#she’s been having a great tournament so far !!!

[nadiapodoroska]

MARKÉTA VONDROUŠOVÁ advances to the quarterfinals of the 2025 Abu Dhabi Open after defeating fourth-seed Yulia Putintseva, 6-2, 6-3.

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Obligatory roundup of tabletop characters I played this year:

Vyv (they/them), a cleric of The Twins in yumgeon (a homebrew Dungeon Meshi-inspired campaign)

Amber (she/her), The Old Soul in a game of Wickedness

Endurance Perez (she/her), a Teamster pilot in Mothership

Not pictured:

Poggs "The Slammer" Mulroney (they/them) in Doing the Job

(Links to icon makers: one, two, and three.)

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2

this one is exposition and build up for the smut eventually! enjoy my princesses

tashi duncan stole from you.

in many ways, many times. the first was when she thrashed you in your very first college tennis tournament. you would always remember the sound she made, that war cry. it was like she had decapitated you or something. she stole victory from you that day.

then she did it again, and again, and again. every single time she played you, she beat you. you could annihilate everyone but her, crushed them all to dust. but she was the one person that would not be decimated. you didn’t speak off the court, didn’t look at each other twice in the halls of stanford. but she had this look on her face. this smug, knowing look. here to lose again? it said. and you weren’t some average joe shmoe tennis girl. you were really good. people that had no reason to bolster your ego had told you that, so you knew it to be true. you were fucking brilliant, and she had no right to look at you like you were dirt. you gave her a tough match, but still she looked at you like she knew she was going to win.

when asked about her, all you could say was “i hate that smug bitch.”

what she said about you you didn’t know, and not for lack of trying. you didn’t know if she even spoke of you at all. the thought made you angrier than when she beat you. once, when at the same party, she waved at you.“hi,” she said, and gave you that same i-just-beat-you look. she was taller than you, and craned her neck unnecessarily far to look at you. where did that stupid bitch get off?

she was this towering roadblock, the one thing stopping you from entering the upper echelons of tennis royalty. you had the fucking talent, you had put in the fucking time, you were so fucking good. but you weren’t stanfords sweetheart. you just weren’t. everyone knew you were good, but you weren’t the best.

from the matches you had watched, which was nearly all of them, you were the only person she played that gave her a run for her money. she didn’t sweat the way she did when she played you, the points were never so neck and neck. she should be threatened by you, and yet she looked at you like any other silly college floozy that was the best in her high school. tennis was your life, as much as it was hers. she stole your dignity in that way.

the next time she stole from you was patrick zweig. a sort of boyfriend, an in-between, getting there boyfriend. he could’ve been yours. you could’ve been happy together. but tashi duncan couldn’t have that.

you heard whispers about a night in a hotel room, a threesome, a twosome with a watcher, two guys jacking off on tashi duncan. they could deny, deny, deny, but whatever did or didn’t happen meant patrick zweig never returned your calls anymore. you could still recount the exact tonality and pacing of his answering machine message.

it was fine. it’s whatever. he wasn’t a forever boyfriend anyway.

but once a girl has sex with someone, she expects some degree of loyalty, some sort of goodbye. it wasn’t about him, he was cute, a good-not-great fuck, and never claimed to be serious about you. he didn’t matter. it was the fact she had him. together or not, she had him. he belonged to her. even after they broke up, everyone knew he never liked any of his other many girlfriends like he loved her. they used to walk around hand in hand, kiss, and it made you brim with jealousy. not because you gave any kind of fuck about him as a person, but because she got him instead of you. it was her. all her. she had stolen one more thing.

as time passed, your hatred burned just as bright. you practiced day in day out, hoping that somehow she could see you now, somehow she would know you were her equal.

then you met a boy. art donaldson.

you had known he was involved with her. the hotel threesome stories spared no details of the parties involved, despite factual discrepancies in other areas. but you figured, while she was dating his best friend, you were safe from the curse of tashi duncan. you allowed yourself to fall in love, softly, timidly. having met in american literature, you fostered a little spark. a love, barely the size of a candles flame, flickered in your chest. maybe, you had prayed. maybe him. maybe he was yours. you kissed at new years for the first time, and days later he met your parents. it was new, fresh, but it was love. you loved him.

and then she stole from you for the final time. in one foul swoop, she took everything from you.

it was the final of the college tournament. the two stanford angels playing each other for the victory. the court was red and packed, newly redone. you both wore white. whoever won this was guaranteed a shot at the open in the summer, and that was all you needed. you were so fucking ready. no one was better than you. no one. you had trained so hard, art could attest to it, hell, the entire school could attest to it. ask anyone who saw you around that time, they would’ve seen a scowl on your face and a racket on your back. those who had the pleasure of watching you play would’ve say it: you were fucking good.

that’s why it crushed you. across from her, at match point, advantage duncan, you watched as her knee moved independent from her leg. in between grunting and pelting, there was a crack, and tashi duncan was no more. a hush fell over the crowd as she cried, fell to the ground clutching her knee. you heard that. but you didn’t hear the ear splitting scream that came from your own mouth, couldn’t feel your body sprint, jump the net to crouch by her side. beads of perspiration rolled down her face, scrunched in agony. she bared her teeth like a cornered animal, and looked up at you through her squeezed eyes. her knee looked awful, so you stared at the rest of her. without thought you placed a hand on the top of her head. to comfort her you think.

it was so quiet. the only sound was her crying, her laboured breath stilling your heart to a lifeless thud.

“it’s ok,” you said,”you’re going to be ok, tashi.”

you remembered feeling an inexplicable sadness, a grief that you had never known before. you wanted to get rid of her pain, any and all of it. none of it came from you, you didn’t want her to have it. but that was so quickly forgotten. because as you moved to touch her shoulder with your shaking hand, it was eclipsed by another. a larger hand, the hand of a man. a pale hand. a hand you had touched before, even kissed. the hand of your man.

your eyes met, each with equal fear, horror and sadness. it was then that you knew that the curse of tashi duncan wouldn’t rest until you died. she would steal and steal and steal, even beyond the grave. he looked caught, because he was. he was caught. once you loved tashi you never stopped. he had raced into the court because she had fallen at a game he attended to watch you play, had touched her shoulder with the hand that had held you. he was not yours, as much as you needed him to be. his eyes twinkled with regret, but told you everything you needed to know.

your hand drew away with a flick, like it had given you an electric shock. you rose from tashis tortured body. his hand slipped to where yours had rested. this was all somehow not her fault, while being her fault entirely. you hated her so much it made your heart bleed. you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. no whisper of her name, no nothing. from this moment on she was dead to you.

you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder to see if art was watching you leave. he wasn’t. the umpire boomed something through a mega phone, something like wait. but you were going home.

in the hall you bumped shoulders with patrick zweig. he was rushing to find her. he looked at you once to apologise hurriedly, twice to utter your name in recognition, and a third time to look at your back and wonder why you were so down. tashi was out. you won by default.

[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[livin4woso]

Never meet your hero (alexia putellas x teen!reader)

Summary - After transferring to Barcelona, the reader just wants to impress their idol, yet no matter how hard they try, it won't ever be enough. Alexia only realises their admiration when they accidentally push themselves too far.

Growing up womens football was rarely spoken about but if you dug for it you could find the media and thats when you in 2019 stumbled across alexia putellas a Barcelona midfielder with promising talent to be one of the greats.

You quickly found yourself trying to be like her and while she was claiming more accolades and fame to the name putellas; you were climbing the ranks of Chelsea academy football fast and not realsing you too were making a name for yourself.

Then it happened at 17 years old. You had somehow managed to gain the attention of Barcelona for a 4 year-long contract after making your professional debut for Chelsea just 8 months beforehand. Now, this raised some spectacle across the Barcelona team, and the fans, as you were young, couldn't speak spanish, which wasn't an issue but to compete with the stacked Barcelona midfield full of ballon d'or winners and major tournament winners was where people wondered how good you were.

Even you wondered how you were going to fit into the midfield, but playing with your football hero who made you change your playing style to the one that made you succeed was another type of pressure. You wanted to impress her and not seem like some scrawny teenager who had been given way too big of boots to fill.

You had arrived in Barcelona and the club hadn't wanted you to live on your own so the only other native english speaking member of the team keira was happy to let you crash at hers for your first year. "Im so sorry for crashing in your apartment for the next year, man. i swear I'll be clean around the place, and you know, help out," you told her as you were unpacking your belongings into her spare bedroom. "Honestly y/n its fine. Don't stress about it, it'll be nice to have some company in the place," she said with a warm smile.

You had spent the week before training at keiras just to settle into the area and get a grip on the basics of spanish and some catalan phrases which wasnt going the best for you or keira who was trying to teach you. It was finally time for you to start training with the team after far too many medical and fitness tests the team made you do. Keira was driving you there, and you had started to feel the nerves build in your chest as it finally hit you that you were meeting your idol and many other players who you deeply admired.

You had stood in the changing room waiting for the rest of the girls and as you stood you were using your hand to try to flatten out the creases on your training top and pushing back the fly aways from your hair to make yourself more presentable. Meeting the team wasn't as scary as you had thought it would have been. Everyone was friendly and kind to you, greeting you with smiles and shaking your hand until you were faced with alexia.

She was rather stoic in her features, and she was rather intimidating, but she was going to be your captain anyway so you just had to deal with it "hi im y/n erm sorry about not knowing spanish yet im trying too." You said as you tried not to stare at the floor as nerves dripped through your words "its fine im alexia, you're new captain" thats all she said back to you and ignored your hand that you held up for a handshake you thought maybe it was her lack of english but you let it slide.

As the weeks progressed, alexias attitude never changed towards you she would laugh and joke with vicky pina and patri, yet when you were around, it was like she could flick a switch of pretending you weren't there or would just blankly ignore you. It had started to get under your skin as you had took extra spanish lessons to fit in and would spend extra hours in the gym to be better to get better so she could appreciate you as a team member.

It had reached international break, and unfortunately, you hadn't been selected, which you had expected, and you had to practically beg keira. You would be fine on your own for the next 2 weeks. That was a lie in those 2 weeks you had worked yourself to the bone training and in the gym every moment of the day and while you thought this would be a positive you had been neglected your bodys health by not eating enough; by this point you were only eating dinner and a few random snacks just too make sure you weren't going to starve to death.

The change wasn't too noticeable, so it was nothing anyone was going to flag off as unhealthy behaviour, which led you to believe you were doing the right thing to be better for alexia, for her approval. You wanted to prove you could be like vicky or patri or anyone else in the team because to you she was your everything and yet she only saw a teenager but she didn't release she was treating you like an outsider.

Alexia putellas the la renia she had a reputation and she saw potential in you she did but she thought a tough love approach would make you a better player yet she had took it to another level that she didn't realise. She never noticed the way your shoulders dropped when she wouldn't compliment a good goal in training or the way tears welled in your eyes when she wouldn't joke on with you like the other girls. She was oblivious to it until it took a turn for the worst.

You were working yourself into the ground, and it was clear you weren't going to stop until someone told you to. These unhealthy habits had continued but not to the extreme when keira had returned from international break. They were so subtle that unless you were looking for it, it would be noticeable.

It was a Wednesday training session, and after an early gym session, it was time for field work, which was your favourite time of training. However, you should have noticed it your passes were sloppy. Your movements were slower than normal, and you just couldn't hit the target of the net. Then it happened it was during quick fire 5v5 games with the mini goal 6 minutes on, then 6 minutes off.

It was just your luck that you had been chosen to mark alexia, and it was round 3 of the games when something didn't feel right. You looked to receive the pass from esmee to turn and move forward when all of a sudden everything went so fast you couldn't comprehend it. Your body became heavy, and so did your eyelids, and that was it. You lost all control of your body, and it collapsed in on itself to a bonless pile on the pitch.

Meanwhile for alexia it was the opposite it was like slow motion she was stood opposite you waiting to defend your play when you missed the ball completely and your body went dropping to the ground with quite a loud thud which caused the game to be stopped immediately. She was hunched over you, trying to make you regain consciousness by lightly shaking your shoulder. The medics raced onto the pitch. However, alexia wouldn't budge from her spot next to you she needed to know if you were okay.

There was a ringing in your ear which had changed to a mix of voices and random spanish words which you could translate but not in the disoriented state you were in at the moment. You tried to open your eyes, but it was like looking directly into the sun, and the only thing you could understand coherently was alexias voice "y/n are you okay?" She asked you, her voice laced with concern "mmh what happened?" You asked back groggily to her."You don't remember you just passed out onto the floor, " she said to you, and it had set panic of within you shit. im done for.

You had managed to be hauled to your feet with your body weight being supported by alexia, and you couldn't tell if she was doing this because she cared or rather it was captains duties. You were now sat on the medical table after being forced to chug a bottle of water and an energy gel. However, alexia still hadn't left your side while it was strange to you it was rather comforting. The medical staff had ran quite a few tests on you to figure out the cause of why you passed out. However, you knew why your body was physically exhausted, but you were also mentally exhausted.

"So miss y/l/n it seems that the cause of your collapse was your body being overworked and a lack of the correct nutrition. We've noticed you have a slightly decrease in body weight however you have been adding up to 6 hours extra training a week we have on record." The medic stated and well it wasnt a suprise to you but too alexia she was shocked you could be doing this to yourself. "Y/n this isn't healthy why have you been training so much extra?" Alexia states to you but unfortunately you couldn't be professional on your response you told her the truth.

"Because im clearly not good enough for you or the team all i wanted was you to appreciate me on the team yet you hate me. I learnt spanish for you i tried so hard for you to notice me yet everytime you see me you blank me or frown at me and i want to know how can i be better" the words tumble out of your mouth as tears threaten to fall down your face. And in that moment alexia could feel her heart break she was the reason you had worked yourself to the bone for her and she had treat you like a piece of gum on her shoe. "Y/n im so sorry i thought that if i was tough on you, you would improve under pressure but it was really wrong of me im so sorry I'll try to be better for you because its not fair for you" she said to you.

"Well it doesn't matter anymore i dont care about you and your opinion and im done trying for you because its clear i dont matter to you" you shouted storming out of the medical office where keira was waiting in the car to take you home. The ride home was a tense one as keira had found out about your unhealthy behaviour, but you didn't need a lecture as she could tell you knew it was wrong.

Since then alexia was much nicer to you however it had never been the same you hadn't seeked out for the validation of alexia you had realised that praise is awarded and not always found when looking for. While you had never found the love to forgive alexia for your rocky start to your time in barca she had found solace in watching you progress and prove that she knew she was right to recommend you to transfer in the first place but she wouldn't ever tell you it was her because you needed to become your own player rather than tagging along to be the next alexia putellas.

[llamagoddessofficial]

knightmare.......... (⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝)

The air was hot, and heavy. It always was, in the Summer Court, where the inescapable sun remained high in the sky for eternity. In this particular moment, however... the heaviness in the atmosphere was not caused entirely by heat.

The new knight, the stranger, had won yet another joust. Not only that, he had won a golden rose; the coveted prize for unseating five knights in a row. His opponent was still limping back to the competitor’s tent, their wings low in shame - and the stranger remained tall on his steed, alone in the centre of the ring. The raised stands surrounding the jousting arena had fallen deafeningly silent... he looked like a demon, horned helmet branching behind him, black ichor still leaking from between the heavy segments of his midnight armour.

The knight he had unhorsed was one of Dream’s favoured guards. Nobody knew what to do. Cheer? Boo? He held the rose he had just been presented with as if someone had handed him a dead bird; he seemed to observe it with a peculiar and detached sort of disinterest. 

Amongst the dozens of rainbow-clad fae surrounding him, he appeared a single black spider in field of butterflies.

The fae who had presented him the rose hurried out of view, ducking back under the fabric of the stands. The stranger’s horse had attempted to bite her, and she had only just moved away in time. You would’ve run, too, if you were her.

“... Your prize, visitor.” Dream, naturally seated under the shade at the head of the tourney, spoke with his classic eloquence. And you couldn’t deny you admired his ability to speak so loudly, and with such friendliness, as if nothing was wrong. But you knew him well enough to know that his teeth were gritted. He looked down at the knight with an unreadable expression, golden circlet winking in the light. “Well earned.”

You didn’t have the luxury of sitting further back, in the top of the stands, sheltered from sunlight. You were sat on one of the far wings - to the very front, with the rest of the common fae. 

... You used to be at the back. But you couldn’t think about that anymore. Ever since you had lost your humanity and grown wings, Dream’s eyelights had wandered to newer, more interesting people. You were relegated to the long and ever-growing list of Dream’s “old favourites”, the fae who had committed the ultimate sin of becoming boring. 

You weren’t even one of the preferred old favourites. You would be surprised if Dream even recalled your name. You sat at the front now, far from him.

... So when the knight ignored Dream, and turned his great horse in your direction, even though the stands provided a moderate height advantage you felt fear seize every muscle.

You had suspected, from the dramatic moment this terrifying stranger arrived, that he had been stealing glances at you. Little tilts of his helmet - flashes of an eye underneath the metal. You had done your best to talk yourself out of it, why would he care about you? He was clearly here to mock the King. You were seeing things, or he was looking past you to other, more beautiful fae.

The horse was more beast than steed. It was frothing and biting at its bit, muscles straining beneath its armour, midnight hide rippling with barely restrained energy; it stood at least three hands above every other horse at the tournament, wild eyes blank like parchment. How the knight stayed so easily seated upon the monster was a mystery - but a loud testament to his own strength. Anyone who could tame and ride such a thing must be worth his salt. 

You watched, in horror, as the beast drew closer. Each hoofbeat struck like thunder into the sand; you couldn’t help but feel a childish fear that the approaching steed might lunge forward and eat you. The fae around you were murmuring, wings were fluttering, seats creaked as tens of bodies attempted to lean away without committing the impropriety of leaving their place.

The horse pulled up alongside the stand. Its wild eyes, that had so hungrily observed the competition (and even the rose-bearer), didn’t so much as glance at you. It was like you weren’t even there.

The knight’s gauntlet-clad hand extended. The golden rose, tilted toward you. It all but glowed in the sun reflecting off its crafted petals; water-like ripples of light cast from it across his fine dark armour. Within his midnight hand, it only seemed to shine brighter. 

You looked down at him. From the gap in his helmet, could see a single eye staring back at you, the brightest azure you had ever seen. He spoke - his voice was far softer now. Not at all like the proud, booming tones of when he had declared himself a contender for the joust. 

“might this simple knight be so bold...” he murmured, “as to ask for your favour?”

It took a moment for you to speak. Your own voice was choked, barely audible to anyone but him. 

“Y-you wish to exchange your golden rose... for my favour in the rest of the joust?”

You could hear his smile through the metal. “indeed.”

Your brow furrowed. “That hardly seems like a fair exchange for you, lord.”

“any fool with coin could have a hundred golden roses.” His eye sharpened. “but the favour of the fairest creature in attendance? alas, there is only one of those. a metal trinket, in exchange for something truly priceless.”

The heat in your cheeks was undeniable. He extended his hand a fraction further; you sat forward in your seat and extended yours in turn. As he placed the delicate rose into your awaiting palm, you felt the cold metal of his claws trace gently over the back of your knuckles.

He settled back into his saddle, retaking his reigns.

“... I-I...” You swallowed, gently nodding your head to him, slightly raising your voice. “Good fortune to you, Lord.”

The knight lifted the reins. The horse shook, making a sound like a great bonfire, hooves beginning to paw at the ground once again. 

... He bowed his helmeted head. The horse turned, tail whipping, and moved back toward the centre of the joust range.

You froze in your seat, hands clasped around the rose. Everyone noticed that. Whispers immediately began to ripple across the crowd; you quickly darted your eyes away from the head of the seating, where Dream sat, hair prickling as you desperately avoided the overpowering urge to look to the Summer King for his reaction.

The mysterious knight had not called Dream “King”. Not once. And despite having every opportunity, for the duration of the tourney he had not bowed to him.

... But before the entire court, he had just bowed to you.

[sellasstories]

CLOSE (I)

word count: 5.7k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

underage drinking, slightly explicit themes, light angst, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 1: azzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“The best duo in the world is back together!” Paige shouts from the end of the Fudds’ driveway.

“Shut up! The whole neighbourhood doesn’t need to know they’re going to have to deal with you,” Azzi yells back. “And are you just going to stand there looking stupid forever?”

Paige doesn’t even bother to pout at the lighthearted insult, running over to crush Azzi in a suffocating hug. If her first thought when she’d seen Azzi standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face had been how beautiful the other girl looked framed in the sunlight, it was only because she was delirious with excitement. This was actually like the best thing ever. She’s going to be living with her best friend. Her best friend that people always say she’s attached at the hip with, which doesn’t even make sense because they live so far apart. Well, now they really can be and Paige doesn’t know if she can be any more excited.

As her whole family helps Paige move her bags into the house, Azzi worries (too much, Paige would tell her). It’s not that she’s not excited — she really is — but she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to handle all of Paige for this much time.

•••••

Azzi has always been the shy one, the cautious one, never one to consider herself brave. She’s organized and methodical, and has never liked change or new things. She would cry at every new activity that her parents insisted she try as a kid, basketball included. She may have been shy, but she was never one to give up, and soon it was evident that basketball was different. Azzi had found her thing, and she was happy to throw herself into seeing how far she could take it.

Trying out for the U16 national team at 14 had been the scariest thing that Azzi had ever done, but she’d barely even had time to let the nerves set in before a blonde girl a few inches taller than her had confidently walked over and introduced herself.

Taking in Paige’s relaxed stance and cocky confident tone, Azzi had instantly recognized a rival. But as they both survived cut after cut and Paige kept talking to her (no less obnoxiously than the first time), Azzi’s mind reluctantly changed. This girl, her opposite in every way except their shared passion for the sport, was drawing her in like a magnet. Paige was loud, impulsive, and outgoing, and when Azzi was with her, she felt like she could be those things too.

By the time the tournament actually started, everyone was already referring to them as ‘Paige and Azzi’, and there was no question about who they’d be rooming with. The days passed and they only grew closer, connecting in a way that Azzi never had with anyone. She swore they were becoming one person. Azzi wasn’t brave, but when she reached out and took Paige’s hand in her own as they stood with gold medals around their necks, she felt like maybe she could be.

The rest was history. They kept talking every day, went to great lengths to go to each other’s games in different states, and were told over and over how ‘special’ their connection was. Azzi didn’t get it at first. Paige was her best friend, but everyone had a best friend that they loved the way she loved hers, didn’t they?

It had taken a couple years, but eventually Azzi had figured it out. Paige wasn’t just her best friend, she was her person. There was never going to be anyone else. There was no fanfare, no announcement or confession, just quiet acceptance as a 16-year-old Azzi had sat on her bed and tried to make sense of her uncharacteristically messy thoughts neatly scrawled in a little purple notebook that she carefully kept hidden from her parents and siblings. She’d confided only in Stewie before vowing to never tell anyone else.

Just this once, Azzi had been glad that she wasn’t brave like Paige. She wasn’t ready to change everything, especially when she already knew what Paige’s answer would probably be. She was almost positive that her best friend loved her, but she was also equally sure that it was only platonically. And that was usually fine. Azzi would take what she could get.

Azzi was disciplined, and she was able to keep up their routine, never acting in a way that would alert Paige. She knew their dynamic, and she could act accordingly. Well, mostly. It was so much easier when they were apart and Paige was just some pixels on a screen, just her goofy best friend.

When they’re together, Azzi has to exercise nearly all of her self-discipline. Because when she’s in the same room as Paige, she can’t ignore the way that her eyes shine and her smile is only ever kind. She can’t ignore the sharp lines of Paige’s body, from her cheeks to her collarbones to other places that Azzi is definitely not supposed to be looking at. And she especially can’t ignore how physical Paige is; touching, brushing, and grabbing without a care in the world because she’s just so full of love and has to get it out somehow.

