#lukas saying they were exes.... huge brain. huge.

[isabellaofparma]

Did I upset you, or is this a sexy choking?

[mintaka14]

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Six – Coda

“I heard,” one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, “that the results of the concours are going out today.”

And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.

The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, “What about the new sujet? Who got that one?”

“Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion,” someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.

“Not Lila Rossi?” she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.

“Not in a month of Sundays,” Nicolette snorted. “That one’s never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don’t envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings.” She giggled. “We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that’s always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn’t like much.”

Marinette couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.

“Did you know her?” someone else asked Marinette.

“Of course she did,” Nicolette said. “Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out.”

Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.

“Besides, I heard there’ve been discussions going on,” Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. “Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They’re not going to renew her season’s contract when it finishes soon.”

That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette’s seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.

“But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent.”

Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. “No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal.”

There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.

“Marinette,” one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.

“Ready to go, melody?” he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” the costume director told her. “We’ll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening.”

Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she’d been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, “You’re so lucky” as Marinette passed her.

“I know,” she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.

“I mean, I love the Liberty,” Luka sighed, “and I’m going to miss Ma and Jules, but I’m really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round.”

Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she’d had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.

“I heard a rumour today that Lila’s seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” she asked, and he cast his eyes up.

“I may have had a conversation with my mother’s ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory,” he said with feigned innocence. “The subject of Lila may have come up.”

“Luka!” She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it.”

“She put glass in your shoes,” Luka said, and she shouldn’t have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.

“Do you wish I hadn’t said anything?” he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.

“No, I think I’m glad you did. If she’s done things like that to me to get what she wants, she’ll do it again to someone else if she’s left unchecked,” Marinette said. They’d reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. “That recording was only going to hold her back for so long.”

He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.

“How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?” She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette.”

Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. “Luka! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor’s okay on it, but… it’ll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component’s all done.”

She glowed up at him. “We definitely need to celebrate.”

Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka’s warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.

Marinette shot him a mischievous look. “You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?”

“Tom does better pastries than anyone,” Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. “I’d just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren’t lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.

“So how did things go for you today?” Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Well, it wasn’t finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I’ve been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It’s fascinating, the way it was constructed. I’m learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she’ll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something.” Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn’t suppress. “It’s going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it’ll be worth it. I’ll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father’s sponsoring again, so they’re going to be stunning.”

Luka was watching her with a half-smile. “You saw Adrien?”

“I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there.”

“How is he?”

Marinette giggled. “He’s started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, so he’s happy.”

“Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said with a  shrug. “I think Adrien’s just developed a taste for sneaking around. He’s got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently.”

Luka laughed. “You’re a bad influence, melody.”

“He’s heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste’s take on it is.”

“Any regrets that it won’t be you wearing those costumes?” he asked.

“Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I’d much rather be making them than dancing in them.”

They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.

“So, no regrets?” he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn’t help laughing.

“I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I’m loving for a career that I’m excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven’t got my qualifications yet.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.

“And I get to go home with the man I adore,” she said softly. “No regrets. Not ever.”

There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.

“What are you thinking?”

He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t tell you, because you didn’t want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you’ve finished your degree.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Oh. Okay.”

They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.

“That’s a whole three years away,” she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. “Would you tell me if I asked when I’ve completed my residency?”

There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn’t quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. “That’s... June. End of June.”

“Is that too soon?” she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.

“June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want,” he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. “I’m yours, melody.”

And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.

[bisexualsforprompto]

A Ladybug’s Revenge

This will most likely be a one shot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Marinette had the words to describe the intense hate she felt when he walked into the room she would.

She might say that everytime he spoke to her, the acid dripping from his vile words made her dig her nails into her skin and grit her teeth.

Maybe she’d say that when he blamed her for something, not being on his moral compass it made her pray for release.

Or she could say that the very way he held himself, the very way he stayed out of conversations made him look timid, but how could a timid coward of a pacifist make her feel like she wanted to throw up and shove him out of a window at the same time?

Everything she felt about Adrien Agreste made her feel so contradictory. She wanted him dead but at the same time she wished she was dead.

She wished she was dead so that she could show him that lies did hurt, that lies could kill.

