#well. more the getting myself to start writing part. i am not stuck on the actual words

[coffeebanana]

i should not be allowed to just create new word documents

like sure, it's a brainstorming doc NOW, but it's a slippery slope from there to a 10+ chapter outline and an "oh fuck now there's a chapter draft how did that get there?"

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[cozage]

Hi, Coza! I hope you are doing well! I miss your writings and am so excited to see your requests are open! :)

I saw a post by sunshinescribes that talked about how Law doesn’t believe in unconditional love and how he thinks relationships should be transactional. Hopefully I can properly link it here because they do a really good job at explaining it: https://www.tumblr.com/sunshinescribes/728643191573757952/i-think-the-most-tragic-part-of-laws-character-is

I was wondering if it was possible to have a scenario based off of this post of reader just appreciating and loving Law because they want to. Like maybe they’re just waking up and reader is using the rare moment of peace and quiet in bed to spill all of their love and sappy thoughts to him. He deserves all of the comfort, love, and care 😭

A/N: Thanks for this devastatingly lovely prompt! Here's the post for everyone if you want to go give it a read (and a like!) Characters: gn reader x Law Cw: none :)  Total word count: 850

There Are No Conditions

The way the light refracted through the cabin window in the morning and bounced off of Law’s ravenous hair was one of your favorite things in this world. It was one of the few times he didn’t have a scowl on his face. He rarely smiled in his sleep, but his face almost always looked so peaceful. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and then his face turned soft again. He must have been having a good dream. 

You noticed he was starting to get a few gray hairs. He must have been under some kind of stress recently. Though he always seemed to be since you all had entered the New World. You knew he had a lot on his mind, and you wished there was something you could do to make his life easier. You wanted to bear that burden with him. 

“Do you need something?” Law’s voice came out hoarse, but his sudden alertness had startled you slightly. 

“Nothing at all,” you said sweetly. “Just admiring you in this light.”

He groaned and pulled you in closer to him. “We’re getting curtains at the next island.”

You gave an exasperated gasp, but snuggled in tightly to him knowing his threat was empty. “And you would deny me of such a simple pleasure for what? Extra sleep?”

His eyes cracked open at your words and he peered down at you. “You cannot enjoy watching me sleep.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “It’s one of my favorite things in this world, Trafalgar Law. In fact, you’re one of my favorite things in this whole world, so everything that you do is automatically good in my eyes.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing you. “Flattery is a little thick today. You might want to tone it down, or I’ll catch on to the fact that you want something.”

You stuck your tongue out at his words. “All I wanted was to look at you while you sleep!”

“Freak.” He paired his words with a kiss to your forehead to show he didn’t actually mean them. 

The two of you were silent for a while. You thought he had fallen back asleep, so you occupied your time tracing over his tattoos. But after a few minutes, he spoke again.

“Okay, seriously-” He pulled back slightly to look at you. He tended to do that when he wanted to make sure you were being truthful. “What did you want to do today?”

You were never good at hiding your emotions. You knew they had all washed over your face in a matter of seconds, and Law could read them all with intense precision. Confusion. Knowing. Irritation. And then, understanding. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Law,” you explained. “I was just…enjoying the view? I don’t know how to say it correctly. I find myself staring sometimes because I find you interesting.”

Law’s brows scrunched together in confusion. “If you wanted a good view, the deck and the sea are far more interesting. Especially at this time of day.”

You gave a humorless laugh. “I love you more than I love the sea, idiot.”

He froze at those words, and you could see him struggling to make sense of them. “So you were staring at me…?”

“Because I love you,” you finished for him. 

That didn’t seem to help. “And you love me because…?”

“I don’t know!” You gave out a sharp laugh at the thought. “There are no reasons and so many reasons! But there are no conditions for my love, Law! I just love you because I love you. I can’t say exactly why I love you. I just do!”

You had really done it now. You were fairly certain you had never seen Law more confused or more flustered than he was in this moment. He gave a hard swallow and nodded his head, but you could tell further clarification was still needed.

“You don’t understand,” you said, watching his eyes turn to the ceiling. If they went there, that usually meant he was lost in thought. 

He shrugged. “I do, in a way. I feel that way about you, but I…well, I never expected someone to feel that way about me.”

The weight of his words made your heart sink. He deserved more than anyone to know how much he was treasured. You would die for him for no other reason than love. And while he could grasp the concept, he couldn’t understand why someone would feel that way towards him. 

“How about I tell you all the things I love about you?” you offered softly, trying to pull him away from his thoughts. It was too early to be thinking of such deep topics.

His eyes shifted over to you, and you could see he was half alarmed by your offer. But you could see the smallest spark of intrigue. 

So you began listing everything you could think off, absentmindedly still tracing over his tattoos. 

The sun was more than halfway across the sky before you finished. And there was a soft smile on his face during your all’s afternoon nap. 

[thechekhov]

Hello! I'm a big fan of your work. I wanted to ask for advice / thoughts about an art problem I've been struggling with that you seem to have at least some sort of solution for?

So basically I'm an animator and digital artist (hobbyist), and I'm constantly coming up with new ideas for things to make. Only problem is that most of these ideas would take up to or longer than 2 months to make because, yknow, animation isn't quick, especially if you want to take your time to make it good. But with so many ideas that all take so long to complete, I often find myself tied and frozen as I can't decide what's most worthwhile to start first. I passionately want to complete all these projects, but my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control, and I've just been stuck for several months. You juggle a lot of projects- not all of them art, but it still seems applicable here. This is excluding other life responsibilities like work and stuff, I don't have problems with getting that stuff done. This is purely within my creative hobby.

If u can't say anything thats fine I'm just curious- You have a massive output with great quality. Thank you!

This is a very kind message, and one that humbles me a lot, because although I'd love to bestow upon you some sort of advice that might help, or give words of wisdom..............I feel like that would be fake of me because

I also suffer from this very same thing

That is to say, this part of your message:

my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control

It rings true for me too! I think it might ring true for many others as well.

There are stories in my head all the time. There are stories, and concepts, and IDEAS and they are all so shiny and new in the beginning, and then they slowly peter out and, since I frequently don't have time to do anything about them, they fade into the background.

I have enough trouble with this in terms of COMICS (also a lengthy medium, though less so than animation, which, OOF, you have my condolences, you are stronger than I) that I have started to just come to terms with the fact that some things are not meant to be.

Which is, I think, one of the small bits of advice I can give.

1. Some things may just be ideas, and that's okay.

I think one of the best ways that I've learned to deal with Idea-Death is making it count towards something in the future. That is to say, using them as compost.

In order for this to work, you have to actively put your ideas into the compost pin instead of the trash. That means maybe investing in either a notebook, or a sketchbook, OR just a discord server for yourself where you organize ideas and dump them all into a channel to scroll back through later.

It may seem useless at first, but honestly, it can be satisfying to PUT them somewhere instead of letting them fade away.

Plus, you may one day scroll through them and rediscover an idea at just the right time. OR you may be inspired to take parts of an old idea and repurpose it for a new idea that you DO have motivation for.

However, there's also this part, right?

I've just been stuck for several months

I.......feel this. Sometimes I, too, feel stuck for several months. There are times when even if I WANT to work on something, I just don't have the time. It takes too long to finish!

.........which is why I recommend the following:

2. Don't finish. Just start.

Now, this is the toughie. I can't exactly say that it would work for everyone. But I have learned that I am WAY more likely to return to a project and work on it again sometime in the future if I actually DO something for it the first time I get inspired.

I have SO MANY things that I have not published in my folders. I have sketches of gifs that are 10 frames long. I have concept art sketches boldly labeled with project names that will likely never get off the ground. I have Googledoc files with summary and plot outlines for stories I'll probably never write. I have discord channels with random ass concepts and a few sketches for characters.

And what I have found is that if I just WORK on these ideas when I feel like it, they are more likely to survive, even if they don't thrive right away.

I'm also a huge proponent of Procrastination Rotation.

That is to say, I have so many projects I COULD be working on, that if I ever feel frustrated or stuck on one thing, I just shift myself slightly to the left and do another thing instead. I almost never force myself to work through a block (save for a few money-motivated deadlines) just to complete a thing.

Stuck on a comic? I'll go write a few lines of fic. Unsatisfied with where the fic is going?

I'll go sketch out an illustration. Incapable of finishing an illustration?

I'll go google some references for another comic project and slap them all into an image file for later, so that I have SOMETHING in place for when I want to do studies.

And so on and so forth.

I have comic ideas, and comic sketches, and 30+ pages of original comics sketched. I don't know if they'll make it. It would take a lot of work.

But it also takes very little work - just a few extra pages sketched while I'm bored for an hour. Or a bit of lineart while I listen to a podcast. Or just a doodle somewhere which I snap a pic of and add to my discord channel for that project.

Will it work for everyone? Probably not. But I think that our creative culture is sometimes too attached to a linear production style. The truth is that art, or illustrations, or animation, or comics - none of it has to be on an assembly line. It can be tinkered with and put aside. And then, maybe, picked apart for scraps.........or maybe made into something new!

I don't know if that helps you at all, but I hope it at least helps someone.

And good luck with your animating!

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.

This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.

---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

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#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

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Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

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FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 21

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.

Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.

It’s stuck in his head.

The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.

The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.

There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.

He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.

He closes his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.

Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.

To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.

He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.

He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.

The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow. 

He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.

He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.

At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust. 

One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.

It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.

After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall. 

There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.

He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.

He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.

It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.

Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.

Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.

.

The first night after Billy left was the worst.

It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid. 

You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you. 

You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.

Nothing.

There was always something wrong.

After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.

You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.

It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.

You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.

It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.

It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.

While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close. 

You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.

It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.

At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.

Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.

Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him. 

You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.

She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.

At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.

The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.

You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.

.

The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.

All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.

He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.

It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.

The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.

Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.

The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.

He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.

He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.

He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.

He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.

He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.

He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.

His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.

He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible. 

You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.

The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.

He’s your biggest threat now.

He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.

The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.

The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help. 

Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.

And then, everything quiets.

He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.

He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.

He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.

.

Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you. 

It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.

The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.

The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.

You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.

You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.

You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.

A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.

The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.

“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.

He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.

It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.

When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic,  you gulp.

“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.

You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left. 

Maybe you’d overstayed?

“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.

“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.

You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.

He blinks, and then stops moving.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”

For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.

“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.

You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.

You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.

He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.

His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.

“You smell good.” He says.

“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.

His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.

He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.

“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek. 

“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now,  eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.

When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.

“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.

“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.

He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.

Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity. 

He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.

An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.

You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.

A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.

He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.

You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away. 

His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.

It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.

You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.

It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.

His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.

Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.

“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.

A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two. 

Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck. 

You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.

“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.

You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.

A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.

Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.

You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.

The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.

The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.

You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process. 

You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.

He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.

“I think you should run.”

“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.

“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.

There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.

It’s exactly how you want it.

“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”

When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.

He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.

You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.

“I think you want to chase me, and I think  I want to be chased.”

A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.

You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.

Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.

His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.

“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It just made me want to catch you more.”

His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.

It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.

His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.

You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.

He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”

You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.

Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.

His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.

“Answer me.”

“Missed you.”

He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.

He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.

You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.

Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.

He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.

When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.

“Ask me.” He commands.

You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.

“P-please.” You breathe.

He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.

“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”

“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”

He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.

He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.

His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.

After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.

You gasp.

Holy fuck, how did he just do that?

You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.

You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.

He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.

Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.

You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.

His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.

His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.

He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.

He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.

Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.

There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.

Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment. 

Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.

He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.

He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.

You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.

Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.

Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.

It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.

You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.

Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.

You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.

It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.

He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.

When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.

Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.

That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.

.

Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.

Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.

He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.

His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast. 

More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts. 

To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.

And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.

You.

Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt. 

And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. 

How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.

He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.

Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.

But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.

Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.

The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.

He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.

.

You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.

You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.

But god, does it feel good. 