•••••

So Azzi is worried. Not that she’ll get sick of Paige, but that she’ll ruin everything or somehow fall more in love, and she doesn’t even know which would be worse.

“AZZI!” Jon’s loud voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

She shakes her head. “What did you say?”

“I said thanks a lot for helping us with Paige’s stuff,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he goes inside.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” she calls to his back. How long has she been standing here? Shaking her head again, Azzi wanders into the kitchen where she finds her best friend talking to her parents. Paige is wearing a tank top. It looks like she’s put on some muscle since the last time Azzi saw her. Azzi stares at the ceiling. She’s fine. This is going to be fine.

•••••

Paige has a bad habit of setting herself up for disappointment. Her expectations for everything are through the roof, and while she figures the lofty ones she placed on herself are the reason that she was able to commit to UConn, she has to admit that it hasn’t helped her much in other areas of her life. School dances, birthday parties, even vacations, are never as fun as she makes them out to be in her head. But this ‘vacation’ (her parents told her not to call it that but she, of course, didn’t listen) is everything that she was hoping it would be.

Sure, it’s not like they’ve actually done anything crazy (unless you count shaving Azzi’s brothers’ heads, which she doesn’t), but anything that she gets to do with Azzi is going to live up to her expectations. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing out on by having a best friend that she couldn’t see every day. No matter what they’ve been up to, Paige still isn’t over Azzi being right next to her all. the. time. Paige thinks she could stare at the dark-haired girl forever. She thinks about how much she’s missed, how many parts of Azzi she didn’t know about before.

She never realized how much she loves the way Azzi talks. Sometimes, she’ll argue with her just to experience the changes in her voice and expressions. Paige wants to memorize them. She loves watching Azzi with her brothers, so similar yet so different to how she is with Drew. Paige thinks that Azzi will be a great mom someday.

She loves the way Azzi feels, too. Even though she’s been living with the younger girl for several weeks now, Paige always wants to be as close to her as possible. If there was ever any doubt that her love language was touch, it’s definitely been erased now. Paige thinks that she’d crawl into Azzi’s skin if she could. Obviously that’s not possible, but in this world where Azzi is one of the few people that Paige is allowed to get close to, she’s sure going to try.

The first week of her stay, she insists on her and Azzi picking some TV series to watch before bed, and if that results in them falling asleep where they are, she’s totally going to pretend that it wasn’t her plan all along. At first, it’s them on the couch in the living room with some or all of Azzi’s family, but the tradition quickly evolves to just the two of them settling into Azzi’s bed after the fifth night of them waking up sore from sleeping awkwardly on the couch.

Paige wouldn’t admit it, but she likes this second arrangement better, and not just because Azzi’s bed is more a comfortable place to sleep. She’s never had a problem sharing before, but Paige likes that this environment lets her have Azzi all to herself. Sure, anyone could still come in and watch with them, but Azzi seems to have some unwritten rule with her family about staying out of her space, and Paige can’t help but feel the urge to gloat that Azzi so readily lets her in.

And there’s another thing too, one that Paige doesn’t really understand. Even though Azzi’s bed is much bigger than the couch, they always seem to end up a lot closer than they were in the living room. Not physically closer (Paige had definitely fallen asleep on the couch sprawled on top of her best friend), but closer in a way that Paige realizes she’s glad the rest of the household doesn’t see. It’s not like the arms looped around waists and necks or the legs that always end up intertwined are particularly improper, but that doesn’t stop Paige from fighting the urge to pull away every time she hears a sound in the hallway.

She never says anything to Azzi, though, simply hoping the younger girl doesn’t notice, and their ritual of shared time cements itself as almost a nightly activity. Sometimes she gets sent back to her room by a tired Tim complaining about them being too loud or saying that they need some time apart, but they’re always back together the next night.

Of all the traditions established during their time together, this one is by far Paige’s favourite. She loves all the little pieces of Azzi that she gets to collect, but she holds this one just a bit closer to her heart than the others.

•••••

Paige knows she can never be bored of Azzi, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be bored with Azzi. Katie and Tim have gotten tired of filming TikToks for them, they’ve stopped keeping a record of who wins games of 21 and HORSE (which they play as UCONN), and Paige swears they’ve tried every quarantine activity.

They even managed to convince Azzi’s parents to let them climb onto her roof, which is where they are now. Azzi appears to be relatively peaceful laying on her back with her eyes closed, but Paige is sitting up and her fingers are tapping against the shingles as she looks to the next possible activity.

She sighs loudly. “What are we gonna do for the next month? Oh god, what if this lasts a year?”

“We’re literally on the roof,” Azzi turns her head towards the blonde. “Can we appreciate the fact that we even got permission for this for a second?”

“For a second, sure. But I’m so bored.” Paige gestures around them. “What is there to do here? We can only play so much one on one. Don’t you miss basketball, like real five on five… with contact and crowds?”

“Yeah, I do. I miss it as much as you do, P, but you know we can’t.” Azzi glances over to see if the other girl is even listening. “For now, you’re stuck with me and the hoop in my driveway.”

Paige groans as she flops onto her back. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take!”

“I’m going to push you off this roof if you don’t chill out,” Azzi retorts. “You wanna get away from me that bad, huh?”

Paige barely even entertains the joke. “I literally came here to not have to get away from you- that doesn’t mean I won’t jump off and say you pushed me, though,” she sticks her tongue out at her best friend. “I wanna get away from here, with you, and go do something. At this point, it doesn’t even have to be basketball!”

Azzi is mostly focused on ignoring what the casual admission of Paige’s desire to be with her (but not like that, she chides herself) is doing to her heart, but she also wants to be a helpful friend. She pushes down her stupid feelings and hopes that Paige didn’t notice any changes in her expression.

“We’ll just have to find a new thing to do in the meantime.” Her face brightens. “We just thought of the roof thing today! There has to be something else.” A hush falls over the pair as they wrack their brains. At least Azzi’s inadvertent challenge is technically something to do.

“I know! Az, have you ever been drunk before?” Paige’s excited voice shatters the silence, startling Azzi, who sits up abruptly and lurches forward before catching herself.

“Jesus, P, I could’ve fallen!” Azzi takes a few deep breaths as she waits for her heart rate to return to normal.

Leaning back to make herself feel safer, she finally dignifies Paige (who looks way less apologetic than she should, in Azzi’s opinion) with an answer. “No, when would I have? You know I don’t really go to parties, and my parents would kill me anyway.”

“I’m gonna ignore that last part, because that’s what I think we should do,” seeing Azzi’s unimpressed expression, Paige raises her arms in surrender. “Hear me out! It’ll be funny, and it’s something new as well…”

“…and?” Azzi smirks. She knows there has to be something else.

Paige looks up at the sky. “And I’m going to college really soon and I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.”

“You’re so dumb sometimes. You don’t have to train for that, Paige,” Azzi laughs. “You’re going to be totally fine, I promise. So just to be clear, you’re suggesting either getting into a liquor store and somehow managing to buy something or… what? Stealing from my parents?”

“I guess?” Paige rolls her eyes, prior embarrassment forgotten. “You know what? Fuck you, it was just an idea.” She shoves the younger girl lightly.

“Paige Madison. What did I say about the roof?”

“My bad, my bad.”

They lapse into silence again. Finally, Azzi speaks up. “All I’m saying is that this idea would probably involve lots of lying and us getting in huge trouble. I just want you to know that.”

“Shut up,” Paige groans. “I already said we didn’t have to.”

“And I’m saying we should!”

Paige figures Azzi is still messing with her. She raises an eyebrow.

“For the record,” Azzi continues as if nothing’s happened, “I think stealing from my parents is the easier option, but we can do whatever you want.”

Paige doesn’t like how much fun the younger girl seems to be having with this. She’d call it off if she wasn’t already getting excited at the prospect. “Since you’re so smart, why don’t you figure all that out? Bring everything to me and I’ll show you how to make drinks.”

Azzi sticks her tongue out. “You say that like it’s hard.” She lies down, smiling proudly.

Paige takes a minute to admire the peaceful look on Azzi’s face, thankful that her best friend’s eyes are closed. Once she tears her eyes away, she resumes her position on her back as well. A gentle breeze passes over the girls and they both shift closer together until their sides touch.

As the sun sets in front of them, no words need to be exchanged because Azzi just knows to lift her head up so Paige’s arm can slide smoothly under it. They bask in the calmness around them, and for once Paige doesn’t feel completely at odds with it.

Azzi turns into Paige’s body even more. “Look at the stars,” she whispers in awe.

Paige smiles softly, her own shining eyes surely mirroring Azzi’s. “Have you never seen them before?”

“Never from up here. You can see the whole sky, it’s really beautiful.”

So are you, Paige’s brain supplies unhelpfully. She blinks rapidly, not totally sure where that came from. Instead, she says, “I bet we can find all the constellations.”

“I don’t think I know too many,” Azzi admits. “I just like to watch for shooting stars.”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know them all,” Paige brags.

At first, Azzi believes her, but as the names and patterns get more ridiculous, it’s clear that Paige has no idea what she’s talking about. Catching onto the game, Azzi is quick to make up some of her own. It soon devolves into a contest of trying to make the other laugh, and for once Azzi doesn’t pout when Paige is the clear winner.

Azzi looks at Paige at the same time as the blonde reaches an arm out towards her. Paige’s hand trails down Azzi’s forearm and side as it comes to clasp hers. Looking down at their interlocked hands, Azzi shivers, and she knows it’s not from the breeze.

Suddenly, she’s nervous to look up, not sure if she’ll be able to survive looking into the other girl’s eyes right now. Somehow, Paige has remained silent through all of this. Azzi drags her own eyes up and is still unprepared for how her best friend can undo her with a single look.

Paige is looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world. Azzi leans forward subconsciously as she’s pulled in by the intensity of Paige’s gaze. She sees the whole sky of stars reflected back at her, even a shooting star-

“Woah,” Paige breathes. Her eyes shift away and it breaks whatever spell Azzi had been under. She mentally kicks herself. She’d been seconds away from doing something truly stupid and she knows it. “Az, I think that was a shooting star.”

“Then you have to make a wish,” Azzi insists.

“You should too.”

“That’s not how it works,” Azzi giggles.

Paige frowns. “Can I give you my wish then?” Seeing the shake of Azzi’s head, the blonde has an idea. “Then I wish for us both to see another shooting star tonight.”

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers. “Even though you’re not supposed to tell me what you wished for,” she can’t resist adding.

“I want you to know,” Paige shrugs.

Azzi has scarcely opened her mouth to reply when she sees it. Clear as day, a bright streak right in front of her eyes. She shakes Paige’s shoulders urgently and points to the sky behind her best friend. “Look, look, your wish came true! It’s a shooting star!”

Paige seems unfazed as she follows the line of Azzi’s finger. “Good. I’m not telling you what I wish for this time, though.”

“Good, because that’s how it’s supposed to work,” Azzi reminds her.

They stare at the spot where the shooting star disappeared long after it fades into the night sky. Closing her eyes, Azzi doesn’t even have to think about her wish. If she’d known that right beside her, Paige was wishing for them to be this close forever, she would’ve been ecstatic.

If Azzi claiming a need to not fall off the roof is clearly just an excuse to wrap her body tightly around Paige’s, the older girl isn’t complaining. Especially when holding Azzi in her arms that night is making her feel more grounded than she has in a long time.

•••••

They decide to get drunk the next night. It’s difficult to act normal all day but they manage, finally getting to an acceptable hour to excuse themselves to go to bed.

Tim should’ve known something is up when Paige hardly puts up a fight after being told to go to her own room, but he’s tired and not about to complain about the normally difficult job being less so.

After that, it really is as easy as Azzi said it would be. She sets a timer for thirty minutes and paces her room as she watches it tick down. After completing a mental checklist of what she’s grabbing, she decides to change into a crop top and nicer shorts. Already feeling ridiculous, she suppresses the urge to fix her hair, pushes down the nervous energy, and goes back to pacing.

When she finally tiptoes into her dark kitchen, the whole house is silent. There’s never been an effort to hide the alcohol because Azzi’s never given her parents a reason to, and she’s thankful for that right now. She makes it to Paige’s room without incident and knocks as softly as she can.

The door opens almost immediately and Azzi feels slightly better when she realizes that Paige must’ve been pacing her room as well. The blonde leans on the doorframe as she looks Azzi up and down.

“Nice outfit,” there’s mirth in Paige’s tone, but no malice, and a part of Azzi wonders if she means it. What Azzi doesn’t know is that Paige considered doing the exact same thing but talked herself out of it, a fact that she will very much be keeping to herself.

“Shut up,” The younger girl whines before shoving her way into Paige’s room. She looks over her shoulder. “And, if I remember correctly, you have some drinks to make.”

Paige surveys the contents of Azzi’s raid. “Yeah, gimme a second.” In Paige’s defense, she doesn’t have a lot to work with. But she did also totally lie when she told Azzi she knew how. She doesn’t really know why, it’s not like Azzi would’ve cared or anything.

Maybe this should warrant further investigation, but Paige has put her pride on the line and nothing is more important right now than defending it. With almost laughably fake confidence, the blonde fills two cups with a mixture of vodka, Sprite, and tonic water. She hands one to Azzi, who gives her an incredulous look.

“You’re so full of shit. Are you even supposed to mix all this together?” The dark-haired girl sniffs the drink and wrinkles her nose.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Just trust me. Drink on three?”

“Fine.” Azzi takes a deep breath.

They touch their cups and Paige counts to three. When the drink hits the back of her throat, she attempts to save face by masking the sudden sensation that her mouth is on fire. Azzi has no such reservations.

“What the fuck is this?” She splutters. “That’s like, way too strong.”

“Don’t look at me,” Paige is quick to defend herself. “I didn’t have anything to measure with, and it’s not like it’s supposed to taste that good anyway.”

They continue to bicker back and forth as they figure out what they want to do. Azzi bans Paige from making any more drinks, and they agree to just drink from the bottle and have a cup of Sprite to use as a chaser. It’s also Azzi’s idea to sit on the floor with their backs against Paige’s bed, facing away from her bedroom door. It probably wouldn’t do much to prevent them from getting caught, but it does make them both feel a little better.

It’s quickly discovered that ‘Truth or Drink’ isn’t the best game for them. They already know everything about each other, and neither of them can seem to think of anything that the other isn’t willing to share.

Well, Azzi can think of one thing. She doesn’t want to bring it up because she definitely has more to hide, but as they pass the bottle back and forth and her mind starts to get hazy, her jealousy curiosity gets the best of her.

“Sooo, Paigey, wanna tell me about your crush?” Azzi can hardly get the question out before she dissolves into giggles.

Paige is genuinely confused. “My what?”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “Remember the Overtime video you did, the one I was literally in?”

“I forgot about that question, not gonna lie,” Paige shrugs. “It’s not like it’s true, anyway. That’s just what I say when people ask.” She leans her head back and puts an arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

Azzi’s not one to give up easily. “You must have one, though.”

Paige pushes the side of Azzi’s head into her chest. “Who says I do?” This doesn’t seem to deter her.

“Me,” Azzi’s voice is muffled as she continues. “If you didn’t, you would’ve just said no one. No need to have a cover unless saying you didn’t would’ve been an obvious lie,” the younger girl reasons, smiling triumphantly. “So I’m asking again, who is it?”

Paige looks away. “No one,” she mumbles, cheeks burning.

Azzi looks up at her with a shit-eating grin. She’s vaguely aware of how quickly this could turn on her, but she’s having too much fun to care. “Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Paige doesn’t answer, taking a deep breath before bringing the bottle to her lips. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tries to hide her expression of disgust at the strong taste. “But you’re just so perfect, right? The Azzi Fudd, best basketball player in the world, doesn’t have time for silly things like crushes, does she?”

Azzi would be lying if she said that she had any idea what was going to come out of her mouth. “I never said that.” She cringes inwardly at herself. Paige had literally given her an out and she hadn’t taken it.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Paige’s tone is playful, but Azzi’s entire world has suddenly narrowed in on that one simple sentence. Her mind is floundering, going too fast and too slow at once, and the urge to finally share her secret is almost overwhelming. Briefly, she imagines how freeing it would be to say it out loud. But she’s kept it together this long, and Paige Bueckers is not going to break her, even if it seems like she’s getting closer every day.

Azzi has to say something, and she can feel the words ready to spill out like a rising tide. As Paige’s smirk grows at what she perceives to be Azzi’s own embarrassment, the younger girl realizes that she’s going to have to give something up.

And so, ever the analyst, ever the planner, Azzi trades one truth for another. Even if it feels like the safer option in her head, she freezes as the words fall from her lips, eyes fixed apprehensively on Paige’s face.

“I never said it was a guy.”

Paige’s mouth opens and closes, and Azzi is paralyzed. She thinks it might be the alcohol, but her mind is completely blank and she’s suddenly struggling to breathe. Is this what drowning feels like? There’s only one way to interpret what she said, and she can’t take it back now.

“Sorry, are you-” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s cool, congratulations?” She smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry, Az, I promise I’d be handling this better sober.”

It’s Azzi’s turn to smile cautiously. “You wouldn’t have gotten this out of me sober,” she admits, tipping her head back to rest against the side of the bed.

Paige finally collects her thoughts. “So, are you like, a lesbian then?” She asks, ignoring Azzi’s most recent statement. This is the first time her best friend has admitted any romantic interest, and she wonders if that might be why.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions,” the dark-haired girl groans. “But no, I don’t think so. I haven’t thought about it too much honestly, but I think I’m probably bi.”

Paige nods slowly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Azzi’s heart beating out of her chest as she waits for her friend’s judgment.

“This is gonna sound so dumb now,” Paige blurts out suddenly. “I think I might be, too. That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you who my crush was. It was a girl at my school, her name is Imani.”

The words don’t register all at once. Azzi first experiences relief — Paige likes girls too, this won’t make anything weird, then hope — Paige likes girls, maybe there’s a chance?, which quickly turns to disappointment — Paige likes another girl. She hardly feels the tears welling up as not me not me not me echoes unchecked in her mind.

But Paige sees them, and soon she’s pulling Azzi against her chest, fully this time, opening her legs so that Azzi can sit in between them. “That was really brave of you, you know that, right?” She whispers.

The tenderness in the blonde’s voice is the final straw before the tears are spilling down Azzi’s cheeks. “That’s supposed to be your thing,” she retorts with a watery smile. Paige lets out a soft laugh, and Azzi joins her, not completely sure if she’s laughing or crying as the tears continue to pour out.

If Paige’s shirt gets a little wet, she doesn’t comment on it. And Azzi falls just a little deeper, lacking both the mental and physical strength to stop herself. She might be a rational person, but just this once she lets herself indulge in a small feeling of superiority because right now she’s in Paige’s arms and this Imani girl isn’t.

They must’ve fallen asleep there because Azzi has only a dim memory of gentle but firm hands urging her to get up onto the bed before slipping warm fabric over her head.

•••••

Azzi wakes up in what has to be the middle of the night. She must still be drunk because there’s a light haze over her vision. Her surroundings register as she sits up. How did she get back in her room, and where is Paige?

She jumps a little when she sees a figure sitting on the floor by her bed, calming down as she recognizes the familiar silhouette.

“Paige? What’s going on?” She calls out.

Paige turns to look at her over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Nothing, just looking at the moon. It reminds me of you, you know?” She turns back, offering no further explanation.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Azzi blinks heavily. “Please just come lie down, it’s so late.”

Azzi has half a mind to ask Paige to close her blinds (she certainly remembers closing them, but doesn’t dwell on it), but when she stops to admire her best friend in the pale glow of the moonlight, she decides she might not mind them being left open.

Paige is sitting on the bed now. She places a hand on Azzi’s wrist. “You’re hot, lie on me above the covers.”

Azzi hadn’t given it a single thought beforehand, but now that Paige has pointed it out, she definitely is feeling warm. The blonde really does seem to know her better than she knows herself.

Paige lies down and Azzi shifts so that her back is on Paige’s chest. Azzi, getting hotter by the second, bends up one short-clad leg. Soon, Paige is tracing it lightly from knee to thigh. Her nails graze the bare skin, sending shivers across Azzi’s whole body.

Paige lets a hand creep under Azzi’s shirt to rest on her stomach. Azzi’s legs fall open and the movement causes the hand on her stomach to slide just under her waistband. Paige doesn’t pull away. Azzi doesn’t tell her to. Azzi is burning up. She wonders if Paige is too.

Azzi grits her teeth and tries to calm the fire in the pit of her stomach and the war being waged in her head. Please just fucking touch me.

She shifts her hips again, marginally enough to still be played off, but also enough for Paige’s hand to shift farther down than is acceptable, even for them. Paige’s fingers curl slightly on instinct and Azzi almost moans.

“Is there something you want from me?” Paige asks cautiously, no hint of teasing in her words.

Azzi looks up at the blonde desperately.

“More,” she breathes, biting her lip. Paige’s wide eyes don’t leave hers as the hand on her stomach gets tantalizingly closer to where she needs it-

•••••

Azzi’s eyes snap open. She’s lying on her back, like she was in the dream, and Paige is there too, but the blonde is fast asleep, her face pressed into a pillow. Shaking her head slightly, Azzi stares up at the ceiling. She’s in Paige’s room, where she fell asleep, apparently wearing one of her best friend’s hoodies.

Grimacing, Azzi resolves to never drink again. Her mouth is dry, her head is pounding, and she feels like she might actually explode. She’s already stressing about dealing with the consequences of the previous night, and she’s certainly not willing to process her dream on top of all of that.

She looks down at the way Paige is draped across her body, a hand resting possessively protectively over Azzi’s waist. It tightens at the first sign of movement, leaving Azzi no choice but to stay right where she is. She thinks she could get used to this feeling of belonging.

Azzi reminds herself why she can never say anything, what she would lose if she did. She knows that Paige loves her — though last night made it explicitly clear that it’s not like that — and she would never risk that love or that trust. Sighing, Azzi tries to get comfortable without waking Paige, making sure to keep her legs firmly squeezed together. She’s fine. This is fine. This is enough.

[artdcnaldson]

Cat i may be going crazy but f2f by sza is so reader who dated Art and they broke up so she fucks Patrick to feel closer to him are you seeing my vision here

🪞

I’m literally seeing the vision so clearly…. You know it’s serious when I add a gif or a picture…. So….

Sighhhh… thinking….. maybe you were just an affair for Art. Kind of prodigy AU in the sense that you’re a tennis player who clearly idolizes him and starts an affair with him, but you get a little too obvious in interviews. You talk about how great and wonderful Art is and how he’s improved your game so much and you’re so grateful for his mentorship and all this gushy shit. It would be sweet if you could shut your mouth. It would be sweet if you weren’t clearly in love with a married man.

Like oh it’s so obvious. You look at him with these wide fuck-me eyes and cling to his side at events… so it’s not a surprise that he has to brush you off. Tashi’s going to figure it out (as if she hasn’t figured it out already), so you need to split so his marriage isn’t ruined. The marriage that he complained to you about every single time you got together and fucked. That marriage that he apparently cares so much about now.

You’re at a 250 in Florida when you meet Patrick. Well, you actively seek him out, really. You swipe left on every man on tinder until you find him. You look at his profile, littered with some bullshit about not wanting anything serious and having a huge dick. Whatever. You swipe. You instantly match.

You know Patrick. Know of Patrick. Not just from his remarkably atrocious reputation, but from Art too. He might have just been using you as his own personal fuck toy, but you were good listener too. You retained all of that angst and longing and hatred for his former doubles partner, you remembered.