She wished he was dead because everytime he stared at her and smiled she felt boiling hot rage course through her veins. Every single muscle tensed. Yet he didn’t care what he did to her, he only cared about his own selfish ideas.

Adrien might’ve preached taking the high road but he was a hypocrite, as low as they could get. He said he didn’t want Lila to be akumatized.

Marinette thought it admirable at first.

Then she found out.

As guardian Marinette had to know who Chat Noir was, so she asked Tikki for his identity. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but everything had truly clicked the moment she saw the blonde the next day.

He didn’t want Lila akumatized, he didn’t want her lies exposed, because he didn’t want to deal with the backlash.

Lila was a formidable foe, so by handing her every battle and all her enemies heads on a silver platter Adrien was able to keep himself from having to work too hard.

Because god forbid the model had to work for once in his life.

Marinette had seriously considered ending it all. One could say out of sheer spite. She wanted to see the look on his face when he found out she took her own life because of him. A beautiful revenge and it would ruin his life.

No more Ladybug to love, no more Marinette to be his friend, and a gigantic mess for him to solve...because Marinette would tell the class every single thing before she died.

She had written the letter outlining all the lies and giving all the evidence, she written every little thing her classmates did to her, she made sure Adrien had the longest section.

Harassing her when Marinette was Ladybug and standing idly by at her suffering when she was Marinette.

The letter had ended being almost five pages.

But Marinette burned it. She wasn’t taking her life.

For one, she wasn’t the problem and two, if she were dead she would never see the look on Adrien’s face or anyone’s for that matter when the truth came out.

She still had many who stood beside her.

She had her parents, she had Kagami, Alya and Luka, and she had the kwamis.

She had a duty to protect the people she loved, the city she loved, even if there were those in it who she didn’t.

But most of all she had a plan.

The night she decided to put her plan into action she told her parents everything. Ladybug, the Lila situation, everything that Adrien, Chat Noir, had done.

Tom was furious and Sabine was even more so. Marinette had called Kagami, Luka and Alya to her house. The six of them, plus the kwamis when Marinette introduced the miracle box were ready to work.

Marinette knew since Adrien was Chat Noir he couldn’t be Hawkmoth, but after consulting the kwamis Gabriel Agreste was back on the table.

Her parents, Luka, Kagami, Alya and she mapped out every akuma occurrence, besides the Collector incident he was nowhere to be found every single time. They scoured every single footage from attacks, no Gabriel.

Until they found traffic camera footage, apparently Kagami had picked up hacking as a hobby when she wasn’t busy with fencing. It was foolish for Gabriel Agreste to mutter to himself after the Animistro was defeated, they heard every word. And that was all the confirmation Marinette needed.

Kagami had wielded the mouse miraculous, Luka the snake, and Sabine the turtle. Kagami had hacked into the Agreste’s security feed so Tom was there lookout. Alya waited on a rooftop nearby the Agreste mansion waiting for her task, the most important one.

In the dead of night the four miraculous wielders snuck into the Agreste manor.

They found Gabriel Agreste sleeping, hunched over in his office. Luka activated his second chance and Kagami used her multitude.

The small Kagami mice had run over to Gabriel on his desk and took his brooch off him without alerting the man.

At the same time Marinette and Sabine had gone upstairs to Adrien’s room.

Ladybug pulled off his ring in his slumber and right after it was fully in her grasp Adrien woke up.

Sabrine used her shelter around the boy, creating a force field he couldn’t get out of.

“Adrien Agreste, I hereby relinquish you of the black cat miraculous, and deem you unfit to ever wield any miraculous again.” Marinette spoke steadily as Adrien banged against the protection around him.

Marinette grabbed her mother and swung her yo-yo out of Adrien’s window. She dropped in front of the manor in a Spider-Man like fashion. Kagami and Luka ran outside to her.

“It took a few second chances but-“

Kagami shoved Hawkmoth’s miraculous to Marinette.

“Good. Now one last thing…” Marinette leaped onto a nearby building, the others following her soon after. They began working on the most important part of the plan…

Adrien Agreste couldn’t believe his eyes. In huge bold print on the Ladyblog read “Ladybug reveals identity after Hawkmoth’s defeat, watch the whole video to help Ladybug get justice.”

