste about crying to you. You found it so endearing that she felt that way, much to her annoyance, and spent the last couple months convincing her it was okay to cry. To your face, she still hated it. Behind your back? She loved that she now had a person to go to when she felt the inevitable tears coming. But of course she still despised doing it, it was just slightly more bearable around you.

"And we're going to replace this knotted, messy string of anxious thoughts with our favourite memories. Breathe with me now, sí?"

She nods and you breathe in sync together for a few minutes until Alexia's mind is back present in the room, in the current situation, and not stuck in a nasty cloud of anxiety.

"So, memory one: our holiday this Summer. It was the best holiday I have ever been on. Not because of the location, although it was beautiful, but because of the people I was with. I saw a new side of you, amor, you were so relaxed and it was so fun being with your family and friends. I can't wait for next time."

You're both wearing matching smiles as you reminisce the best few weeks you'd had in a while.

"It was amazing having you with us, guapa. The best guest."

"Gracias, bebé." You place a quick kiss on her cheek, followed by her lips. "Memory two: the first time I met Mapi and Ingrid on that double date at our favourite restaurant."

Alexia laughs before you've even finished telling the memory.

"When she put her wine all over herself and the waiter?" You nod and laugh with her, beyond relieved to see her with a genuine smile on her face. You hadn't seen too many of them recently.

"Yeah, when she spilt her wine. And then tried to blame it on the waiter- he looked so young! He's probably never had a drop of alcohol in his life!"

The two of you laugh and share memories for a little while longer, until the time arrives for Alexia to be taken into her surgery. You whisper a seemingly endless amount of reassuring words in her ear, before she's wheeled away out of your sight. For just under three hours, you sit nervously in the family waiting room, praying for probably the first time in your life, wishing that the operation went well.

Honestly, you could have been sick with relief when the surgeon came out and gave you every detail possible about it, ultimately saying it went off without a hitch. Then, you were being led to Alexia's room where she would stay for the night, excited to see your groggy but possibly loopy girlfriend.

"Hi Ale." You greet quietly, walking in.

"Hm, hola amor." Alexia rasps out, giving you an awkward wave that makes you giggle.

"How do you feel?" You take a seat in the chair next to her, placing a comforting hand on her forearm.

"As long as I still have two knees, bien." She gives you a dopey grin, one you don't think you've ever seen before, and you wish you could get your phone out to photograph it.

"The doctors tell me you do indeed have two knees, so I don't think you need to worry about that." You smile at her, seeing her nod and rest her head back.

"¿Estás bien?" She wonders with a light hum, shakily taking your hand and covering it with both of hers.

"Yes, I'm okay, don't worry about me though." You answer humourously.

"Sabes, te amo muchísimo." Alexia states, and from the sounds of it, it sounds like she's about to make some kind of speech. "I did some thinking waiting for you to come here. I just love you. You are perfect para mí. I did two bad things to you, but here you sit with me. Perfecta. Niña mía. I almost did another bad thing, when my knee broke for no reason, but Mapi stopped me and then you saved me. What's that song you like?"

The random question seems disjointed and out of place in the things she was saying - which had you completely melting - but regardless you answer.

"I like many songs, Ale, you'll have to be more specific."

"No. You know which one." You squint at her confusedly, causing her to give a dramatic sigh. "Ay. The old one. That you did not stop playing on holiday, from that night on the beach."

"Stand by me?" You ask in a laugh.

"Sí, that one. I never tell you, but I love it too." She smiles bashfully, then suddenly frowns. "Sing it, please. I can remember the words but not the song."

"There's no way I'm singing right now." You laugh at her, only resulting in her frown growing. So much so, she looks like an angry toddler.

"Por favor, guapa. That is how I feel about you, that song. 'I won't be afraid if you stand by me'. This stupid ACL can go fuck itself because I have you."

You've never heard her say that phrase in her life, but right now you couldn't even laugh. Your heart warmed at her words, completely falling in love with her all over again.

"You really want me to sing it right this second? In the middle of a hospital?" You respond, because at this moment in time there's not a thing you'd say no to, not when she was being so adorable and honest, even if it was partially due to her pain meds and the anesthetic.

"Sí. Come lay with me, here." She shuffles to one side of the bed, scaring you since she was a little shaky and not very coherent, but she managed to do it.

"I'm not sure I'm allowed." You say, unsure.

"I'm sick, my rules." She shrugs.

"You're not sick." You laugh, but nevertheless, you stand from your chair, slip your shoes off, and slot onto the bed beside her.

"Venga, canta." She orders sweetly as she looks up at you from her position slightly lower down on the bed with her beautiful, irresistible face. With a sigh, you clear your throat gently and do as she says.

"When the night has come." Your voice is soft and quiet, but it's enough for Alexia, who gazes up at you with more adoration than you thought ever to be possible. "And the land is dark. And the moon is the only light we'll see."

"Ay, I remember now." She says quietly as not to disturb you.

"No I won't be afraid. Oh, I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Alexia simply smiles contently and rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and humming along with you.

"So darlin', darlin', stand by me. Oh, stand by me. Oh stand... stand by me, stand by me."

Her body grows heavier beside you and her breathing slows down, so you stop singing, thinking she was asleep. But...

"If you stand by me, I can do anything. Mi mundo no es nada sin ti, pero me siento invencible cuando estoy contigo." (My world is nothing without you, but I feel invincible when I'm with you.)

She mumbles her statement quietly, before she drifts off into a peaceful rest. Your eyes are burning with tears at her words - just two simple sentences, whispered quietly on the brink of sleep - but they have an impact larger than either of you could ever recognise.

And when she returns to the pitch ten months later, that song being the anthem of her recovery (only to yours and hers knowledge), three words are chanted in her head. Not 'I love you' - instead, the three words of a song which became your own love language for the rest of your relationship.

[loviestyless]

Whispered Temptation*

Summary: Nova simply couldn’t help herself but test Harry’s patience, pushing him until the tension between them got too much. Just how she had planned. (rockstarry x oc)

Warnings: drugs, mean harry, smut, dom!harry, bratty sub, oral (m receiving), public sex, praise kink, slight exhibitionism

A rhythmic tapping of heels against concrete echoed backstage as Nova allowed the excited chatter of the crowd to wash over her while she awaited the cue to hit the stage. Nervous energy flooded her veins, making it almost impossible to stand still while she toyed with her outfit and messed up her curls. Bending over slightly to get a closer look in the mirror placed perfectly in her view, Nova found herself pushing her tits up in her shirt so more cleavage was on display and tidying up her red lipstick that had smeared slightly in her rush to leave her dressing room on time.