Patrick knows you. Knows of you. He knows that pathetic little voice as you coo into a microphone about how lovely Art Donaldson is, how he’s a legend, how you’re his biggest fan and you’re oh, so lucky to experience his skill in person. And he also knows how just last week, when someone brought Art up in an interview, you shut it down fast, you pivoted in this beautiful, media trained way that he had to admire.

He knows why you’re across from him at a low lit bar. It smells like cigarettes and the floor is sticky. Your shoes are too expensive to wear in a place like this, but he’s glad you wore them. They’ll look really nice dangling over his shoulders. He doesn’t feel bad for jumping to that conclusion, not when your conversation had been so blunt.

Patrick: Do you want drinks first or do you want to come straight to my hotel?

You: Drinks. We’ll see if we make it to your hotel.

“Your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He says as you sit at the bar beside him, looking far too pretty with your manicured nails picking at a bar that’s been carved into by pocketknives and broken glass.

You make a face, annoyed, hurt— big puppy dog eyes that make Patrick think that make he should fuck you on all fours so he doesn’t have to see that pining expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You order a cosmo, and you talk about tennis… for a little while.

But it’s not long before his hands start wandering, and when he touches you, you think about the videos of them celebrating big tournament wins as teenagers— jumping and grabbing at each other, so close they could have kissed. It’s like Art’s touching you when he touches you, in a way.

And you don’t make it back to his hotel. You barely make it to the car before he’s pinning you to the scratched paint job, slipping his big, warm hand between your thighs so he can cup your cunt. You melt into it, relish in it. His hands are calloused, a bit like Art’s were, only Art’s were softer, better cared for.

Maybe Art will find out. He wouldn’t Like it. He’d call you a crazy fucking bitch for fucking someone like Patrick, just to get back at him. Well, it’s not revenge if he’ll never know.

It’s just Patrick, with his big hands groping your ass, and his hot mouth on your tits. It’s the feeling of crumbs digging into your skin when he gets you on your back, and you have to throw a half-drunk Gatorade bottle onto the floor to get comfortable. He peels off your panties with his teeth but doesn’t bother to go down on you.

The first time you fucked Art had been in the big backseat of his Jeep. God, he’d even planned for it, because he had a blanket for you to lay on top of. Parked in the corner of the tennis club where you were practicing. Cramped into the backseat, and he still made a point to eat your pussy until you were slick with spit and cum and begging for him to fuck you properly.

You do end up with your legs on Patrick’s shoulders, with your heels dangling precariously from your toes as he rocks your body (and the axels of his car) with rough, punishing thrusts. Folded in half in the backseat, he fucks you like he knows that you’re using him. Might as well return the favor. There’s no kissing, no sweet nothings whispered. He doesn’t even rub your clit to get you there. That’s your job.

He does take the time to be a grade-A asshole, though. “You’re so tight,” mumbled into your ear. “Can’t believe Art fucked you. You feel like a virgin.”

And, well, if the mention of Art gets you off, if you cum with nothing more that the feel of Patrick’s cock bullying into your cunt and the whisper of your ex-lovers name in your ear. Well, that’s not leaving the dirty backseat of Patrick’s CR-V.

[knoepfl]

Elegance Meets Mischief

Characters:

• Fred Weasley – A mischievous Gryffindor known for his humor and energy. Deeply in love with the reader, he expresses his affection through playful antics.

• Reader (Y/N) – A graceful, independent student from an all-girls school, carrying the elegance taught by her school. In a loving relationship with Fred, she balances her refined nature with her affection for his carefree spirit.

Trigger Warnings:

• None

Masterlist

Words: 1059

--- It was early evening at Hogwarts, the golden hues of the sunset casting a warm glow over the castle. Students bustled about, preparing for the evening's activities, but Fred Weasley was absolutely buzzing with excitement. He stood just outside the doors to the Great Hall, his feet shifting impatiently as his hands fidgeted with the sleeves of his robes. He hadn’t seen you in weeks, and the anticipation of finally being reunited after all that time was enough to make him nearly bounce off the walls.

You, of course, had been away at your school, an all-girls institution known for its rigorous curriculum of elegance, poise, and charm. You had written to him about the rules of decorum you were expected to follow, and although he loved every letter, he couldn't wait for you to get back to Hogwarts. He missed you more than he cared to admit, especially since you had become such a central part of his life.

Fred had been practically counting down the days until the Triwizard Tournament brought you to Hogwarts, and now, the moment had arrived.

As the doors to the Great Hall swung open, he could see you across the room. You stood there like a vision, your silhouette framed by the candlelight. The soft navy of your robes caught his attention immediately, each delicate fold of the fabric a reminder of how you carried yourself—graceful, composed, and yet, there was something about you that made him feel like you were already home. Your school had taught you elegance, but Fred had always believed that you’d found a way to keep that elegance and still be one of the most lively and engaging people he knew.

And now, after far too long, he was about to have you back.

His heart skipped a beat when your eyes found his. Fred couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. In a flash, he darted toward you, weaving through students and tables without a second thought, until he was finally in front of you. He didn’t give you a chance to say anything before pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground in his usual energetic manner.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Fred laughed, his voice full of excitement. “I’ve missed you so much!”

You were still trying to catch your breath from the sudden hug, but the warmth of his embrace made you smile despite yourself. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your tone teasing. “I see you’ve been missing me quite a lot, haven’t you?”

Fred set you down gently, but he still held you close, not willing to let you go just yet. “Of course, I have! It’s been weeks! Hogwarts is way too boring without you around, and the place is way too quiet without someone who actually appreciates a good joke.”

You smiled, the corners of your lips lifting as you gazed up at him, enjoying his usual energetic demeanor. He was always so full of life, so unpredictable—and you loved that about him. "I see you’ve been keeping yourself busy," you teased, nodding toward the prankster twins who were already causing a ruckus at one of the tables.

Fred laughed and winked at you. "Of course! What else is there to do when you’re missing the most important person in your life?" His tone turned more sincere, though his grin never faltered. "I don’t know how I managed without you."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the affection in his voice doing something to you that you hadn’t expected. You’d always known Fred had a mischievous side, but in moments like this, he was all soft smiles and gentle words, and it made everything seem perfect. But you knew he wasn’t quite finished.

“So, how’s it been for you? The school and all that?” Fred asked, his voice brimming with curiosity.

You gave a little shrug, a slight air of formality hanging in your response. “It’s been... fine. They expect a lot of composure from us. And a lot of focus on elegance and grace.”

Fred raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Elegance and grace, huh? I didn’t take you for the type to be so, well... quiet. But it makes you even more impressive, I suppose. You do wear that school stuff pretty well.” His eyes twinkled with admiration. “I bet the boys at your school are going mad over you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you felt a blush creep across your cheeks. "Fred Weasley, are you trying to make me blush?" you teased, though a smile still tugged at the corners of your lips.

Fred leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "I think it’s cute that you’re still all elegant and classy, but you know you’re always gonna be the girl who stole my heart, right?"

Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his words, and despite your efforts to maintain your composed demeanor, you couldn’t help but smile.

"Don’t worry, I’m only here for you, Fred Weasley," you whispered back, your voice soft but full of meaning.

Fred grinned, a mischievous spark in his eye. "Well, lucky for you, I’m the only one who knows how to handle all that grace and elegance." He spun you around, lifting you off the floor once more, this time with an infectious energy that made you laugh out loud.

"Fred, you're impossible!" you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he twirled you.

“Impossible?” he said with mock offense, grinning as he spun you again. “No, no, I’m the best thing you’ve got, sweetheart. I’m the one who makes life interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. Fred always knew how to make you feel special, even when you tried to keep your distance and maintain that composed, dignified persona your school had instilled in you.

Fred pulled you in for a gentle kiss, his energy still bubbling beneath the surface. "I’ve missed you so much," he murmured between kisses.

“And I’ve missed you, too,” you replied, pulling him close as the world around you seemed to fade away.

In that moment, the chaos of the Triwizard Tournament, the excitement of Hogwarts, and the formality of your previous school felt miles away. It was just you and Fred, two worlds colliding, and everything felt right. ---

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟa clash to keep her ... misa x femreader (& zecira x reader)

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

when there's a familiar face amongst your opponents in today's match, misa's insecurities get the best of her and she fears she might have to step up her game for you to want to keep her forever.

or: a pouting misa being jealous of fellow goalie, zećira mušović, one of your closest friends and presumed ex.

as requested

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

Misa was very aware of the eyes on her as she walked onto the pitch for her pre-match warmup, people already calling out her name to hopefully get a reaction. She smiled towards the stands, hoping it had been directed to at least some of those who’d called out for her. People were slowly starting to find their seats in the arena, their chatter white noise together with the upbeat music softly echoing all around her. Today was another match day, one which Misa had set her eyes on ever since their opponent had been announced. Sweden was a strong national team, often landing quarter and half finals in tournaments and home to some key players to various clubs around Europe. She’d played a fair amount with Jakobsson at Real Madrid for a while, and Olofsson was one of her current teammates. She knew not to underestimate them, and that was exactly why she put her mind back into focus as soon as her cleats dug into the grass beneath her feet. She’d been put on the starting eleven, right at the top as number one, of course. It felt great knowing she could play another match, but that feeling was nothing compared to knowing she’d share the pitch with you, her girlfriend.

Though she’d gotten to know you little by little each time national camp had rolled around, the spark hadn’t properly ignited until a few weeks ago. Things were fresh, new, exciting and nervous, and Misa lapped every feeling up, having never felt like such a hopeless fool in love. It had been as strange as it had been fun to discover this new side to her, but she loved letting the feeling lead her even more each time her romantic gestures or surprises would earn her a smile from you. The way you would look at her, hold her and care for her had been nothing short of euphoric and if this lovey-dovey feeling would last, she desperately wished she could keep you around for a lifetime. 

Misa approached the goal, gave the pole a good rattle and jumped up to hit the bar. This was her stage tonight and damn would she give a performance if she could. She took a few big sips of her bottle before throwing it beside the post, grabbing the gloves she’d secured behind her waistband and put them on. This was routine for her, and she should’ve acted on autopilot, but there was something different this time around. 

Her eyes kept glancing at the tunnel, waiting, longing... and it distracted her, that much was clear. Even onlookers could see her staring at something invisible on the side of the pitch, but those who didn’t know why, thought nothing of it. 

Misa had wanted to wait and walk out together, but you were going to take longer than usual and she needed to warmup with some of the strikers. You were getting taped up, your ankle still a vulnerable spot after the injury you’d gotten three months ago at your club. It had been nothing too serious, just a light sprain, but still, you knew to be careful with your body. It was always exciting to play a match, even if your current national team situation had taken that drive and enthusiasm down a couple of notches. Still, it was an honour to play the sport you loved most and to see people from all ages come together for the same reasons. Playing for both club and country had taken you to quite some countries throughout your career so far, and it had left you making friends from all over. Some teammates felt more like colleagues than friends, but those who you’d gotten close to, would always have a special place in your heart, no matter if you still played with them or not. It was why you were even more excited for the match ahead as you tied up your cleats, humming along to one of the songs that was playing in the locker room to keep the energy high.

There were a couple of familiar faces in the opposing team for you today— Kaneryd, Björn and Eriksson for example. But the one face you’d missed most was that of Zećira Mušović. You’d been contracted by Chelsea during the same transfer window as Zećira, and, as the new girls on the team, you had stuck to each other like glue. You’d been assigned a flat in the same building by the club, so carpooling had been a given from the get-go. She’d also helped you remove the hideous floral wallpaper all around your flat and in return, you had helped her carry all the furniture she’d bought at Ikea that day inside, her country’s trusted store even helping her out overseas. It had both come paired with loads of cursing in Spanish and Swedish though, but had ended in sighs of exhaustion and laughter. She’d knocked on your door the day after, a packet of her favourite Kafferep’s in her hand which she’d put in her bag to hand out as an introduction gift to everyone. A thing she had held onto after that, because each time she’d come back from Sweden, she had a new packet of cookies with your name on it in her suitcase. You’d invited her in and emptied the entire packet with some tea, to immerse yourselves to the English culture, and watched a match on your laptop, since your TV still hadn’t arrived. Zećira was fun, caring, easygoing and between your initial trouble speaking English and her laidback nature, your friendship worked like a charm.

It had been hard to move away from your familiarities for the first time in your life, having to adjust to a culture, country and language you didn’t know much of, but it had been easier to do while having a friend around, someone who could relate. She learned to understand your Spanglish and was one of the few who could pinch through your accent. It had helped pull you out of our shell, which in return had introduced you to the goofy side your friend had.

You discovered London together on days off, tried cafe’s and restaurants and binged every new show Netflix would put out. The Chelsea girls had quickly turned to calling the two of you Biggy and Smallz, in which you were obviously Smallz next to the tall tower that Zećira was. Still, you were not to be underestimated with your fiery nature on the field. You were a defending tower of your own when it came to your play, always stopping an attack or cheekily sneaking away the ball from someone's feet whenever you could. Having you play close to her had strengthened Zećira’s backline, making sure her wall extended to the group of defenders you were part of. Playing at Chelsea had ended up being one of the best experiences of your life. It had opened doors for you, if not career-wise, then definitely when it came to your personal life. You had been in your early twenties, afraid you’d missed out on a best friend after having focused so hard on football, but there she’d been, entering your life fashionably late but with Kafferep’s to make up for it. After your contract had ended and you’d felt the need to freshen things up and start somewhere new, and maybe play a little closer to home again, you’d been surprised by how well you’d kept in touch. It hadn't ever been that easy with other ex-teammates. Things would fade out eventually, you presumed, like it always would. Then again, Zećira wasn't just any teammate. You didn’t live in the same flat anymore, nor did you see each other every month, but Zećira never missed an important date, and she could always expect to wake up to a congratulatory message whenever she’d played a good match.

You hadn’t seen her in a while, which was the reason behind the pep in your step as you walked out of the locker room and saw a couple of yellow jerseys pass you. Your eyes looked around, hoping to find the red of your best friend’s goalie kit as you walked out the tunnel and onto the pitch, immediately feeling your cheeks dust with pink as people called out your name. It would never feel normal, which was exactly why you cherished it so much. The arena was slowly filling up, so you deemed it enough time to at least take a picture with the adorable kid waving your jersey in one hand and a marker in the other. The way his eyes lit up and widened in size as he saw you approach, made a wide grin of your own break out. He was too shocked at the entire thing to answer your questions whether he was excited or ready to cheer. You lovingly put a hand on his shoulder when he started to ramble to you about having your Chelsea Home and Away jersey as well as your current club’s, and that he’d watched the last national match with his teammates. A few pictures were in order after that, obviously, but you gently excused yourself as the arena filled up more, not wanting to throw a spanner in your warm up routine. But as you jumped down from the barrier, two gloved hands held your elbows to soften your landing. 

“Hej, litet.” 

You would recognise that Swedish twang out of a thousand.

Zećira looked down at you, eyes squeezed shut as her expression was one of pure joy. You squealed almost immediately, jumping into the arms that were already beckoning you into them. She pulled you to stand on your tippy toes as you hugged, and as she kept laughing, you couldn’t help but join her. 

“What are you doing here?” She rose an eyebrow, feeling playful.

“I was trying to find the nearest tube station, but I don’t know how I ended up here.” You motioned around you, then at your kit, “Think I’ll just commit to it now.” 

She rolled her eyes at you, immediately catching onto the reference from when you’d ended up getting lost in London’s web of metro lines. Each time you'd taken one and submerged from the Underground only to find out you were in the wrong distract, again, you'd laughed before descending the stairs and taking another one. You'd eventually found your way back to your flat, but the sun had set already and your bank account had been a couple of pounds lighter from all the unnecessary travelling. It was safe to say that you had tried to evade London's maze of metro lines as much as you could after that.

“Though, making sense of that tube map didn't take me as long to figure out than that gibberish you spoke to me in those first few weeks.”

She groaned and held her arm when you didn’t hold back and punched her, the pounding of your fist loud against her skin. She rubbed the spot, but it didn't make the mischief in her eyes disappear, “Ai-” She laughed, then pushed against your shoulder, letting you stumble back a step, but her eyes widened and her hands immediately pulled you towards her when you almost fell over the stack of practice cones behind you. 

“Are you trying to get us down to ten players already?” You huffed out playfully, watching as she grinned again.

“Worth a try, but, hey, listen-” She put her hand in front of her mouth, voice turning to a whisper, “I have something for you, but only after the game. Kolakakor,“ She added as she watched your reaction.

You beamed at her, “You brought me cookies?! How did you even know I’d make it onto the roster this camp?”

Zećira shrugged, big gloved hands squeezing together as she answered nonchalantly, “I had a feeling. How’s the ankle?”

You pushed out your leg, turned it and twirled your ankle around, as if you were Cinderella showing off her glass slipper. 

“Wow, you need new cleats.”

“And you need new gloves. Hell, Zeći, I can smell them from here.”

A playful glint appeared in her eyes, “Yeah, you can? How do they smell from here?” She pulled you into a headlock with one arm, the other moving close to your face as she planted a quick kiss on your hair. 

“Smallz!” You heard a voice and matched it to Johanna, Kaneryd, and felt two slender arms join the huddle and trap you further into Zećira’s chest. 

“Jojo! Don’t team up, help me!”

You heard the two Swedes laugh.

“Sorry, tonight you’re the opponent.” Johanna giggled, rubbing your back and smiling at you through Zećira’s hold as she waved goodbye to do some drills of her own. “We’ll catch up after we win!” She winked at you from over her shoulder. 

“So, like, maybe in a couple of years, then?”

Johanna rolled her eyes and waved you off.

You sensed Zećira was slowly letting go and decided to seize the moment. Immediately, she pulled you tighter against her tall body, engulfing you, when she realised you were trying to flee.  

“Let go or-”

“-or you’ll send your girlfriend after me?”

“They’re filming us, I can’t have them see me weak!”

"Let them film! Let them see the true you!" She laughed, knowing clips of your interaction would probably end up in multiple edits again. Oh, they couldn't be more wrong about the two of you.

Zećira rolled her eyes when you yelped. She let you go, watching in amusement as you let out an annoyed gruff while touching the hair she’d messed up and you’d spent so long perfecting in the mirror.

“So, tell me, how is the girlfriend?” She teased, poking at you before you playfully slapped her hand away. But before you could reply, you heard the staff call out for you and watched the last of your teammates walk onto the pitch.

“Raincheck?” 

“Gotcha.” She winked, accepting your hug and watching you run to your side of the pitch to start your warmups, the smile not leaving her face.

Meanwhile, from under her goalpost, Misa had turned into a sour pouting mess.

She had perked up upon seeing you enter the pitch, had then watched with a soft smile as you interacted with the child, but had then felt her stomach drop when you didn’t come up to her, but was swooped away by her instead. She had watched the woman sling her arm around your torso and had watched her plant the softest kiss on your head. She had watched how you scrunched your nose and let her hold you, had seen the two of you laugh and play. Misa absentmindedly juggled the ball from one hand to the other, eyes zeroing in on the entire encounter, no longer focused on warming up with her teammates. She let out a groan as a ball hit her thigh, whoever had shot it not wanting to go easy on her. With furrowed brows, Misa turned to the presumed perpetrator, seeing a grinning Jenni giving her a look, hands on her hips in challenge. 

“Next time I’ll aim for your head, idiota,” She stopped the ball Misa had rolled back towards her, giving the girl some time to walk back to her goal. 

“Shut up, or I’ll come for your fucking ankles, Jennifer.” She huffed, eyes furrowed and expression mirroring her feelings. 

Jenni whistled, amused at how her friend had changed from focused and happy to play, to a jumble of sadness and annoyance, “Oh, do you say your prayers with that same dirty mouth?” Jenni glanced behind her, following Misa’s line of sight, face immediately breaking out into a bigger grin as she realised what was going on. 

“I think you should go for her ankles instead.”

“Her hands, more like.” Misa mumbled out.

Jenni rolled her eyes, “You’re adorable, right now, you know that?”

The rage and offence on Misa’s face made Jenni only laugh louder. 

“That’s only further proving my point.”

Misa pretended to kick the ball in front of her as hard as she could, only stopping last-minute, making Jenni shield herself and her laughter behind her arms for the shot that never followed. 

“Oye, she’s bullying me-” Jenni’s voice bellowed across the field, catching the attention of multiple people standing around. No one reacted, knowing better after seeing the clownish grin on Jenni’s face.

“Just go up to her,” Jenni shrugged after Misa had blocked one of her shots and passed the ball back to her, “Stake your claim. Show her which goalie she should keep closer.”

“I don’t want to be that pathetic overly jealous new girlfriend and already scare her away."

"But you are the over jealous new girlfriend. At least, right now, you are."

Jenni took another few shots at the goal, sensing how Misa was losing her drive and concentration by the second.

"Then how about you go and be the confident girlfriend instead? Shake her hand, introduce yourself, show that you aren't afraid."

Misa only huffed, "You know that will only make me look even more jealous and protective, right? If I let her do her thing, it shows I have confidence in us and that I trust her. Which I do. I just don't trust her." She nudged her chin to the side of the pitch, where the two of you were still talking.

"Sure, you really ooze confidence right now," Jenni rolled her eyes, "I think you're giving way too much power to some stupid rumour, Misa."

"Well, I still don't want everyone to film the entire thing and put online how pathetic I am."

"Oh, so you'd rather have them film them now and give the internet the impression that they're girlfriends who are reuniting after some time apart?"

If looks could kill, Jenni would be buried in the earth beneath her feet right about now. Misa kicked the ball with pure intent to hurt, but Jenni only jumped aside, taking another ball lying nearby to kick back instead.

"She seems busy. And happy.”

“Busy and happy being smothered by someone other than you, you mean?” Jenni chuckled, “At least she has a type— broody brunettes with big hands and bushy eyebrows.”

Misa’s eyes flitted to you again, watching how your friend caught you from falling over with such tender care, it hurt her heart. Your relationship was so fresh that you hadn’t even had the ex-partners talk. You had yet to exchange awkward stories or reminisce on past heartbreaks. She hated it now, as she watched you and Zećira fall in easy conversation together, wondering if there’d been something between the two of you at some point like the gossips online had said. She'd seen the countless pictures and edits of the two of you on your tagged page. She shook her head, willing the thoughts away.

Though she was already falling fast and hard for you, she had yet to get to know everything about you. It often made her nervous about how deeply she was already falling in love with you. If she was feeling like this after this short amount of time, she didn't want to know the romantic fool she'd be within the next year. But right now, she hated how she knew that the Swede knew you better, while she was supposed to be the one to know you the best. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as a wave of insecurity suddenly washed over her. She’d stopped watching the two of you talk entirely as she’d seen the ease of which your conversation flowed, kicking the ball back to Jenni.

Your eyes finally found Misa’s as you approached them not long after. A shy smile accompanied with the most adorable wave was sent her way, turning Misa from a scowling grump into a pouting lovestruck fool. Her face softened immediately and she waved her gloved hand back at you.

“Misa and Y/N, sitting in a tree-” 

Jenni dodged the ball being thrown at her.

“Say it louder and the entire arena will hear, why don’t you?”

“Sorry,” Jenni retreated, knowing she was one of the lucky few to already know about your relationship. Not as if the entire team hadn't already been gossiping though...

You jogged over, face bright and extra cheerful, but glowered playfully when Ona pulled you back by the hem of your jersey, redirecting your focus from your girlfriend to getting your body warmed up for the match. Misa had to make do with the apologetic smile you sent her, but a grin and thumbs up from her stopped you from feeling bad at the prickly pout on her face.  