“Had enough?”

It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.

It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.

“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.” 

You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.

“You. I’m asking for you.”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“You shouldn’t want me.”

And yet, you do.

You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.

You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.

When he does nothing, you groan angrily.

“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”

In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.

“That was all you had to say.”

And then so many things happen at once.

He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.

You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.

Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.

Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.

When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.

He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.

You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.

You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.

You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.

Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.

Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.

Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.

You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.

He grips your jaw harder.

“Say. It.” He hisses.

“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.

You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.

You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.

“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.

You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.

A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper. 

When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.  

He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.

When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.

It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.

“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.

You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.

Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.

He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.

Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.

There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.

He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.

His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.

He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.

It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.

You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.

It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.

You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.

He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.

It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.

A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.

It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.

Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.

He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.

.

When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.

All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.

His mate is beautiful.

Made just for him, and him for her.

The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.

All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.

He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder. 

It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.

He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.

He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.

It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.

Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.

Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.

It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.

He would simply, choose you.

.

When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.

He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.

When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.

It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.

You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.

His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.

He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.

He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.

It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.

Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.

That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him. 

“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.

“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.

After a moment, he goes deeper.

You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.

His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.

His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.

“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.

“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.

He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.

“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.

A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks. 

You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought. 

His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter. 

Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.

He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.

Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?

Was that a real possibility for the two of you?

“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.

.

Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.

Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.

He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.

He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.

Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.

“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.

You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.

 “Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”

“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.

“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.

.

Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.

He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.

You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.

You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.

.

When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.

One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.

.

It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.

You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.

.

You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.

You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.

His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.

“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.

“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.

He chuckles.

.

You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.

Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.

He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.

It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.

But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.

And then of course, you have to kiss him.

One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.

You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.

You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.

He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.

You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-

Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.

You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.

The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.

The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.

You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.

.

.

.

A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.

[cripplecharacters]

Do you have any tips (or previous posts) about how to write a young person who’s first-time cane user? This one is for a character who escapes a lifetime of being experimented on, and learns in the aftermath of being rescued that this rather compromised her ability to walk well again. I’ve written characters with other mobility devices for getting around. But never canes. I myself am physically disabled but have never needed anything like these before. I’m always eager to learn.

Hi!

If your character is a first time cane user, here's some things that could happen:

She will need to learn how to walk with the cane first. When you're starting, it's easy to mess up (though it could be my dyspraxia speaking) and overfocus on how you should walk because you're just getting used to it. She could randomly stop and correct her gait, or look down a lot to check if she's still doing the motion (left arm and right leg forward, or the other way around).

She's probably gonna drop that thing a lot. Especially if she has a weaker grip in the cane hand - now, I don't have this problem (the opposite, rather) - but the overall thing is a really common occurrence for most of us. Walking and hit the smallest pebble imaginable? Cane on the ground, somehow. Tried putting it against the wall or table? It's on the ground. And then you need to reach for it... it's a struggle sometimes.

If she's not helped in picking the cane, she will spend some time figuring out what grip and height are comfortable for her. (Grip depends on personal preference, no one's preference has ever been the doorknob handle, height is generally to the person's wrist from the ground up.) I think that this could be an interesting opportunity to talk about disabled communities - maybe she's frustrated with the process and goes to an older (more experienced) cane user to help her?

If it's during the winter, her hand is gonna be freezing - and the opposite in the summer - and she might not be prepared for it. The handle can get HOT and it can be an issue. Depending on what her actual disability is, she might try switching which hand to hold it in. If she's able to do that, another character could warm up her cold hand :)

The first couple of times walking with a cane are an Experience. You feel way better, but also everyone is suddenly staring. Some people care about that, some don't. But it can be somewhat overwhelming either way.

Spatial awareness is gonna suck at first. She will bump into what feels like everything with the cane. Especially doorframes. It's always doorframes for some reason. Or mess up and have her cane slip down because she hasn't realized how close to the curb she was.

She will hit her shin. It will hurt.

She's probably going to be speedy with that thing! Getting a cane is like getting a speed boost. Without it, I have episodes where I'm extremely slow (my highest, extreme-pain speed would be slower than a person walking very casually) and with it, I'm faster than a lot of able-bodied people! It's fun and she would have fun with it.

She will not know what to do with the cane when she doesn't need it. For me, using backpacks always cause issues because I don't know how to hold it without dropping it, but I also need to swap hands, something gets stuck on the handle... it's a whole process that takes a comical amount of time at first. Same when going to the public bathroom, where are you putting it when you aren't using it...? It's a lot of trial and error and a lot of "eww, my cane just touched the dirtiest surface humanly imaginable".

In the real world, people are (overly) interested in young cane user's business and tend to stare a lot. Now, it doesn't have to be like this in your story, but it's often just an annoying part of life. Your character might feel awkward and feel like she needs to explain herself, but this goes away after some time. You just get desensitized after a while.

In the real world, people are sometimes interested and nice about it! For example, a lot of older people can be insecure about using a cane, exactly like younger people. I've heard stories about older people asking younger users where they got their cane from, how are they so confident with it, etc. Another opportunity for a disabled community moment!

I hope that my suggestions were helpful, it's been a while since I was a first-time cane user so I wrote down what I still remember, haha.

Mod Sasza

Hi!

I agree with Sasza on pretty much every point and wanted to add some things from my own experience.

It's really, really hard to hold both a cane and an umbrella at the same time. Sometimes I'll give up and get wet. Sometimes I'll give up and store the cane. She might do either of those, depending on what she hates more: being wet or walking without the cane. Or she could get a raincoat if that works for her.

Speaking of umbrellas, sometimes you need your umbrella and you need your cane and you also need a free hand. This Sucks. What I do for this sometimes (and maybe she or other people have better, smarter, more useful solutions than this) is shove my umbrella into my shirt or backpack strap or something, so the umbrella is Held Up by it. This is not very effective, and will not last long. But if I need to look up a map on my phone or adjust something on my clothes or get my keys, it can work. Sort of.

Just like mod Sasza said, people will take interest in your cane, younger and older alike. I've had people of all ages compliment my cane (it has flowers) as well as people of all ages tell me I'm too young to need a cane or ask what's wrong with me. An older woman once asked me where I got my cane as she had been wanting a 'pretty' one, and that was a nice moment.

She might develop a new awareness of mobility aid users. When you're new at using one and trying to figure it out, you're probably going to be frustrated, because it's a new skill like any other. But it might make her (like it made me) notice more people using canes. It's not that I never saw them before, but that they were more common than I ever thought, and I never would have noticed how common it was if I hadn't had to slow down and practice my skill.

Cane tips get dirty, and cane tips wear out. These both depend on where your character is using her cane (outdoors vs indoors, scratchy asphalt vs smooth wood) as well as how often. A cane with a worn-out rubber tip really sucks and is more unstable and if the cane is made of aluminum and the tip is worn out and you hit the cane the wrong way, you can damage the cane. Ask me how I know.

That's all I can think of right now that I had to learn to deal with when I started! As you can see I still don't have a solution to the rain thing and it's been like two and a half years...

- mod Sparrow

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 22/Dec/2023

Oh, making the switch back to Book Four after Holiday Magic has been quite the experience, hehe!

For a start, I have to keep remembering that Book Four is set at the end of Summer instead of winter and lingering descriptions of sparkling snow drifts is a bit out of place! :D

But I have enjoyed reading through the plan of where I was at. I was thinking on just getting stuck back into the writing full steam, but with Christmas break so close on the horizon, I ended up editing instead…the sensible option, lol.

I am really promising myself this time around that I am going to be so much more organized with editing! :D Anyone who has followed me for a while knows it’s not exactly my favourite part, as much as it’s the most important!

So, I resisted the urge to just write and focused on rewriting a couple of bits I knew I wanted adapting, as well as changing a couple of choice sets, then rereading and editing all of what I’ve already written.

It actually puts me in the perfect spot to come back to, which works out well because we’ll be going on Christmas break tomorrow!

We’re all a bit knackered after Holiday Magic’s release and jumping back to Book Four, so I think a rest is much needed…although I keep looking at Book Four’s plans and thinking how desperate I am to get to a certain part coming up, hehe!

Our Christmas break will be from 23rd December 2023 to 3rd January 2024.

That first week back in January we will be coming back into things slowly and getting ourselves organized for the year ahead, as we have some amazing things planned. Though my focus will be completely on Book Four and getting the first demo released!

We hope you all have the most magical festive season if you celebrate it, and if not then just a wonderful time ahead, and a sparkling New Year! It’s gonna be a good one in Wayhaven, hehe! ;D

[astarionxhappiness]

Astarion going to a nearby stream to bathe to stumble upon a naked and very embarrassed Tav who had similar ideas? 😛

A/N Well, This one really got away from me haha! But I hope it is to your liking. Thank you for the request! I had a ton of fun writing this <3 Word count: Little over 6,000 Warnings: Smut. Handjob. Some fingering. Astarion should probably be a warning in of himself, let's be honest here. And some fluff to sprinkle on top.

It had been a very long day of traveling, and the sun was starting to wane by the time the tents finally went up.

You had just reached the end of the mountain pass, setting up in a small valley that was, to your great pleasure, a very close travel to a hot spring a little ways into the woods.

The others had already had their turn bathing and enjoying the hot water, each taking turns to finish the work while still getting to enjoy the relaxing waters. And now, it was your turn to finally slip away. You informed Shadowheart of your leaving, feeling her squeeze your arm in fond passing as you headed off. You could hear the crickets starting to come alive as you trapsed towards your greatly anticipated destination.

Already you could feel the tension of a hard day's work leaving your shoulders the closer you got.

You let out a relieved sigh as you laid eyes on the large spring, watching a light layer of mist dancing across the top where the hot water met the cool evening air.

You moved over to the edge of it, finding a large rock to sit on and place your clothes and towel down.

You made quick work of brushing out your hair before standing to work on stripping off your clothes, dropping your weapon down beside the pile.

You let out a sigh as you shut your eyes, slipping down into the water until it reached just below your nose, letting your head hang back slightly as you let it take away the chill of the early spring air.

You were left peacefully for only a few minutes before the sound of rustling alerted you to the presence of something close by.

Staying almost completely submerged, you opened your eyes wearily as you looked around, though nothing out of the ordinary met your inquisitive gaze.

You took in a deep breath, assuming it to be nothing more than a rabbit, or perhaps a rodent of some kind. Whatever it was, it made very little noise.

You slipped under the water completely, eyes falling shut as you lingered like this for a time before coming back up, taking in a gasping breath.

you flipped your hair back behind you, wiping the water from your eyes before allowing them to come open as you stood up.

"Fuck!" You cried out in alarm when you looked over to see a tall pale figure leaning against a tree off to your right near the water, though far enough away that he was not easily attacked.

A smart move, on his part.

The pale elf's lips curled into a smirk as your cheeks went bright red, hands coming to cover yourself as best as possible.

"Astarion! What are you doing out here?" You demanded."How long have you been standing there??" You added with equally vehement embarrassment.

"I assure you my intentions were nothing more than pure, darling," he assured. "I merely came to bathe myself-" He waved a gesturing hand to his upper half, which you realized only then was devoid of clothing. "Though, I have to admit, darling" He went on, that infuriatingly self-approving smile never leaving his lips. "I'm afraid I cannot say I am disappointed in finding the waters already occupied. . "

His words made you only blush harder, though you kept your head stuck up with indignant determination.

"You still didn't answer my question," You stated, ignoring the flirtations that made your cheeks heat up further (a reaction Astarion did not fail to notice).

He chuckled, moving closer so he could lower his voice without causing difficulty for you to hear.

"Oh, not too long, I assure you, my sweet." He moved ever closer, curious to see if you would shrink back, or stay stubbornly in place in all your naked glory.

He was pleased to find it was ladder.