Five minutes until show time and Nova LaRoy felt fucking invincible. She didn't care she was merely the opening act, the crowd would be hanging off her every note just like they did each night without fail. They may have bought the ticket with the sole intention of seeing Harry Styles but they would leave this venue tonight seduced by Nova's talent.

The thought alone made a cocky smirk tug at the woman's lips. Everyone fucking loved her.

"That fucking bitch!" A deep voice rumbled in the distance, thundering footsteps hurrying with purpose in Nova's direction. The darkness dripping off his words should have made Nova nervous, knowing full well the type of anger this man could harbour, but instead, it simply made her snicker to herself as she continued to admire her reflection.

Crew members scurried about backstage, their actions turning into a fearful frenzy as they made themselves busy to avoid getting caught up in whatever was about to take place. Nova found herself suddenly alone, microphone in hand as the minutes until her cue ticked away.

Her bandmates had already taken to the stage, messing around with their instruments to pass the time until the curtain rose. Just the right amount of anxiety settled Nova's stomach, making her jittery and determined to put on the best show of her life. Her cherry red guitar was propped up on the stand by the stage, ready and waiting for her grand entrance and Nova found herself itching to stomp across the stage and strike the first chords for the screaming crowd to enjoy.

Suddenly the waft of cherry perfume flooded her senses as Harry's reflection appeared in the mirror behind her. His cheeks were flushed with fury, matching the fire in his eyes as he located the person to spark such emotion deep within him.

Judging by his appearance - black leather trousers left partially unbuttoned and the absence of a shirt - Harry had been in the middle of getting dressed into his stage outfit when he'd discovered what Nova had done.

"You!" Harry spat, dark eyes locking on Nova's honey brown as she spun to face him, not realising he was closer than she first thought. His tall frame towered over her, their bodies inches from touching. But she didn't shrink back like he wanted. Instead, she made herself stand taller, chin held high as a devilish smirk played at her painted pink lips.

"It's me..." She teased, acting oblivious to what was inspiring such rage within the man in front of her. His inked chest heaved with heavy breaths as he struggled to contain himself and Nova found herself forcing her gaze to remain on Harry's, not trailing down the expanse of his toned torso emphasised by the red hue of the stage lighting.

From the very first day she met Harry Styles, it had not been lost on her how attractive he was. He was effortlessly pretty in the way that only rugged rock stars could achieve and Nova often found herself wondering if she would have fallen for his natural charm if it wasn't for his huge ego. After mere hours on the road, the woman quickly discovered that there was a side to the famous rockstar that his fans were kept from seeing.

Everything had to go Harry's way and if it didn't, there would be hell to pay. Trashed dressing rooms and pathetic temper tantrums followed in Harry's wake and it became very clear that if the rockstar didn't like you, then you'd better stay out of his way. His snarky attitude and diva-like temper were fuel to Nova's sharp tongue and no matter how many times Harry expressed his dislike for her, she couldn't help herself but purposefully piss him off.

As one can imagine, it caused a lot of tension on the road.

"Give it back." His words were stern and dripping with authority. Harry was obviously under the impression that being the star of the show every night gave him the right to boss everyone around. Most people did as he said, knowing their lives would be easier to avoid upsetting him. But Nova was never one to do as she was told.

"No idea what you're talking about, honey." Sweetness oozed from her lips, the playful nickname only winding the rockstar up even more. His sharp jaw clenched, left hand moving to cup her chin tightly to keep her attention on him instead of the crew member that had appeared to try hurrying her onto the stage. Her band was watching from the stage, rolling their eyes when they realised that she was being held up by yet another petty argument with Harry fucking Styles.

"My coke. Give it now." A hint of desperation tainted his words, barely detectable but Nova could sense it as he demanded she give back what was stolen.

She knew he depended on bumping a few lines before his set, unable to battle his crippling stage fright without a little help. It wasn't as if she had planned to steal the drugs from his dressing room but the opportunity was right there for her to take when the door was left wide open with no one inside. Besides, if he didn't want someone to take something he was so reliant on, perhaps he shouldn't leave the white powder out on the coffee table for anyone to snatch.

"Oh!" Nova suddenly gasped, hand on her chest in mock realisation. "This is your coke. My bad."

Instantly, her fingers dipped into her bra and fished around for the little baggie of crushed bliss she'd placed there for safekeeping. As she did so, Nova didn't miss the way Harry's eyes drifted across her chest, lingering on her breasts in her low-cut top for longer than needed.

Heavy bass suddenly flooded through the speakers, causing a round of screams to ring out through the entire arena and forcing Harry to remove his grasp from Nova's jaw. She had around thirty seconds to go bounding onto stage or her band would be forced to improvise the opening song.

"Oops, that's my cue. Gotta go!"

"Don't you fucking dare?" Harry snarled, his fingers gripping Nova's wrist and tugging her harshly so she stumbled into his body. Their faces were mere inches apart as fury blazed in Harry's eyes, brows knitted together in a harsh frown.  "Give me the coke, sweetheart."

"Come get it, honey." Her voice oozed seduction as she pulled the top of her thong above her mini skirt slightly, stuffing the drugs between the cotton material and the heat of her skin, revelling in the swirl of emotions making the air grow thick between them. Harry's brows raised slightly, a little taken aback by her bold action and what it implied - especially considering she had never given him such implications in the past.

Taking her opportunity, Nova stepped back once again, this time able to grab her guitar and prepare herself to run out in front of the crowd before her band got too pissed off by her antics.

"You think that will stop me, sweetheart, you've got another thing coming," Harry smirked, no doubt a plan forming in his mind on how to get Nova back for this. "I always get what I want."

"Is that a promise?"

Blowing him a kiss, Nova sauntered onto the stage, ignoring the ache between her legs at the promise of what would be awaiting her when she got off stage.

.......

Cigarette perched between her lips, Nova found herself leaning against the side of her tour bus as the night air cooled her flushed cheeks.

Heavy rock music floated through the air, drifting from an open fire exit and serving as quiet background noise in the otherwise peaceful parking bay. The small walkway between her and Harry's tour bus offered enough privacy that she doubted anyone would be able to find her until she was ready to socialise again. Her bandmates were no doubt in the middle of sweaty mosh pits, enjoying Harry's show like they did every night while crew members were too busy sorting through endless piles of equipment ready to pack up the stage the moment Harry went back to his dressing room.