Minutes later, she stood in line at the kick-off, face stoic as she rushed passed and quickly shook every Swede's hand, making sure to squeeze a little tighter when glove met glove at the start of the line.

Misa liked how she had you close as soon as the match started, the red jersey with your name in yellow lettering never too far out of her sight. When the ball was on the Swedish side of the pitch and nowhere near her goal, she could feel her thoughts wander. But the worries and insecurities never lingered long when the Swedes swiped the ball back. 

As the halftime whistle sounded and her stomach fluttered when she watched you wait for her to catch up to walk off the pitch together. But with the game still on the forefront of both your minds and your mind and body still reeling with adrenaline, there was no time to dwell on anything else but how to remain your advantage and up the score in the second half. 

She sat down in her cubby, took quick gulps of her bottle and looked for you, realising your eyes were already on her as you wiped at your hairline with a towel. With her intense and focused gaze directed at your flushed face, she realised it reminded her of something. It seemed your mind went to the same place as she saw your expression change, your focus swaying ever so slightly. Misa swallowed and wiped her chin with the back of her hand, then gestured the bottle to you from across the room. You approached, your cleats tapping against the floor, and stood in front of her, looking down at her as you drank from her bottle. Misa’s arm wrapped around your legs, pulling you to stand against her as you all turned to listen to the new tactic being explained. Her strong hold and the soft yet dominant show of her love for you sent you reeling, but you distracted yourself by taking another few sips. You had always been touchy, hell, the entire national team was pretty comfortable and affectionate with each other, something some of your club teammates had playfully blamed your culture for. But that meant that none of your teammates batted an eye at the physical contact the two of you exchanged. Well, you thought they didn't.

You wanted to give the bottle back to Misa so she could finish it, but she gently pushed it back towards you with a gentle smile on her face, ushering you to empty it. Of course it would go against Misa’s nature to not put you first place. You leaned against her, hand resting on her shoulder as she welcomed your touch by pulling you in to stand even closer.

“How’s your ankle?” She softly whispered to not interrupt the talk.

You smiled reassuringly, “Good so far, don’t worry,”

As you listened how your practiced tactic was explained again to refresh your minds, your thoughts wandered off to how your Swedish friends were on the other side of the wall, discussing how to have you lose. Football was a funny sport, you realised— it was one that had helped you make a plethora of friends both among your national teammates and your club ones. No matter the match, there were always friends, connections and familiar faces. But on the pitch, the faces blurred and all you had eyes for was the ball they were trying to sneak passed you. You were used to playing against friends, but they were opponents on the pitch. After all, each match was just that— another match. What happened on the pitch, stayed there as well. Badmouthing, harsh shoves and nasty looks would all be laughed at afterwards. 

A soft tap on your hip and the cacophony of cleats beating against the floor snapped you out of it. That, including the kiss you felt against your temple. Misa stood up, grabbed your hand and guided you out with her, back into the tunnel. A crowd of red and yellow jerseys gathered quickly, waiting for the ref to give the green light to walk back out onto the pitch. But you felt your girlfriend squeeze the living hell out of your hand the second a different shade of red flashed through your peripheral. You turned your head and watched as your friend and girlfriend locked eyes for the first time.

Zećira narrowed her eyes. Her face was pure focus and enmity. Immediately you turned to Misa, who straightened her back ever so slightly to try and gain some length on your tall friend. Misa’s face was set in stone— hard and hostile. Your eyes flitted back to your Swedish friend, feeling surprised and shocked at the interaction between the two, all while your girlfriend still squeezed your hand as if her life depended on it. 

The Swedish goalkeeper then dipped her head in silent understanding and respect, something Misa reciprocated, but only after tilting her head and analysing the woman’s sincerity first. 

The shrill sound of the ref’s whistle echoed around you, and off you all went again. Still, you couldn’t quite brush off the encounter you’d just witnessed. You had wanted to introduce the two to each other after the match, seeing as they were both important people in your life. You knew Zećira would suss out Misa first, wanting her judgements of your girlfriend to be based on her own experience, and not by your lovestruck and biased gushing. And you definitely knew Misa would at least be a little aloof and cautious, stemmed from her protectiveness over you, especially when meeting new people. But to have it go this way… you hadn’t expected it. You didn’t want to have to step into the role of mediator between your best friend and your girlfriend. The prospect of how this could further play out worried you.

As the game commenced, you kept muttering silent prayers, hoping that it had just been the adrenaline and rivalry that had fuelled the encounter between them. Like how you’d almost sent Magda plummeting to the ground during a corner kick just now and how you’d yelled at each other, but how you'd also know she would brush it off after the game with a smile.

She squared up to you, getting in your face, and as you felt Alexia’s and Irene’s hands tugging you away from the confrontation, your eyes flashed to those of Zećira who was tightly clutching the ball against her chest, watching it unfold in front of her. She seemed to say something to Magda in Swedish, something that made the woman retreat with a huff and a nasty look directed your way. Zećira's eyes didn't find yours again, and you hated it. You wanted her to look at you so you could try and read her eyes and confirm that your worries had been false, that your friend’s head had been in the game back in the tunnel, and that it had been the reason why her usual giddy smile hadn’t appeared.

You’d even glanced back towards Misa a couple of times during the rest of the game, only to see her so wrapped up in it, that you knew it was useless to try and find your answers while you were still playing.

At 95 minutes, the whistle sounded through the arena. Spain had won with one to nil, but just barely. Sweden had been a tough opponent today. They’d made you run in circles and try and lure you out, but you had stuck to the initial plan. The backline had been unwavering today, with Misa being the theoretical end boss waiting for them in the goal on the rare occasion they did pass through you all. The score could have been higher, had Zećira not been in the way the entire time. Granted, that was her job on the pitch, but still.

As you waved and clapped in gratefulness in response to the chants and cheers, your feet led you to the dreaded and inevitable moment that had filled you with worries for the past fifty minutes. 

You met your girlfriend halfway as she’d already walked up to you and decided it was probably best to at least get rid of some of her adrenaline by signing stuff and chatting with fans. Then afterwards, you two could wind down in the locker room, freshen up, and hopefully the emotions would be dwindled enough so that Misa and Zećira could properly meet each other with rationality and a clear mind. 

You kept glancing over to your girlfriend every now and then in between photos. You noticed how she always knew when to answer your glances. That, or maybe she'd been staring all along. But there seemed nothing off about her behaviour, or the look in her eyes, not right now at least. 

With your hand on her lower back, you leaned in so that she could hear you over the noise, “I’m going back in to check with physio, you finish up.” 

Misa glanced at your face over her shoulder. You saw the thought in her eyes before she could open her mouth, “I’ll be fine, mi cielita, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just precautionary.”

You knew there were eyes and phones on you, so you played it off friendly and disappeared off the field. 

After getting the all-clear from physio, you walked to the locker room. It was quietly buzzing inside, everyone winding down in their own way. Some girls were chatting or sitting by themselves and scrolling through their phone, some were showering or listening to music and then… there were the gossips. Of course, it was all fun and games and only ever ended in fits of giggles. You had to admit that you often even enjoyed listening in or adding a comment or two of your own. All innocent amusement, of course.

You could hear them mutter amongst each other, but your ears perked the second you heard your girlfriend’s name enter their conversation. 

“-at Misa? Did you see the way she was before the match?”

“With Jenni?”

“Yeah, but also before that?”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look both so distraught and prickly at the same time.”

“It's Misa."

"Yeah but, did you really not see the pout on her face the entire time?”

“Uh, I’m sorry if I was busy making sure to warm up instead of diving headfirst into another injury.”

“You always miss out on these things-”

“-no, I don’t, because I have you three to keep me up to date, don’t I?”

“I’m pretty sure I know why she was like that though because when-”

You pretended to busy yourself by undressing, carefully placing your stuff in the cubby behind you. Their voices turned to a hushed whisper you could no longer hear from your side of the locker room, and when you looked up to see if they had perhaps stopped talking altogether, you saw four sets of eyes already on you. 

They all quickly looked away, not realising you had caught their entire conversation, too. They went back to their whispers and glances but fell silent when Misa walked into the locker room.

Misa pulled her hair out of her bun, aimlessly threw her gloves in her cubby and forcefully started to tear the tape off her hands, not even wincing as it pulled at her flesh. You watched as they watched, Misa only adding substance to their gossiping with the moody frown on her face as she sat down, legs sticking out and head falling back against her locker. Her behaviour stuck out like a sore thumb after the match she had just played. There was no need to look this sullen after having stopped attempt after attempt from the Swedish side. They’d won. She hadn’t conceded a single goal, and it had not been out of lack of trying on the opposing side. It was obvious that something else was going on.

Their eyes flitted back to you, clearly seeing if you would act on it. It was as if Misa’s mind linked with theirs momentarily as her eyes found yours and she opened one of her arms, a silent request for you to keep her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Alexia’s gentle voice wondered, stopping you in your tracks and making you readjust the straps of your sports bra to pretend you hadn’t just meant to walk over to Misa.

Misa looked up at her friend, shrugged, and kicked off her cleats. 

“Well, that’s not reassuring,” Alexia sat down beside her, observing her quietly, “You’re being weird.”

Misa grumbled, “Weird how?” 

“You haven’t said a word ever since leaving the locker room a few hours ago. And you’re brooding.” She added.

“I’m not-”

Alexia gave her a look, rose her eyebrows and signalled to Misa’s face, who immediately rubbed the frown off it and wiped the pout away.

You met Alexia’s eyes momentarily as your Capitana leaned in, whispering, “If you want to be lowkey about it… you’re doing an awful job so far, amiga.”

You felt their eyes on you and didn’t want to make things too obvious. So, you grabbed your toiletries and left for the showers, feeling one particular set of eyes burn in the back of your head as you walked away from her.

Misa walked in not long after, locking eyes with you as you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair. Her body moved behind the blurred glass panel between you. 

“Misa?”

Her head popped around your panel before her name had so much rolled off your tongue, as if she had been desperately waiting for you to call out for her. You smiled and wiped the soapy foam across her eyebrows away before it could drip into her eyes. 

You then leaned in, pinching her chin between thumb and finger to pull her closer, and planted a chaste kiss on her wet lips. Her hand immediately rested on the curve of your hip and she leaned in for another one. You felt her melt into it, deepening it, tongue colliding with yours in a sensual kiss. You both ignored how the risk was high that one of your teammates could walk in. You pulled back and snuck another quick kiss against her lips. You scrunched your nose, hand sliding to cup her cheek instead, “I really like you,” You winked playfully and gave her a soft slap against her cheek, then turned around to continue your shower routine.

Her eyes still watched as the water fell around you and onto your skin. The water pelting down, the steam and the smell of your lovely conditioner masking the entire room made the entire thing that more intoxicating. 

“You’re waisting water, cielita.” You tutted.

She chuckled lowly at your tone before turning back to her shower.

Then, you heard knocking against the panel beside you and you watched as a heart appeared on the fogged panel. Next, an I and a U appeared on either sides of the heart. The adorable message immediately turned your insides to mush. With your relationship still fairly new, you were still in the giddy phase where lingering touches could make you blush. You were still discovering little things about her. Silly little things, like how it felt to have the weight of her hands on your hips and how that would make your heart beat faster, how the butterflies in your stomach would go insane when she looked at you in a way she hadn’t before, or when you learned something new that could make her smile. You hadn’t dared to tell her you loved her already, but with Misa continuing to make your heart do somersaults with gestures like these, you knew it was only a matter of time. 

Patri and Claudia walked into the showers, sparing you only an acknowledging glance before doing their own thing. More teammates started to pile in after that. 

You pulled a towel off the hook and wrapped it around you, cursing when you realised you hadn’t taken a smaller one with you for your hair, when a hand appeared, holding one out for you.

Misa.

“What about your hair?”

You heard the love in her voice as she chuckled, “I’ll be fine, it’s just water,”

“I have a spare one-” Salma offered you, but Misa appeared and pushed the towel against your chest, wanting you to accept hers.

You missed the way your teammates gave each other a look, or how they realised Misa had chosen the shower right next to yours when she’d had plenty of others to choose from before they had all walked in. They weren’t stupid. Some giggled, others playfully side-eyed each other or whispered something behind their hands. 

“Wait- use one of my spare shirts then-” You pulled one out of your toiletry bag, “It’s microfibre.” You saw the puzzled look on Misa’s face as to why in the hell that would matter, “It’s better for your hair,” You merely shrugged, missing the soft smile she sent your way. Of course, you’d know such adorable things. It almost made her forget what she was trying to push to the back of her mind.

You sat in your assigned cubby, dressed in comfortable clothing and applying a fragrance when Misa walked towards her bag. She smiled cheekily before throwing on her clothes and motioning for you to come and sit with her— attempt number two. She opened her arms and slid down slightly, a clear invitation to sit on her lap. And so you did, arms wrapping around her neck as you watched her answer a quick text before her attention went back to you.

“What?”

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing when they say it's nothing,” She chuckled and you grinned along, liking how she finally seemed at ease again now that she had you in her arms.

“What’s this now? They?!”

She shrugged, waved a hand around, looking all smug, “Eh, you know.”

You played along, “I most certainly do not! Are there others?!” 

She mumbled against your neck, inhaling the mixed scent of your body wash, shampoo and fragrance. Her voice was low, “Do you really want to know?” 

“I don’t know. Do I?” 

Misa’s teeth softly dig into the flesh of your collarbone, biting down very slowly to ease you into the pleasurable pain. She muttered against your skin, “I could tell you?” She looked up at you, her hand massaging the flesh of your thigh, “Or I could show you how you’re the only one for me?”

Before your cheeks could flush at her hooded eyes, a knock sounded on the door of the locker room. Then again a few seconds later, when no one had replied. The girls who hadn’t already left for the bus or to chat with family and friends after the match, were either still showering or all huddled up in front of the mirrors. So, you quickly jumped up from Misa’s lap, ignoring how she slapped your butt as you did. 

Your head popped outside as you opened the door, eyes immediately brightening as you saw a freshly showered and snug looking Zećira standing there, backpack in one hand, a packet of cookies in the other. 

“Sorry, but we don't buy at the door.”

“No buying, I come bearing gifts,” She laughed, noticing how you glanced behind you. You didn’t want to open the door fully now that some of the girls were changing, in case some staff walked by and peered inside. “We’ll come right out-”

She nodded in salute and stepped to the side as you closed the door. Misa immediately knew what this meant and dread filled her all over again.

“Love, there’s someone I really want you to meet.” You started gently, a reassuring smile to match as you offered your hand to her. You saw the gears in her head turning as she bit her lip, she was far away in thought and worries. Misa snapped out of it when you wiggled your fingers in front of her, “Trust me. Come on, babe.”

She let you pull her up and you immediately pulled her against you and into an embrace.

“You’re both really important to me and I’d love for you to know one another.” You muttered into her damp hair, and she melted at the mellowness of it.

Misa nodded and patted your back, a quiet plea to be let go of. No matter how much she enjoyed having you in her arms, she needed to prepare herself. And she could not do such a thing if she kept hearing her heartbeat thud in her ears, something that was entirely your doing. If what was about to happen would be anything like the swift encounter she’d already had with your friend, well, she needed to toughen up.

With her hand in yours, you stepped out into the hallway. Zećira pushed herself off the wall when she heard the door open and her eyes immediately flitted to Misa’s, who looked like a shy toddler with her hand in yours. Misa was aware of that, so she immediately straightened her back, realising that it had been a pathetic attempt at wanting to seem as tall as the woman in front of her. She felt you start to swing your intertwined hands between you and, even if she loved you for it, she hated how it wounded her tough act right now. Misa felt embarrassed about how she seriously doubted your judgement skills if you had ever decided to befriend this tall and brooding Scandi.

Zećira’s eyes narrowed, trying to gage the woman you had fallen for, trying to sense if she had to scare the living hell out of her or not. Misa answered her intense look the same way she’d done in the tunnel— her head tilting and her lips tightly pressed together. She rose an eyebrow as the goalie in front of her stuck out her hand and looked down at her, daring her to shake her hand. Misa’s hand immediately fell into Zećira’s, accepting the challenge, both women squeezing so hard that their knuckles turned white.

“Good game,” Zećira nodded, like the good sport she was.

“Good game,” Misa repeated, feeling pathetic how her brain hadn’t been able to come up with something better on the spot. 

“I’m Zećira,” Your friend smiled a tightlipped smile, squeezing Misa’s hand even tighter.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Misa rose an eyebrow, having to fight the urge to look at her with disdain, “Misa.” 

Your girlfriend immediately wound her arm around you the second she let go of the handshake, making it known that the two of them were only shaking hands because she was your girlfriend. 

It was then when you realised why Misa had been so quiet all along... acting so off. She was jealous. You looked at her in another light then, noticed the tension in her face, the fire in her eyes. Your heartbeat quickened at the realisation that she had to like you a lot in order for her to grow this jealous. It worked you up, you shamefully admitted. If only she knew she didn't need to worry for even a second that you wouldn't be hers. You took the slightest step closer against Misa, hoping it would make it clear to her that you longed to be around her, no matter how much you loved your friend.

You felt dizzy the way your eyes had followed the two women and their display of dominance, like a damn tennis match. They stared at each other for an agonising beat, and you were about to get into your role as mediator when Zećira suddenly let out a chuckle. A genuine one, not a sarcastic or hostile one. She started grinning then, and her twinkling eyes of amusement took in the incredulous questioning look on your face.

“I almost had you there, didn’t I?” She directed at Misa, who looked just as taken back. Then she turned to you, "She didn't falter for even one second, I like her!"

Zećira continued, as if she hadn't just given the women in front of her major whiplash, “Well, I didn’t bring enough cookies for three… especially not with her appetite, but we’ll divide equally." She pried open the container, "We just have to keep an eye on that one so she won't eat the entire thing herself,” She smiled at your girlfriend as if she’d known her for weeks already, and you shook your head, snapping out of it.

You cleared your throat, feeling yourself relax again now that you realised Zeći's demeanour had been an act to see how Misa would react, “How generous of you. Do I have to get Johanna test these for me or can I trust that you haven’t put salt instead of sugar in them just to spite me?”

Zećira’s laugh echoed across the walls, remembering that one time she had done that. On accident though, even if she still didn't have you entirely convinced. She shook the box with cookies, knowing you would want to dive in right away. Then, she turned to Misa, “I promise they’re really good. They’re... caramelly… don’t you guys like that? Dulce... something-something?”

“Dulce de leche?” You wondered, watching as your friend snapped her fingers in eureka, “How stereotypical of you. And that’s originally South-American, idiot.”

“Hey, I’m trying!”

She was right, you had to give it to her. Which reminded you…

You quickly nudged Misa, who cleared her throat and grabbed a cookie, muttering a silent thank you. She had quietly watched the entire encounter turn a 180, and she was still trying to wrap her head around it all. She continued to stare at Zećira before finally looking at you, feeling the way you immediately clung to her as soon as you could. Then she looked back toward Zećira. There were zero signs of malice, resentment, bitterness or jealousy in the now kind eyes of your friend as she watched the two of you all loved up. The entire turn of events had alienated Misa and made her think that it was simply an act Zećira was upholding for your sake, but Misa saw the sincerity in which the Swede carried herself around you two as she ushered you to the seats in the hallway.

Your girlfriend grinned bashfully when you planted a kiss on her lips before grabbing a cookie of your own, diving in right after. You groaned at the taste, having missed her Kafferep surprises.

“No salt,” Misa put her thumb up after taking a bite, finally loosening up when she realised the coast was clear and that the threat she thought she had to deal with had passed. Or better yet, hadn't been there to begin with.

You grinned up at your girlfriend, happy how she was starting to warm up to your friend and joining in on the banter. You knew she had the best dry banter anyway, it was part of her charm and how she’d captured your attention.

You attentively brushed some crumbs from Misa’s t-shirt, hand falling to hers right after. Zećira’s expression softened as she watched the ease and comfort of which you acted around each other, “So, you’re the lucky one who’s finally got her wrapped around someone's finger, huh?”

Misa turned to you, face finally breaking out into a wide grin. She hated how she had doubted your relationship for even a second, but she wholly blamed it on the fact that it was just so good, that it simply seemed too good to be true. But it wasn't. Life could be harsh, but sometimes, it could give you the most wonderful presents at the most random moments.

She realised it then as she looked right into your eyes, "I am the lucky one, indeed.”

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

songs:

she calls me daddy - king mala

kiss or kill - stela cole

the less i know the better - tame impala

people i don't like - upsahl

[flemingology]

breaking point ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: the stress concerning everything going on with the national team causes jessie to lash out at you

Warnings: little bit of angst, if you can even call it that? argument but they make up, fluff at the end :)

wc: 5.3K

a/n: based on these two requests! thought they were similar enough to be grouped together. really enjoyed writing this, it's quite a long one too. hope you enjoy! <3

You were just downing the rest of your morning coffee when you heard a notification come through on your phone. The clock read 8am, which meant it was 5pm in France. If you remembered correctly, Jessie had a tactical meeting from 4:30 to 5:30 so it couldn't be her. You made your way over to the couch where you left the device earlier. Your eyes widened upon seeing the headline from CBC News.

"BREAKING: Canada Women's National Team Coach Dismissed From Olympics Amid Drone Scandal"

Your jaw fell slack. You had heard a little something here and there from the spying case, but you didn't know it had gone this far. Jessie hadn't told you much about it either. Despite being in the leadership group now she tried as much as possible to put it next to her – focusing on the controlables; her football.

Being away from Jessie was hard. Your schedules clashed quite frequently; her being away for games or for camps, you being away for business trips with your company. You knew what the downsides were going to be about dating your Canadian, but you wouldn't change it for the world. On moments like this, though, when you knew Jessie was going to be put under enormous loads of stress, you'd much rather be by her side in France than on the other side of the world in Portland.

Jessie was adamant you stayed home. Going with her to France would've meant you giving up on one of your projects you'd worked on the last couple of months, and as much as Jessie would've loved to have you by her side throughout the tournament, she knew that this was important to you.

So here you were, back in your shared apartment in Portland, sat on the couch not knowing what to do. You went over the options in your mind. You could call her, but you didn't know if she was free right now. Texting her seemed a safer option, but maybe she would want to come to you with the news instead of you coming to her about it. So that's what you did, you spent your morning dancing between trying to get some chores done and checking back with your phone if you hadn't magically missed a notification in the last 30 seconds.

After what felt like ages, just as you were about to take a shower – you'd contemplated it for a good 20 minutes, because what if she called while you were in there –, your phone rang. You sprung up from the side of the bathtub and knocked your elbow against the wall in the process, silently cursing while crossing your bathroom in quick strides.

You grabbed your phone and headed back into your bedroom, accepting the call once you made sure it was your girlfriend who was calling. "Hi," you breathed out as you sat down on the edge of your bed. "Hey baby."

Jessie sounded tired, and you noticed how her voice wavered – despite the effort to conceal it. A silence fell over your conversation, neither of you knowing what to say nor how to tackle the subject at hand. "How are you feeling?"

You tried your luck with an easy question. As far as she knew, you could be talking about how she was feeling after Canada's game against New Zealand yesterday – which they won 2-1. You had stayed up to watch her game, the bags beneath your eyes more than worth it seen as your girlfriend helped Canada win their game with an assist and a great performance.

If she remained silent any longer, you would've thought she had hung up on you, but right on cue Jessie spoke up. "Okay. Could be better. It's been a rocky afternoon," you hummed, acknowledging what she said.