"As I said. . I just came to enjoy the water, darling." He lowered his tone to a smooth purr as he got closer to you, listening to your breath hitch slightly from the proximity, all too aware that your ass was on perfect display due to the angle at which he approached.

you couldn't help your gaze slipping down to glimpse at his finely chiseled chest, your mind wandering to what it might look like dripping wet. .

You bit your lip absently, then belatedly realized that the object of your involuntary lust was right in front of you with two perfectly functioning eyes.

He smiled more, your look not going unnoticed by the vampire spawn.

"I am happy to share the waters if you'd like, darling," He went on, stepping closer to you. "After all, it is always more fun with two. . " It was then that you deemed the close proximity a little too close, and took a flustered step backwards, huffing as you did so. You watched as he laughed, seeming to be enjoying his teasing quite a bit.

"You go on the other side," You decided, gesturing with your head. "I am almost finished anyways I suppose, and I don't imagine a slothful vampire spawn such as yourself would really want to make the journey all the way back to camp just to come right back in ten minutes." Your vague insult to his laziness made him feign offense, his hand coming up over his heart.

"And yet, you would make me travel all the way to the other side of the spring?" The objection that his offense seemed to zero in on took you off guard, making your hands nearly falter in covering yourself. He smiled as he noted your surprise.

"Very well. . But if you change your mind . ." He stepped closer, moving in a way that had your shoulders nearly brushing, causing your breath to stutter distractedly as his head leaned to the side lazily, his lids lulling as he looked at you. ". . I'm but a call away, beautiful." He sauntered on the edge of the water line, his back turned to you as he walked off to his designated part of the spring.

You shut your eyes, taking a moment to regain yourself mentally.

You had thus far managed to resist his flirtatious temptations, but lately you had found your resolve slowly. . Faltering.

You melted back down under the water, unable to help your eyes wandering over to his form, his back still turned to you as he finished taking off the rest of his clothing.

You quickly averted your gaze just as he began to turn, listening to the shifting of the water as he stepped into it.

You sunk down absently, unable to help one more glance once he was seated, water covering him from the mid torso and down. When you saw him not looking at you, your quick glance became a rude stare.

His back was resting against a large rock, the top of his head resting against it as well, showing off his jaw at an angle that only sharpened and defined it more. . His strong arms were stretched out, resting comfortably against the edge of the same rock.

You slipped down further absentmindedly in your sport as you played with your hair, ever distracted. So distracted, in fact, that you did not realize that going down any further than you already had been would lead to you inhaling water.

You came back up choking, trying to clear the invasion from your lungs and sinuses, making Astarion lift his head to look at you inquisitively.

You cursed his ability to see so well in the shrouded evening light, knowing full well he would be able to make out the embarrassment etched on to every inch of your face.

"Doing alright other there, love?" He asked. "Do you need someone to come hold you to help you avoid drowning?"

You gave him a death glare as you continued choking and coughing up the last bits of water.

"It wouldn't be a problem if-" You cut off, looking away as you continued to clear your throat.

"If? I'm sorry, darling. You really are quite far away, I'm afraid I can't hear you very well." The words were a lie to say the least, and the smile on his face told you he was fully aware of this fact.

Still, you found yourself for some reason taking the bait.

"If you are that hard of hearing, then by all means, come closer." The words left your mouth dryly.

"Well, if you insist. . " Your eyes widened as he began to rise from his spot, your head quickly turning just as his waist appeared from the water that kept him covered.

You absently pulled your knees up to cover your body self consciously, keeping your head turned as you listened all too intently to the sound of the elf approaching you with all the confidence of a whore in a brothel.

You felt your cheeks heating up again as he settled but a few feet to your left. "Well, that's better," He said, letting out a sigh as if winded from the journey. "I can hear you much better now. "Well then, what were we talking about, my sweet?"

You cleared your throat, looking over at him and freezing to find him even closer than you had anticipated.

He was already looking looking back at you, locking eyes instantly. You swallowed thickly, lips parting slightly, intending to speak, but finding yourself too distracted to actually get anything out. He was doing nothing to cover himself beneath the water, as you were doing yourself. You did everything in your power to ignore this knowledge, continuing to lock eyes with him as if scared you would have no control to where your gaze went if you broke the contact. "Something on your mind, darling?" He asking with false innocence, turning his upper half to face you, giving you his full and undivided attention.

You cleared your throat, mouth shutting as you looked away, blushing harder.

"You are just- very naked," You found yourself saying, as if he wasn't aware of this fact. A shiver ran down your spine listening to him laugh.

"Well, as are you, darling" He pointed out, his tone never losing that velvety note that worked so well to pull you in.

He shifted a bit closer, the water softly sloshing around his body as he did so.

"You know, I have always found it easier to bathe with someone," He went on, sounding more casual and matter-of-fact this time.

"Perhaps, so long as we are here together- we could . . Be of use to one another, hm? What do you say, beautiful? Assuming you could keep your embarrassment in check, that is," He smiled teasingly, making you look over at him.

"Be of use to one another?" You repeated, deadpanned.

"Hmm, yes." He gave a nod, going on to explain as he edged a little closer. "I could wash your back, you could wash mine. . What do you say, darling? I think this arrangement would work quite nicely." he ended the sentence with little space between you.

You bit your lip, staring at him distractedly.

". . just backs," You replied uncertainly, not entirely sure why you were agreeing to this ludicrous offer.

He smiled, fangs showing as his gaze fell absently to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze.

"As you wish," He replied readily.

"And, if you decide you'd like me to wash other parts of you . . I could always be easily swayed." You went to look down when your embarrassment got to you again, flushing violently as you quickly rethought this action and instead hung your head back to stare up at the sky.

"Just- shut up and turn around, you filthy elf," You replied with lightheartedness despite the obvious sheepishness you were feeling. He grinned, doing as he was told.

You grabbed the supplies you had set beside you on the dry ground, taking a cloth and bar of soap in either hand.

"I hope you intend to get your hair wet by the end of this," You commented as you went to work on his shoulders, eyes gazing down at the horrific scars painting his back. the sight of them always made your stomach churn.

Despite your somewhat combative and teasing relationship, you cared about Astarion a great deal. To think about all he had went through. . It made you dream about getting to inflict similar horrors upon Cazador.

"You are free to clean whatever part of me you'd like, my sweet." His teasing comment snapped you from your distracting thoughts, making you nudge his shoulder.

"Was this your actual plan?" You mused. "Walk in on me bathing so that you could get me to wash you so you wouldn't have to do the work yourself?" You couldn't see his face, but you knew he was smiling at the question.

"That would be quite a brilliant plan, wouldn't it? You do have a certain way about you, darling. Your touch is quite thrilling to experience, should one be so lucky to have the opportunity." You hesitated in your motions for a moment, biting your lip before continuing on, absently rubbing his muscles as you worked, easing the tension in his body.

You heard a soft gasp leave his lips as his head hung forward, making you hesitate once more in your motions.

"Did that hurt?" You ask, looking him over uncertainly.

"Quite the contrary, in fact," He breathed.

You can't help but smile to yourself, wordlessly starting again. The two of you fell into an amicable silence, an occurrence that was quite strange to experience with the vampire.

The only sounds that filled the air was the occasional gentle sighs of pleasure from him as you worked.

You got rather caught up in the sensation, his cool skin feeling pleasant in contrast to the hot water that covered your stomach and legs, the sensation of his muscles relaxing beneath your touch giving you a certain gratification.

You took in a deep breath, sighing softly, feeling content.

"We should do your hair," You said after a time, thoughtless to the fact that he could in fact do this himself quite easily.

"So I suppose we are doing more than just backs, hm?" He replied with a teasing, flirtatious smile tossed over his shoulder.

"Unless you'd rather do it yourself," You retorted, giving him a flat look. The corner of your lips tugged upwards into a fond smile however, matching the glint in your eye that gave away your true feelings on the matter.

Though you wouldn't dare tell the cocky bastard, you had always wanted to run your hands through his hair. It just looked so. . soft. silky. . .

You watched him move to a deeper part of the spring to slip under it easier, bending forward to soak his head before moving back over to face his back to you once more.

You managed to get halfway through the process seamlessly before you accidentally tugged a bit on his hair, and froze at the soft moan that left his lips as his head fell back ever so slightly against the touch.

The reaction . . did things to you.

You forced in a deep breath as you slowly resumed lathering soap into his hair, ignoring the stirring anticipation in your stomach. You found your fingers wandering distractedly, letting them run down the nape of his neck, shuddering as another breath left his lips. "Okay- you're done," You gasped out when you felt this one go alarmingly between your legs.

You gave his back a gentle push towards the deeper part of the spring for good measure.

He glanced behind him to look at you, his eyes falsely inquisitive, reading your face like a book.

You stared at him with growing sheepishness before you couldn't handle the tension building between the two of you, and proceeded to slip further under the water, bringing a foot up instead to nudge him with. A small, meek plea to make him stop looking at your red face.

This earned an amused smile from him, and he went willingly to go rinse his hair.

You watched with far more interest than you cared to admit, unable to tear your eyes away as he resurfaced, running a hand over the front of his hair to stop water from falling into his eyes.

You wondered how a man that had not seen himself for two hundred years still managed to show himself to others with so much confidence.

"Your turn, then, darling?" He said as he moved back over through the water, making you swallow thickly.

He moved to sit in front of you, staring at you intently.

"We can do it this way, if you'd rather not turn around," He said after a stretch of silence, making your brain reactivate.

"Right, sorry," you breathed, flushing at your mistake.

You turned yourself in a manner that was careful not to show off your breasts in the process, leaning your head forward as you shut your eyes, finding your stomach twisting anxiously in anticipation waiting for his touch.

You shuddered when it was finally received. This soft brush of his fingertips running down the back of your arm, followed by the sensation of him brushing your wet hair over either one of your shoulders.

"That’s better," He purred, letting wet hands run over your shoulder shoulder blades.

He hummed when he felt goosebumps rise across your skin, your body hot and reactive.

He grabbed the soap, lathering it on his hands, rather than using the bar as you had done.

"I must warn you, darling. . I can be quite thorough." He murmured the last part near your ear, making your body shudder as he brought his hand to run down your spine, watching in satisfaction as it instinctually arched against his touch.

he worked deft fingers along your upper half above the water line, rubbing your muscles in the most pleasing of ways.

"'Starion," You breathed before you could stop yourself when you felt his hands slip down to grasp your waist, his thumbs pressing softly into the divot in your lower back.

"Yes, my sweet?" He purred, feeling your hips shift against his embrace.

You blushed realizing you had not spoken his name out of the intent of starting a conversation, but out of something far more carnal.

You bit your lip, trying to think of something to say.

"Uh. . " Your mind trailed off as your head absently leaned to the side when you felt one of his hands leave your hip to go to recollecting your hair when a few strands strayed from where he had put it over your shoulder.

He did not concern himself waiting for you to think of something to stay, instead he went to letting his soapy hand run up the side of your exposed neck, listening to your breath hitch as his palm moved to run over your throat, his thumb grazing over your pulse.

He felt your head tilt back willingly, his eyes roaming the side of your neck with growing hunger.

he let his hand fall from your throat, grabbing the rag and dipping it under the water before using it to wash off the soap, meanwhile his other hand went to running up and down your hip in a motion that was decidedly more sexual than it was helpfully cleaning you off.

You could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest, anticipation taking over your entire being as you resisted the urge to push back against him, wanting to know what it would feel like to have his chest pressed firmly against your back.

"Would you like me to give you more, darling?" He cooed, his lips close to your ear, making you shiver.

"I can give you everything you'd like. . You just have to say it for me, my love. " He let his lips brush against your earlobe, making a soft whine leave your lips before you could stop it.

"Oh, god. . " You couldn't resist your body's desire to press back against him when you felt a hand slip in front of you to press against your stomach.

You gasped at the sensation, listening to Astarion's breath hitch at the sudden feeling of your ass being pressed between his legs, your back warm and soft against his chest.