Having stepped offstage almost two hours ago, Nova found herself needing to unwind alone - the screaming crowd still ringing in her ears as she processed the insane night she'd had. Every time she took the stage it never truly hit her that she was finally living out the dream she'd been working so hard to achieve for years.

It all became a little overwhelming in the time between her set and hitting the road to the next venue and she found reflecting on her life while chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes was the best way to process everything.

Tonight, however, all that consumed Nova's mind were those dark green eyes glinting mischievously with lust as she made her way through the setlist.

As the final song of Nova's set rang through the arena, the singer could feel Harry's intense stare watching her every move and knew that she had to make this song count. Sweat glistened on her chest as the heat of the lights bore down on her and Nova found herself using it as an excuse to tug her top over her head so she was strutting about the stage in her black lace bra and leather mini skirt.

Sure, it was a little excessive but it was all part of her charm. And it most definitely caught Harry's attention judging by how she caught him sneakily trying to adjust himself in his pants as he watched on from the darkness of the side stage.

"I was in your wet dream

Driving in my car

Saw you at the side of the road

There's no one else around"

The atmosphere of the crowd was electric, singing at the top of their lungs as they recognised the lyrics from when Harry covered the song a few months prior. Her messy curls clung to her sweaty forehead, a taunting smirk tugging at her lips as she swayed her hips with every step across the stage. She forced herself to remain focused on performing rather than glancing over to assess whether Harry was still watching what she was doing.

"You're touching yourself, touching yourself

Touching your, touching yourself

Touching yourself"

As the lyrics left her painted lips, Nova slowly trailed her hand across her chest and squeezed her tits - earning screams from the crowd that made her smirk with confidence. The song continued with Nova feeding from the energy of the crowd, chuckling slightly at some of the signs people were holding up in the front row and waving to those she recognised from previous shows.

"You climb onto the bonnet

And you're licking the windscreen

I've never seen anything so obscene"

Her singing became lighter as she acted as if she was breathless, taking her opportunity to tease Harry by getting onto her knees, spreading them just wide enough so that her skirt rode up her thighs but didn't expose the material of her thong underneath. Leaning back slightly, she rocked her hips slowly as her honey-brown eyes locked onto Harry's darkened green. His amusement had disappeared, completely taken over by lust.

"It's enough to make a girl blush

It's enough, it's enough to make a girl blush"

Her fingers trailed down her sweaty body, tantalisingly slow while she teased the crowd and the rockstar side stage as she inched closer to the waistband of her skirt.

"It's enough, it's enough, it's enough, it's enough

It's enough, it's enough, it's enough, it's enough to make a girl blush"

Harry's eyes never left Nova's and suddenly everything faded around her as she focused solely on the gorgeous tattooed rockstar giving her his full attention. Her fingers grazed over the material where his coke was currently hidden in her thong, breathy moans tainting the lyrics drifting through her lips and Nova didn't fail to notice the flush dusting Harry's cheeks at her action.

Forcing herself to remove her seductive stare from Harry before she sparked rumours neither singer wanted to deal with in the morning, Nova returned her attention to finishing the song. Getting back up on her feet, Nova reigned back the sexual display she was putting on and returned to a level of professionalism required of her to do her job.

As the final notes of the song echoed through the arena, Nova dared one last glance side stage and found Harry had promptly left. Most people would assume this was so he could prepare himself for taking his place on the stage in half an hour.

But Nova knew he was biding his time until he could make her pay for her little performance.

"Did you enjoy yourself out there?" Harry's deep voice cut through the silence that now hung in the air. So engrossed in thought, Nova hadn't realised the music had stopped and distant chatter filtered through the streets as streams of people made their way home.

Leaning against the end of his tour bus, Harry's silhouette loomed in the walkway between the buses - the limited lighting casting intimidating shadows across his sharp features. Nova remained silent in Harry's presence, instead taking another drag from her cigarette as she awaited for the man to pester her for his coke. The absence of a smart remark was enough for the rockstar to continue taunting Nova, taking slow steps towards her in the darkness as he tried to earn a reaction.

"Acting like a slut for thousands of people to see." There was an edge to Harry's words and Nova had to refrain from smirking to herself when she picked up on it. As much as he tried to maintain his usual angry demeanour, it was obvious he was currently being fuelled by sexual frustration.

"You sound jealous." Nova purred, nonchalantly taking a final drag of her cigarette while she watched Harry slowly approach her. She flicked the butt of her cigarette onto the concrete, squashing it with the heel of her boot before speaking again. "Need some attention, honey?"

The rockstar's trademark cherry perfume flooded Nova's senses once more as his presence loomed over her. One minute he was a few metres away, the next his arm was leant against the tour bus, pinning Nova in place with his body mere centimetres from hers. His green eyes glinted mischievously as they locked on her honey brown, causing Nova's breath to hitch slightly in anticipation of what he might be planning.

"What I need is for you to return what you stole, sweetheart." His voice was rough from a mixture of lust and the strain from performing, sparking a wave of desire to roll through Nova and settling as a throb between her legs. His thumb came up to her mouth, lingering on her bottom lip as she pouted playfully. Opening her mouth, she allowed him to push it in further with the silent demand to suck. Nova wasn't one to do as she was told but she also wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to tease the sexy rockstar with his body pressed against hers.

A soft moan rumbled in the back of her throat as she set to work, ensuring Harry knew exactly what she could offer the moment she got on her knees for him.

The cold night air suddenly turned thick as Harry's eyes trailed down Nova's body, lingering momentarily on the miniskirt riding up her thighs and threatening to expose the thong keeping his drugs in her possession. Nova smirked as she noticed this and decided to get things moving - her core was aching and Harry wasn't moving fast enough for her liking.

"Like I said before, come and get it." She shrugged, her brows raised slightly as she dared Harry to follow through with what he was implying. "You know where it is."

Immediately, Harry's fingers ghosted down her stomach, toying with the waistband of her skirt while his lips attached themselves to her neck. Nova found herself relaxing under her attention, the tension that had been building all night finally starting to uncoil as the promise of release was on the horizon. Tangling her fingers in Harry's long curls, she tugged gently as he busied himself marking up the pale skin of her neck and was instantly rewarded with a soft groan.