"Is there anything I can do for you?", you knew she would probably say no, but that was Jessie's way of coping. She toughened up, built her walls a little higher than they already were. You had worked really hard over the past three years of your relationship to meticulously tear them down – and most of the time she kept them down around you –, but not everyone was that lucky. Especially in moments like these, stressful situations, you expected her to bring them back up.

"I'm fine," she quipped back. It came out quite harsh, and it left you a little taken aback. You bit back a disappointing sigh. "I know you are, Jess. You're strong and I know you can handle these situations. But that doesn't mean that you can't talk about it," you knew you were starting to push her, but you also knew that if you didn't, she'd never talk about it and bottle it up until one time it'd explode. You'd been the dupe of that a handful of times, and you knew that you were better off pushing her to say something than letting it get to that stage.

"Babe, I said I'm fine," she paused but you felt like she had more to say, so you didn't counter her. Jessie took a deep breath before she continued. "I'm fine." You felt like she was leaving many things unspoken. Even though you didn't feel confident in what she said, you decided to leave it for now and enquire her about the rest of her day.

You sensed an end was coming to your conversation. A glance at the clock taught you that Jessie would probably have to hang up soon, because she told you earlier that she had a couple media appointments to attend to that evening. She hadn't told you what for, but it was more than clear what the reason was. Still, after 20 minutes of conversation, the subject hadn't been mentioned directly. As much as you felt like Jessie needed this break away from the whirlwind that it had been this afternoon, you felt like she was excluding you and it wasn't a nice feeling.

Just as you were going to say your goodbyes to each other, you interrupted her. "Jessie, wait. I know you'd rather not talk about it but I just want to reassure you that if you're ready, I'm here for you, okay?", there was no malice intent to what you said. As you told her, it was just about making sure your girlfriend knew you were there for her if she wanted to talk to you. And maybe, just maybe, you were hoping you could pull something out of her – but you'd never expected the response you got in return.

"Please, for the love of God, I'm fine!", you could sense the irritability in her voice and went quiet. Jessie rarely ever raised her voice at you, so her tone took you by surprise. "I've told you I'm fine plenty of times, what don't you understand? I don't want to talk about it and especially not with you. I called you to get it all off my mind and not talk about the bullshit that I've had to deal with here but clearly you can't even catch a hint. Honestly I don't even know why I bother with calling you anymore, if you can't even give me a break from my football."

Before you could muster up a response, you heard the sound of the call ending. You slowly retracted your phone from your ear, remaining seated on the edge of your bed for a little while before you came back to your senses. You had nothing but good intentions with the way you handled the situation, although you could acknowledge that maybe you pushed her a bit too far. That aside though, you didn't feel like you deserved her lashing out to you like that. You fought back the tears that were threatening to spill when you thought back about the way she snapped at you, so out of character and something she'd never done before. Sure, you two argued from time to time but it never ended up like this. You sighed deeply before pushing the call and what your girlfriend said to the back of your mind, finally hopping in the shower and hoping she would come back to you sooner rather than later.

–

Jessie let her body fall against her mattress after she ended the call. Deep down she knew you were full of good intentions but it hadn't done her any good that you pushed, and she snapped. She'd never snapped at you before, not in the way she did now. She'd raised her voice, not often, but that was something that occurred from time to time. But it was different now. Especially the way the call ended, it wasn't just something that would pass overnight.

She rubbed her hands over her face and stared up at the ceiling as she fought back tears. Out of frustration or sadness – she didn't know. What she did know, is that an argument with her girlfriend was the last thing she needed to be added to the pile of growing worries.

Jessie's watch read 6:03pm now, which meant that she had to go down for dinner soon. She grabbed her keycard and left her hotel room, taking the elevator down to the dining hall. She rehashed the conversation you were having merely 5 minutes ago in her head while the elevator took her downstairs, thinking about where it went wrong and why she snapped at her. Jessie's frustration settled rather quickly after the call and insecurity settled in, the realization hitting her that she probably overreacted.

The bell of the elevator pulled her out of her thoughts. She dragged herself towards the noise, mentally preparing herself to plaster a smile on her face for the next couple hours.

As much as she did her best to conceal how she was feeling inside, her inactivity and lack of participation in conversations around the table had grabbed some people's attention. Janine, especially, could tell that Jessie was acting off. She knew Jessie liked to take a walk after dinner, so when she set off, Janine followed suit a couple moments later.

She jogged up to her Canadian teammate who was trudging along the hotel perimeter. "Jess!", Jessie's head turned to the side upon hearing her name, offering Janine a tight-lipped smile when she joined her. "You okay, bud?", she threw an arm around Jessie who shrugged and looked down at her feet.

"My girlfriend and I had an argument earlier," Janine hummed, allowing Jessie the space to explain herself further. "And I think I'm the one that caused it.", Janine sucked in a breath through her teeth and squeezed Jessie's shoulder. "Dog house?"

She shrugged again, seemingly the only appropriate response she could come up with as she didn't speak further. "Wanna tell me what happened?", Janine tried. Jessie took a deep breath before she recited the whole story of what happened when you two were on the phone earlier, while taking a detour of the path she'd normally walk – allowing Janine and herself a bit more time to talk about what was going on.

"So yeah, that's where we are at right now. I sent her a quick message to check in after dinner but she's giving me the cold shoulder – I got left on read. And I don't know how to go about things now."

Before she replied anything, Janine couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her lips. Jessie frowned and looked at her friend, confused as to what she found funny. "You're one of a kind, Jeff. Honestly. You've got a caring girlfriend that's on the other side of the world right now, and all she wants is to check in. She can't physically be with you so the only thing you can do right now is be emotionally available.", Janine grabbed Jessie's shoulders and halted them both, turning their bodies towards each other. "I know you don't like speaking about your feelings, but this is a serious matter, Jessie. This is not a silly subject, it's about your job. Our job. It's okay to be insecure, to be in your head, to be annoyed at the situation and to not know how the future is going to ensue. And it's more than okay to voice those feelings to someone – especially your partner. You've gotta let her in sometimes, okay? I know you're reserved but if anyone deserves to be opened up to, it's her."

Jessie closed her eyes and sighed, and Janine physically felt tension escape her shoulders as she still had her hands on them. "How about you fly her out here? Things like that are better talked about in person. If I remember correctly, the project she stayed home for was presented two days ago. Is her schedule free for the rest of the week?"

Jessie quickly checked your shared calendar on her phone and saw your free – granted nothing had been planned that you didn't put in the calendar yet. "Yeah, she should be. There's nothing in the calendar that she can't miss."

When she looked up her eyes found Janine's, who were full of concern. "Make it up to her, okay? Fly her out, talk to her about it. Maybe it'll give you a boost on the pitch too. We're all tackling this issue together, but it won't work if you get yourself into precarious situations like these. I know you love her, then show her too."

Jessie nodded, Janine's words convincing the Canadian midfielder to make things right with you.

-

From: Jess 🤍 "Hi baby, I checked the calendar and as far as I can tell you don't have any obligations at work anymore. I remember them telling you if you wanted to come to the Olympics for a couple days you could, so here's a plane ticket. It's for tomorrow and you would arrive in time for our game against France. I'd love for you to be there and have you with me again, and for us to have a chance to talk about things. Please?"

You had just woken up from a nap to Jessie's message. It was quite late in the evening in France now, way past Jessie's usual bedtime which confused you. She wasn't one to miss her 9 hours of sleep, especially not during tournaments.

You had ignored her previous message when she checking in with you a couple hours ago. You knew you were probably being unreasonable, but you wanted to let her know in one way or another that you weren't pleased with the way she handled the situation – didn't matter if she was under a big stress load or not.

You typed out a couple responses, none of them which seemed suitable to you. In the end, you settled on something relatively simple, yet would probably settle her worries around you a little.

From: You Thank you, I'll be there. Kick ass. ❤️

You finished up packing the next day around 10am and set off, your flight departing at 2pm which left you enough time to grab an Uber to the airport and be comfortably on time.

You arrived 2 and a half hours early, giving you enough time to check in and go through bag checks, making sure your gate exists before settling down on one of the free seats. You tried to kill some time by replying to some emails before you officially made an "Out of office"-announcement for a couple days.

The flight went reasonably smooth. Jessie got you a business class ticket – you always assured her there was no need –, because she 'only wanted the best for you'. You slept through most of the itinerary and when you woke up you let Jessie know you were almost there. The jet lag was something you'd have to deal with later, but all in all you were very excited to see your girlfriend. Argument aside, you'd not seen her for 4 weeks now and it was weighing down on you anyway – missing her embrace, her touch, her smell, her kisses.

You had booked a night at a hotel not far from where Canada would play France tomorrow, but far enough from Jessie's hotel to not be tempted to go over. The team didn't allow any visitors on the day before a match, and you knew Jessie wouldn't appreciate that either right now. Considering the energy between the two of you was still tense, meeting you now wouldn't be a joyful conversation for her, it would only add more stress to the load that was already on her shoulders and you wanted nothing less than to be an extra burden.

You spent your afternoon exploring the streets of Saint-Etienne, an adorable city where Jessie and her teammates would face France in Stade Geoffroy Guichard tomorrow. Soon enough the evening came and you ordered takeaway in your room, not feeling comfortable enough to go to a restaurant by yourself in an unknown country. You spent your evening scrolling through the French channels on tv, quickly realizing that the little French you taught yourself was way less useful than you thought it was. You fell asleep quite quickly after a long day of traveling.

-

Jessie woke up the next day feeling much better than before she went to bed, a whole lot of pressure off her shoulders ever since she knew you got to Saint-Etienne safe and well, and especially since she knew she was finally going to see you again tonight.

The usual matchday routine started for Jessie and her teammates, trying to dance around the ongoing scandal allegations and trying to manage the team without Bev in place. They prepared themselves as best as possible for the game and tried to put everything towards the back of their minds and focussed on the task at hand; trying to beat France in their second group match. The points may have been deducted, but that didn't mean they wouldn't go full on and leave it all out on the pitch. There was little chance, but it wasn't lost yet. And as long as there was opportunity, Jessie and her teammates would rise to the occasion.

Breakfast, mobility sessions, pre-match walk, it all went smoothly. Jessie had to refrain from texting you and asking what you were up to, but she knew that was a place she wouldn't come back from. She had always taken it upon her not to text you on matchdays, she liked her own bubble and as much as she wanted to break it for you on this occasion, she had something more important at hand tonight.

It was only on the short bus journey from the hotel where the Canadian team stayed at to the stadium when Jessie started to get nervous. She'd done incredibly well to keep all the nervosity at bay throughout the day, but reality came crashing down on her on the bus and she couldn't help but get a little anxious. It was the first time the Canadians would step onto the pitch since the scandal escalated. What would the reaction of the fans be? How will it be received? How will it feel to play against the home crowd? Jessie tried to ground herself by playing her pre-match playlist through her headphones instead of listening to the songs that were being played on the bus speaker.

Arriving at the stadium, it was easy for Jessie and the team to just go through the motions. Entering the changing room, getting changed into the warm-up gear, getting massaged or strapped by the physios, having an energy gel or drink – it was a routine that was engraved into their minds, no one in that room had to think twice about anything they were about to do. Some things came easy in football, and this was one of them. It's things like this that ground the team; the routines, things they could hold onto.

When coach called it was time for the team to go out for warm-ups, Jessie called the girls into a huddle in the changing room.

"Let's do this, yeah? We're up against the home team and their crowd today, it won't be easy. We might also be up against a whole lot more people seen what happened the past couple days. But that's not our focus right now. Let's go out there and show that we're pretty damn good footballers, yeah? I believe in us. In every single one of you. If you believe in yourself, we have one hell of a shot at turning this situation around. Canada on three. One, two, three..."

-

"... CANADA!", you only caught the back end of what the stadium speaker said, but you didn't care. Jessie had just scored the equalizer for her team in the 58th minute of the game, bringing the score back level and giving Canada a second chance of grabbing something from this game.

Jessie's mum engulfed you in a tight hug in means of celebrating her daughter's goal together. You high-fived her dad and her siblings, who were also in the family box watching the game.

You'd made it to the game just in time, Saint-Etienne traffic taking you by surprise as a quick Uber to the stadium turned into a 30-minute start and stop journey. You'd rushed to the family box, greeting Jessie's family before your eyes scanned the pitch looking for your freckled Canadian. Warm-ups were long done and the players were just about walking on the pitch, getting ready for the anthems. You noticed Jessie singing along, eyes closed while she took everything in. Your eyes stayed locked on her figure, waiting until she opened hers again. When the anthem finished, Jessie looked up to her family box and you couldn't miss the little grin that formed on her face when she saw you. You gave her a small wave which she reciprocated eagerly, then quickly falling back into captain's duties and getting ready for the game.

So now you were here. You were sure you didn't have any nails left, your leg bouncing up and down as the clock slowly but surely ticked further leaving the Canadians with little time to score a potential winner. The fourth official held up the board that said there would be thirteen minutes of extra time, a wave of excitement being heard from the stands from both sets of fans who believed their team could score a second goal.

Then, everything seemed to happen so quickly. Janine made a wonderful defensive move before passing a through ball to Adriana. She laid the ball of to Jordyn whose shot got saved, but the keeper had nothing against Vanessa's rebound. It felt like ages between the ball leaving her foot and the net rippling, but they had done it. They had scored in the 103rd minute and they successfully saved their Olympic group stage, giving them a chance at qualifying for the knock-out stages of the tournament.

You jumped up and down, no longer trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill across your cheeks. You found yourself once again engulfed in a hug, a big family hug this time. "They did it!", you screamed to Elysse. You could tell she was having a hard time to keep it dry too, endlessly proud of her sister and teammates.

Not long after, the whistle blew and the game was officially over. The Canadians made their way around the pitch making sure to thank as many fans as possible for having made the long trip from Canada to France. They took pictures, signed jerseys, gave away boots, until they found themselves in front of the family boxes.

They all started climbing up and over the barriers and made their way to their friends and families, as you took a step back from the group to allow Jessie to talk to her parents and siblings first. She got engulfed in many hugs, accepting the congratulations from many other people around her. As captain, she had led this team to a historic win and you couldn't be more proud of her. When conversation died down with her family she slowly retreated from that group and tentatively made her way over to you, a slight smile creeping on her face once you noticed her coming up to you. She stopped right in front of you, locking her eyes with yours.

"Is it okay if we talk about everything later, please? I missed you and I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You hummed in agreement and couldn't stop the bright smile from spreading across your face when Jessie closed the final couple steps of distance between the both of you and wrapped you in a tight embrace, digging her face into the crook of your neck. "I missed you so much," you could just about make out the words she mumbled against your skin and you pulled her impossibly tighter against you. "I missed you too, Jess. I'm so proud of you," she retreated her head from your neck and you cupped her cheeks, looking her in the eyes. "You've done incredibly well. What you did tonight is amazing. I couldn't be more proud."

You leaned in closer to her and waited for Jessie to cross the final bits of space before you finally pressed your lips against hers. You couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your throat upon the feeling, Jessie chuckling and digging her fingers into your waist. In this moment it felt like you'd never ever been apart, her lips slotting perfectly against yours and bodies moulding together. Jessie deepened the kiss as you started playing with the baby hairs at the back of her neck, a shiver going through her body when she felt the soft touch of your fingertips on the sensitive skin. Before you could get carried away, you broke the kiss with a teasing bite on her bottom lip, smiling ear to ear as you locked eyes again.

"Go get a shower, you must be cold. I'll wait for you up here," Jessie nodded and pressed another chaste kiss against your lips, savoring the feeling of being together again and having you at arm's length, rather than on the other side of the world with a 9 hour time difference.

Jessie emerged from the changing rooms about an hour later, caught up in conversation with some of her teammates when she entered the family box. Her parents and siblings had already left, their journey to their hotel quite a bit longer than yours. You were waiting for your girlfriend while sipping on a drink you'd ordered, when she dropped her washbag next to you and put her hands on your shoulders, towering over you as you were sat down.

"You wanna get going? We're allowed to have a visitor to stay the night the evening after matchday. I've not been able to make use of that yet, so I'd like to do so now," you grinned at your girlfriend and nodded your head, excited about the idea of sleeping in her arms again tonight.

The ride to the hotel went smooth. Jessie came with the team bus so you had to get a taxi back there, which caused a dent in Jessie's wallet but you both went with it. The ride was silent, and as much as you enjoyed being in your girlfriend's presence, you could feel the air shifting. It grew tense upon nearing the hotel, unspoken words hanging between the both of you as you knew you'd have to talk about things later. You grabbed Jessie's hand that was in her lap and pulled it into yours, steading yourself with her touch.

Once arrived, you greeted and congratulated some of the other Canadian players who had also brought their partner back to the hotel. They were all mingling in the entrance hall as you moved past them, Jessie leading the two of you to the elevator and towards her room on the second floor.

Seen as the squad moved around the south of France for their games they didn't have a set hotel, which meant they couldn't really make it their own space. This meant that no home comforts were trickled around the room, something Jessie would normally do when she was away for multiple weeks for camps or tournaments. You let her unpack her stuff while you sat down on the bed, having quickly changed into something more comfortable and forgiving.

A few minutes later Jessie joined you in bed, ushering you both to lay under the covers as she claimed to be cold and tired, wanting to be in bed properly. You laid on your back as she cuddled up next to you, a big smile on her face as she finally felt the warmth of your embrace again. She pressed a kiss against your chest and let out a sigh of relief.

"How are you feeling, Jess?", you were well aware the last time you posed your girlfriend this question it turned out in a way no one wanted, but you were confident it wouldn't happen this time. Jessie shifted and positioned herself so that she could look up at you, a faint smile lingering on her lips. "I feel good. Genuinely. Better than I have been feeling the past couple days," you nodded, silently pushing her to go on. "It's been a lot but the game and you being here have helped me settle. Thank you," she pressed a fleeting kiss against your lips to accentuate her words.

You reciprocated the kiss, but pulled away rather quickly to not get lost in her affection. Jessie understood why you did and spoke up again. "I'm sorry about what happened the other day. I shouldn't have snapped at you," you soothingly rubbed her back when you sensed the nervosity that crept in her voice. "It had been a rough day and I wanted nothing more than to unwind and talk to you about other things, but when you started pushing I just couldn't bare with it anymore. I know you were just trying to do good, though. I talked about it to Janine and she made me realize that I'm not honest enough with you. I always try and bottle up my feelings, but that ends disastrous in ways like it did between us two days ago. I promise I'll try and be better for you. For us."

Her words were laced with emotion, her voice soft as she tried to keep the emotions at bay upon expressing how she felt about the situation. You wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her eye and was making its way across her cheek, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. "Thank you, baby. I want to be there for you, but you need to let me. It's a two-way thing, okay? We both give, we both take."

Jessie nodded, shifting again and now burying her face in your neck, soaking up the warmth of being under the covers together. "Thank you", she mumbled barely audible against your skin. You let out a chuckle at her words. "What for?", you asked. "Just, for being you. For being the person you are and for dealing with my moods. I love you so much," she lifted her head from out of your neck and looked you in the eyes before she lowered her head and pressed her lips against yours. "I love you too," you mumbled against her lips before you two got lost in one another and made up in different ways for all the time you had missed out on together the past month.

[mrchiipchrome]

Glass Child

W.C. - 6 k

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

The middle child. Often known as the “forgotten” sibling, the one who never gets enough love, never enough attention, the one who’s never enough. 

Never the one to blow out their own candles on their birthdays, never the one to get driven to their evening practices even when it was rainy and muddy. Never the one to get told they’re loved, nor that they’re enough. Never the one to be the favourite.

Yet always the one to listen to their parents argue late into the night, always the one to be blamed, always the one pressured to do great academically. Always the one who has to prove and find their place in the family, yet never actually finding it.

One older brother and one younger sister, that was what you had, one sibling on either side of you for every family photo but never for anything more. Your brother was out of the house before you could turn 6 and your younger sister was what your parents liked to call a rainbow child.

She had nearly died at birth after all, not enough oxygen going to the brain leading to slight mental disabilities and getting all your parents love. You weren’t even sure they had ever told you that they were proud of you. No, all their attention was always on Lila. 

No matter how much you vyed for their attention, no matter how many accomplishments you had, the trophies and diplomas you brought home, their attention was always on Lila. 

Lila, the golden child. Lila who could do no wrong. Lila who even after screaming and punching you, would get a hug and kiss on the head. 

You, who were left to raise yourself. You, who were never enough for them, never good enough to be loved and cherished like your sister or even your brother who had left you. You, who had the weight of the world on your shoulders with no one to help carry it.

Every footballing tournament you’d ever had would be about Lila, what did Lila want? Was Lila comfortable? Does Lila want to go home? 

Well that was when they actually made the effort to come, something you could count on one singular hand how many times they’d done. No, to sit through a few minutes of football for their daughter to feel needed and wanted was far too difficult for them.

Anything not involving Lila was far too difficult for them. Anything not revolving around herself was far too complex for Lila to comprehend, the second your parents looked away from her she was kicking and screaming and they were forced to look at her, whilst you were left unloved and unseen.

So when your brother started to visit once a month, you couldn’t have been more excited. There would finally be someone to be there for you, someone that would look at you for once, appreciate your existence. 

Well he started out like that. He’d come to your games and cheer you on, he’d take you out for ice cream after just the two of you. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel invisible.

But then as time started to pass, he came home less and less, until the visits were so few and far between that he practically disappeared from your life. Gone were the days of feeling wanted and needed, you were back to being a ghost in your own life.

Even coaches started to forget you, it was like you just blended into the background, like you were invisible.

Then slowly, your teammates started to ignore you too, barely even looking at the shell of a person you were during exercises. And slowly you started to accept it, the role of the ghost.

You put your head down, working even harder in school and on the pitch, only this time it was for yourself and not for anyone else.

Slowly it got harder for your coaches and teammates to ignore your ever growing presence, but it was made easier for them when you ignored them back. It might’ve not been the best coping mechanism, but it was one nonetheless.

When you got the offer to play at a big youth academy, you just ran home to tell your parents, purely by a combination of hope and excitement. It was in your excitement that you completely forgot who they were.

“MUM! DAD! I got into an academy in the city!” You shouted as soon as the door closed behind you, football bag with only the essentials in it dropping to the floor loudly.

“What is this ruckus Y/n. You know better than to interrupt Lila’s sleeping time. Pick your bag up and go to your room right this second young lady.” Despite her shouting louder than you had, you were still the one who got in trouble. 

“But I just wanted to tell you-” The words come out defeated, your parents not once being happy for you taking a toll on your entire being.

“But nothing.” She says sternly, pointing to the stairs. Head pointing towards the floor, you don’t let her see the salty tears forming in the corners of your eyes. She wouldn’t care anyway, not when her precious Lila still existed.

The walls shook with the amount of force you used to slam the door closed, the shouts of your mother lighting up the corridors like fireworks. The tears finally escaped when you were in the comfort of your own room, throwing your bag down to the floor harshly.

The bag wasn’t your source of frustration but once again it didn’t have any feelings either, it couldn’t see or feel, neither could it gain consciousness. So, it was the best thing to take out all your frustrations on.

But no matter how much you kicked and punched, no matter how many bruised knuckles you got from the hard materials inside the bag, it still didn’t get better.

Your parents weren’t going to magically start to care for you just because of some bruises, not when you had come home with far worse and they still hadn’t cared. You didn’t exist to them, their lives only revolved around Lila, the sun to their earths.

Picking up a plastic figurine from the ratty old desk you had inherited from your brother, you launch it across the room and directly into the wall. With a pop, the head of the Captain America figurine separates from the body, rolling across the hardwood floor almost mockingly. 