You looked up at him with darkened eyes, anticipation threaded into every nerve in your body as he looked down at you silently.

You both moved at the same time, meeting halfway to connect your lips in a heated, lustful kiss.

You brought your hand up to the back of his hair, tugging softly at the wet locks as you felt his hand slide from your stomach up to cup one of your breasts, his muscular arm resting across your torso.

His lips were cold, the taste of them positively intoxicating. "Astarion," You breathed, pulling away from him breathlessly as you regained some control over yourself.

"Yes, darling?" He let his lips fall down to kiss at your neck, resisting the urge to let his teeth sink into the soft flesh for just a small taste. . Your next words, however, had him freezing in every motion.

"Are you sure that you want this?"

You looked up at him as he pulled back, staring down at you with shock.

"What?" He finally questioned, frowning with a remarkable amount of skill.

"I just. . " You turned to face him, biting your lip as you cupped his jaw.

"I-. . I know you have things in your past that. . I just want to make sure you're okay with this. . That it is truly something that you want, because if it isn't, or if you aren't sure, we don't need to." You looked at him with tender, worried eyes, clearly uncertain about it.

He found himself unsure how to respond. No one had ever stopped to ask him such a question before. .

He looked at you silently, taking in the sensation of soft, warm skin. The tender stroke over your thumb against his cheek. Your imploring, gentle eyes.

You had moved your body away from his in a manner that left you touching him in a far more tender way than it was sexual, something he also was not used to receiving,

He felt his gaze fall downcast, letting his hand come to run up and down your waist tenderly.

You let him remain silent, allowing him the time he needed in order to get his thoughts together and truly think about his answer.

He looked up at you finally, bringing a finger to hook under your chin. "I want you," He replied finally, leaning forward to press his lips slowly to yours, making your eyes flutter shut.

"I want to feel you. . " He used the hand on your hip to gently but firmly pull you on to his lap.

"I want to taste you." He grasped your jaw with his thumb and index finger as he leaned up, sliding his tongue past your lips with dizzying skill.

You let your arms wrap around his shoulders, a hand coming into the back of his hair, tangling loosely into the wet locks as you wrapped your tongue around his.

You shifted your hips against his when you couldn't take the sensation of being still any longer, listening to the soft groan leave his throat as you did, encouraging you to roll your hips again.

You could feel him hardening beneath you, making your stomach twist and your clit throb.

Sharp fangs nipped your bottom lip when he failed to resist the urge to taste more than just your tongue. He sucked at the cut, dragging his tongue over it as he hummed softly, listening to you moan at the sensation.

You pulled away after a time, licking the drop of blood from your lip, watching him stare intently as you did so.

Wordlessly, you gathered your hair to one side, and tilted your head back to offer your neck to him should he want it, watching him fall forward with hunger.

He did not dive in fangs first, however. He brought his hand to the other side of your neck to grasp as he dragged his tongue over the soft, wet skin, flicking and swirling the muscle in a way that had you shuddering.

a whimper left your lips when you felt him finally sink his teeth slowly into the skin, your hands tightening softly against him as you let your hips roll against his to even out the pain.

Your eyes fell shut when he began to suck at the wounds, moaning against your neck as he used his hand to pull you closer to his mouth, making your breath hitch. You could feel your head fogging pleasantly the longer he went, his cock hardening beneath you.

You lifted yourself up off his lap slightly, bringing a hand down to wrap around his dick instead, making his body jolt softly at the unexpected touch.

"I want you to focus on your own pleasure," You breathed, eyes lulling shut.

Fuck he felt big in your hand. . .

The thought distracted you further from any pain he was causing by feeding, and the signs of his pleasure numbed the rest for you.

you slowly stroked your hand up to his head, pushing back down equally slow, setting a firm, deliberate pace that had him moaning and sighing in pleasure against your neck.

He only grew harder as you worked, your head feeling more and more dizzy as he continued to lap his tongue and suck against your throat.

"Star, ease up, love," You breathed finally when you felt it was starting to cause you problems.

He pulled away, dizzy with pleasure as he looked up at you, blood staining his lip, drizzling slightly down his chin.

You wiped away the blood before pushing your lips against his, picking up the pace of your hand, making him groan into your mouth.

you felt the ache between your legs only worsen, desperately wanting to feel him inside of you.

"Hm- fuck," You moaned against his lips when you felt his hand slip down to bring two fingers to rub your swollen clit. Your hips immediately reacted by grinding down against his fingers, your hand moving faster against his fully hard cock.

"You looked positively delicious, darling" He purred, his voice just a touch breathless from lust.

"You are going to feel so good, aren't you. ." He leaned down to lick the blood dripping down your neck, slipping his fingers down to tease your entrance and slowly pushing in. he replaced the attention to your clit with his palm as he did so, causing you to whimper and drop your forehead down against his shoulder.

He pressed his forehead against the side of your head, eyes shutting as he took in a deep breath, feeling your blood coursing through him, giving him strength he very much wanted to use to both your advantage. Still, he waited, finding he was rather enjoying the intimate position. Wanting to further this, he let off his teasing to grab your waist with one hand, using the other to taking yours off of his cock before letting it settle on your other hip to pull you back down against his lap.

thus settled, he wrapped his arms around your back, pressing you close as he took in a deep breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he rubbed his hand against your spine softly. You couldn't help but smile, rolling your hips slowly against his for a gentle pleasure to ease both your aching, enjoying the intimate position he had maneuvered the two of you into.

He took in a sharp gasp when your lips suddenly found his sweet spot at the crook of his neck, his arms tightening softly around you. You worked your tongue eagerly, wanting him to get as much pleasure out of the experience as possible.

He let a hand trail down while you did this, grabbing your ass and squeezing before pushing you down against his cock a little harder, groaning at the feeling as his eyes shut.

"Are you ready, love?" He breathed, knowing he was quite ready. You nodded as you looked up, cupping his face with two tender hands, shutting your eyes as you brush your nose against his before connecting your lips.

He helped you shift your hips, listening to a soft moan leave your lips as his tip slipped past your entrance, pushing into you ever so slowly.

He got roughly a quarter of the way in before you had to pause, feeling his fingers come down to rub your clit as you slowly moved up and down, whimpering as you took move of him inside of you.

You worked slowly, taking your time as you both simply enjoyed the sensation of it all. happy to forget the stresses that awaited you outside of this moment.

he opened his eyes when you broke the kiss to drop your head back instead when he was nearly fully inside of you, bouncing slowly as you worked on taking the last bit of him. Your back arched toward him when you finally managed it, a shuddered moan leaving your soft lips as your eyes rolled back.

you put your hands on his shoulders, feeling his hand squeeze your ass as you started to move up and down his length with a steady pace, connecting your lips once again as it slowly picked up heatedly.

You could feel him stretching you out in a way that made you ache for more, and yet feel incredibly satisfied just as you were.

Water sloshed around you as your pace gained speed, your breasts pressing firmly against him as you moved, rolling your hips in a way that had him groaning delights.

He grabbed the back of your wet hair, pulling softly as you did the same to his.

You were panting as you kept up the pace relentlessly, his own panting and moaning keeping you going even as you began to feel tired from the movement.

You gasped when he suddenly grabbed your hips, pulling you off his cock completely and without warning as he made you stay high enough that he could attack your breasts lustfully for a heated minute before turning you in the water, putting you beneath him.

"Surely you did not think I would let you do all the work tonight, did you, my sweet?" He asked as he hooked your leg with his under the water, towering over you with a dominance that had a shiver running down your spine.

"I wouldn't have mind," You replied distractedly, though your words were quite genuine. You were breathless as you stared up at him, eyes meeting his steadily.

the response made him smirk, chuckling as he leaned down to kiss you, pushing back into you at the same time.

The motion caused a moan to force its way from your lips, your body writhing beneath him as you brought your leg up higher to wrap around his waist.

his lips trailed down to your neck again after a time, sucking down the last remnants of blood that drove his lust even further.

his hips snapped against yours powerfully, hitting deep inside of you with each thrust,

"be a good girl," He breathed, pressing his forehead against yours as he went to a rapid pace. "And clench that wet cunt for me." He bit your lip, groaning as he felt you do exactly as you were told, making you almost painfully tight,

you whimpered as you felt his cock twitch inside of you, tugging at his hair needily, grinding your hips against his, desperate for friction that was made difficult to achieve due to the water.

he pressed his body against yours after a time, grinding inside of you as he pressed his forehead against the crook of your neck.

the soft gasps of pleasure that left his lips in a stream had you feeling positively dizzy.

you used your leg to help him push deeper, reaching down behind him between his legs to lightly play with his balls, only enhancing his gasps and moans.

you could feel your stomach twisting into knots of pleasure listening to the intoxicating sounds, your eyes shut as you pushed your head back against the ground, listening to the sloshing water caused by his grinding movement.

"Are you going to cum, darling?" You asked, playing with his hair, giving the occasional gentle tug.

he groaned in response, lifting his head up to drop his forehead down against yours.

"Not until you do," He assured, adamant about ensuring his lovers were taken care of first.

you bit your lip, dragging your thumb across his balls in a manner that had his cock twitching inside of you.

"I want to feel you cum," You breath, stealing a kiss from the man. "I don't want you to wait for me if you think you are going to, okay?" You shifted beneath him needily, fairly certain there was a good chance feeling him orgasm would most likely push you over the edge yourself.

he looked down at you, looking almost troubled. As though he didn't know what to do with this.

"I assure you," You went on before he could formulate a sentence. "I am fairly sure that if I don't get off feeling you cum inside of me, it probably won't take more than a stiff breeze to finish me off after."

You couldn't help smiling when you watched a similar expression touch his lips, a soft, breathless laugh coming out of him.

"If you are sure, darling," he decided, brushing his nose against your cheek mindlessly as he started to pick up short thrusts again, groaning at the sensation.

you couldn't resist bringing your hand up to squeeze his ass as he did this, making him jolt from surprise in a way that caused you to moan freely.

he repeated a similar thrust again to see if he could get you to mimic the sound. when he succeeded in doing so, he repeated the pace and angle at which he did it, snapping his hips in short, powerful thrusts.

"Is that where it feels good, darling?" He purred, licking your earlobe before nipping it teasingly. "Do you think I could get you to come with nothing more than my cock?" You moaned in response, grabbing at his flexed biceps, his arms encircling your head.

"You are so beautiful for me," He moaned, kissing your jaw. "Absolutely delicious. ." He snapped his hips a little harder, leaning down to try and suck a little more blood from you.

When he found the reserve dry, he felt weak to resist the temptation to create a new wound, sinking his teeth into you, twitching again as he felt you clench around him, whimpering in a mix of pain and pure ecstasy as you gripped his arms tighter, feeling yourself being thrown towards the edge.

He took a few large swallows of blood, feeling it energize his entire body, his cock swelling inside of you as his hips snapped harder and with more vigor.

He got to a nearly unbearable speed before he suddenly pushed inside of you and stayed.

your breath hitched when you felt him spill cum inside of you, grinding with desperation as you felt him slowly pull out before slamming back into you, moving with the waves of pleasure that rolled through him.

The sounds he made while doing so had your stomach twisting with pure lust, and it took little more than a few circles against your clit with two fingers to have you following over the edge.

He grabbed the side of your hair with a gasp when he felt your orgasm hit, his mouth hanging open, eyes shut tightly as he pressed his forehead firmly against your own.

You brought your free hand to wrap around him, your leg helping push him down against you as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

You laid there panting into one another’s mouths as you came down, keeping each other close as your bodies relaxed and melted against the other.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek dizzily after a time, making his eyes open to look down at you.

"Now what am I going to do with you," He breathed, a smile dancing on his lips.

He was not used to the tender affections you were offering him, but he found he quite liked it.

you let out a soft laugh, bringing your hand up to cover the back of his as he cupped your cheek tenderly.

he shut his eyes again, pressing his forehead against yours once more as he finished catching his breath.