Adrien shakily pressed play, his lady had taken away his miraculous but maybe he could still make her his, the first step would be finding her identity.

“Hello Paris,” Ladybug begun with a stone cold look gracing her face, “You know me best as Ladybug, but underneath the mask I am not as strong.” The bluenette sucked in a breath, “I have been harassed by my ex partner Chat Noir and his civilian identity as well. In addition I have been a victim of relentless bullying at my school, this involves a liar, Adrien Agreste, yes the model, and the rest of my class. I am not telling you this so that you take matters into your own hands,” Ladybug said as she stared at the camera dead on. “I am telling you this because I need my class to know lies do hurt, you all know and trust me as Ladybug, but my civilian identity is considered to be a bully. I’m here to disprove that.” Ladybug sighed before whispering, “Spots off.” A blinding pink light surrounded her.

Adrien’s bugaboo was there no longer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was staring in front of him. “I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, was Ladybug. Revealing my identity was the only way to get everything to end. Some of you will be happy to know,” Marinette growled, “That you made me want to kill myself.” Adrien winced. “I wanted to die because of the people in Paris. But that doesn’t matter anymore.” Marinette gave a shy smile, “I am here to tell you that because Hawkmoth is defeated I will no longer be Paris’s saviour.”

Adrien gasped. Marinette was abandoning Paris? Didn’t she remember what he said about the high road?

“I have experienced physical torment and emotional abuse from school. The old Chat Noir was sexually harassing me on the job and to top it all off one man knew all about this and did absolutely nothing. The man who used to be Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste.

“Adrien, if you’re watching this I need you to know: I am not your Lady. I am not anybody’s. I also want you to know that if you try to find me you will not succeed. I am leaving France and nobody will ever see me again. I won’t tell you where I’m going, but I will tell you why...Adrien Agreste, Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste, and Caline Bustier, you are the reason that Ladybug will no longer stay in Paris.” Adrien’s eyes widened, it couldn’t be true…

“This is Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, signing off. Bug out.”

The feed stopped. Adrien threw his phone on the ground, leaving it shattered as he stomped out of his room. He refused to believe it.

Gabriel Agreste had to admit he was bested, but there were two things Ladybug or Miss Dupain-Cheng forgot. One was the peacock miraculous that he had just fixed and the second was the crucial fact that he always got what he wanted. No matter what the cost.

Marinette stared out the window feeling her shoulders relax as the cab passed a dismal grey sign. She sighed and smiled, feeling a new beam of hope shine into her life. She read the sign and began to dream of her class’s faces when they watched the video, she then pushed it away, ready to start her new life,

“Welcome to Gotham.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ngl, I have no idea what this was it was going somewhere and then my brain went FUCK IM TIRED, I am so sleep deprived and I wasn’t planning on writing anything this weekend but here we are posting this weird ass salt fic that I wrote in a night and am definitely going to regret tomorrow...YOLO.

(This wasn’t really Maribat but it was kind of I guess) Tag list:

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@kawaiigiantjudgefish

[cheryllcher]

happy new (tears) year

welp the new year (and decade) is here, so i thought i write a little something, and why not a mishmash of angst (dont worry it’s barely there lol) and a big bunch of fluff it’s crazy. wanted to go for marichat but then this came to mid so yea :) anywayy hope u enjoy this lil short thing and happy new year!! :))

—-

The Dupain-Cheng household was colourful. No kidding, the house is just filled with multi-coloured fairy lights and glow sticks. New Year’s was just around the corner, and hour walk down the path of time and there it would be. And so, a party is held, to send off the current year and welcome the new one with family and friends.

A whole lot more people came then expected, humans interacting with other humans and laughing with even more humans. This didn’t deter Tom and Sabine though, they continued hosting the party with elegance. The more the merrier they always say. The table had a selection of food laid out on it, each item contributed by the different families that attended. Cider flowing, video games playing, faces smiling, the party was in full swing. A Dupain-Cheng celebration never fails to disappoint, this one included.