Nova felt Harry's hand dip past the waistband of her skirt, teasing her cunt over the fabric of her thong and letting his fingertips graze the small bag of coke hidden close to her dripping sex. It took everything in her not to moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to her.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He breathed, finally stepping back after retrieving what was stolen. "You're fuckin' trouble."

The pair shared a soft chuckle in agreement, Harry's shaking hands desperately working to open the baggie to get the drugged-out bliss he was denied before his show. Right as he was about to tip a line out on the back of his hand, Nova snatched the bag out of his grasp.

"What the fuck-"

"Call yourself a fucking rockstar?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tugged down the neckline of her top, exposing the lace bra Harry had been admiring hours prior. "You won't even snort coke off a pair of tits."

His eyes widened slightly at the realisation of what she was suggesting, curse words tumbling from his lips as he rushed to help her unclasp her bra. Her nipples hardened against the cool air the moment Harry relieved Nova of the lace garment, allowing her chest to be on full display. Being hidden between both tour buses while everyone else was still inside the area had its perks and luckily for Harry, it meant he could bury his face in a gorgeous pair of tits without being interrupted.

"Shittin' hell" He cursed, lustful gaze admiring the way Nova squeezed her tits slightly just to tease him. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was a man who was easily distracted by a woman with a nice rack - as had been demonstrated a few times tonight.

"Go on then," She purred, tipping a messy line of white power along her right breast, brown eyes watching Harry with anticipation. "Indulge yourself, honey."

"With fucking pleasure" Not needing to be told twice, Harry pressed his lips to Nova's in a lustful kiss before moving expertly south to snort the line without hesitation. Tipping his head back, he let out a loud groan that sent waves tingling through Nova's body. Not even bothering to wipe his nose, Harry allowed himself to indulge in more than just the coke, sucking at the sensitive skin of her chest with desire.

His free hand toyed with Nova's left breast, squeezing it softly and toying with her nipple all while he marked up her right with hickies that would last for days. Hot breath tickled her skin and Nova leaned her head back against the cool surface of the tour bus, whimpering with pleasure as she let Harry do what he wanted.

His hips pushed harder against Nova's body as he switched to suck her other breast and a quiet gasp filled the air as she felt his hard length on her thigh.

"Perfect, darlin'" He hummed quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "Perfect fuckin' tits, sweetheart. So sexy."

"That's all I'm good for?" She teased, curling her fingers in his hair and pulling him away to look her in the eye. Blown pupils, swollen lips and white powder dusting his nose made him look dazed - a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as pleasure filled all his senses.

"What's wrong? Happy to act like a whore but don't wanna be treated like one?" Harry immediately bit back, snaking his hand around her neck and squeezing slightly to keep her focused on him. Her smart mouth was pissing him off just like Nova had planned, all she needed was to push him a little more and she'd get the rough fucking she was after.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, darling." He whispered, bringing his face closer so their lips were practically brushing together. "Bad girls don't get fucked like princesses."

"Fuck-" She breathed out, the wetness collecting at her core practically dripping down her thighs at his words. As much as she hoped she appeared more composed than she felt, Nova just needed to feel relief. Her whole body was on fire and judging by the flush in Harry's cheeks and the bulge in his leather trousers, he too was feeling the tension.

"Give me back my coke and get on your fucking knees, baby." Harry's voice was sharp with authority and paired with the squeeze of his fingers on her neck, Nova knew the time for teasing was over. Silently, she obeyed. Harry shoved the coke into his back pocket and watched in slight disbelief as Nova sank to her knees and waited patiently for her next instruction.

"Good girl." He praised and a smile curled at Nova's lips. "Now put that mouth to work and suck my fucking cock."

"What's the magic word?" Her voice was playful despite the tight fist the rockstar had on her messy curls.

"Now."

Nova's fingers immediately tugged at the zipper of his trousers, her eyes locked on Harry's who watched her every move. She worked expertly to tug down his trouser just enough so that his cock would spring free from its confined, brows quirking upwards when she noticed he had been commando all night as if to ask: 'Really?'

All he did was shrug his shoulders in response, his chest heaving with anticipation as her delicate touch curled around his thick length. Adjusting her position slightly, the concrete dug into her knees as she let a string of spit drop onto Harry's tip, collecting it with her hand before slowly working his length to make sure he was fully ready for her mouth.

"Shit-" Harry's head tipped back with pleasure, small grunts filling the air as he tried to keep his composure. "Feels so good."

Taking this as the indication to go further, Nova took him into her mouth with a soft moan, revelling in the salty taste as she worked him slowly. Her hand covered what wouldn't fit in her mouth, making sure to give him her full attention.

"Nova. Fuck-" Harry's hips bucked forwards unexpectedly, causing her to gag at the feeling of his length hitting the back of her throat before she was ready. As soon as Harry noticed, he backed off a little with a small apology but Nova was unfazed.

Instead, she took it as a challenge. She willed her throat to relax and took him deeper into her mouth, making sure to swirl her tongue over his tip as she sucked to make him squirm. Gorgeous moans tumbled from Harry's open lips and Nova peered up at him through her lashes to see his eyes had fluttered closed and brows knitted together with pleasure.

The sight alone was enough to get Nova soaked and she found herself in desperate need of relief, something she wasn't currently getting from Harry. It was time to take matters into her own hands...literally. Taking advantage of Harry being too wrapped up in his pleasure, she trailed her free hand down past the waistband of her thong and began to tease her clit slowly.

Her rhythm never faltered on Harry's cock as she continued to toy with her clit, her soft moans only adding to the rockstar's pleasure. It was only when she pushed a finger past her folds that her attention slowly became focused on herself, something that Harry was quick to pick up on.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?" His voice was husky with lust as his fist tugged Nova's hair hard enough that she was pulled off his cock with a soft pop. A playful smile brightened her features all while she continued to work herself deeper towards the blissful waves of an orgasm crashing over her. "Always have to misbehave."

His rough hand snaked back around her neck, squeezing a little as he demanded she get back on her feet. Reluctantly, she did as she was told, the fire in his eyes persuading her to go along with his instructions so she could finally get the dick she'd been dreaming of for days.

Without warning, Harry had spun her around and had her pinned against the tour bus with his tall frame. Her bare tits were pressed against the cool surface of the bus, serving as a welcome relief to her burning skin as Harry's hot breath ghosted her neck. Dragging his tongue against her fevered skin, the rockstar nibbled and sucked his way upwards until his teeth tugged at her earlobe.