When the realization of what you’d done hit, you dropped down to your knees with a thud. Picking up the scratched and broken toy off the floor, you clutch the parts to your chest tightly like they would disappear if you loosened your hold ever so slightly.

How could you break the only thing your brother had ever given you? ‘Keep it safe for me, yeah?’ He told you when he left the house you grew up in the last time, he had said that he didn’t need it where he was going. You knew in the back of your mind that he wouldn’t care about the broken state of the toy, but the overwhelming and conflicting feelings waging a war inside you amplified your emotions tenfold.

You weren’t used to this, crying. No, it was much easier to compartmentalize your feelings, to experience your feelings rationally and not as emotionally as you just had.

But it seems like the feelings were far too strong this time, creating an earthquake of sorts in your mind that opened all the drawers of the imaginative dresser where you stored all your emotions. And so they hit you all at once, all the negative emotions and thoughts crashing into you like powerful waves.

Eventually there were no tears left to fall, empty sobs escaping your mouth every now and then, face buried in your knees with your back up against the wall. Breathing in deeply, you lean your head back against the colorless wall, wishing you could be anywhere but there at that moment.

Bringing your hands up to your face, they slowly fall back down to your sides, your muscles relaxing for the first time since you had come home. There was no point in just sitting there and sulking, the pitch not too far from your house calling your name.

Walking over to the bag, you open it up and pull out the old boots, they were falling apart at the seams but that didn’t matter. They would work another 6 or so months, as long as you stitched them back together.

The window creaked as you opened it up, throwing your now closed bag onto the bushes that lined your house. Climbing over the ledge, you sit down on the wooden lining, hands coming down to clutch the material tightly. Turning your body around, you lower yourself down until your arms are fully stretched out, pressing your feet to the wall and pushing your body away from the building.

Landing on your feet, you hurry to pick the bag up off the bush with calloused hands, the years of carrying the bag back and forth from training having taken its toll on your hands. Quick steps echo in the night air, nearing the uncared for pitch in record time.

Soon enough the thwack of your boot hitting the ball over and over is the only thing that can be heard, cleats ripping into the grass and pulling up the deep brown dirt underneath it. By the time you were done your knees ached and your feet were even worse, the boots not the most comfortable things in the world.

With some luck, you manage to find a ladder at the corner of your house, leaning it up against the brick wall of the house and climbing up it carefully. When you’re safely inside your room, you push the ladder away and close the window.

It becomes a routine of sorts, wake up, go to school, take the bus to the academy training grounds, train, go home, study and then go out to the pitch for another 2 or so hours of football. It was good, out there you could forget everything and just focus on getting better.

And that you did, quickly becoming one of the best youngsters not only in your academy but also in the country, much to your surprise. Life wasn’t slow and boring anymore, it was fast paced and fun for you.

Months passed by, a U-15 call up hitting your desk a single month before you turn 13, leaving you to celebrate your birthday alone in your hotel room. There was no way that you would tell a bunch of strangers of such a trivial thing, it wasn’t like they had even noticed you there, they already had their friend groups.

Thankfully, you seemed to have impressed the right people as you got called up time and time again after, showing everyone why you deserved to be there with strategic kicks of the ball and passes not even most professional players could make. It came naturally after so many hours of playing and subsequently watching people play.

Camp after camp you watched your teammates interact with each other, see them laugh and smile with their friends whilst you were on the outside looking in. It was no longer a problem, being alone, an expectation rather than a surprise.

Luckily enough for you, the senior call up happened only weeks after turning 16, leaving the older girls to take you under their wing. It was certainly…different, a completely new experience.

You had finally reached the top that you’d yearned for, getting recognised for being one of the best footballers in the entirety of England. The years of invisibility far gone, now praised enormously for the efforts you made during each and every game.

It got overwhelming quickly, all the attention from coaches and outlets alike only fuelling your need to perform, leading to countless hours spent out on the muddy pitch. Football, no matter how stressful, was your reprieve. Your savior of sorts.

You’d think after countless hours spent with your football that your passion for the sport would burn out, but in your case all it did was reinforce your spirit.

At 17 you got the option to either sign a professional contract with your youth club or go to America for college football on a full ride scholarship. Your decision to choose the latter of the two was less than popular with your parents.

“Mum, dad. Can you two give me your attention for once?” You question, sitting at the dinner table only meters away from where they’re washing the dishes.

“Why don’t you wait until the adults are done?” Your sorry excuse of a father shoots back, chuckling with your mother.

“I’m going away for college soon. In America.” The clanging of utensils hitting the metal surface of the sink interrupts the tense silence created by your statement.

“What did you just say?” Her tone was dangerously sweet and calm, almost trying to lure you into a false sense of security.

“You heard exactly what I said. There is no opinion to be had here, I was simply paying you two the courtesy to know.” Despite your tone being nonchalant, you were anything but. Leg bouncing up and down anxiously under the table, fingers fidgeting with each other.

“No. Y/n Y/l/n you are not leaving us to fend for ourselves, not like your brother. We need you here, Lila needs you.” Your mother basically pleads with you, reaching across the table to take hold of your hands.

Before she can even try to get near them, you pull them back towards your body harshly.

“Oh so now you need me? Now that I’m leaving you need me?” Your father has his arm slung around your mother’s shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down against her arm. “What about all the times I needed you two? All of the countless tournaments I participated in only for the coaches to ask me where you two were. You two have caused me so much pain and embarrassment.” 

“That’s unfair, your sister needed us more.” Your father tells you harshly, eyes drilling holes into the sides of your head.

“So? I couldn’t get one second of your time once a year?” You ask incredulously, their eyes widening in exasperation. “Me leaving for college isn’t even going to change anything, all you two do is care about Lila.” The last part comes out mumbled, so that the two adults in front of you couldn’t hear.

“I do not care for what you have to say, you are not going anywhere.”  

“And why not?” The card up your sleeve hasn’t been played yet, you wanted to revel in their expressions.

“Because we’re the adults here and we decide.” He responds lowly, as if trying to intimidate you.

“Oh but you’re forgetting something. As of an hour ago I am officially 18 years old and I get to decide whether I go or not.” You have to keep from laughing when their faces drop almost comically, eyes wide and jaws on the floor.

And so without much protest, they let you leave your childhood house only days later, getting on a plane out to North Carolina. It didn’t matter that the official season hadn’t started yet, you just wanted to get away.

Weeks passed by before any familiar faces appeared, the Brits you’d met during your stint in the youth groups of the national team. They were part of the main friend group, hugging and laughing with each other every second they got.

In reality, you had found them rather annoying at that age, shrill voices interrupting the otherwise peaceful environment. That’s why you could often be found in your hotel room, studying or messing around with a plushie football.

This time around you had been informed that you were to share a dorm with one of them, something you weren’t that opposed to. They were all nice after all, just a bit loud.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but we do in fact have another Brit here in the team, someone the two of you have probably encountered before.” The loud voice of one of your American teammates floats through the hallway leading to your room, the notes just about getting through the music streaming into your ears.

“Oh shit.” Rushing to close all the open books on the table in front of you, the light knock on your door is heard through the bustling. “Come in” You let out nervously.

“Alessia, Lotte meet our resident Brit, Y/n Y/l/n!” The jazz hands coming from the older American doesn’t hide the absolute mess of your room. Your suitcase was laying messily on the ground, your body the only thing in the way of the war stricken look of your table.

Sticking your hand out towards the women, there’s a slight crash behind you, face scrunching up in a way that suggests that you were uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry for the mess, I completely forgot about everything I was supposed to be doing today.” They both shake your hand, the brunette taking a firm hold of your hand whilst the blonde grasps your hand lightly with her much softer one.

The blonde looks around the room, a bed on either side of the room, one looking occupied and the other one bare.

“So Y/n, Alessia here is going to be sharing this dorm with you, plenty of time to get to know each other before the season starts.” All the American accents were hard to get used to, often quite startling.

You both nod your heads, not finding much to say regarding the arrangement. Alessia gets a pat on the back from the older student, letting her suitcase drop to the ground carefully.

“Come on then Lotte, let’s get you situated!” As soon as they appeared, they disappeared out of the messy room, Lotte following after the American like a duckling would its mother.

As the door closes behind them the room gets covered in a thick blanket of silence, Alessia still standing where she stood coming into the room and you with your back now turned to her, picking up the papers. 

“Please excuse the state of our room, I completely forgot that you were coming.” The words fall out of your mouth clumsily, your social skills still not up to par.

“Oh I understand, don’t worry.” Her voice is honey-like, smooth and sweet, almost like a Disney princess. When you turn back around the first thing you notice is her incredible beauty, something you didn’t exactly see before in your nervosity. 

“You’re in the senior squad right?” She asks, looking back at you with her baby blue doe eyes. Her intense gaze leaves you to clear your throat loudly, eyes blinking vigorously.

“Yeah I am.” The pitch of your voice peaks up at the end, leaving your statement to sound more like a question than anything. Her melodic giggles fill the room, your heart thumping painfully against your ribs at the sound.

“Are you asking me?” Her hands come up to tuck the hair that’s fallen in her face back behind her ears, her eyes scanning over your pajama clad body.

“Yeah I am.” You say more confidently this time, trying to right your earlier wrong. “Wait, wait, no” Her laugh mixes with yours this time, Alessia’s adorable expression lighting up the room. When the laughter halts, she stands up more straight with her hand out towards you, ready for you to take with your own.

“Come on, take my hand.” The forward urges you playfully, her head tilting a fraction to the right. Her hand feels warm in your own when you grasp it, a soft smile sent your way by the older girl making your insides all warm. “Hi, I’m Alessia Russo but my friends call me Less.” Alessia decides that the crease that appears between your eyebrows is adorable, her eyes flitting over your face.

“We’ve already been introduced?” This time the questioning tone is meant, genuine confusion plaguing your mind.

“I know, but just humor me for a second, okay?” The warmth flooding from your hand up throughout your body seemingly gives life to the butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. An unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.

“Hello, I’m Y/n Y/l/n but my teammates call me Ghost or some variant of it.” You reply cheekily, hand coming down to rest at your side. 

“Why is that?” She speaks up, a confused tone lingering in her voice.

“Because I’m a ghost from the 1700s that’s haunting this college.” Raising your hands up above your head, you let out an ‘ooo’ sound imitating a ghoul.

Her giggles start back up again, the midday sun peeking in through the blinds, leaving pale stripes on the dark floor. The comfortable silence between you two stays for a while, neither one of you really moving from where you’re seemingly glued to the floor.

Eventually she turns back to her bag, starting to unpack her luggage tentatively, not really knowing where to put her things.

After some thinking she seems to get a bit more comfortable, throwing her stuff here and there still making sure to keep to her side. The headphones resting over your ears play no music, allowing you to hear her humming under her breath, singing softly to the tune.

In the months that passed after your official introduction quite a lot happened. For starters, the college season started after a lot of struggle on your and Alessia’s part, Lotte fitting in with the other girls almost immediately. The blonde had a sense of protectiveness over you, the clear lack of social skills on your part making her pay extra attention to you to make sure that you weren’t alone.

Though there was that awkward moment when the striker asked you where your parents were after the first game, because surely it was too important to miss. The worried glance she shoots you when you make up a half-assed lie about them not getting enough time off to fly out and watch you. 

Needless to say, you spend the rest of that day in the library so that she can show her parents around the campus. And like the very mature 18 year old you are, as soon as you hear the sweet accented voice of your teammate in the quiet library you shoot up from your place on the old bean bag, weaving through the rows of books in order to escape your roommate and her happy family.

It wasn’t your fault per se that you were slightly jealous of her having parents that cared for her, and it sure as hell wasn’t her fault that yours were the way they were. It was better to just stay out, so that you wouldn’t get attached to a family that wasn’t your own.

Later that night, when her parents had left for their hotel, she questioned you intently on where you were the entire afternoon. Another lie followed, you telling her that you just had things to do, things that you couldn’t tell her about. 

She eventually let it go, but not before giving you a suspicious glance through the corner of her eye. You clearly weren’t good at lying, something she could see rather easily. 

“So, Y/n, do you wanna have breakfast with me and my parents tomorrow? They’ve been dying to finally meet you.” She asks, sitting down on your bed, her legs dangling off the end. Her hand comes up to lay on your leg, goosebumps rising on your skin whereupon her hand rests.  

A blush rises on your face, both at the question and her hand. You hadn’t even realized that she’d told her parents about you, but now it was obvious, parents in the movies always asked their kids all about college.

“Oh uhm, you know, I don’t want to intrude on your time with your parents.” Lifting your hand up, you make the motion of waving her off, not expecting her free hand to take yours.

“You wouldn’t be, they asked to meet you since you were so ‘busy’ today.” Her eyes stare into your soul, still soft and caring. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Alessia’s baby blues look down at the pattern on your blanket, her hand on your leg tracing the patterns into your skin.

“NO, no, believe me Alessia, I would love to go…” Your voice trails off softly, looking for the correct words so as to not reveal exactly why you were hesitant.

“But…” She continues your sentence.

“But I’m not good with people, and I don't want to give them the wrong impression of me. Family’s important for you, from what I’ve heard, and I just want yours to like me.” Somehow her eyes soften even more, the blonde girl moving up the bed to settle beside you, her arm snaking over your shoulders. Your head lands on her collarbone, one hand still holding onto hers tightly.

“Don’t you worry, if I like you, which I do, then they will like you as well.” She smiles down at you, faces inches from the other’s.

A knock on the door interrupts the moment, the loud noise making the two of you jump apart. The door opens with a creak and Lotte pops her head into the room, a large smile on her face at your and Alessia’s seeming closeness.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” She asks teasingly, Alessia immediately shooting her the meanest glare she could muster up, though that was like being glared at by a marshmallow. Your face on the other hand was redder than a tomato, the insinuating words making you nervous.

“No not at all, I was just about to leave for my evening run, I’ll see you both later!” You basically sprinted out of the room as soon as you had shoes on your feet, taking to jogging your normal round more than once. 

By the time you were back in the dorm room, your feet were aching unpleasantly and your blonde counterpart was asleep. It was a begrudgingly difficult task to tiptoe around the room without waking the blue eyed girl, but in the end you managed not to wake her.

Though she’s not nearly as careful the next morning, stomping around like a maniac and making a bunch of noise for you to wake up to.

“Less, what are you doing? Let me sleep.” The last word of your sentence was drawn out thoroughly, groaning as you stretch out your body.

“Nope, no time! We’re meeting my parents in 20 minutes at the cafe.” She comes up and boops your nose before letting you spring up from the bed, rushing around the room at 100 km/h, gathering up all your nice looking clothes and letting Alessia choose the optimal pairing.

All the way to the off campus cafe you were stressed, but the way Alessia’s hand fit so snuggly in your own was a little comforting. She knew about your anxious nature around new people, even if those people were the least judgmental ever.

“It’s going to go great Y/n, my parents already love you, trust me, there’s basically no way that you can make them hate you.” Her words soothing you more than she’ll ever know, your shoulders feeling like they’d had a massive weight lifted off them. 

With newfound confidence, you get through the breakfast like a champ, even enjoying the entire thing. Alessia’s parents were everything yours weren’t, they were kind and generous, loving and sweet and all around great people. You wondered what it would be like to grow up with parents like them instead of yours.

And it seems like you made a good first impression on them too, because as you and Alessia said your goodbyes they gave you the warmest hugs you’d ever gotten paired with a big kiss on the cheek.

Alessia couldn’t understand why you burst into tears as soon as the two of you were in the comfort of your own dorm. It came so suddenly, the tears that seemed never ending and the sobs that echoed around the small room.

As soon as Alessia heard the first sob escaping your throat she turned around, being met with the sight of your hands covering your face, trying to subside the tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, hey, what happened love? Why are you crying?” Her voice grows worried quickly as her hands take hold of your forearms. She tries to remove your hands from the premise of your face, thinking that you’d hurt yourself.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…your parents are such wonderful people and I guess I just wish that mine were the same.” You regret the sobbed words as soon as they exit your mouth, of course you would be so stupid as to tell her about your parents. Now you’d have to tell her the truth about them, there was simply no avoiding it.

“Oh, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you mean?” Her voice is softened, like when talking to a baby, and her arms hold you tight against her chest. Alessia’s hands move from your forearms and down around your back, rubbing her hand up and down softly. 

You’d known each other for months yet the topic of your parents hadn’t come up once. It was funny really, the way that they’d destroyed your childhood.

Inbetween a couple sniffles you begin the whole story, speaking slowly so as to not burst out in tears at every broken memory, every missed game, every single thing they’d not done for you.

“Uhm, I don’t really know where to start, but I know it all started with the birth of Lila, my sister. She was a…difficult pregnancy for my mom and uh when she was born there were complications. She didn’t get enough oxygen to her brain and uh that led to her being disabled, not enough for it to impact her life but enough for my parents to uhm…get attached to her. She’s their ‘rainbow baby’ and it seems like everything she’s ever done overshadows any of my or my brother’s achievements. It’s like as soon as they brought her home from the hospital both me and my brother were invisible. But he was lucky, he got to go off to uni within a year of her birth, me? I had to wait 14 years to get out.” You let out a humourless laugh at the end, not even looking the blonde in the eye after she tried to get you to.

“They never came to a game, no matter how big of a deal it was, they always let my sister blow out my candles on my birthday cake and they gave her more gifts on MY birthday than they did me. You want to know what they did when I told them that I had been recruited by an academy? They told me to shut up because my sister needed rest. On my senior team debut they left early because my sister wanted to get ice cream, it was the one moment for me to show them that I didn’t need them to be great, do you understand how embarrassing it was to look around for your parents after scoring twice on your national team debut only to see that they’re not there? The embarrassment of being asked why you’re not celebrating with your family? Of being worth so little to the people who made you that they couldn’t even be assed to sit for ninety minutes for their daughter? All I’ve ever wanted was for them to notice me, love me, care about me, but all that wishful thinking went away that day. I no longer cared for them or anything other than my teammates and footy. So yeah, that’s the entire story.” You didn’t even notice that you’d been talking for the past 30 minutes nor that tears spilled out of both you and Alessia’s eyes. When you finally looked up and in her eyes, they were filled with salty tears just like your own, tears that fell quietly and slid down her face peacefully.

Bringing your hand up, you quickly wipe her face softly, her baby blues enhanced by the layer of tears over them, slight redness to the whites of her eyes.

Alessia’s eyes bore into your own, her eyes expressing hundreds of feelings, everything from sorrow and empathy to love and kindness. It’s not until she looks down at your chapped lips that you finally understand what it is you’ve been feeling since you first met her again after so many years. 

It wasn’t nervousity or stress, it was love. Pure, genuine, unconditional love. You were utterly in love with the striker. And by the way she was inching her face closer to yours, she was pretty in love with you too.

Your lips meet hers in a soft and innocent embrace, all your emotions spilling into the kiss. Her lips were soft and they tasted of strawberries, her favourite chapstick the same taste. 

Your lips moved against each other’s softly for just a moment shorter than you wanted. Her eyes were closed as you opened yours just a sliver, observing the way one of Alessia’s hands comes up to touch at her kiss swollen lips softly.

When her eyes finally do open, they’re met with still tear stained cheeks and a big happy smile. The baby blues meet yours and they instantly see the love and adoration in them, it’s so obvious that she nearly starts crying again.

“Okay love, before we talk about what just happened i want to say that your parents missed out on the best person I’ve ever met. You are so wonderful and beautiful and you have so many wonderful people who love you to death, me being one of them. During the last few months that you have been apart of my life you’ve showed me that it’s possible to love someone more than anything. You have endless passion for football and for your friends, you’ve inspired me to become a better person simply by being you and that’s one of the most amazing things that I’ve ever witnessed. You’ve done a better job at raising yourself than most parents do with their kids and I want you to know that I’m so proud of you. I can’t comprehend how they could be so blind that they missed what a wonderful person you are. I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, your hair a mess from pulling at it and books scattered all around the room. I love you so much that it feels like I’m going to burst whenever I’m around you.” You can see the sincerity in her eyes as she looks at you, smiling ever so slightly.

“I love you too Alessia. I’m so in love with you that I’m going mad.” The way she picks herself up from the floor has you convinced that she’s going to leave you there where you sit on the floor, all alone. Only that’s not what she does, instead she holds out her hand for you to take.

“Come on love, go get cleaned up so I can take you on a date.” Her hand playfully taps your behind as you walk away towards the sink to wash the tears off your face, and you turn around to glare at her playfully.

5 long years later and you’re lifting the Euros trophy alongside your co-captain and subsequent maid of honour Leah and your longtime girlfriend soon turned fiancée. 

All you could think after she said yes was how incredibly lucky you were to have someone like her in your life.

[aethon-recs]

Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs with Hemipenes 🍆x2

What is better than one? TWO, of course! I think the monsterfucking potential in Tomarrymort is one of its most unique aspects, at least within HP ships :D If anyone is monsterfucking-curious, this is a great place to start.

I’m so excited to share this delightful smutty nasty dirty and super fun collection of one of my favorite tropes in Tomarrymort: not just snake-like Voldemort, but snake-like Voldemort with snake-like appendages 😏

Standard rec list disclaimers apply: There’s a lot of dead dove in the selection below, so please mind the tags, and read at your own risk. I strive to include a diverse range of fic genres these lists, so you'll come across lighter fare such as crack fics, along with fics that definitely cover darker themes.

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Tomarrymort Recs Feat. Hemipenes

a dainty lace noose by @mrmxlemons (E, 4k, complete)

Voldemort likes pretty things, and Harry is his favorite, prettiest thing.

A real voyage of discovery by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (E, 2k, complete)

Harry captures an alien from an Earth-like planet for the spaceship's research division to examine. The alien might have its own agenda.

a snake, an eagle, and a phoenix by @virgil-anon (E, 9k, complete)

Harry Potter is angrier than ever, thrown into a tournament he wants no part of, without any assistance except for his Defence Instructor. But when the Goblet of Fire turns out to be a portkey, he’s in for a surprise.

and make it double by @captainremwrites (M, 1k, complete)

Well, Harry thinks, that answers that question. He's definitely telling Ron and Hermione about this.

Dragon Me Down, My Love by @wolfantlersinspace (E, 2k, complete)

Harry had been a virgin sacrifice, given by the people to appease Voldemort. However, Voldemort had grown rather fascinated after he discovered Harry chose to come here, to take the place of a friend. And now, Voldemort liked him too much to let him go, liked him far too much to use him for his intended purpose.

Ensnared by @loneamaryllis (E, 4k, complete)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harriet finds a white snake in the grass. She quickly befriends the poor, lonely creature.

Hands-On Anatomy Lesson by @ivory--raven (E, 2k, complete)

Harry uses Liquid Luck to ask Voldemort himself how snakey he is.

I will follow you into the dark by @i-dream-of-libraries (E, 6k, complete)

Harry loves a good horror book, and this new one about a monster called Voldemort is now his favorite. Unknowingly, he calls out to the shadowy entity, and gains the monster's full attention and appetite.

Inquiring Minds by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 2k, complete)

Harry has a burning need to know, and Voldemort is just so done with teenagers.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

Love at First Sight by @dividawrites (E, 5k, complete)

Voldemort rises from the cauldron with two dicks and some extra powers. Harry is mesmerized.

Monster Fucker by Destiny_Of_A_Dragon (E, 10k, complete)

During their nightly gossiping session, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort might be. They fantasize a bit, then go to bed and assume that that was it. A week later and Harry just has to know.

ovoviviparous by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

In which Voldemort captures Harry at the Final Battle, and immediately puts him to use as an incubator.

splits your skin from end to end, down the center of the earth by @cannibalinc (E, 19k, complete)

Snape has just killed Dumbledore before Harry’s eyes, and he will not rest until he makes the man pay. But Snape isn’t the only Death Eater wanting to gain favor with the Dark Lord. No, there are ambitions far worse than even Snape’s, Harry learns. Ambitions that deliver him directly into Voldemort’s hands. “I was so very nearly tricked, you see, but Lord Voldemort is not so easily fooled. No, I shall not kill you Harry, not yet. I think I should like to keep you instead.”