Marinette buzzed around the house, making sure all the guests are enjoying themselves, letting her parents relax with the other adults for a bit. Rose and Juleka were huddled by the warm fire munching on pastries, Kim and Alix were currently half-drunk from all the dares(the sober, responsible grown ups were not amused with the children with their underaged drinking *ahem* Roger *ahem*), and Nino and Alya were currently in the corner whispering among themselves suspiciously, which Marinette was sure she knew what it was about. The others were sitting on the ground cheering on a game of Mecha Strike.

Adrien-who was miraculously (pun not intended i swear) allowed to the party with Kagami (also a surprise)- was covered head to ankle with glow sticks. Seriously this guy went crazy he finished a whole box himself and that was like 50 sticks. He was currently conversing with Luka about Jagged Stone and the instruments they play. Kagami was sitting by the side clearly awkward and trying to camouflage with the wall behind her cuz ohmygod there are two hot guys in front of me. The pigtailed girl who was watching from afar deflated slightly at that due to how close her crush and one of her other friends were, wishing it was her who stood beside him instead. But she can’t. It was way too awkward and sort of tentioney to go there.

The clock sure ticks fast, as soon the long hand’s ran close to the 11 mark, indicating that it was slightly more than 5 minutes before the new decade began. (wow a new decade already. time really does fly :) ) Adrien and Kagami were left talking in a corner, seemingly getting closer by the second, Luka long since away from the conversation. Marinette’s heart couldn’t take it, her chest slowly constricting in on itself at the sight. So instead of being with everyone else for the countdown, she snuck up the stairs to her attic-turned-bedroom, before heading to the balcony. Uneasy thoughts swirled around her mind as she looked up at the barely there stars, mostly erased by light pollution from the city below.

Adrigami’s gonna be alive soon, well pretty much alive now, and Adrienette’s dead for good now. What will i do, Monsieur Stars, how will i ever move on?

Adrien and Marinette actually got together after the ‘just-a-friend-zoning’ shenanigans was over, pure sweet, gooey cheesiness around them. So their breakup came as a huge surprise to everyone, disappointing the Adrienette shippers around the city. It was mutual though, both of then clearly not ready to have a relationship in their lives. And they were still friends, hanging out with everyone together except alone with the other. But no matter how hard to tried, how long she took, she couldn’t get her ex and friend out of her head.

Tikki, who had been perched on her shoulder trying to offer comfort to her friend suddenly buzzed away, leaving Marinette conscious of her surroundings. She didn’t turn when the skylight on the floor of the balcony opened, and internally breathed out in relief. At least it’s not an akuma. She assumed it was Alya though, in her too sad to even acknowledge you fully mood, and started speaking to the presence behind her.

“Alya if you’re here to try to get me in on one of your ‘seduce Adrien and make him fall for me again’ plan, I’m not in. He’s clearly with Kagami.”

“Well, I’m not very sure I’m up for being seduced,” a chuckle followed, “but I am now very curious about this plan.”

A shriek nearly slipped out of Marinette’s lips if not for the fact that she placed her hand over her mouth, a silent scream the only thing that remained. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. Adrien was afraid he’d be seeing her eyeballs fall out, so he continued.

“Sorry for just coming out here, I saw you being sneaky and decided to follow.” Then he did that cure little thing were he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Oh god he was adorable.

“Wh-Wha...Aren’t you- gah?”

He heard the many questions in that unintelligible nonsense, understanding everything she was trying to put into words without success. He always did.

“I’m here because I want to talk to you. Yes,

I was with Kagami, and no, we aren’t a thing. I heard you talking to the stars young lady. I... don’t feel that way for her, so I had to be honest with her.” The teasing smile never left his face even if it got a touch shy and awkward.

Oh no I said my thoughts out loud.

“Yes, you did.”

Darn it!

“Anyway, I just wanted to try to confess about how I can’t move on no matter how hard I try and to get some kind of closure or something if you’ve managed to move on with life... but I see the feeling’s mutual?” Hope. Spilling out from his voice, so much.

“You’ve got a minute, hot stuff. Tell me what you wanna say before the year’s over and we’ll see where to go from there. I want to hear everything so speak.” Her confidence is somewhat there, something in her heart fighting it’s way up against the sadness from before. The young man gladly followed the demand.