"Need me to teach you a lesson? Hmm." His tone was dripping with arrogance but Nova didn't care to bite back at this moment. For once she was going to keep quiet and let him take what he wanted. A small nod was all she gave him, unable to trust her voice from wavering the moment she opened her mouth but this earned her a sharp tug on her curls in reprimand.

"Use your words, sweetheart." He purred, rolling his hip against her ass to remind her of what she could have if she did as she was told. "Lord knows it's never been an issue before."

Harry's foot gently nudged Nova's legs further apart as his arm wrapped around her waist, waiting for verbal consent before touching her aching cunt.

"Please, Harry-" She whined desperately, pushing her hips backwards slightly in an attempt to get him to do something, anything, that would ease the ache between her legs. "Fuck me, please."

Harry's fingers slowly began to circle Nova's clit over the fabric of her thong while she spoke, his movements just slow enough to keep her on edge and drag this out for longer. He could tell she was holding back a little, perhaps unsure how far Harry wanted to take this, but he was determined to make her feel comfortable.

"You can do better than that, darling." He demanded, "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Harry, just fuck me. Teach me to be your good girl, please." Nova's breathless whines got Harry's cock throbbing with need, a bead of precum collecting at the tip as he pictured all the possible ways he could truly teach her a lesson. But they were outside where anyone could catch them at any moment. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd walked offstage but he did know that the crew would soon be wanting to hit the road for the next stop.

If he wanted to take his time with Nova, it would have to wait until he had a night in a hotel. For now, they'd just have to fuck out the tension between them and Harry was more than alright with a quickie after a night of so much teasing.

"Need to be quick, sweetheart. Don't wanna get caught." Harry panted, peppering lazy kisses against her skin as he took his thick length in his hand and began to drag his tip along her clothed cunt.

"Don't care, just need you inside me." But when Harry continued to tease her, she quickly added. "Please, honey."

"So polite." A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled her thong aside. Without hesitating, he entered Nova with a groan of pleasure, his mind completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her tight cunt taking him so well as his thick length stretched her out. "Fuck, baby. So fucking perfect."

His fingertips dug into Nova's hips as he slowly began to move, heavy breaths and pretty moans of pleasure rang through the air as Harry took control. It took all of Harry's strength to keep her right where he wanted, pinned tightly between his sweaty body and the cool surface of the bus as she squirmed with desire. As much as she knew they needed to be quick, she wanted Harry completely - she needed him to kiss her, to fuck her, to give all of himself to her. Their current position made it almost impossible for that to happen but she supposed that was what she'd asked for, to be taught how to behave.

As Harry had alluded to, bad girls don't get what they want.

"H-Harder, need more." Nova moaned and Harry growled in response. His hips snapped sharply upwards, causing his cock to brush against her g-spot as he fucked her as she demanded. But it still wasn't enough. She wanted to see him, to watch him fall into the depths of pleasure while he fucked her - this wasn't her.

Never had she been so needy, so desperate to be so close to someone during a quick hookup. Harry was different, she wasn't sure why but he was, even with such a horrible attitude.

"Harry-" She went to speak up, but it seemed as if he was feeling the same.

"I know, sweetheart." He nodded in understanding, pulling out quickly and allowing her to face him once more. "Wanna watch as you fall apart."

His strong arms gripped her thighs, helping her jump slightly so he could wrap her legs around his waist. Their mouths met in a heated kiss as Harry pushed her back against the bus once more - Nova's moans being swallowed by Harry as he made sure they wouldn't get caught. Nova's hand tangled itself in his curls, tugging hard enough to make his eyes close with satisfaction, the other wrapping around his cock to guide him back inside her.

From this new position, she immediately felt him hitting the perfect spot with every thrust.

"So deep." Her words were breathless, her mind going blurry as waves of pleasure began to build within her. "Needed you so bad."

"Oh yeah? Needed me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Harry taunted, sweaty forehead pressed against hers as he continued fucking her with a surprising amount of energy considering the long day he'd had. "Fuck you raw, fill you to the brim with my come?"

The sound of skin slapping and fevered moans filled the air as Harry picked up the pace, his rhythm never faltering as his lips attached themselves to the soft skin of her neck once again, making sure she was marked up just to his liking.

"Yeah, baby. I want it all. Need all of you." Everything was starting to become a little hazy as she succumbed to every feeling rolling through her body. Harry knew exactly how to please her and her body was responding accordingly. Her toes curled in her boots, eyes rolled shut and lips fell open as she felt the wave rising in her lower stomach.

"Look at you, such a good girl taking me so well." He praised, smirking as Nova let out a loud moan, tight cunt clenching around his cock with approval. "Can't wait to take my time with you, spread you out on my bed all night."

His hips began to falter, every thrust bringing the pair of them closer to release. Neither of them cared how loud they were being, whether any lingering fans could hear them from the other side of the arena walls.

"Harry." Nova's head fell back against the bus as she threatened to topple over the edge and Harry jerked his hips harder as he chased his own orgasm.

"Go on, baby. Let go f'me."

And with that, Nova's orgasm hit her instantly. Her hips bucked in time with Harry's as he helped her through the waves of pleasure that crashed over her, his own release following soon after as she clamped around him tightly. Thick come painted her insides as Harry rested his forehead against Nova's chest, both of them panting quietly as the night air stilled around them once more.

Minutes ticked by as they remained embraced in the shadowed privacy between the two buses, neither one of them wanting to separate.

"That was-" Nova started only to get cut off by Harry who seemed to share her thoughts. Realising it must be time for the crew to nearly make their way back out to the buses, Harry pulled out so both of them could tidy up their appearances to look presentable in front of anyone close by.

"Fuck, why didn't we do this sooner?"

Both of them chuckled lightly, Nova pulling her skirt back down against her thighs as Harry zipped his trousers back up. There was no awkwardness between them, their little escapade had only served to bring them closer together, all the tension between them now out of their systems.

"We could always go for round two." She suggested playfully, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck to peck a soft kiss on his lips. After being so close to his warm body, she found it hard to face the possibility of spending her night alone in her bed.

"My bus or yours?"

[marzipanilla]

Not making the mistake of the last post ! INSTANT REBLOGS. No word limitations in the replies lmao (I am getting back to the other thing soon too)

Steven having literally JUST left town after accepting he can't carry the world on his shoulders just for Mark to show up w the same problems xD Gems like WE GOT THIS !! No need to call Steven! Debbie could use a QPR group of ladies to help her through life. God, I didn't even think about the Pearl parallels and Pearl is my girl ;-; 'It's Over Isn't It?' for Debbie except its so much more about uncertainty. Like he could come back ! But are you really able to let yourself get caught up on that??