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

“I shall show you just how far you’ve fallen,” Voldemort whispered, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them. Harry wanted to laugh, to bare his teeth at the man like the wounded lion that he was. There was nothing for him to do but snark and snarl at the man that had hidden him away from all prying eyes...save for those he trusted most. His legs were useless, his body weak. “I’d like to see you try,” he goaded.

Preparing For A Legacy by @ellionne (E, 5k, complete)

Marriage, especially with magical folks, required to be consummated to have the legal consequences Voldemort demanded for their treaty to come into effect. And Harry had been terrified. Voldemort's thoughtful proposition had seemed like a godsend then. The consummation of a marriage was a purely physical act; Harry didn't need to be aware for it. Didn't need to be awake.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Secondary Objective: If Subject is a living Horcrux, determine whether the soul fragment can be extracted intact and transferred to a different vessel, allowing Subject to be terminated thereafter.

Roughly 19 Years Later by @dividawrites (E, 2k, complete)

Platform 9¾ is a nice place for reunions.

thrice-bound, twice-filled by @cindle-writes (E, 4k, complete)

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night to the sensation of a blunt, hard cock slowing pushing its way inside him.

The Arsonist's Lullaby by Saeva (E, 101k, WIP)

It’s Harry’s bad luck that his mate is Voldemort. A possessive Voldemort, giving out the most reassuring scent, a scent Harry aches for. No one can blame him for giving into it... just a little... right? Magic Made Him Do It.

War Prize by @duplicitywrites and @moontearpensfic (E, 6k, WIP)

Ten years ago, in the name of world peace, Harry Potter signed his hand away to Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the British Isles, Saviour of the Realm. If Harry had known he would spend his days serving as the man's bodyguard and personal stud... He would have asked Dumbledore to include protection against retaliation in the form of sexual objectification.

Venomous by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 4k, complete)

One would think a famous collector of magical creatures would know better than to set a Naga loose in a room full of people, but Sirius Black was never known for his common sense.

Violent Delights by @katsitting (E, 5k, complete)

Harry was shoved against something hard and unyielding. It scratched along his back, chafing the skin. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, refusing to make a sound when more jeers sounded in the clearing, the words cutting through the rush of blood flooding Harry’s ears— “Fuck him, m’Lord.” “Defile his corpse.”

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes. Or: Harrymort Fake Dating AU

you're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature (finger-bangin' my heart) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 135k, WIP)

Harry keeps thinking about it. The way he smiled, with sharp white teeth. The way that smile had felt pressed to his own, to his throat, to the inside of his thigh. The clutching fingers; the desperate grip. The sweat clinging to his skin, salty on his tongue. The red eyes behind the mask that Harry would recognize anywhere— Harry keeps thinking about it.

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[broadwaydivastournament]

Movie Musical Divas Tournament: Quarterfinals

Judy Garland (1922-1969) Esther Smith in Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) | Vicki Lester in A Star is Born (1954) | Hannah Brown in Easter Parade (1948) | Susan Bradley in The Harvey Girls (1946) Additional musicals/singing roles include: Strike Up the Band (1940), Little Nellie Kelly (1940), Ziegfeld Girl (1941), Babes on Broadway (1941), For Me and My Gal (1942), A Star is Born (1954), etc.

"i am sure someone else already submitted her but i had to be sure. the icon the ravishing beauty the scrungly little gal." - anonymous

Eartha Kitt (1927-2008): New Faces (1954, Miss Kitt) | St Louis Blues (1958, Gogo Germaine) Additional musicals/singing roles include: The Chastity Belt (1972)

"YES! Even though she faced bewildering amounts of Hollywood racism, the winner of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament DID manage to do a couple of movie musicals: New Faces, a fluffy backstage-hijinks thing in which she plays her classic chanteuse persona and is even addressed as "Miss Kitt", and St Louis Blues, a musical biopic in which she sings alongside a bunch of other jazz greats. Neither of the films is considered a masterpiece, but Eartha is as scorchingly hot as always, and demonstrates that she could have become a legend in movie musicals if the roles had been there for her. In short, vote for Eartha Kitt because (1) she has JUST ENOUGH credits to count as a movie musical diva, (2) think of all the other Eartha Kitt movie musicals we COULD have had if not for racism, and (3) she's Eartha Kitt, certifiably the hottest old movie woman. Please and thank you." - anonymous

This is Round 5 (quarterfinals) of the Movie Musical Divas tournament. Additional polls in this round may be found by searching #mmround5, or by clicking the link below. Add your propaganda and support by reblogging this post.

ADDITIONAL PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

Judy Garland:

"I was so surprised to discover that no one has submitted propaganda for Judy Garland yet! Unless the list hasn't been updated, in which case, never mind. But either way, here are some of my favorite Judy moments:

This version of Old Man River hits me square in the feels, holy crapProof that not only was she an unbelievable singer, but she could keep up with both Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire on the dance floor!

She was such an icon and a massive inspiration for me! She definitely deserves to go far in this tournament!!" - @mygreatadventurehasbegun

Photos and video provided by: @mygreatadventurehasbegun

Eartha Kitt:

Photos and video submitted by: anonymous

[unofficialwriting]

She calls me Freddie (Pt.4)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Just fluff! A little corny but it’s Christmas and that’s Fred. This is arguably one of the most important chapters of the series

Summary: Winter break had finally arrived and it would turn out to be one of your favorites

Word count: 5.1k

(Part 4 - find all other parts here)

༺═────────────═༻

The days following the first task crawled by slowly. And despite what had happened that night, nothing else followed. Once again, everything seemed to go back to normal between you and Fred. At least, as much as it could. You were able to go about your days as usual, but after admitting to yourself your feelings for him, you found it more and more difficult as time passed. It would only be so long before you slipped.

On that morning, the first snow of the season fell. It reminded you how close you were to the holidays. The early classes had been replaced with a gathering of each house with their head, Gryffindor with McGonagall. You found yourself in a wide corridor, boys and girls seated on either side and the professor at the center. Most students were on a long bench, some standing behind. You were one of them, leaning casually against the stone wall. Fred, who you attempted to avoid repeated eye contact with, had a similar stance across the room.

“The Yule ball has been a tradition of the Tri-wizard tournament since its inception,” McGonagall explained, turning across the room to speak to everyone. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance.”

The moment she uttered the words, the room erupted into noise; especially from your side. Most of the girls around you, including yourself, dove into enthusiastic chatter. Just the brief idea of going with Fred brought upon you a fresh wave of excitement and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction. To your surprise, his gaze had found you first. You sent him an exaggerated wink and watched his body shake with a laugh in return, not managing to completely avoid a prolonged stare.

“Silence!” McGonagall called, bringing the talking to a quick end. “The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons.”

The twins caught your eyes again, seeing them whisper together with two poorly hidden smiles. The professor continued, having not heard them. “Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

Ron made an attempt at whispering as well, but he was far worse at it. Laughing came from his direction, taking the attention of McGonagall. “Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley.

She strode over to the boy, standing before him. “Yes?” Ron asked with dread, sinking lower into his seat.

“Will you join me please?” She answered simply, not letting him reply before taking ahold of a bit of the fabric on his clothed shoulder. She dragged him out to the center of the room, every student behind him bursting into laughter. “Now place your right hand on my waist.”

“Where?”

“My waist.” She instructed firmly. Fred whistled a catcall to tease his brother, earning a glare instantly. The boy hesitantly did as his professor asked. “Mr. Filch, if you’d please.” Filch quickly began the music, which came out more as static while the machine started up. McGonagall pulled Ron around the room, demonstrating the waltz to everyone. Fred and George swayed as well to mock him.

“Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!” Most of the younger ones were in no hurry. Of all of them, Neville Longbottom was the first to stand, the rest following behind him and filing in to find partners.

You remained at your spot against the wall, not in a huge hurry to jump into the crowd of students. Besides, you had a feeling your partner would find you.

In mere seconds, Fred appeared and slid behind the benches to where you stood. He gazed down at you with a bright smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Would I be lucky enough to dance with the Y/n L/n?” His voice sounded silky smooth in your ears, despite the edge of playfulness.

You copied his tone with a raised brow. “Hm, would you?” He let out an exaggerated scoff, still holding your hand in his.

“I would.” He twirled you in front of him, Little butterflies flitting about in your stomach and any ounce of stubbornness leaving your body. “Shall we, my love?”

“Your love?” You questioned him as he led you out from behind the seats.

“Mhm,” Fred responded as if it was a casual thing to say, not bothering to explain himself further. You took the stance McGonagall had instructed, a hand holding his and the other on his shoulder. Confidently, he set a hand on your waist, pulling you in to close the space between you. How could you only be friends when he did things like that? He was usually flirty with you and had been for years, but what he was so blissfully unaware of was how hard it had become for you to keep your composure. Although, a part of you could admit that he likely knew fully.

The both of you attempted to dance through your poor excuse for the waltz. At first, you quite literally stepped on each others’ feet. One could argue that his were the victim far more than yours, but he didn’t care to admit it to you. Regardless of who was correct, It did not go unnoticed by you that Fred was much better at this.

“Have you done this before?” You questioned, watching a smile tug at his face. You tried to pause your dance, but he continued on, not missing a beat. “You have, haven’t you?”

His lips formed a smirk, having a slightly more difficult time keeping up with the music now that you were distracted. “I have,” he said casually, gazing down at you.

“Who was the lucky girl?” You meant it to tease him, although the question twisted at you. You preferred not to try and visualize the thought.

Fred twirled you again, catching you off guard since you weren’t paying attention. “Ginny,” The reply earned a snort of laughter from you. “Now would you focus? We’re going to get good at this before the dance.”

You only laughed more at his determination. Fred shook his head, fighting back his own smile. “I’m so sorry.” You giggled, bringing your attention back to the dance.

“That’s alright, I can forgive you.” He joked with you, leading you through the dance once more. After a while you had actually started to improve. And eventually you were successful enough that even McGonagall praised you.

After you had wordlessly deemed you’d had enough practice, your dance turned into something less and less formal. Fred would twirl you and then pull you back into his arms, swaying you to the music. The rest of the room left you as you made your little space; spinning, tripping, and laughing. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow you were even more head over heels for him than before.

By the time everyone had finished and McGonagall had regathered the room, the seating arrangements were abandoned and traded for simply standing around her. You and Fred stood toward the back of the group, him using your shoulder as an armrest.

“Now one more thing, everyone.” Your professor announced. “Since the ball will be held on Christmas, you all will be given the week in advance to return home. But spend this time wisely. I expect all of you to keep up on your studies.” McGonagall had to know that very few of the students in the room would willingly spend their break studying, especially when this year we would be given two.

“You all may go!” She dismissed us, letting everyone file out of the room. “And practice your dancing!” You exited the room with Fred, who finally let go of you. George came out of the large doors with Angelina. You hadn’t even noticed they were dancing together since you were so focused on your own partner.

“How on earth are you two not together yet?” She asked with a smile. You knew she meant nothing but well by the question but it was currently a touchy subject to talk about.

“Angelina,” you replied quietly, in hopes that she would take your hint. She was oblivious to it and spoke on.

“I’m just saying,” She continued playfully. You shook your head, unable to help having a little amusement at how clueless the girl was in that moment. “When you do start dating we won’t be able to tell; you already act married—” George suddenly cut her off by gently taking her arm.

“I had a question to ask you, Angelina.” He spoke simply and led the confused girl away to prevent her from talking further. The way he said it wasn’t very convincing, but you were grateful for him regardless.

You glanced up at Fred, who returned your gaze with both a puzzled and slightly nervous expression. It wasn’t often you saw him look nervous. He stood there Frozen for a moment, trying to form the correct words. But once he had finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Hermione and Ginny’s poor timing.

“Can you believe it?” Ginny asked, taking your arm. She and Hermione both wore a wide grin. “What are we going to wear?”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to figure that out, Gin.” Hermione responded, noticing the situation quickly. She glanced from Fred to you, taking on a little guilt in her expression.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” Fred told you, giving you a little smile and walking off in the direction of the common room. You sighed, every part of you wishing he’d had the chance to say what was on his mind.

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The first of two breaks approached quicker than expected and soon you found yourself on the train home to the Weasley’s. You sat by the window, admiring the land as it passed by. Though it hadn’t snowed in a while, it had been cold enough that there were still patches of white here and there; the rest had already melted away. Fred’s eyes drifted to you, his expression softening at the sight. Oh, how beautiful you looked to him there, staring out the small train window. He took your hand and squeezed it affectionately, pulling your gaze toward his. A short look was shared and little smiles were exchanged before you looked back through the glass.

The sun had already fallen by the time you arrived to the burrow. Every single one of you stood at the door: You, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Before George could even knock, Molly was at the door to greet you. “There you all are!” She welcomed you cheerfully, only letting you in after each one of you had a hug. She had always treated you, Harry, and Hermione as one of her own children.

Inside became busy quickly after your group’s arrival. Percy, Bill, and Charlie had already arrived and came to greet you when you entered. “Bill!” You exclaimed as you spotted him, giving him a quick hug. You had known Bill for less time, but he had become your older brother just the same as Charlie had.

“Have you gotten taller since last I saw you?” He questioned. You gave him a rather sarcastic expression in return. The last time you saw him was the summer before last and it was very likely you had grown since then.

Charlie greeted you the same way, except he was far more nosy. He gave you a big hug and another remark about the status of you and Fred. “Any updates?” You rolled your eyes at the question. God, it was getting so old.

“For the last time, Charlie.” You whispered, glancing back to see if Fred was anywhere near you. “We aren’t dating and we won’t be anytime soon, so give it a rest.” He shrugged playfully at your response, not quite believing your words. Up until then, you had meant it every time you said it. But this time you weren’t so sure. Either way, you wanted to change the subject. This wasn’t difficult to do with Charlie. All you had to do was ask him about his dragons and he completely forgot about any situation between you and Fred.

That night had been deemed an honorary Christmas Eve since actual Christmas would be spent at Hogwarts. Molly had prepared a wonderful dinner for everyone, which was loud and chaotic with so many people fitting into one table. You made it work just fine. The sound of laughter, stories, and cheerful conversation filled your ears and kept a smile to your face. This was truly your favorite place to be.

After dinner had concluded and the noise had begun to die out, Molly hurried you out of the room. It was Christmas Eve and she had more she wanted to accomplish before morning. You offered your help, but it was declined “You enjoy the rest of your night, dear.” She told you. So once everyone else had departed for their rooms, you climbed the stairs with Fred following behind.

“So, Ginny’s room then?” Fred started, waiting for you to make a questioning face to continue. “Unless, you know, you want to share my bed.” The slightest bit of heat burned in your cheeks at the notion and when you looked back, he wore an exaggerated smirk.

“Nice try, Weasley.” You replied, crossing your arms. You had made it to Ginny’s room but he had more sets of stairs to climb. “I don’t think your brother would take too kindly to that idea.”

“No, he likely would not.” He admitted simply, leaning against the wall beside you. “But it was worth a shot.” The boy winked and you shook your head.

You mimicked his stance, leaning against the doorframe. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight, darling.” He held your gaze for another moment and then continued down the hall. You felt like melting right into the door, following him with your eyes as he climbed the next flight of stairs and out of sight. A sudden longing filled your heart. You wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but part of you would want nothing more than to follow him.

Right then you came to terms with your situation. You would tell him your feelings. You didn’t know when or where, but you would. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with nothing more than quick touches and flirty questions forever.

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Morning came quickly, and you found yourself awake before everyone else. It was a tradition for you and Fred. Each year, on Christmas, the two of you would wake up several hours earlier than the others. And each year Fred would try and beat you downstairs. However, he was never fully committed to the task and always awoke much later.

This year was no different. While you sat on the couch with a book, the boy lumbered into the living room with a heavy yawn. Without even so much as a good morning, he collapsed onto the couch beside you and hurried his head into the cushion. You giggled and used a free hand to tail a strand of his hair.

“Every year it gets harder to wake up.” He complained, his voice muffled against the fabric. A sigh escaped his body at your touch.

“You poor thing,” was your response. You let him lay like that for a minute, without disturbing him, until he was a little more awake. Eventually, he sat up and slid across the couch closer to you, sitting beside you and reading over your shoulder. This didn’t keep Fred’s attention for very long and soon he turned his head to gaze out the window. It had snowed a little more last night, leaving everything covered in a thin blanket of white.

After a moment or so, he glanced back down at you to find your eyes still traveling across the pages of your book to soak up all the ink spoke about. The sight put a sense of relaxation into his body. He sunk back down into his seat, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

He admired you like this for as long as he could before you noticed. You lowered your book, and turned to meet his eyes. “What?” You questioned him. Instead of avoiding your eyes, Fred gazed back into them, not in the slightest attempting to avoid them.

“Just trying to figure out what’s so interesting about that book.” He teased, breaking out of the trance you had him in. You shook your head at the statement, setting it down beside you.

“I’m so sorry to have bored you.” You returned sarcastically, turning to face him in the couch. When you met his eyes again, it took all his willpower not to get stuck there.

“That’s alright, I forgive you.” Fred replied, smiling at the chuckle he earned from you. He glanced out the small window again, noticing the little white flurries that had begun to fall from the grey clouds in the sky above.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He suggested after a long moment. You followed his gaze out the window.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want, love.” He took your hands and lifted you to your feet, gathering your coat and his to bundle up for the cold. Fred kept ahold of your hand and led you out the door, the burst of cold air hitting your body immediately. It was a dreadful change from the warmth of the house.

Despite your complaints, you followed Fred out into the snow, watching the shape his footprints left behind. Blades of grass tried to poke through where you both walked, successful here and there since there hadn’t yet been enough snow to conceal it completely.

It didn’t take long for you to adjust to the cold, as much as one could be. The original shock of it was replaced with rosy cheeks and a pink nose. You drifted away from the house, arm in arm with Fred.

Crossing the pathway was a hazard. Instead of snow, a layer of ice coated the stone beneath. And without much thought, Fred stepped onto it, immediately sliding to the ground and dragging you down with him.

“Fred!” You exclaimed in surprise, hitting the ground hard. He unfortunately didn’t do much to break your fall.

“Sorry!” He apologized profusely, rubbing the back of his head where he made contact with the ice. He placed a hand on the ground beside you to try and steady himself enough to stand, but his feet slipped out from under him and he came back down to join you. You burst into laughter.

“Oh, you hush,” he remarked, not-so-gracefully pulling you with him to the edge of the path to gain traction in the snow. Finally, he managed to stand, lifting you with him by your hands. From then on you both avoided the path.

The two of you continued on, wandering around in the snow until your fingers started to freeze. Fred led you into his father’s shed, which was where he kept his collection of muggle artifacts.

He slid the door open enough for you to slip inside. There was no heat, but it was insulated enough to provide a significant relief from the weather outside. “God, it’s cold.” You complained, blowing into your cupped hands in an attempt to warm your frozen fingers.

Fred leaned against the counter on one wall of the little structure. He opened his arms as an invitation. “Well, you know body heat is the best way to warm up.” He stated confidently, sending you a smirk. You agreed a little too quickly and walked into his arms. Who were you to turn down such an offer? As much as you hated to admit it to him, he was absolutely correct. Warmth radiated from his body, relieving you from your cold temperature. You opened his coat and slid your arms around him inside it, making it even warmer.

“Better?” He asked, arms embracing you. You nodded, gazing up at him with frosty cheeks and a little smile. His expression softened at the sight, getting trapped by your eyes once more. Your face seemed to glow to him, despite how cold it was for you.

“Much,” You replied simply, breathing in the smell of his jacket. This particular one he wore often. He wore it the day of the quidditch game and it still smelled of gunpowder. You buried your face in it, shielding yourself from the cold air.

Fred scanned the shed casually, his eyes catching an old record player. He pulled away from you just a little to reach it, apologizing with a chuckle when you complained. You turned your head to follow his gaze, watching him put one of the records into it.

“Dad showed me how to use these,” he explained, smiling in triumph when the music started up. “It’s a little different than the ones we have.” A slow song played, one that you had never heard before. But it felt like silk in your ears.

Fred took your hand, pulling you to him as he did when you were dancing in the corridor mere days before. “You want to dance here?” You questioned with a raised brow. The tiny shed severely lacked the space. He set a gentle hand on your waist, which stole any remaining words from your mouth immediately.

“Yeah, why not? Just don’t break anything.” He teased, beginning to sway you to the music. “McGonagall did say to practice, didn’t she?”

With less space around you, you both had to take a little more care than before, but you managed. He spun with you, following the tune of the song. Right away, you could tell it wasn’t his first time hearing it.

A minute or so into it and you realized the meaning. It was a love song. And that made your heart absolutely sick. He twirled you and met you again, pulling you back to him so your body rested against his. The gentle vibration of his humming travelled from him to you, seeping directly into your heart. Fred’s hand slid from your waist up to your back, filling you with both nerves and excitement. The mixture of the two felt like electricity in your veins.

Throughout the entire song, he managed to keep his eyes on yours. He seemed so calm. As if none of this made him into a wreck like it did you. Maybe behind the composure, it did make him nervous. You wanted more than anything then to be able to read his thoughts and find out.

Fred gazed down at you with gentle eyes, containing enough warmth that you were sure you’d never again feel the cold of the morning. “Fred?” You started softly, barely managing to get above a whisper. You heart thumbed against your chest and you desperately hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Yes, darling?” He responded, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. He wasn’t making this any easier for you. You thought about your words, trying with everything you had to make sure you put them together correctly. Your steps became smaller as he focused on you, unable to choose which of your eyes to lock on.

You opened your mouth a little but nothing came out at first. There was so much you wanted to say and so little words fit to say it. “I-I don’t know how to tell you this.” You stuttered, which was rather uncharacteristic for you. Nothing had ever made you feel so nervous before. But now, as you stared up at Fred Weasley, the man you had slowly fallen so in love with, you couldn’t breathe. It must have been showing on your face, because his softened.

Fred lifted a hand to the side of your face, brushing his thumb delicately across your cheek. “Then let me.” He responded in the same hushed voice as yours. His expression changed just slightly, finally letting you pick up a hint of nerves.

He made up his mind, picking his other hand up to your face and leaning in to press his lips to yours. This time you let him. Your entire body lit up, sending a feeling from head to toe that made you want to burst. You slid your hands up to his chest, meeting him with the same longing he kissed you with. It was so long overdue.

He sighed into your lips before pulling away. But before you could even open your eyes he kissed you all over your face. From your forehead, to your cheeks, to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart, stomach, and lungs all doing flips. It was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Fred admitted, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, y/n. I have ever since I met you.”

You wanted to melt right into the wood of the floor at those words. Never did you expect to actually hear them. “I love you too, Freddie.” You told him, having no better way to say it than that.

His smile grew into a wide grin, having longed to hear you say that just as much as you longed to hear it from him. “Well then, my love,” he started, twirling you once more and then abandoning the dance altogether. “I would be nothing short of thrilled if we could prove my entire family and everyone else correct about us.” You could tell he had also waited a long time for this. It suddenly seemed silly how long the two of you had avoided the subject.

“I’d like that,” You responded, mimicking his grin. Fred seemed more full of joy now than you’d ever seen him. He still held you there, savoring the feeling of your touch that meant something a little different than before. Now that he had you, he never wanted to let go.