“Marinette, I know we’ve parted ways thinking it’s for the best as we weren’t up for it, but I still think of you every moment, still falling deeper and deeper into your trap as each day passes. You’ve stolen my heart long ago and it’s so deep in your clutches I simply can’t get it back anymore.

“I want to treat you like the princess you deserve to be once more and make up for all the time we’ve lost. I want to hold you again, shower you with affection and gifts and love. I want to make you smile that smile that I miss so much. I want my best friend back.

“I’m ready now, and I’m not going to choose anyone else, because I can’t... So, Princess, if you are ready as well and are willing... Will you have me? Again?”

The countdown’s starting in the living room.

10! 9!

Her brain short circuited.

8! 7!

His doubts starts streaming in.

6! 5!

She nods her head quickly, tears slipping from her eyes. He laughs out his relief, tears leaking out of his eyes as well.

4! A step closer.

3! Heads tilting forward simultaneously.

2! Eyes fluttered close and breaths mingled

1! Happy New Year!

Lips pressed gently against lips as cheers erupted from downstairs, completely unaware of the sweet fluff happening upstairs. The bells of the Notre Dame rang loud and clear but were not heard by the two teenagers. It lasted for a minute, both parting in need of air.

“Happy New Year, Princess.”

“Happy New Year, my Prince.”

—-

Bonus:

“Geez, my cheese can’t cover up the sweetness here!” A cheese-loving cat kwami grumbled from a shelf in Marinette’s room.

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t want your own New Year’s kiss?” His counterpart asked slyly.

“Nonono, come here sugarcube. I need that kiss to survive the suffering until they figure out their identities.”

[3one3]

The Sequel - 772

Persistent Problem

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea and BVB players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“What are you doing, pretty girl?” André asked sleepily in the bathroom doorway around 3 in the morning. He heard Christina smash her leg or foot into something in the dressing room, fell back asleep, work up again, wondered why she still wasn’t in bed, and then went to find her.

“Brushing my hair,” she told him, standing behind her stool at the vanity. He walked in with a more tired and careless version of his usual duck-footed gait, and hugged her waist from behind. He was definitely in the way of her brushing.

“Come to bed, Prinzessin.” He bent in half to land a loving kiss on her neck. She smells like cologne that isn’t mine. That sucks.

“I have to go be Santa.” His wife covered his arms with her smaller ones and leaned back against him. She didn’t feel guilty about what went on in the city, and she didn’t feel spite or resignation or anything like that about being in the clutches of the guy who wasn’t treating her the way the one in city was- the way she wanted to be treated, and loved- nor trapped by her situation caught between them. All she actually experienced in that moment in the bathroom was relief. Being with Juan, and contemplating a lifetime with him, was like taking steps out onto a tightrope. To leave her husband and Lukas’ father would be to tread a narrow rope high above the ground with no safety net at all and no way to turn back. Her balance in the saddle was exceptional but her balance on two legs was notoriously bad. So it was a relief to be back in the German’s arms, where it was safe and familiar and there was nowhere to fall.

“Be Santa in the morning. You’re going to wake up before everyone else anyway. Come to bed,” he yawned, chin on her shoulder. Christina put her brush down, and let him take her to bed. Ironically, he held her hand on the way. Then he held the rest of her too once they got under the satiny black duvet. It was pre-warmed from his body. They spooned and the footballer enveloped his girl in limbs, arms around her upper body, left leg on top of the lower. “Did Juan give you a Christmas present?” he inquired once they were completely settled, and still.

“Uhhuh.”

“With his mouth?”

“What?”

“Just kidding.”

Holy tiny panic attack, Christina thought after explaining the Dirk picture and the wine. Her heart stopped for a few seconds when she thought André knew about the kind of things she’d been up to with Juan, and that did make her feel guilty. If she was telling herself all along that he wouldn’t care if she swallowed the other guy’s cum and let him lick hers out of her body, then she figured she shouldn’t be so worried that he might have found or figured out about it. If her gut reaction was to totally freak out, then at least part of her thought what she did was quite wrong, and would hurt, anger, or offend him.