"I am afraid we may need another bath," You sighed as he shifted off of you, propping yourself up on your elbows as you listened to him chuckle.

"I believe you would be right, darling," he replied as he sat up one his knees. "Come back into the water. . I promise to actually wash you this time. That is, so long as you can control yourself around me once again. ." he added playfully, making you smile, sitting up and kissing him lingeringly.

"We'll see. . Though I can't promise my hands won't get a little friendly." you gave him a playful, sly smile before slipping away from him to go back into the water, feeling a hand on your waist as he moved in after you.

It was nearing midnight before you two finally managed to properly bathe, but by then, it was a matter of you trying not to pass out from exhaustion.

And when that battle was lost, he laid with you near the spring, softly stroking the side of your cheek as you slept peacefully curled up warmly in his cool embrace.

[heli-writes]

Seven summers, part 5.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifth summer, August.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Draco,

I hope you're well. I am writing you this letter because I think we should talk about what happened last month.

I'm sorry I deceived you. I never meant to lie to you. At some point, I just didn't know how to say it. I wanted to tell you this summer, I swear! Then we kissed and everything was so different than expected. I just didn't have the courage to...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Draco,

I know you're angry and you have every right to be. Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to betray you. Actually, until our third summer, I didn't know you were a wizard. I just thought it was a culture thing. Then, after you told me how you feel about muggles, I was afraid to tell you. I thought you'd hate me too. Please, don't hate me. I don't know what...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco,

Please, give me one chance to explain myself. You've left without hearing my side. Hear me out and I promise...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco,

I'm sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frustrated, y/n throws her pen onto her desk. There are dozens of crumpled papers around her. In the last two hours, she started the same letter to Draco over and over again but so far, she hasn't found the right words to say. Not that it really matters. Without Draco's owl which regularly visited her for the past two years, she doesn't have a way to contact him. Apparently, wizards don't have a phone. Y/N takes out the trashcan from beneath her desk and swipes all the papers into it in one big swoop. Afterward, she groans and falls onto her bed face down. There's nothing to do in her room but to brood on the whole Draco situation. Supposedly, it is not necessary to mention that she's stuck in her room for two more weeks. After the night her parents had to pick her up at a train station in the middle of the night, of course, her parents asked questions. Questions that y/n couldn't answer without getting entangled in more and more lies. It all blew up in her face when her parents called Olivia's parents. After that, y/n had no other option but to tell them about the boy she's been seeing for a while. A long talk about sex trafficking and teenage pregnancy later, y/n got grounded for three weeks. I suppose I can be lucky I didn't get grounded for the entire summer holidays, she thinks to herself as she turns around to look for her phone only to realize that that's been taken away from her too. Suddenly, she's glad for the communication via owl. At least this way, her parents will find no messages that would incriminate her further. Y/n burries her face in a pillow and lets out a muffled scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One week later

Y/n,

Don't think I am writing this because I have any concern for your muggle self. I don't care if you got home safely or not. Considering I got no news about a dead muggle girl in Salisbury, I suppose you live.

Honestly, I am just writing you this to draw a line under whatever it was that we did the last two years. I suppose even someone like you understands that a wizard like me cannot be associated with a muggle. It's absolutely absurd that I didn't notice it.

Just to make it absolutely clear: Don't tell anybody about me or the wizarding community or I can assure you the ministry will take care of you. Also, we're done.

D.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Puzzled, y/n blinks at the paper in front of her and then blinks at the owl that is sitting on her windowsill. Why on earth would he feel the need to write a letter like that, she questions herself. Obviously, she shouldn't tell anybody about wizards and after Draco's glorious exit at the inn, it should have been clear that they've broken up. Suddenly, she feels a hot pit of anger swelling in her stomach.

How dare he write a message like that, y/n thinks. Not a word from him for two weeks and then he sends me a threat and a break-up notice?, she fumes. She's not sure why he would risk getting caught writing to a muggle girl in the first place. Draw a line my ass, she thinks and rips up the letter into tiny little pieces. She watches the pieces float silently to her floor. Then, she pushes down her window with a loud bang, and glares at the owl for a few seconds, before turning away and continuing a half-finished jigsaw puzzle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later

Y/n,

Since the cover of the wizarding world hasn't been and there are no reports about a crazy woman talking about magic, I guess you didn't tell anybody about us. Good.

You know it really astonishes me how you managed to keep up the facade for so long. I never knew muggles could be this... adaptable. However, I think it was quite a malicious pretense of you. It makes me wonder if anything that you said or did was true. Not that it would matter to me.

Remember to keep quiet. I really can't have a muggle running around blabbering about wizard secrets.

D.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like she could spit fire. She lets out an angered scream and crumples up the letter. What a dick, y/n screams internally. I get he's angry at me, I get he doesn't want to so me anymore but what on earth is he trying to achieve with these letters?, y/n asks herself. She tries to shoosh Draco's owl away from her window. The owl lifts itself into the air and settles on a branch of the apple tree in y/n's garden. Y/n stares at the owl and the owl stares back. She turns away and throws Draco's letter into the trash bin. The anger made her feel too hot. Pulling her pullover over her head, she stumbles towards her closet and puts on a t-shirt. Meanwhile, she calls Draco all kinds of nasty names in her head. She no longer feels sorry. When she turns around, the owl sits at her windowsill again. Y/n rolls up a magazine and pokes the owl in the hope that it will take flight. The owl looks at her absolutely unbothered. Y/n pushes a bit harder and forces the owl towards the edge of the windowsill. Eventually, the owl gives up and glides to the apple tree again. "Go awaaaaay!!!", y/n yells out of her window and pulls her widow shut with a loud bang.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Another letter arrived a few days after that. It has a similar tone as the last two with an equal amount of insults towards muggle. Y/n is absolutely fuming. Draco's owl doesn't even bother leaving y/n's windowsill and already made itself comfortable. Y/n glares intently at the owl through her closed window. Finally, she pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen.

Draco,

I get it. I'm a stupid muggle and I shouldn't tell anybody about magic. I get it. You can stop sending letters now. You said we're done so I don't understand why you keep contacting me.

Don't get me wrong - I understand you're angry. I deceived you and breaking up with me is probably the right thing to do. I'm sorry I lied to you but I feel like you don't see why I acted this way. It's not like I knew that you were a wizard when we first met and when I got to know you, you started insulting people like me. What was I supposed to do? Have you ever considered that this world you live in intimidates me? Have you ever considered that maybe I was scared of losing what we had? Because I genuinely cared? I guess not.

Anyways, what's done is done. No need to dwell on it. Maybe it would do you good if you let go. It's time to get back to normal, don't you think?

Y/n.

Contently, y/n reads through her letter again. After folding it in two, she opens the window and holds it out towards the owl. The owl takes the letter without hesitation and takes off. Y/n watches the bird disappear into the grey clouds that hang low in the sky. Eventually, she closes the window and feels calmer than she has since the night at Stonehenge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n doesn't see any owl around her window for a little over the week. She's not grounded anymore for a couple of days. She spent the days in freedom by accompanying her mother to the dentist, to the supermarket, and to her auntie Paula. In short: her parents are still keeping her on a short leash. However, today she's allowed to meet a friend. Even if it's just to apologize. She's meeting Olivia in town. Olivia and her already texted after y/n got her phone back. So Olivia knows the gist and luckily she's not angry. Actually, being the teenage girl she is, Olivia is very excited to hear all about the mysterious guy y/n got herself in trouble for. It's the least thing y/n wants to talk about but it's only fair she owes Olivia some kind of explanation.

Y/n is getting ready in her room. Her mother already called her down several minutes ago. Obviously, she isn't allowed to take the bus by herself. Rummaging through her make-up bag y/n is trying to find a lip balm for her purse when she suddenly hears a soft clank on the window. By now, y/n knows the sound all too well. The sound of a beak on glass. She shoots around and is face to face with Draco's owl. For a moment, y/n contemplates not opening the window and leaving the owl where it is. At some point, it must get hungry and fly off again, right? However, curiosity killed the cat and y/n is pretty sure Draco will be the death of her. So she quickly opens the window, rips the letter out of the owl's beak and stuffs the letter into her bag. Her mother is already calling for her again and without looking back, y/n takes off.

"We pick you up exactly at 4 pm and the café, understand y/n?", her mother lectures her. "I expect you both to be there. I want to apologize to Olivia's parents in person.", she tells y/n. Y/n groans and pulls her hood over her face. "Didn't you already apologize on the phone? Can't we finally leave this behind? Obviously, I learned my lesson.", y/n begs. Her mother gives her a sharp look in the rear-view mirror of their car. "That's not of you to decide. You will have to earn our trust back.", her mother points out. Y/n knows her mother is right, but it still feels unfair. It was a horrible experience inside and out and y/n wants nothing more than to just forget about it. Her mother turns her attention back to the road. Y/n crosses her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly, she remembers the letter again. It's still sitting in her bag unopened. Carefully, she takes it out. She holds it low, close to her lap, so her mother wouldn't see.

Y/n,

Meet me today at Trafalgar Square. 3 pm sharp.

D.

Y/n stares at the message in disbelief. Is he joking? Is this some kind of setup? So that they can grab her and make her disappear or whatever wizards do to normal people who accidentally get to know about magic? Yeah, no, I'm absolutely not going., y/n thinks. Somehow she wishes Draco had a phone so that she could react to this message with a couple of middle finger emojis. She crumples up the paper and stuffs it back into her back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Olivia's already waiting when her mother drops her off. She even gets out of the car to exchange some words with Olivia and to make sure her parents are really picking her up. Y/n can feel her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. However, Olivia takes it cool. She answers y/n's mother's question politely and acts as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened since the last time she's seen her.

This attitude drops really fast once y/n's mom is back in the car and out of sight. Olivia turns around, makes a squeaking sound, and says: "You need to tell me everything!". Apparently, y/n must've had a really dumb look on her face. "C'mon, y/n! My parents told me all about your lie.", Olivia grins. Once they've settled in a quiet niche at the café, Olivia looks at y/n expectantly. Y/n sighs. After all, she knew she had to talk about this. "Look, Olivia, I'm really sorry about all of this. I shouldn't have you involved in my lie. I-i was stupid and I really learned my-", y/n starts but Olivia immediately interrupts her. "Yes, yes! Save that speech for my parents. I get it, you lied. More importantly, you met a boy.", Olivia says and wiggles her eyebrows. "More like a massive jerk.", y/n deadpans. Olivia nods agreeingly. "And yet you lied so that you can spend a weekend with him all alone.", Olivia grins and gives her the look. Y/n sighs. "It's not like you think.", y/n tries to argue. "Riiiight... that's why you hid him from your parents.", Olivia says and crosses her arms. Y/n sighs and stirs her drink. "Well, fine, we've been together since Christmas and wanted to spend some time together in the summer.", she says defeatedly. "First of all, it's not. Second of all, since Christmas? Why am I only hearing now about it?", Olivia asks. Y/n shrugs. "It's not like I've been seeing him a lot since then. He goes to a boarding school and is only around in the summer and for Christmas.", she points out. Olivia thinks about this for a moment. "So, you've been just texting?", Olivia says unconvinced. "If that's your way of asking if we were screwing the answer is no. We've only been... uh, texting.", y/n says. Olivia crunches her eyebrows. "This is less juicy than expected. But did you kiss? And what about the weekend away? That sounds like a perfect opportunity to lose your v-card.", Olivia keeps asking. Y/n blushes. "V-card? Really? That's so lame, Olivia.". Olivia shrugs. "I'm not saying I'm supporting the patriarchal idea of virginity but the first time is special and exciting for everyone, isn't it?", she argues. Y/n shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Again, nothing happened. We only kissed.", she underlines her point. Suddenly, there's a glint in Olivia's eyes. "Ooohhh... you kissed? Was it good?", she asks teasingly. Y/n snips a small ball of paper at Olivia. "I mean, yes, but it doesn't matter. We broke up.", she says solemnly. "Clearly, otherwise your parents wouldn't had to pick you up at the station in the middle of the night.", Olivia points out, "What happened? You two had a fight?". Y/n shrugs. She feels her eyes burning. She thought she was over it. Really, she thought that Draco's stupid letters made her angry enough to forget how deeply the whole thing hurt her. "Yes. He expected me to be something I'm not. Took of when he noticed and left me behind.", y/n says. Olivia looks at her for a moment. "Let me guess. He wanted to screw you and when you didn't want to he dropped you? Man, guys suck.", Olivia takes a guess. Y/n shakes her head. "No, that wasn't it. He was actually super respectful. It was more like... a rich asshole finding out your common trash.", y/n lies. "Oof... he comes from old money? That kind of guy?", Olivia asks. Y/n nods. "Yup, that kind of guy.", she says. "Well good thing you didn't screw him. Those are the worst baby daddies.", Olivia nods as if she had any more experience with these things than y/n had. "Olivia, can you take this serious?", y/n says frustrated.