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You walked back through the snow, wanting to get to the house before everyone started to wonder where you were. The entire way Fred’s mind was focused on you like a horse with blinders on. It was only the cold bite of the wintery morning that convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. His arm held yours with care, unwilling to part from you yet.

This time you avoided the path, climbing the slippery stairs of the porch cautiously to avoid another mishap. Fred stopped you at the door, sliding an arm around your waist. “I know you’ve known my siblings almost as long as I have, but I’m still going to apologize in advance. I think they’ve all been waiting for this for a long time.” You both fought a laugh at the statement. It was comical how involved everyone was in your relationship except for you and Fred— until now of course.

“Has it been as bad for you as it has me?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone.

He freed his hand to grab the door handle. “Maybe worse,” Fred snuck in another kiss before pushing the door open, not realizing it would not go unnoticed.

You stepped inside only to be met by George, who stood across the room with his jaw practically on the floor. “George?” You called.

“George before you go making a scene, let’s—” Fred started, knowing full well his brother would be more than happy to make a scene. He, of course, was interrupted by George yelling up the stairs.

“Charlie!” He shouted, climbing the stairs when he didn’t get a response. As expected, he completely ignored the protests behind him. You exchanged a look with Fred, who carried the same expression as you.

You came in and hung up your coats, just in time to see all the Weasleys piling in one at a time. Ginny was first, followed by Hermione. She looked at you two and then up the stairs. “I’ve never seen George look so happy in my life.” She said skeptically, hearing him bang on Charlie’s door from downstairs.

“He’s going to announce our relationship to the entire house.” Fred complained, earning an immediate series of excited gasps from the girls. They gathered around you, forgetting Fred’s existence entirely.

Bill had entered with perfect timing. “Relationship?” He inquired. “Did you—.”

“Yes, Bill.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. So far none of this had gone to plan. “If you must know, it’s true. We’re together.” God, it was embarrassing to tell everyone like this. Even in knowing everyone here was family to you in every way but blood.

Ginny and Hermione both grinned, expecting a full explanation from you. “Really?” Bill questioned, clearly not quite believing what he was hearing. It had been several years in the making.

“Yeah well, we talked it out, weighed the pros and cons.” Fred remarked sarcastically, earning a poorly concealed laugh from you. He opening his mouth to speak again, but was once again interrupted by the appearance of another brother.

Charlie stepped off the bottom stair, followed by George. They both wore smug smiles. “Fred and I are never dating, Charlie! You’re crazy, Charlie! Give it a rest, Charlie!” The older boy mimicked what you had said to him just the night before, mocking your assurances. He walked over and ruffled your hair, sending his brother a wink. Fred rolled his eyes dramatically. “But was I really crazy?”

Bill crossed his arms, chiming in again. “You are crazy, yes.”

Charlie sent him a look and returned his attention to you two. “Except poor timing, you were one day late.” He frowned.

George stepped forward, holding a hand out to Charlie and Bill. Your eyes followed him with a puzzled expression. “I believe I’m owed something.” He said to the both of them. They sighed and handed over a few coins each.

You stared at them in shock. “You guys did not have a bet on us.”

“We did.” Charlie replied with no shame. “I told you right to your face we did.” He glared at George as he pocketed his money.

“I figured you were joking.” A sigh escaped you.

“Nope.” George stated simply. “Charlie thought it would be before Christmas, Bill thought after, and I knew it would be on Christmas.

“But this isn’t actually Christmas.” Hermione chimed in, questioning their logic. The three brothers exchanged a glance at her words.

Before any arguing started, Molly and Arthur arrived. “Morning everyone!” Molly greeted. “And congratulations!” She pulled you into a tight hug, heat rushing to your face. It was one thing when Fred’s siblings did it, but Molly and Arthur were a completely different story.

“Ok, mom. It’s Christmas, can we all avoid making this about us? You’re going to overwhelm my girlfriend.” Fred stated, earning gasps and looks from everyone in the room; including you. You knew Fred Weasley and you knew he did this on purpose. Your suspicions were confirmed upon seeing his subtle smirk.

Ron, Harry, and Percy arrived, completing the group. “Did we miss something?” Ron questioned, confused at why everyone was gathered around like this.

George elbowed his brother. “Didn’t you hear? Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” He said, sending you a wink. You hoped your cheeks were still red from the cold so it would cover your blush.

Ron started a reply but was stopped by Arthur swooping in to save you. “Alright Weasleys, let’s not forget it’s Christmas!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the heavily decorated tree and the pile of gifts surrounding its base. You sighed, thankful for the distraction. Fred squeezed your shoulder gently as a silent apology, but all you responded with was a silent giggle. The whole situation was ridiculous.

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It didn’t take long before the entire group was gathered around, each of you sorting the the gifts to find the ones with the correct name. Molly had knitted everyone a new version of her famous sweater, all with the initial of who it belonged to sewn into the front. Before you knew it, each and every one of you had found theirs and put it on.

You glanced at the girls in time to see them exchanging neatly decorated gift boxes, turning to you with yours. Across the room, Ron laughed at something Harry received loudly enough that it caught the attention of half the family. Beside you, Fred and George looked through the box of materials you gifted them; all things they could use in whatever experiments they pleased.

“Alright, I have a special one for you.” Fred told you, pulling your attention to him.

“Is that so?” Your eyes landed on a small box he pulled out. It was wrapped in an obvious failed attempt to be perfectly neat, but you loved it just the same.

As you reached out to take it from him, he held it playfully out of your reach. “Fred!” You exclaimed, severely exaggerating an annoyed expression. He laughed brightly, letting you struggle for another moment before handing it over. You snatched it right out of his hand, eyeing him.

“Oh just open, darling. The anticipation is killing me.” He told you, leaning a hand on the ground to sit over your shoulder. You shook your head and carefully tore open the packing, once again wondering if Fred fully knew the effect he so easily had on you. Beneath the paper and tucked inside a little box lay a bracelet. The sight made you practically melt. The piece of jewelry was the exact one you had pointed out that night at the quidditch game, so many months ago.

“It’s the one I told you about. You kept it for this long?” You smiled at the pride in his expression. Fred took the bracelet and your wrist, gently tying it on for you. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by his twin brother.

“It was almost longer too.” George cut in, still sifting through the box in front of him. “He would’ve left it at Hogwarts if I hadn’t seen it with his things and so heroically rescued it for him.”

Fred gave him a look, shoving his shoulder. “Well look, my intentions were good.” He swore, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“It’s perfect, Freddie. Thank you.” You replied, brushing your thumb over the surface of your bracelet. He smiled down at you with an expression somehow even happier than that of this morning.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple.

Merry Christmas,” You replied in the same manner, unable to keep a grin off your face. What a perfect Christmas it was turning out to be.

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His Queen: Nameday

A/n: This isn’t a part two to the story, His Queen but more like a little frame story. I do hope you enjoy it. If it’s liked then I’ll start thinking about actually doing part two. Enjoy! -L

Summary: After some time has passed since the birth of Leonidas, you were celebrating your nameday when you been craving Sandor’s touch.

Warning: Joffrey being Joffrey, NSFW, SFW, smut, Sandor is a sweetheart, self conscious after giving birth,we still giving Joffrey that milk of the poppy😌, pussy eating, having sex but there is a person in the room, Sandor Clegane x FEM!Reader

If you haven’t read His Queen, click on the title.

Word Count: 3.7K

»»————-　♡　————-««

The great hall was filled with people who were invited for the celebration. It was your nameday and Joffrey had thrown a huge feast for you after having a tournament. To be honest it was mostly for him, you weren’t fond of tourneys, seeing two men fighting for no reason other than measuring their cock and seeing who’s better at fighting didn’t entertain you as it did for Joffrey. Plus it meant Sandor had to fight. You didn’t like seeing Sandor fighting. You didn’t want to see him get hurt. 

The feast was well and you gave your thanks to everyone who wished you a good nameday. You had been glancing over at Sandor who was at the entrance of the hall looking around making sure everything was safe. When he caught your eye, you bit your bottom lip. He wink at you, that was a sign. Sandor and you had made up different signs to talk to each other. Scratching the chin was a sign to meet up in the library. Two nods were a no. A wink was a yes. Biting the bottom lip was a sign to meet up tonight. 

After the birth of Leonidas you haven’t had the chance to be intimate with Sandor. You missed his touch and his lips on you. You missed the attention and his gentleness. You were so busy looking at Sandor that you didn’t realize that Joffrey, who was next to you, was talking to you. You jumped in your seat when you felt a painful pinch on your leg. You let out a wince and look over at Joffrey with a frown. You met his piercing blue eyes glaring at you. 

“Next time pay attention to me when I speak to you.” He scolded you like a child. 

“Apologies, your grace.” You said lowering your eyes to the floor. This pleases him and he lets out a sigh before repeating. 

“The maester has assured me that you are ready and healed. Tonight I’ll have you.” Your stomach dropped at his words. You have been declining Joffrey to bed him. Giving him excuses that you aren’t healed yet. Some days you tell him that you have your blood moon and he becomes disgusted.  You have gotten as far as going to the maester and telling him the same thing. Your luck just ran out.

“Very well.” You told him. You massaged your leg that he pinched under the table. You had to find a way to slip some milk of the poppy in his drink before he goes to the chambers tonight. 

Joffrey had gotten up from his seat to speak with some lord and you quickly looked over to your left to call one of your ladies in waiting. She came to you right away. Her eyes widen when you mention to her to retrieve milk of the poppy for you quickly and in secret. When she didn’t move right away, you gently held her hand. 

“The king has requested for me to bed him tonight. You know the type of man he is. I will not refuse my king but it’s the pain that I can’t endure.” 

“You should have it right away, your grace.” She said before bowing her head. Everyone knew how Joffrey was, what kind of man he is. He was a bully and downright cruel. You got used to it, the pinches, the insults and the abuse. You’re grateful that he didn’t do any such thing to your son. 

Looking ahead you looked at Sandor once more. He made everything better. He was the reason why you continue on. He gave you the most wonderful gift of all, your son. When you couldn’t be with Sandor, you stayed with your son at all times. His eyes were a reminder of him. His kind heart was another thing like Sandor. Under that cold and hard exterior was a kind man. You felt like the luckiest woman in the seven kingdoms to experience Sandor’s kindness and love. 

You looked away when your lady in waiting returned with a goblet of wine. She removed the cap of a glass vessel containing the milk of the poppy. “Everything. The whole thing.” 

“Are you certain? This will put you right to sleep.” 

“Exactly.” You told her watching her emptying the vessel into the wine behind you and away from everyone’s view. Handing you the wine, she hid the vessel between her breasts and bowed her head before leaving. 

You turned back and saw Joffrey was walking towards you. You placed it next to his goblet. 

“Celebration should end soon. Can’t wait to have you.” Joffrey said, sitting back down next to you. 

“Neither can I.” You lied through your teeth. You felt one of his hands on top of your lap. Bile started to come up your throat when his hand was going under your gown. You grabbed his wrist and leaned over at him, getting close to his face.

“Drink wine. I like the taste of it from your tongue.” You whispered to him, making him grin. You handed him the goblet of wine that contains the milk of the poppy. 

You watched as he drank it all in one gulp. 

That night you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you can hear Joffrey light snores in the back. His uncle, Jamie, dragged him into bed a few minutes ago. You had left the party to prepare yourself for Sandor and tuck Leonidas into bed early. Jamie plopped Joffrey on the bed and bid you goodnight as he left. You leaned over at Joffrey making sure he was dead asleep after Jamie left, you made sure he was. You slapped him across the face, a hard slap. You smiled when he didn’t wake up. It worked, you wouldn’t be sleeping with Joffrey tonight. 

You traced the patterns of your nightgown while looking at the mirror. You haven’t been intimate with Sandor for a while. You were nervous and self conscious. Your body had changed and you wondered if Sandor would still want you. You heard a slight rumble and looked over by the wall near the fireplace. The tapestry hung from the wall slightly moved and a hand appeared behind it. You smiled because you recognized that large hand. 

The castle of King’s Landing had many hidden secret passageways and tunnels, many didn’t know about this but Sandor did. He knew the castle like the back of his hand. He had found a passage that led straight to your bed chambers. Sandor found you smiling moving the tapestry aside, he walked inside. He saw you walking towards him. Sandor wore a white tunic shirt and black trousers. He had his sword with him in case of anything. 

“Happy nameday.” He tells you as he leans down to kiss you. You cupped his face with your hands as you deepened the kiss. 

“Thank you.” You said against his lips. You pulled away and led Sandor to the loveseat by the fireplace. Sandor sat down and opened his legs as he placed his sword near the love seat.

“I’m heavy.” You whined making him shake his head in disbelief. 

“Nonsense.” He replies as he makes you sit down on his lap. You wrapped an arm around his neck and he wrapped his arms around you. You embraced him and his warmth. You missed this, being close to him. You couldn’t do this with Joffrey. 

“The cunt is asleep?” Sandor whispered looking over his shoulder. 

“Aye.” You answered him as you kissed his cheek. “I gave him a good slap to make sure too.” Sandor chuckled at you. 

Sandor’s warm hand rubbed your back as you hugged him. He moans softly as you kiss his neck, you tugs the laces from the necklace. Your fingers immediately went to touch his chest, feeling the soft and thick chest hair. 

“I missed you.” You tell him.  

“Me too.” He told you, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“I got you something.” You raise your eyebrows at Sandor. 

“You did?” You asked him happily. He nodded at you as he grabbed something from his front pocket of his trousers.

The ring looked so tiny between his fingers. It was a simple silver band with an oak leaf filigree pattern around the band. 

“It’s not much. You don’t have-.” You took the ring from his hands with a smile. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You cut him off as you gave him a kiss on his scar cheek. Sandor doesn’t say anything but has his own smile as he watches you excitedly slide the ring down with your index finger, it fitted perfectly. He knew it would, he had tied a string around your finger while you were dozing off the last time he was with you. 

You showed Sandor the ring and his smile grew big. You showered him with kisses on his face. “It’s beautiful.” 

You kept admiring the ring, not noticing that Sandor was staring at you with such admiration. 

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking.” You looked over at him with a small smile blushing really hard. Sandor cups your cheek, he pulls you in for another kiss. He leans his forehead against yours to catch his breath. 

“Take me to bed.” You tell him as you playfully pull on his grown beard. 

You let out a squeal when Sandor gathered you in his arms and got up from the loveseat. With one arm around your lower back and the other in the crook of your knees. Sandor carefully carried you to the bed, his eyes darted to Joffrey then back at you. He knew Joffrey was asleep but he still was a bit nervous. He didn't want to know, he didn't even want to think what would happen if Joffrey caught him and you. He worried for your safety and Leonidas. 

Sandor laid you down on your spot, he was glad that the bed was big. Enough room for three people. Sandor knelt between your legs as he took his shirt off, throwing it aside. You loved watching his muscles flex every time he did that. You grabbed a hold of one of his big arms pulling him towards you. You lean up to meet his lips. Sandor couldn’t stop touching you, your legs, your hips when he touched your stomach he felt you tensed up. He frowns but ignores it, he pulls away to kiss your neck down your chest. He goes to help you get rid of the gown when you tell him to stop. 

“I want to leave it on.” Sandor pulls away and looks down at you. 

“Did he hurt you again?” He asked worriedly, his hands began to clench. He had seen the bruises on your body before.  You shook your head and decided to tell him the truth. 

“My body his changed, Sandor. I’m not what I used to look like.” He notices you looking away from his gaze. 

“I don’t care what your body looks like. You had a babe, my babe. Your body should be worshiped everyday.” You felt like crying at his words and he noticed it. He leans over you. 

“You don’t have to take it off. I won’t force you.” He tells you. “I would like to see your body. I want to kiss every single part of it.” 

You never shy away from Sandor before. You knew he wasn’t lying. Sandor wasn’t the type to lie, he would say it straight to your face, the good and the bad . “Help me.” You ask him. He helps you sit up and grab the bottom of the sleeping gown as you raise your arm up. 

You look like an angel he thinks as you laid back down, he immediately leans over you, his mouth goes to your chest. Kissing it, savoring your skin. You moan as you feel his tongue dragging down on your sternum, his hand laches on your breast. While the other has his mouth on. Sandor’s cock grew hard, your body indeed changed and he loved it. You were more sensitive, you moaned as he sucked on your nipple. You were fuller, as his hands went down, he squeezed your hips. You threw your head back when Sandor continued to make his way down kissing your tummy. 

“There’s that pretty cunt I missed so much.” He says when he’s between your legs. You look down at him and smile as he kisses your inner thighs. Biting your bottom lip when he looks at you. 

“She missed me?” Sandor asked and you nodded. 

He kisses your mound, enjoying the scent of your musk. He curses under his breath when he feels you're already wet. He drives his face into your cunt. His tongue licking your slit. You cry out when his nose hits your clit as he eats you out. Sandor is practically growing like an animal as he eats your pussy. He hooked his arms under your legs parting them wider so he could bury his face against your pussy. 

You cry out his name when Sandor slowly licks your entrance. Sandor was breathing heavily, he had to catch his breath for a moment. His face is wet with your slick, it’s coated on his beard. He kisses your throbbing clit as he breathes. He brings one of his hands to part your plump and soaked lips so he has better access to your clit. Sandor dips his finger inside of you slowly, he doesn’t want to hurt. He wants to get you ready for his cock. 

He smirks when you curse as he slowly adds another. His cock twitches when he feels your spongy sweet spot.  He rubs your clit with his fat thumb as he watches you arch your back. 

With your head thrown back and eyes closed you were feeling you were going to explode. It’s been a while since you had cum. Opening your eyes, you turned your head to the right, you saw Joffrey next to you. You had forgotten all about the blonde. He was still sound asleep, he had his face turned to you. You couldn't help but grow more aroused by this. Joffrey is sleeping next to you while Sandor is eating and fingering your cunt. You thought about what would have happened if he saw his wife, the queen getting eaten out by his rugged guard. 

“You’re close. I feel it. Cum now.” Sandor tells you as he rubs harder on your clit. Him demanding you was what sent you off. You came hard on his hand while staring at Joffrey. Sandor smiles as he licks your cum off his fingers. He gives kitten lick to your cunt enjoying as you twitch under him. 

Sandor stares at you as you catch your breath. He gets out of the bed and takes his boots out along with his trousers. “Fuck.” He moans to himself at the sight of your cunt as he gets on the bed between your legs. 

“Let me return the favor.” You said with a smile but Sandor pushes your legs apart so he fits in between them. 

“Another day. I need you now.” You continue to look up at Sandor as he traced your bottom lip with his index finger. Your brows knit together in confusion when he didn't say anything. He kept staring at you, he noticed your expression. 

“This is the only time that I get to see your face up close. Your pretty face.” Sandor takes notes of your face. Your brows, your nose, your lips and your eyes. He admires you and he feels like his heart is jumping out of his chest by the way you look up at him. You grabbed a hold of his wrist and brought the palm of his hand to your lips, kissing it. 

He says your name before leaning down to kiss you, your legs wrap around his waist. You let out a whine when he feels him slowly sliding himself in of you, stretching you wide open. He feels your nails digging his back when he starts thrusting in and out of you slowly, he kisses you to cover your moans. As much he wanted to hear you cry out for his cock, both of you had to keep quiet.

It’s hard for you to keep quiet, you couldn't not when his girthy cock is splitting you open. He fills you so much it's hard to contain the moan. His fat head's tapping against your womb and you feel your arousal sliding down to your ass every time he thrusted out of you. Sandor bites his bottom lip to the point he breaks the skin, he licks his bottom bloody lip. The taste of copper and your tight cunt around his cock was becoming too much. He’s on you, hiding his face between your neck and shoulder as he ruts deep into you. The bed is creaking every time he thrust inside you, you're left out of breath every time he slams inside of you. 

Sandor groans when he feels your wall tighten around him, he grinds his hips into circles making you cry out in pleasure. The sound of his heavy balls hitting against your ass, the sound of his breathy moans against your neck. 

“Want you to have my babe again.” Sandor tells you against his neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulder holding on for dear life. 

“Heard what the maester said to Joffrey. You're mine. You're all mine. Only having my babes.” You let out a whine when Sandor pounded into you with a grunt. 

“Mine, pretty queen is all mine.” Sandor curls the bedsheet under both of you, in his fist as he feels you cuming on his dick. 

“Came all over my cock because I said you were mine.” You nodded, not able to speak as you kept holding onto Sandor. You knew Sandor was near, his thrusts were slowing down. You wanted him to cum just like you did. You wanted to make him feel good. 

“Give me another babe.” Sandor whines to you. “I want another babe. Your babe.” You cry out to him.

“I only want to have your kids. No one else.” Something snaps into Sandor’s and his thrusts turn erratic. He’s panting heavily now as he fucks you harder. He's going to give you another kid. He’s going to put a child inside of you because he’s yours and you’re his. He looks at you as he continues. You have teary eyes and you're moaning his name out.  

“Ah-h fuck-fuck.” Sandor cries out as he cums deep inside your womb filling you up. You let out a deep breath when he completely drops his weight on you. He was about to move when you wrapped your limbs tighter around him. You didn’t want him to leave yet, you wanted him inside of you forever. 

It was a few minutes and he still remained inside of you. You had begun to rub your hands up and down his back, he’s practically purring when you lightly scratched his back. You can feel the scars on his face against your neck, you didn’t mind one bit. You call out his name softly and he looks at you. 

He shuts his eyes when you start to kiss his face, kissing each inch of it. You even kissed his bushy beard. Both of you knew time was ticking, as much both of you wanted to stay together for the entire night. It is impossible. Joffrey might walk up or someone might come in. Sandor notices you’re drifting off. He pushes himself up and kisses you just like you had done with him. He’s so gentle with the kisses. 

Sandor is stalling, he knew he was. He should have gotten dressed by now and on his way to his own chambers but he couldn’t. You had just milked his cock dry, you looked so beautiful under him. He doesn’t say goodbye to you, you feel asleep the moment he removes himself from you. He’s standing by your side naked as he brings the sheets and blankets up to your body. Covering you and tucking you into bed. 

He gives you one last look before quickly getting dressed and walking towards the loveseat to get his sword. He looks over at the bed to see you and Joffrey sleeping. 

You don't remember when you fell asleep in his arms but you woke up by the sound of Joffrey's voice. You quickly remember that you had forgotten about Joffrey’s clothes when you woke up and looked over at Joffrey. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw he was naked like you, Sandor must have done it before he left. Joffrey was sitting up rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. He was groaning and moaning about having a headache. 

“I shall have the servants get a maester.” You told him softly. You were about to get up when Joffrey leaned over you. Pushing you back down on the bed, Joffrey shook his head. 

“Did we?” You nodded at his question. He seemed happy about it and leaned down next to you, prop up with one arm on the bed. 

“Mother has been pestering me about another child. Lay down and don't let my cum escape.” He looks over at you and pulls the sheet down exposing your breasts. He stares at the love bites with a smirk like he was proud of his work. If he only knew. You were going to cover yourself when Joffrey removed the sheets completely off making you gasp. 

“Hold still.” He commands you. You obeyed him, you didn't feel like getting hit this early in the morning. You tensed up when you felt one of his hands go between your legs. 

He feels the aftermath of your love making with Sandor. Sandor’s thick cum is dripping out of you. Joffrey nods and you bite the inside of your cheek as he rubs your outer lips with Sandor’s and your cum. Your eyes widen when he puts his fingers in his mouth, licking it clean. 

“We taste good together.” He tells you before getting up from the bed to get his robe to start his day

“We do, your grace.” You said as you looked up at the ceiling tugging on the sheets to cover yourself.