“I’m so tired, and I’m so sleepy, but I feel like talking,” the German said into her smoothed hair. He had a perfect pillow stacking system that allowed him to keep most of his head on his own pillow just above his girl, and then his face actually on the side of her head, mostly just his nose, mouth, and chin, since those all stuck out. It felt familiar and reassuring to be in that arrangement again. He hadn’t worked it out yet with the pillows available in Dortmund, and there was no spooning like that since he got back for vacation. It very much felt like home to him, even if the woman in the equation felt a bit stiff in his embrace. “We don’t have good talks anymore. All we talk about is what’s wrong, and Lukas.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Christina asked. If I can’t go do the presents then I would like to go to sleep, she groaned in silence. I’m tired and my brain has been asked to sort through enough crap tonight. My internal processor is not powerful enough for this level of computing.

“Something good.”

“Like what?”

“You could think of something good that happened that you could-“

“Ha. Not likely.”

“So not one good thing happened, say, in the last week? Me and Mausi coming home wasn’t good? You didn’t like your cookies? Or doing the decorating? Or going on the trail ride?”

“What was to like about the trail ride?” she grunted, unable to temper her authentic reaction. “I had to beg you to go, and you spent half of it telling me how hard it is to be with me, and how difficult my problems are for you.”

“Here we go,” André snapped, unclamping himself from around her body and already reaching for the bridge of his nose.

“Is that necessary? You think saying that is productive?”

“I don’t know what you want from me. You want me to lie? To pretend everything is fine and I want to go through a nice long period of my partner hating everything, not listening to anybody, complaining about everyone, and suffering by her own doing?”

“My own doing?” The rider sat bolt upright and practically shouted. “You fuck off to Germany on 5 minutes notice and it’s my fault we have a shitty long distance relationship?”

“I don’t think you want to do this,” her spouse warned, a wry, smug smirk plastered across his face. “I don’t think you want to have this fight.”

“I don’t want to have any fights! But you’re deluded if you think everything wrong for the last 6 months is my fault.”

“Why do you always have to take the most extreme interpretation of everything I say?” André shook his head and closed his eyes. It was pitch black in the room and he could barely see the intensely angry creature next to him, and he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to see her face to see the betrayed and indignant glare. Don’t take her bait and let this escalate into a huge fight that ruins Christmas and means one of us sleeps on the couch. “You have this unquenchable thirst to paint me as a villain who is out to get you, doesn’t like you, and wants to hurt you. All I can sense from that is that you’re stockpiling evidence so that you can feel justified when you tell me you want to separate. It feels like you’re just waiting for the last thing that puts it over the edge so you don’t have to feel you’re throwing away a good thing when you leave me. That’s the truth. That’s how I feel. That’s what I get from you all this time, and that’s what influences what I say to you.”

“I don’t want a separation. You make me think we need one though.” Christina buried her face in her hands. It didn’t matter that he could hardly see it anyway. She wanted the protection of her improvised hiding place. “How is living together supposed to undo everything that’s happened and been said? How is that going to take back how you’ve made me feel and how I’ve made you feel? You think I want to leave you. That’s going to stay with you forever. You’ll never forget that. It’s going to be like a cancer inside that you never know if it’s gonna grow back And I have it too. I will never be able to forget how it feels when you yell at me for something that isn’t my fault, and how it feels when you tell me you hate having to go through bad shit with me. I’ll never forget that you suggested a separation.”

“I don’t believe that. If I can let go of you cheating on me, I can forget these things too.”

Ouch. Juan’s ex-girlfriend outwardly flinched, and hope her husband didn’t notice.

“I don’t know what to do, babe.” She shook her head and stared at the black sheet inside her folded legs. “I need my life to change. I can’t keep going this way. I couldn’t even get dressed last weekend because I was like paralyzed with anxiety. I couldn’t put my clothes on. If I can’t even get out the door to go ride, how am I supposed to-“

“When did this happen? Are you being literal?” André turned on his side and his voice was full of concern. That was unexpected. She thought he’d turn her honesty into another reason to ship her to a shrink, and issue a grandiose lecture about it too.