Though at the same time Steven and Mark having a chance to meet seems like it would be so important for Mark's psyche. Just Steven like 'dude I HAVE been there! it DOES get better'.

Haha- outfit swap half-joke reminded me. I had a joke before about Debbie seeing Nolan's washboard abs and just going ??? bro you dehydrated? and dunking his ass in a lake to help him out. Full Nolan-PD to Nolan-Rose Quarts swap pls, w the plush add ons. Like. Viltrumites being so fucking easy to manipulate by their own higher ups in part due to insane diet culture? At least its a fucking explanation unlike what we get in canon... Save the universe, give your partner affection and hydrate them. The lies of their homeworld WILL crumble away after a good meal.

Steven on the road having a great time and he runs into Eve and they're both just like love your pink shirt : ) and they just chill and chat tho too. Like. Completely divorced from hero shit, they just think they met a neat person.

Or you could completely screw the timeline and just be like. Look at this lovely beach Mark : ) and Spinel shows up just as Atlantis is threatening the coast and somehow Steven and Mark are both just like ?? oh ?? what do you mean this massive threat isn't for me? oh? this ones yours? okay you can take care of that. Debbie hearing Steven be all 'I am my mom' while her son struggles with 'everyone assumes I am my father' like YOU GET TO BE YOUR OWN PERSON

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[edgepunk]

holy shit gopnik rep

[luvzshy]

You should do something where Billie takes care of drunk reader

Drunk in Love

The club was pulsating with energy, the air thick with laughter, music, and the scent of expensive perfume. You had come to celebrate your latest project’s success, and Billie had insisted on joining you for the night out. It was meant to be a fun escape, but somewhere between the shots and the laughter, you lost track of how many drinks you had consumed.

Now, leaning against the bar, you felt the world spin a little too much. Billie was beside you, her eyes sparkling as she raised her glass in a toast to your accomplishments. “To you, superstar!” she exclaimed, clinking her glass against yours.

You grinned, the room swaying slightly as you downed another drink. “To us!” you cheered, feeling invincible. But as the night wore on, that invincibility quickly turned into unsteady feet and blurred vision.

“Okay, I think it’s time to head home,” Billie said, concern etched across her features as she watched you sway. Before you could protest, she wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting you as you stumbled out of the club.

“Billie, I’m fine! I can walk!” you giggled, though you were clearly leaning more into her than standing on your own.

“You’re adorable, but I’m not taking any chances,” she chuckled, guiding you through the throngs of people.

Once outside, the cool night air hit you, and you paused, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. “I love this night! You’re the best!” you declared, your voice a little louder than necessary.

Billie laughed, her voice soft and melodic, “Yeah, I love you too. But let’s get you some water and maybe a snack, okay?”

You nodded vigorously, but as you took a step, your foot slipped, and you found yourself in Billie’s arms again. “Whoops! Guess I’m not as steady as I thought!”

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Not at all. Just hang onto me, alright?”

The car ride was filled with your animated chatter, recounting every moment of the night, even the ones you barely remembered. Billie listened, amusement dancing in her eyes, occasionally interjecting with her own stories, making you laugh until your sides hurt.

When you finally made it home, Billie guided you to the kitchen. “Water first,” she instructed, filling a glass and handing it to you. You downed it quickly, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat.

“See? I told you I could handle it,” you teased, leaning against the counter for support.

“Sure you did,” Billie replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “Now, how about some crackers or toast?”

You shrugged, not really hungry, but the warmth in your chest from the alcohol and the care Billie was showing made you feel cozy. “I just want you.”

Billie raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? You’re feeling bold tonight, aren’t you?”

You giggled, feeling your cheeks flush. “I mean, you’re just so… perfect.”

With a chuckle, Billie leaned against the counter next to you, a softness in her expression. “And you’re completely wasted, but that’s okay. I love you no matter what.”

Your heart raced at her words. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice sincere. “I’m here for you, always.”

The vulnerability in her gaze made you feel safe, and you suddenly felt the urge to spill your heart. “Billie, I—”

But before you could continue, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. “Uh-oh,” you murmured, but it was too late. You bolted to the sink, and Billie was right behind you, holding back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly as you heaved.

When it was over, you leaned against the cool porcelain, feeling a little better but utterly exhausted. “I’m sorry,” you groaned, looking up at Billie.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said softly, her thumb brushing your cheek. “It’s part of the fun, right? Just remember next time to drink some water between those shots.”

You managed a weak smile, feeling incredibly grateful for her patience. “You’re the best.”

“Now, let’s get you to bed, superstar,” Billie said, gently helping you up.

With her guiding you, you made your way to the bedroom, where she helped you into bed. The sheets felt heavenly against your skin, and you sighed contentedly as Billie tucked you in.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

“Billie,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always,” she replied, a smile in her voice as she settled in beside you, her warmth enveloping you. “I love you, even when you’re a little drunk.”

With that, you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved, knowing Billie would always be there to take care of you.w

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Your Job Will Be The Death Of You

The city of Chicago seemed to never sleep. Its streets brimming with the sounds of honking horns, the chatter of pedestrians, and the distant wail of sirens. It was alive. Jay Halstead had dedicated his life to serving and protecting its the people of Chicago. His fiancé YN worked a 9-5 job, meaning she spent a lot of time alone at home worrying about Jay when he was at work. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started to date Jay. She knew the risks. However Jay seemed to recently become increasingly more reckless.