Olivia holds up her hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're right. ... So you didn't hear anything from him ever since?", she asks. Y/n puffs and puts her hair up in a messy loop. All this talk got her warm. "Oh, I heard from him, believe me.", she says angrily. "That doesn't sound good. What did he say?", Olivia asks. "Oh, he told me what a terrible person I am alongside some threats not to tell anybody.", she tells her. Olivia slurps a bit of her drink watching her intensely. "Ah, afraid about his reputation? So, he's an arrogant prick.", Olivia points out. Y/n nods. "Yeah, and look at what he sent me today.", y/n says and pulls out Draco's note. Olivia raises a brow and takes the piece of paper. "Old fashioned, I see.", Olivia mumbles and quickly reads through the note. "I really don't get it. He tells me he doesn't want to see me anymore and then he keeps sending me messages and now he wants to meet? Why on earth would I want to see him after everything? After he said these terrible things to me?", y/n rambles. Olivia gives her a side-eye and slides the paper back to her. "Well, isn't it obvious?", Olivia says matter-of-factly. "No.", y/n states bluntly. Olivia shrugs. "He's hooked. He doesn't want to mingle with a poor commoner, he's afraid about his reputation but he also can't let go.", Olivia explains. Y/n laughs into her face. "Sure, that's why he keeps lashing out at me.", she argues. Olivia shrugs. "Maybe he's not a good communicator and that's the only way he knows how to keep in touch with you. Or he's too proud to admit he likes you even though you don't have the same social status as him.", Olivia thinks out loud. Actually, she might be right, a voice in y/n's head says. Y/n shakes her head. "So?", Olivia asks. "So what?", y/n asks back. "Are you going to meet him?" Y/n looks at Olivia as if she's grown three heads. "Are you insane? Absolutely not!", she exclaims. Olivia shrugs. "You liked him enough to pull off this big-ass lie to get a weekend with him. And now you don't want to give him another chance?", Olivia questions her. Y/n kneads her hands. "I- it's... Look, he left me at a creepy in, in the middle of the night, in a town I don't know. Then he keeps pointing out what a low-life I am compared to him via text. Why would I want to see him again?", she exclaims. Olivia looks at her softly. "Because you have feelings for him? Clearly enough for his words to still hurt you. You guys could either reconcile or you can give him a piece of your mind.", Olivia argues. Y/n turns her head away like a frustrated toddler. "My mother would ground me forever.", she says. Olivia sighs. "Stop finding excuses to not face him. I'll stay here in case your mom shows up early. It's still early, you can catch the next bus.", Olivia says determinedly. Y/n looks at her blankly trying to come up with another reason to not go, but she draws a blank. "Don't look at me so stupidly, go!", Olivia ushers her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n wraps her jacket around her. Even though it's summer and it's warm, she still feels cold. And nervous. And very uncomfortable. Olivia dragged her to the bus stop, shoved her into the bus, and before y/n could fathom what was happening, she was already standing on Trafalgar Square. She tries not to look around and search for him. She doesn't want to look desperate or give him the satisfaction of knowing she missed him, which she, of course, did not.

"Y/n", a familiar voice said behind her. Y/n turns around to Draco standing behind her. Suddenly all oxygen is knocked out of her lungs. She's not sure whether it's because she doesn't know what to say to him or because he is as good-looking as she remembers him. She wished her initial reaction to him would be repulsion, which would be an appropriate reaction she thinks. However, her heart takes a leap and she feels warm in places she shouldn't feel warm at all. Draco doesn't take his hands out of his pockets and y/n doesn't move her arms away from her chest. "You wanted to meet?", is all she can croak out. He nods without looking into her eyes. When he doesn't say anything. "Well, what do you have to say? Make it quick, I'm already in trouble.", she asks. Suddenly, but slowly, y/n can feel her anger returning in her chest. Draco's eyes snap to hers. "Don't you have anything to say?", he asks back. Y/n shrugs. "If you're looking for an apology, I've already given you one in writing.", she bites back. Draco frowns. "Really, that's all you've got to say to me?", he says bitterly. Y/n stares back at him irritated. "Well, what do you want me to say?", she asks.

Suddenly, Draco looks really helpless. "Well... I... you... I thought...", he tries looking for words. Y/n waits patiently. Let him struggle, she thinks. Draco stomps his foot on the ground angrily. "You lied to me!", he blurts out. Y/n huffs. "Firstly, I gave you an apology for that. Secondly, I never claimed to be a witch. You assumed it, which I didn't get at first, and then I just went with it.", she exclaims. Draco looks at her angrily. "Well, why would you go with it? I don't get it.", Draco argues. "Because I was thirteen years old, you just abducted me in a magical alleyway and then you go off about how awful people like me were. I was scared!", y/n blurts out a bit too loudly and Draco shushes her. "You telling me you were scared of me?", Draco hisses back quietly. Y/n lifts her hands above her hands frustratedly. "Yes! Of course! You grew up with magic, it's natural and everyday life for you! It's not for me. It scared me shitless because I suddenly didn't know what's real and possible anymore. Also, you literally told me your kind could wipe us out!", y/n whisper yells back at him. This stuns Draco for a moment. "I didn't say that.", he tells her. "Don't gaslight me, Draco. Yes, you gave me shit about muggleborns and muggles and then you told me wizards could literally wipe muggles off the face of earth.", y/n argues. Draco is quiet for a moment then points out: "If you are so scared of me, why did you continue to see me?". Y/n shrugs. "You're an arrogant prick, Draco, but you're also my first friend since I moved overseas.", she tells him. Draco is too stunned to speak. Y/n pushes her hands through her hair. "Look, I should've told you. Yes, at first I was scared and then... I don't know. You were my friend, Draco, I didn't want to lose that.", she sighs. Draco turns his head away. "That's what I am to you? A friend?", he mumbles. Y/n stares at him in disbelief. He's hooked, that's what Olivia said. Maybe she's right, y/n thinks. "For a while.", she tells him, "Obviously not since Christmas. Which didn't exactly make it easier to tell you.". Draco turns back to without meeting her eyes. "It would've been better to tell me than let me find out his way.", he says. Y/n looks at him softly. "Of course. It's definitely not how I wanted it to come out. But in all honesty... would the outcome be any different if I had told you? You always let me know how little you think of muggles. You still would've broken up with me.", she points out to him. Draco stays quiet and shrugs. "I don't know. Probably. It's not like we could be together like this.", he says. Y/n nods. "Yeah, guess it's against the law for people like us to be together. Your wizard police probably would have to erase my memories or something.", she says. Draco shrugs again. "It's... it's not against the law, actually. There are plenty of mixed couples.", he relents, "But my parents would never accept you". Y/n gives him a confused look. "Your parents?", she asks him. "No offense, Draco, but I don't give a fuck about your parents. I was concerned about you accepting it. You didn't strike me with the open-minded, tolerant mindset, you know.", she tells him. Draco looks away again. He seemed to be ashamed. "Look, I know I said some horrible things, but...", he starts. "But what?", y/n interrupts him, "You made it pretty clear what you think about people like me. Don't try to tell me you've changed suddenly. Because I don't buy it." Draco looks down in defeat. Y/n feels like it's the first time he's been called out on his racist attitude. She pulls her jacket closer around her body. Good, she thinks. "You're right.", he tells her, "And I'm sorry for the things I said. Actually, I've been thinking a lot about it". "About what?", she asks. "Muggles... and you, I guess.", he says. "Elaborate.", y/n simply demands. Draco shrugs and huffs. "Well, you see... I never had any contact with muggles. All I knew about your world, is what my parents told me.", he tries to explain.

Y/n starts shaking her head. "Nu-uh. Don't blame this on your parents. That's an excuse when you're six years old. At some point, you're old enough to question the things your parents say. You're old enough to understand the world and how human beings treat each other", y/n calls him out. Draco nods in defeat. "Yes, and I never did. I never questioned it. But I've been questioning it since I found out you're a muggle.", he tells her. Y/n rolls her eyes. "Oh, so it's been an eye-opening event, yes? Sorry, but years of internalized racism don't go away because you have one friend who is different.", she says bitterly. Draco nods again. "Probably not.", he admits, "but it did change my mind a little bit. I always had this idea how muggles are. You know, dumb, different." "Thank you.", y/n says dryly. Draco takes his hands out of his pocket and waves them in front of him in defense. "No, that's not... ugh. I mean, I realized that you're not that different from us. I mean I didn't notice you weren't a witch for years. I guess I'm the dumb one.", he explains. Y/n shrugs. "Sounds about right.", she tells him. "Doesn't mean you were right to not tell me.", he points out. Y/n shrugs again. "It wasn't. I was a coward and selfish.", she answers. "Sounds about right.", Draco repeats her sarcastically.

They stare at each other for a while in silence. "So, what now?", y/n asks. Draco shrugs. "Good talk, have a good live?", y/n suggests. Draco looks at her wide-eyed. "You want that?", he asks her. Y/n shrugs. "Do we have a different choice? Your parents will kill you when they find out about your muggle girlfriend. And my parents sure as hell will kill me if they find out I'm meeting the guy who stayed with me in an inn all alone for two days.", she declares. "You got in trouble with your parents?", Draco asks carefully. Y/n nods. "Yeah, what did you think? You left me at a magical inn in the middle of the night. Did you think I stayed and went home the next day like nothing happened? I went home in the middle of the night and my lie blew up in my face.", she tells him. Draco looks down ashamed. "I shouldn't have left you there.", he says. Y/n shrugs. "Whatever. Anyways, since our parents will not approve of this, probably better to call it off, eh?", she answers. Draco looks at her. Does he actually look sad?, y/n asks herself. "I mean... what if they don't know?", he asks quietly. Y/n laughs dryly at that. "Yeah, that worked out great the first time.", she says. Draco looks like she hit him in the face. "Because I was ignorant and you kept your secret. But we can do it differently this time.", he pleads with her and y/n thinks that it's a little bit pathetic. Also, she's really glad he is because right now her pride is in her own way. "You call me out when I'm a prick and you don't keep secrets.", he proposes. Y/n shrugs. "How about we both don't keep secrets?", she says carefully. Draco seems to cheer up immediately. "Deal.", he prompts. Y/n gives him a small smile.

Suddenly it's awkward between them. "Sooooo...?", y/n says and makes an awkward hand gesture. "So, we stay together?", Draco ends her sentence. "Yes?", y/n answers. "That doesn't sound convincing.", Draco deadpans. Y/n takes a deep breath. "Yes.", she tells him. Draco gives her a soft smile. "Now what?", y/n asks awkwardly. Draco shrugs. "We hug?", he proposes. Y/N smiley back. "Okay.", she replies. Awkwardly, they step forward and put their arms around each other. For a moment, y/n feels really uncomfortable. Then, Draco's smell hits her and he pulls her closer so that her face rests against his shoulder. Y/n's body instantly relaxes and she hugs him back closer. After a while, they loosen the hug a bit and are face-to-face with each other. "Do we...?", Draco asks carefully and y/n gives him a soft smile. "Yes.", she whispers and pulls his face towards hers. Their lips meet in a soft kiss and Draco leans in. Y/n would've enjoyed the kiss if her phone hadn't started vibrating in her pocket. Draco jumps back immediately. "What's that?", he stutters. "Just my phone.", she tells him and pulls it out of her pocket. It's Olivia.