“Yes. Last Saturday. I had like a serious panic attack when I went to get dressed for the horse show. I was sitting on the bench in there and I couldn’t move. I felt so sick. I had a migraine get to full strength in like 60 seconds. I thought I was having a stroke or something at one point. It was horrible- the worst. I was trapped.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby? Why didn’t you call me? What did you do?” The player felt his eyes get warm and watery. He couldn’t stand to hear his girl talk that way, for starters, because she sounded like the most wounded, innocent, dear little person in the world. It was like watching Dobby die again, only she didn’t even have the satisfaction of being a free elf. Secondly, it physically upset him when he thought about her in the condition she described. It sounded awful, and he didn’t want her to go through anything even in the same ballpark as a debilitating panic attack. Thirdly, keeping it from him cut him deep. What has happened here, he asked himself rhetorically. What happened to when I would be the only thing that could make that better? This sounds like how you get yourself to wanting to...end yourself. Why wouldn’t she tell me?

“I called Daniel. He’s the only person I could think of who might understand and wouldn’t do something or tell someone that would be bad for me. He is the male version of me in a lot of ways.”

“What...what was wrong? You were scared of not riding well, or? You didn’t want to ride? You were depressed?” André moved closer and tried to get a hold of her hands, but she wasn’t forthcoming with them.  

“I don’t know. I had inescapable anxiety. It wasn’t really even about anything in particular. I just felt so anxious, and full of dread, and full of the about-to-barf feeling. I guess if I had to narrow it down, I would say I was scared of never feeling right again. And I still feel that way.” Christina unfolded and lay down again, facing him on her pillow, and with the comforter pulled up high. She wanted Lukas the baby zebra too but didn’t know where in the bed to find him. “I have to change something or I’ll never feel normal, or happy. But the only changes I can think of that are meaningful enough to make a difference are ones with major life consequences and how can I pick one and follow through with it if I don’t know that it’ll work? How can I risk it? I’m trapped in this horrible cycle.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? And let me hold you, damn it. You can’t tell me belatedly about this horrible thing you went through and then not let me hold you,” the footballer grumbled incredulously while reaching for her. His indignant expression threatened to make his wife crack a smile. Instead, she let him put one arm over her and hold her hand between them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’ve demonstrated less than zero ability to empathize with me over any of this, and I didn’t want to hear how I should be seeing a therapist, or how I need to take time off, or anything else you could possibly come up with as someone who doesn’t understand.” The rider talked like she was making a shameful admission, and she closed her eyes because it was just easier that way. It was easier than looking into the very hurt, very handsome face fixed keenly on hers. “And because it’s embarrassing. And why would you leave your precious son alone in the care of somebody who gets stuck in her closet?”

“No, baby. No, no, no. Never. You are the best mom to him and I would never worry about that. And since when do you hide embarrassing things from me?” André got even closer, trying to eliminate any and all space between their bodies. He wished he could take the inner Christina out of hers and bring it into his own until he was sure it was alright. This is what she doesn’t get when I say it’s hard to be with her when she goes through this, he thought. I can’t stand this. It’s not that it’s an inconvenience. Okay, it is sometimes, but that’s not the point, he assured himself. The main point is that I can’t stand watching her suffer. Of course it’s bad for me too and it can get tiresome and annoying, but that’s not the main reason I hate it. I hurt with her. And I knew something was screwy last weekend with the bizarre results.

“I just didn’t tell anybody. Well...I told Daniel obviously, because I thought he could help. And he did, kind of.” His emotionally drained wife gave in and put her cheek on his right bicep, and flattened a hand on his chest. “Then I had to tell Tom because Daniel and I did everything together- I mean he even escorted me from my car into the arena because otherwise I might have just stayed in the car- and he got the wrong idea, and then I had to tell Marcus because he got a different wrong idea, and since it was a riding thing I figured they were the people to tell. You know what I mean? It was a riding thing but not a riding thing. I couldn’t get dressed to go ride. That was the stressor. But it’s other stuff that is making the riding such a daunting and withering experience.” And I can’t tell him about the other two panic attacks either, she reminded herself. They’re Juan things. He doesn’t need to hear about the two halves of Chris being in love with different people for different reasons and apparently hating one another. Not right this second. Nor does he need to know seeing Juanin kiss his girlfriend is panic attack material. Or that Juanin’s dick was in my hand a couple of hours ago. Nein.