Jay stood in the small cluttered break room, his fingers wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee. His body ached. A few hours prior Jay had been involved in a high stakes chase after a suspect who had fled from a robbery. The adrenaline had surged through his veins as he sprinted after the man, his partner, Detective Hailey Upton, hot on his heels. But in the chaos, Jay had taken a hard fall, twisting his ankle painfully as he collided with a moving car. The injury had forced him to sit out the rest of the pursuit, watching helplessly as Hailey and the others apprehended the suspect without him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, one that gnawed at his pride. As he sipped his coffee Jay's thoughts drifted to YN, his fiancé. As much as Jay has been trying to hide his work he could sense that YN's concern for his safety was growing. The door to the break room swung open and Hailey stepped inside, her expression of concern

“You okay Halstead?” she asked leaning against the counter “that fall looked rough”

“Just a twisted ankle” Jay replied. Hailey raised an eyebrow, unconvinced

“You know you don't have to push yourself. We can handle things without you for a bit” Hailey had started to notice how Jay seemed to have this need to protect everyone. Jay shook his head, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface

“It's not that simple. I can't just sit back and let you all do the work. It's my job to be there, to protect our community”

“I get it” Hailey sighed, her gaze softening “but you also have to think about your health. You know YN will worry if she finds out you're pushing too hard”

At the mention of YN, Jay's heart sank

“I think she already knows” Jay sighs Before taking another sip of his coffee, letting the bitter taste wash over him

“It must be hard for her. Just don’t give her any more reasons to worry”

YN had been home fore a few hours before Jay got home that evening. As he entered the apartment, the familiar scent of vanilla enveloped him. YN was in the kitchen, her back turned to him as she stirred a pot on the stove. The sound of boiling water and the soft clinking of utensils filled the air. He leaned against the doorframe watching her for a moment feeling a rush of affection. Moving off the doorframe Jay hobbled over to her wrapping his arms around her

"Hey, babe” smiled as she continues to stir the contents in the pot “wash up for supper” Jay hobbles over to the sink, YN turns to face him, her smile falters “what happened?”

“It's nothing” Jay replied forcing a casual tone “just a little mishap at work”

“Jay you know I can't stand it when you brush things off like that. What really happened?”

“I dint drink enough and felt dizzy during a chase today. I twisted my ankle. Nothing serious, but it kept me from doing my job” Jay sighs giving in

“Jay” YN groans “ you know I will never tell you to leave your job or anything, I know you love it, but you need to take care of yourself. The moment you’re not feeling good you have to stop”

I know, but”

“No 'buts, Jay” she interrupted, her tone firm “you're not invincible”

He felt the tension building between them, the familiar push and pull of their differing perspectives

“I get that, but I can't just sit back and let others handle it. This is my career, YN. It's what I do”

"And I understand that, but the way you’re going your job will be the death of you. I have always known there’s a chance you may not come home, but when you’re the one being careless… do you think I don't worry about you every time you walk out that door? every time you're in a dangerous situation? you're not just a cop; you're my fiancé. I need you to come home safe and at the moment it it’s like you have a death wish”

“It was just a sprained ankle” yes and last week it was a bruised rib. What’s next week? I can’t sit back and watch you end up in hospital because you’ve been shot because of your own stupidity”

“I'm doing my job, YN! I can't just stop because you're scared”

“I'm scared because I love you!” she exclaimed, tears brimming in her eyes “I’m not asking you to give up your job for me, all I’m asking is your more carful. I don’t want you to end up in a body bag” hearing this come from his fiancés mouth jay sits at the kitchen table with a sigh “I can’t loose you Jay, I love you”

“I know I’ve not been careful recently and I’m sorry. I can’t promise you that I won’t come home hurt, this is my job YN and I can’t give it up, but I promise that I will always fight to come home to you. I love you so much YN” YN takes a seat opposite Jay taking his hand in hers giving it a little squeeze

“Just stop running into danger like your Ironman and start looking after yourself. I have to you that your on top form when going to work”

“I promise. I’m sorry for worrying you” jay stands up and walks run to YN placing many kisses on her head. YN places her hand on jays cheek and rubs her thumb. For YN and Jay this conversation was the start of Jay taking his time and not running into the cross fire.

[elliewithcellie]

Rite of Passage

summary: steve takes care of you after a date gone horribly wrong (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

wc: 2.0k

cw: results of the date which is not described, but understood to be sexual assault, Please use your discretion (marked in the tags so it can be filtered), steve stays platonic, he is the comfort in the hurt/comfort, reader takes a bath, semi-graphic description of injuries, angst but fluff in how steve cares so much for reader. PLEASE let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: this is not for the faint of heart. it has been in the vault since 2022 just as a kind of a coping thing. it's one of the stories i revisit and literally just cry rereading, but maybe it can be helpful to others. this is just one way one can react to this sort of incident. everyone's own reactions are valid, and i love you.

It could happen to anyone. Almost every girl experiences it, some sick rite of passage to prove that you are a woman. To remind you that you are still inferior, second class, an object to be used. Then these women share their stories so nonchalantly, in passing, and in response to their friends’ stories. Some don’t share at all. Some bottle it up and smile through the pain anyway, now nothing behind her once vibrant eyes.

But you never really thought it would happen to you. Not that you were invincible or immune or reckless; it’s just not something that anyone can fully comprehend. You’d been told to smile more. You’d been objectified or ignored. You thought that put you on the list already.

You thought he was a sweet guy. You wished you listened to Steve. You had laughed at his suggestion to “at least bring him back to the apartment.” You were so embarrassed at the thought of making out with some guy while Steve hid in the other room. And you didn’t want your date to know that you lived with another guy. But all that seemed so insignificant now.

You had to walk home. Your teeth chattered in the drizzling rain, your gait slightly wider than usual. You crossed your arms and bit down on your lip hard, a desperate attempt at a distraction. Not a single car passed you on your trek home. The darkness consumed you. The silence betrayed you. With your phone now dead, making it to your apartment was the only hope filling your heart. You prayed that Steve hadn’t waited up for you. You just wanted to be alone.

You fiddled with your keys as you approached the locked door. You didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking. You struggled for a few more moments, begging for the strength to get inside without crying, when the door opened for you.

“Y/N! I’ve been calling you for like an hour! Where have you been?” Steve guided you inside. He attempted to take your jacket from you, but you jerked his hand off of you.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me.” Your voice quivered at the end of your sentence.

Steve lifted his hands and closed the door behind the both of you. “Sorry, I didn’t – I – you’re soaked, hon. Did—did you walk here?”

You nodded. You felt overwhelmed, anger rising to cover your tracks. “Can you just fucking cool it with the questions? My phone died. I walked here. I’m wet 'cause it’s raining. Just—just leave me alone.”

You shoved him out of your way with your shoulder and stormed to your room. You had never acted this way toward him, toward anyone. People knew you to be kind, gentle, and sometimes blunt, but never rude or aggressive. But you felt that part breaking right in front of your eyes. You were confused. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening, that this was happening.

You plugged in your phone. You paced around your room for your phone to light up again. When your phone turned back on, you checked for his number. He had already blocked you.