"Hate to interrupt the moment, but it's half past three. We need to take the next bus back to the café.", Olivia's voice echoes on the other side of the phone. Y/n swirls around and looks around frantically. "On your right.", Olivia tells her and y/n catches her leaning on a streetlamp on the other side of the road. "How did you-?" "Get here?", Olivia finishes her sentence. "Didn't trust that guy and wanted to look after you. Seems like you didn' need me, bravo!", she tells y/n. "But seriously, we need to go." Y/n nods. "Alright, I'm coming.", she replies and hangs up. "I need to go.", she tells Draco. Draco's eyes are fixated on Olivia who gives him a short wave. "Does she know?", he asks her sharply. "About you and me? Yes. About you being a wizard? No. I keep my promises.", y/n tells him. Draco relaxes a bit and turns his gaze back to her. "You have to go?", he asks. "Yes, my mother picks me up soon. I'm already on thin ice with her. I'd rather not know what she'll do if she finds out about this.", she replies. Draco nods in agreement. "When will we see each other again?", he asks her hopefully. Y/n thinks about it for a moment. "Last week of the summer holidays? I might need some more time to convince my parents I won't do anything stupid.", y/n proposes. "Alright. Be careful. I'll send you an owl.", Draco says. Y/n nods and gives him a smile. They quickly hug each other and when y/n pulls away, Draco grabs her face and gives her a long, passionate kiss that leaves y/n breathless. She almost stumbles when he lets go of her. "See you soon, y/n.", Draco says softly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the next few weeks, y/n and Draco frequently exchanged letters. What happened in Salisbury is not spoken of anymore. However, Draco's tone and choice of words slightly changed. No snarky remarks about the muggle world anymore. Instead, he includes lengthy explanations about anything magical. Y/n thinks he is trying a little bit too hard, but is grateful nonetheless. Finally, she gets some context for some things he says. Meanwhile, y/n is a bit more open about her own life. About the movies she watches or the things she does with her friends. In a way, things are better now. Y/n doesn't carry around the weight of constant hiding and doesn't have to be careful about her words. Moreover, in Olivia, y/n finally found a friend who she can giggle about boys with and who can keep a secret.

Y/n and Draco met a few times at the end of August. Y/n showed her some muggle activities and Draco took her to Diagon Alley again and made her try all kinds of magical things. Of course, it's a risk to take y/n to magical places but Draco decided that y/n managed to blindside him for 5 years, others probably won't notice for like 5 Minutes. It's been a bliss, really. Finally, this feels like a real relationship to y/n. They're just some teenagers holding hands and making out and sneaking around their parents. Y/n wished these moments last forever but sooner or later September arrives and Draco has to go back to Hogwarts.

Y/n is standing at King's Cross. Draco and her are hiding behind a pillar at platform 8. He already crossed over to platform 9 3/4 20 minutes ago after saying goodbye to his parents. He came back to say goodbye to y/n a couple of minutes later. "It's only until Christmas.", Draco says as y/n clings to his chest. She buries her face into him. "I know, but somehow this feels worse than last year.", she mumbles. Draco rubs her back and grins. "Geez, I wonder why.", he says. Y/n pinches his arm. Draco lets go of her and rubs her arms. "I'll write you every week, I promise.", he tells her. "You should really get a phone. We could talk every day.", y/n argues. She's been trying to convince him for the past weeks. Communication would be so much easier. Also, her mum gets suspicious about the amount of bird shit that's on her windowsill. Fair enough, she doesn't seem to get that a literal owl is visiting her daughter. Instead, she gives y/n shit about feeding pigeons.

"Seriously, it won't be that bad. School starts soon and then we both have so much school work up our asses, we won't even notice until Christmas comes around.", Draco tries to soothe her. Y/n sighs. "I guess. I'll still miss you.", she tells him defeated. Draco smiles at her softly. "Yeah, I'll miss you too.", he replies. He leans down and gives her a kiss on the lips. Y/n's eyes flicker to the big clock behind Draco. "You have to go.", she points out and Draco nods. Y/n's lips form a thin line. She really hates this. Draco softly strokes over her cheek. "Yeah. See you soon, love. Don't miss me too much.", he says as he turns around to catch his train. Suddenly, y/n's face lits up. "Hey, Draco!", she yells after him. He turns around. "We've survived summer! In contrast to Blaise and that girl!", she yells. Draco laughs and shakes his head. "Well, at least I have something to brag about.", he laughs as he makes his way to platform 9 3/4.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @gypsylilim @caffeine-addict-slug @huiiline @rclector @am0iur @nofacenonamelikekira @0iheartu @jahaina @eringaitskill @jae-is-confused @stormy-stardust @a-beaverhausen @niyahzda1

[Please leave a note if you'd like to be tagged too.]

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)

[chaifootsteps]

Hey Chai,

This is a long one, so I’m gonna start out by first thanking you for this blog you’ve created as a safe place to share your thoughts and those of others, including when they disagree with you! You are both admirably unabashed and pleasantly down to earth in how you carry yourself on here! Now to get into the meat of it, I felt like sending in my thoughts on the idea of “wasted potential” as applied specifically to Lucifer from Haz_bin Ho_tel, and to ask you for your thoughts on that concept and Lucifer as a specific example (if you wanted to share them, of course)! I want to clarify that I’ve never personally liked referring to characters, story beats, or theme explorations in a piece of fictional media as “wasted potential” because some part of me feels that I don’t get to make that judgement call when I wasn’t the one writing. This isn’t me claiming that I am better or more mature than people who discuss wasted potential within media analysis - I am well aware that I am entitled to dislike the direction a character or story is heading as much as any human - this is just me saying that I personally never try and act like I could speak on knowing what was better for someone else’s creative vision, so I just tend to keep my thoughts to myself. Until I witnessed what Vi_v did to Lucifer. Memes are funniest when quoted ironically, but it was after episode six that I sincerely said out loud to myself “look how they massacred my boy!”

In the days of the pilot and promotional character art, Lucifer was my favorite character. Viewers barely knew anything about him, but the little we did know was OVERFLOWING WITH POTENTIAL. He was my favorite character design in the entire show, and a near hyperfixation in my mind. The limited information and visuals we were given were those of a well dressed, unwaveringly confident, and - seemingly - unapologetically aware player in a story about the slaughter of sinners and the near-lost cause of Charlie’s efforts towards their redemption. He was the King of Hell, husband to the first woman in existence, instigator of human sin, and REBEL AGAINST GOD. Even juicier, assuming we never got to see him as his own character, there was at least the mystique of the domino affect he had on the characters of the show including Charlie, Alastor, and even Vaggie as Charlie’s girlfriend and a fallen angel, herself. The second-hand accounts we heard of him through Charlie - specifically “I think dad was right about me-“ and “- you don’t take shit from other demons!” - depicted a character who had little sympathy for Charlie’s goal or the sinners while still showing his care for her in his own, twisted way. All of this oozed with POTENTIAL for the enormity of this character and his weight on the story as the embodiment of pride and as the King of Hell.

And we, the audience of the final product, got NONE OF THAT. The final character - the canon depiction thrown at our faces following over four years of anticipation - was a self-pitying, judgmental, immature, wishy-washy, absentee father who remained WILLFULLY unaware of the life and ambitions of the singular child he claimed he wanted a better relationship with and took ZERO accountability in running the very people and kingdom he had been stuck with for 10,000 years! He didn’t even know his daughter, the princess of Hell and his most treasured family, had a girlfriend of multiple years. In a lot of ways, he was a well-dressed man-child constantly shouting some version of “I DON’T WANNA!”. 

And GOD did that hurt to see. How it hurt to see his wasted potential. 

There were so many things he could have been starting in late 2019, so many things that seemed perfect for both a character and story beat as would have explored the greater themes of the show itself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t any of them on that particular day in late January of 2024. The CLOSEST he ever gets to embodying that potential was when he was protecting his daughter while beating the holy light out of Adam in the finale, but even his statement of “You’re in my house, bitch!” doesn’t depict the imposing and unmeasurably egotistical being of pride he seemed to be in 2019, it just sounds like something any person would say in a cocky manner punching down on someone who broke into their house. For me, it took the wind out of my sails to see how far my once adored character had fallen from the character he COULD have been. How he had been denied all the potential that he once had. Potential that, through writing choices by the creative team, was decidedly "wasted".

So those are my feelings as applies to both the concept of “wasted potential” in writing and to the character of Lucifer in Haz_bin Ho_tel. I apologize again for how long this whole rant has been, but if you have any of your own thoughts or want to comment on my whole spiel around how we describe wasted potential as viewers and Lucifer as a possible example, I would be excited to hear them!

Thank you again for this space you have created and keep fighting the good fight, even if that’s just for the freedom to our own opinions on popular media!

No apologies, Anon, and thank you for the kind words! Everyone should feel like they have a safe, fun place to bitch about how much they dislike popular media...whether HH runs for one more season or 10, I'll do my best to keep this little pocket available!

Thank you for your heartfelt Lucifer thoughts. I know back in the day, when I still loved and had high hopes for this show and actually hoped Viv could get Weird Al to voice Lucifer, this was the thing that made me really fall in love with him. If I'd known back then that he'd turn into a crude, idiotic frat boy, I wouldn't have bothered.

I think the longer these shows run, the more it gets to be that people are mourning their favorite characters and the potential they could have had. It's pretty painful to love a character so deeply, to be so excited to see what they become, and to be rewarded with the worst possible version of them you could imagine. Happened with Stolas for me, with Lucifer for you...it's a story you hear time and time again.

It sucks.

[ladysarai]

@inception30daychallenge, Day 31: A letter to Inception fandom.

Dear Inception Fandom,

Friends, I am Old. I have been around the block and back again. I am old enough to have read fanfic on the computers in the school library and printed out fics for my friends because they did not have computers at home. I read fanfic on dial up. I cut my teeth on fanfic on FF.Net, on AngelFire websites, and on AOL Message Boards.

I say this ONLY because I want you all to know How Long I have been in Fannish Spaces, and how many fandoms I have been involved in, so that you can believe me when I say: I have NEVER encountered a fandom like this one.

If you look at my AO3, you'll see that most of my posted fics are dated prior to 2010. I spent most of my 30s not being particularly fannish. I didn't post fics. Once LJ made the move to DW, I lost track of fandoms and friends (and never really grasped Tumblr, tbh), and whatever writing I did, I kept to myself. I thought I had lost the ability to get fannishly obsessive over a piece of fiction. There are a lot of Real Life reasons for this--jobs, health, family crap, mental health, selling my home and building a new one, working in healthcare during COVID... And I was put on a medication a few years ago that, it turns out, basically induced depression, but I didn't realize it until February of this year, when I stopped taking it.

It was like a switch was thrown in my brain, and I suddenly wanted to read fanfic and create again! It was great! And one day I was rereading old fics by a favorite author and thought "what else did they write?" and saw they had Inception fics. I thought "huh. That was a fun movie. It provided the premise for the very best RP game I've ever been involved in. Why not?"

As they say, the rest is history. I fell down the rabbit hole of Inception fanfics, discovered an obsession with Arthur/Eames, and dragged my bestie @nutterzoi down with me. I swear that in April, I watched that movie basically every other day for the entire month. And then we started writing fics. I have now posted FOUR Inception fanfics since the middle of June. With Zoe, I'm working on a Big Bang and on several other fics. We literally have a gdoc of ideas for fics because otherwise we will forget them all.