“I want to be the person you tell, Prinzessin. This is my job. This is what I’m here for.”

“No you don’t,” Christina whispered, saddened again by the contradiction in André’s insistent assertion. “You keep telling me that you don’t want to be the person when you say things like “It’s hard to get through everything with you”, and when you get angry when I tell you about what upsets me, or you get defensive, or suggest I talk to a therapist. All of that tells me you don’t actually want to hear about my panic attack. You always say you’re better at showing people things and that you’re bad with words. You’ve been showing me for months that you don’t want to be that person, or at the very least that you don’t want there to be a need for a person who hears the bad things.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not my intention. I don’t have all the answers and I don’t do the right thing every time,” the German reflected aloud, though it was more his stream of conscious coming out through a downtrodden filter than it was a direct rebuttal. “No matter how much I want to, in real life I don’t always know what the best thing is, and it’s very hard for me to understand and relate from far away. The distance messes with my perception, I guess. That’s why I believe things will really get better when the stable is finished and we can be together. I swear to you though, no matter what it looks like, I don’t want you to feel alone. I’m sorry if I lose my temper and make you feel that way, or I don’t explain things right and it makes you think I don’t want to be there for you. It’s true I don’t want you to have reasons to need me there for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing.”  

“I love and appreciate that you apologize for things sometimes,” his girl testified quietly, her eyes finally making timid contact with his more jewel toned set above.

“I can admit when I get it wrong, unlike some other Prinzessins.”

“Are you implying you are also a Prinzessin?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sorry you wanted to talk about good things and we talked about all this instead.”

“I’m not. We have to talk, period. And I don’t think you should worry too much about making a big change to get back on track. The big change is already coming. Things will get better when you move.”

“I don’t think that’s true, and I think your belief in it is one of the core problems, babe. I don’t- I don’t know how to make that any more clear. This is bigger than where I live. How is living together going to erase the last 6 months?”

“It won’t, but it’s going to take away a lot of the stress and travel, and we’re always better together. You don’t need to erase what has happened. You just need to be set up with the conditions to be able to move past it.” André combed out her hair from around her right ear, and willed her to have some faith in what he believed. I don’t always get it right but I know I’m right about this, he assured himself. We need each other. Being together every day should reduce her problems by half straight away, and then time will cure the rest. This whole process has been like trying to pull a sticky bandage off one little bit at a time. It’s still going to sting once it’s off, but it will fade and eventually not hurt anymore.

Christina didn’t want to tell him that the longstanding issue of her love for Juan wasn’t going to go away with a change of venue. If, as the Spaniard asserted, it was that conflict within her that was driving her unhappiness, being in Dortmund wouldn’t help. It could reduce the opportunities for André to behave in a way that highlighted the difference between him and Juan, but it wouldn’t eliminate the connection she shared with the other player. She recognized to herself that at some point she drifted from her conviction that the German was the one she wanted to be with no matter what. At some point in that half of the year, she changed course on that. It was no longer an absolute. She was no longer committed to ignoring her other feelings. Her attitude was no longer, “I’m in love with Schü, and it’s great that Juan is love with me too, and maybe we’ll be together someday and that’ll be wonderful, but right now I want to be with Schü forever”. The rider didn’t feel that way anymore. On the basis of all that unfolded- all the fighting, all the heartache, all the perceived rejection, and the persistent depression- and she was coming around to accepting that term- it was real depression that she was experiencing, not just “unhappiness”- she was willing to consider that maybe she did want to be with the Chelsea player, in which case her husband was right- she sort of was collecting evidence against him to justify the change in position.

“We’ll feel closer again when we sleep this close every night,” André commented somewhat pensively. He was still combing her hair down by his chest. “I don’t mean that in the obvious way it sounds,” he chuckled. “I mean closer feeling-wise. Even when we’re practically all touching, it feels like there is a gap between you and me now. You don’t seem as comfortable with me anymore. Being with me isn’t your favorite place, I can tell. I want that back. That’s important to me.”

“Me too. I need to get some sleep though, babe,” Christina told him while trying to turn over. It was the opposite of the reaction he was looking for. “I have to get up early, and cook a big meal and everything tomorrow, and...yeah.”