Your lungs boiled. Your body vibrated with rage. The impulse to scream grew stronger and stronger by the second. So, you did. A guttural, soul-clutching scream escaped your throat. Tears stained your cheeks. You felt your destruction in your hands, transferring the havoc condemned to you to your room. You threw your books, kicked your chair, and flipped your mattress, bawling and yelling through it all. You punched your pillow over and over until hands gathered you in their arms. You fought the arms, but the hold was tight.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Steve. Relax. I’ve got you. You’re ok. You’re safe. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You sank into his touch and wept. Destruction left your body and devolved into devastation. Your body suddenly so heavy, you slumped to your knees, Steve following right behind you and still holding you close.

You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed on the floor of your bedroom. But Steve held you with the same force he did from the very start. He wasn’t going anywhere. You cried until you lost your energy, tears still streaking your face. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore. You were glad that you had Steve to lean on.

“How can I help?” Steve asked. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t process such an open-ended question. It seemed that Steve understood that. “Water is supposed to help relax people. What if I fill up the tub for you? You can rest in there, and I’ll grab some clothes for you. How does that sound?”

You nodded, not yet able to find your voice. Steve gently lifted you up, and the two of you walked to the bathroom.

You sat on the closed toilet as Steve crouched by the tub, testing the water with his hand. When the tub filled, he stood up and headed toward the door. “I’ll leave your clothes by the door, ok?”

He opened the door, and your stomach flipped. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Please, I don—Can you stay?”

Steve’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He closed the door behind him and nodded. “Uh, yeah, ok.”

The two of you sat in silence. You didn’t ask for him not to look. You didn’t start to change. You didn’t move, a haze falling over you. The weight of horror and defeat pulled you down.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Do you—would you like some help?” Steve’s voice shook as if you were made of glass and one misstep would shatter you.

All you could do was nod. You shuffled out of your jacket as Steve untied your shoes and removed your socks, still damp from the rain. He rose to his knees to meet you at eye level. He patted your arm, and you lifted them halfway into the air, as much as you could muster. Steve carefully pulled your shirt over your head, officially crossing a line the two of you never even toed.

And what Steve saw broke his heart. Blue and green bruises in the shape of fingertips wrapped around your neck. More, less cohesive shapes scattered across your chest down to the top of your hip bones where the waistband of your pants sat.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. He sat in observation, conflict brewing within him. The more he looked, the angrier he got. His shame screamed for him to look away, to salvage the friendship you both have and remain a ‘gentleman’. But the true friend in him wanted to document every bruise on your body, to share the knowledge in your pain, and to lighten the load in any way possible. This part fueled him to continue.

“Stand up for me, please.”

You paused. Your heart began to pound, and you found it harder and harder to breathe. You started to feel dizzy.

Steve took your face in his hands and had you look at him. “Breathe. You’re ok. Breathe with me. In…and out.” You matched the rhythm that Steve set and took deep breaths. You collected yourself under Steve’s gaze, but you were still a little overwhelmed.

“I’m here for you, ok? Whatever you need just say it. Need me to turn around, I will. Need me to leave? I can. But I think you need to get cleaned up, ok? You think you can do that? What do you need from me?”

You thought for a moment. Your brain felt jumbled, like crossed wires scrambling messages. Steve sat at your knees patiently while you considered what you wanted.

“Let’s—let’s just get it over with,” you sighed, a dry laugh forced from your diaphragm.

You stood up with what strength you had left, resolving to lean your body weight on Steve’s shoulders as he kneeled beneath you.

He wasted no time in unbuttoning your pants, desperate to not make a scene of it. He glided your pants to your ankles, and you stepped out of them while using Steve to balance. He stood up and guided you into the water. As you stepped in, the dried blood between your thighs sucked the air out of Steve’s lungs. Now he felt dizzy. Now he felt rage. He could only have guessed, but now he was certain. His eyes stung as he blinked back tears.

“I—I’ll be right back,” he said, turning away from you.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna grab those clothes for you. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He tore out of the bathroom, his tears now falling freely. He was gonna kill him. He was gonna kill that man if it was the last thing he did. He paced the halls debating on grabbing his bat. His blood boiled. Steve didn’t know what to do. He stormed into your room but was quickly reminded of the destruction that already took place. His temper cooled back down. You were his priority. You needed his attention. You needed him. He took a deep breath and collected all of your favorite cozy clothes.

He wiped his tears before knocking. A weak ‘come in’ responded. Steve opened the door. You had already begun draining the tub as you reached for your towel from your seated position. Steve grabbed the towel and pulled you up to your feet. He wrapped you up and did what he could to dry you. Then he helped you into your sweats and socks before guiding you to his room.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“Well, your bed is kind of indisposed at the moment,” Steve chuckled. “So, you can sleep here for now, ok? I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” The truth was he planned on cleaning your room and putting it back together. He knew it was late, but a fresh start in the morning was sure to allow things to move forward a little easier, right?

“You don’t have to. I can sleep on the couch; it’s fine.”

“Please, I insist.”

“It’s your bed.”

“Well, then, at least stay with me. I want you comfortable. I want you to get some sleep tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Only if you are.”

“I think I’d like that, actually.” You tried to smile, but you were much too tired.

“Come on, then.” Steve smiled. He held your hand as he led you to his bed. He pulled the covers back, and you slipped in, Steve following close behind.

The room was dark and silent, two things that again began to trouble you. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep your composure. Steve, too, stared up at his ceiling fan, all too conscious of the space between the two of you, hoping you were comfortable, or at least relaxed enough to fall asleep.

“You were right,” you whispered, your lip beginning to quiver.

Steve’s ears perked up. “Huh? What do you mean?” He turned his body to face you, his arm propping up his head.

“You knew he was bad news. I should have listened.”

“No, no. No. You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know. You did nothing wrong. Okay? Look at me. You did nothing wrong.”

You nodded in the dark, the silence continuing to settle around you. You wanted to believe him; you really did. But fragments of memories struck your nerves, all too vivid and all so wrong to be truly convinced.

“Why did this happen to me, Steve?” Your voice broke. Steve pulled you into his chest as you cried for the second time this evening. He stroked your hair as he held you close, failing to keep his own tears at bay.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna keep you safe from now on, you got that? You can count on me.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

The room eventually grew quiet and still, the only sounds the heavy breaths leaving both of you. Steve kept his promise, holding you in his arms and keeping you safe the entire night.