This is all great, Sara, but what about the fandom? Guys. Friends. Zoe and I have been writing fanfic together basically nonstop since before Y2k. We have not posted any of our fanfic since prior to 2010. UNTIL NOW. And the reason I am happy to write and post fanfic? For other people to see and read?? Is because of YOU, the fandom.

This movie is 14 years old, but the fandom is alive and active. Arthur and Eames have about 3 minutes of screen time together, but over 8,000 fics on AO3! @inceptiversary came along just as I was finding my footing here on Tumblr, and MAN, the things everyone has come up with for @inception30daychallenge just blow my mind! The creativity, attention to details, impressive meta and gorgeous fanart and graphics are incredible. Maybe some of the reasons this fandom is so calm and comforting is that I missed the early growing pains, but it is FUN to come into a well established fandom with so much to read and see!

But even more than that... this fandom is KIND, and WELCOMING. I point out again that I am Old. I have reached the point in my life that I do not want to spend time around people or spaces that are not comfortable, especially online, which is where I go for my escapism and fun. Every single person I have interacted with in the Inception fandom has been friendly and encouraging. I hope you all know just how rare this is for both a fandom and for an online space. THANK YOU for being so wonderful. In more ways than one, you have restored my faith in fandoms and fannish spaces, and in my place in them. I certainly hope you're all okay with being stuck with me, because I do not see myself going anywhere.

Thank you for giving back a part of myself that I thought was lost and gone forever.

Love,

Sara

[dee-the-red-witch]

how did you get past “just being gnc”? asking for me, i’ve been in that mindset on and off for years. if you don’t mind sharing

I... okay, look, that's like a question with two other subtextual ones rolled up into it in a donut all at once. And I have an all-day road trip tomorrow, so I don't have a ton of spoons to spare, but I'm still gonna try and tackle all three. And I'm gonna hit the subtext questions first, because they're important and play into it. 1. What's a good way to come out as trans?

There fucking isn't one. For anyone of any gender. There is no perfect way for anyone to come out. It will always be awkward, there's always going to be some kind of price to pay, and you are never going to know that full price up front. It's also just about always less than the price of NOT coming out, though. 2. What's a good way for *ME* to come out as trans?

Okay, this one ties into my own story some, but the shorter version? I don't know. I can't tell you. Because I don't know your details and what's going to work for you or how. What I can tell you is that nobody is going to magically guess it for you, no one's going to give you permission to do it, and you're gonna have to start it yourself. There's folks that will absolutely help later down the line, but you have to initiate and start things, even if it's babysteps. Case in point... 3. ENOUGH SUBTEXT, DENICE, how'd YOU get past just being a guy?

It's complicated. I'd been in denial since the late 90's. so there was a LOT of personal bullshit, and art, and other work, and everything, packed up in and around my gender like mad. Like a wad of gum with a bunch of other stuff stuck to it- and sometimes when a piece finally got pulled free, part of the gum came up with it. Bad analogy, probably. Still. When I finished writing, and laying out, and publishing my first book (and practically screaming HI! IT ME! AM TRANS! in the afterword and other bits, because that's what happens when I write a historical horror novel with a GNC-transmasc-ish protag) I felt empty. Hollow. For months. I was trying and struggling to get a second book off the ground, and having this weight start settling over my head. Only it was like three months early for my usual denial ideation episode. Meanwhile, on facebook, my friend J who was dealing with the tail end aftershocks of a nasty divorce from an even nastier asshole. And of course she was going off about a very rational distrust and dislike of Men and some of their behaviors in particular, and I just had that goddamn black wave of ideation set in on me in full and was mentally internally screaming "But I'm not a fucking man!" and I did the one thing I'd never done in twenty plus years of dysphoria, denial and ideation. I said it out loud. Nobody in the apartment to even hear me. But I said it. And repeated it. And so help me, that depression/denial/ideation wave that I knew was going to end with me hurting myself or worse started immediately fading. I started switching my pronouns over to they/them on my social medias almost immediately. Like I said. Baby steps. But it was enough- one of my partners noticed the update and flat out asked me about it the next time she was over, and that's how I ended up coming out as nonbinary to both her and the rest of my immediate family. And a few days later online all over as well. Realizing I was a girl took a bit, because enby felt right, but not all the way right. I'd started t-blockers already because I knew I had dysphoria issues (just no idea how serious they were) and then started E. All of which was made easier by being in an informed-consent state and having a doctor who had zero issues with prescribing them, and more than a little bit of a mad scientist nature. Three days into Estrogen I just had this one weird moment of driving and hitting a sunny patch of road and suddenly I was happy and laughing in a way I'd NEVER been. That's when it started really clicking for me. When I realized that what had been holding me back was a lot of internalized shame and conditioning that I needed to unpack and get rid of. That's all where I started. (and yes, it meant a whole extra round of comings out and updates and everything, but well, here I am.) I hope that wall of text helps some? But yeah. Take baby steps. Things move from there as you figure it out. But you can't figure it out while you're holding yourself back.

[sunnyy3d]

Hi again

Ok so I am currently obsessed with Matt smith and Alex Kingston so I wanted to know if you would write a 11th/river/reader fanfic where the reader is a companion that just started travelling with them but for some reason she is immortal and always finds them but she doesn’t totally understand how the meeting keeps happening between them all so she just jumped from a new tune where she was happily married to the doctor and river but now she meets river/melody who doesn’t know her yet and she gets jealous bc she over heard them talking about another girl(her just younger) and it leads to the doctor having to explain to her that they aren’t at that time yet and river gifts her a journal so she can write down where and how they keep meeting hopefully this makes enough sense and you would want to write it I just want some fluff/cuteness along with confusion on time travel

Timeless Love| 11th Doctor x River x Reader

A/N: Requests open! (Obviously)

God, I'm so nauseous. Will I ever get used to that? I really wish that I had my own TARDIS; it'd be so much better than a vortex manipulator. The Doctor calls it "cheap and nasty time travel," and he's not wrong. Of course, I'll never let him know that, though.

I let the dizziness subside before opening my eyes. I'm facing a wall? I've gotta go through the checklist. Okay, first is smell. It smells... old? Like antiques and dust. Why is smell first anyway? The second is hearing. I hear sirens, which leads to the next part: sight. To go with the sirens, I see a red flashing light coming from a bulb farther up the wall. That's always a good sign! Last but not least, the 360. Well, it's more like a 180, but that's beside the point. I spin only to find a gun pointed at my head. My smile immediately drops, the excitement of being in a new environment being replaced with dread. What have I gotten myself into this time?

"Oi, don't touch the fez! Wait, no, don't take it," I hear from behind the brute holding the gun.

"Don't listen to him. Please take the fez," I'd recognize those voices from anywhere. Especially the sarcasm... It only makes sense that they're around when I find myself in trouble. I can't let myself get distracted; this is a life-or-death situation. Just do what The Doctor taught you. Be rational and observe.

Peering past the gun, I see a creature I've never seen before in my time with The Doctor. This thing is enormous, at least a foot or two taller than me. They (it?) have on a suit of armor--similar to what would be found back on Earth-- that obscures its face. Maybe it's a security guard? It would make sense, considering that behind it are glass cases that hold artifacts.

Regardless, this creature's sheer size means I can't fight it. At least not successfully. That throws all of the self-defense skills River taught me out of the window. I really wish she was here. Oh wait... she is. I'll just have to play the innocent card. It shouldn't be hard, considering that I am innocent. I put my hands up beside my head as a sign of surrender, careful to go at a speed that's not threatening. "I just got here, I swear. I have no idea what's going on," I reason. I have a feeling that it's not gonna work well.

"Oh, look who it is! Where have you been?" Looking past the guard, I spot The Doctor and River being led in by another guard.

I sigh, "It's not what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like!" The Doctor interrupts with his stupid smile.

"Honey, can you shut please? I kinda have a gun in my face right now," I plead.

"Oh right..."

"Excuse me, sir?" River distracts the guard in front of me.

"We're going to have to ask you to put that gun down. Darling, you might want to duck." Without even thinking, I follow her instructions. I trust River and The Doctor with my life. What kind of wife would I be otherwise? Being stuck between the wall and the fight, I have no choice but to crawl away.

I'm hiding behind one of the cases when The Doctor comes around the corner, disheveled and panting. It's a good look at him. His hair is messy before he runs a hand through it and flashes his signature smile. God, I could kiss him. But now's not the time. We're in the middle of a fight. I say we, but I really mean River. "What are you doing?" I yell.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Loud shots hit the walls around us. I peek around the corner and see two more guards have shown up as reinforcement.

A bullet flies past my head, and I quickly take my retreat behind the case. "Look! We'll have to save this conversation for after we get out of whatever situation you got us into this time. River needs help." The Doctor gives me an offended look.

"River does NOT need help, no thanks to you guys," she says sarcastically.

The Doctor and I come out from behind the case. "What are you guys even doing here?" I ask with my hands on my hips.

"Uhh... we're picking something up," The Doctor answers nervously. I nod, my lips drawing into a thin line as I give him a skeptical hum. It's probably not worth questioning, and I probably won't get a straight answer.

"And you are?" River questions, looking me up and down. Even after being with her for a while, I still get butterflies when she looks at me like that.

But the butterflies are scooped up by my confusion. "What do you mean, River? We've been-"

"SPOILERS," The Doctor interjects. "If you'll just give us a moment, please?" I nod as he drags River away. They huddle together with their backs facing me. Clearly, I'm not supposed to hear this conversation, but it doesn't stop me from trying. Unfortunately, they're just out of earshot, so I can only hear a few words.

Focusing on their conversation, I piece together some parts. "She's... beautiful... amazing... younger... she's like..." The Doctor explains with expressive hands. Occasionally, River glances back at me with a smile.

Who are they talking about like that? It has to be someone special. Why else would they keep it a secret from me? More importantly, why is River saying she doesn't know me? Has she had her memory wiped? Clearly, The Doctor knows who I am, but he's also acting weird. What has happened to our marriage? Did all of the intimate moments that we shared go down the drain? All the adventures forgotten?

I'm so lost in thought that it takes me a second to realize that they've finished their conversation and have started walking back towards me. I quickly stand straight, suddenly incredibly self conscious. I cross my arms and frown, "So, who's this mystery woman and why did you have to talk about her in secret?" I know my words reek of jealousy, but I can't help it. We've been married for so long, and yet here they are talking about some other woman.

The Doctor sighs, thinking about how he should respond. "We were talking about you. I know it might not make too much sense right now, but River and I aren't in the same timeline as you."

"This is actually my first time meeting you, I'm afraid. Though I'm sure it won't be the last," River looks me up and down with a smirk. I blush and look away. Even if this is her first time meeting me, she still has to flirt.

Everything is starting to make sense now. All of the times when The Doctor or River thought that they had done something with me but hadn't. Or when they'd forget simple things. It's not that they forgot; it just hadn't happened to them yet. Why didn't I think of this before? And why hadn't they explained this to me earlier? Why does time have to be so complicated?

"This happens all of the time with me and River. It's honestly quite annoying to figure out," The Doctor chuckles.

"You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. Things are starting to come together now. That explains why you guys are so confusing sometimes. Sorry, extra confusing sometimes." The couple laughs before River holds up her finger, saying hold on and grabbing her bag off her back. She rummages through it momentarily before letting out a small 'aha.' I look at The Doctor with my eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He only shrugs. River pulls out what she was looking for. I see a look of recognition flash across The Doctor's face before I can tell what it is.

"Here," she holds out a book. It's a royal blue and has squares on it like the TARDIS. It looks naturally worn, its deckled pages ready to hold a story. "I have a smiliar journal. I use it to keep track of my encounters with this idiot. Maybe you can do the same?" She suggests with a warm smile.

From this distance, I can see how young she is. Though she doesn't look much different, her eyes tell a different story. They have more youth to them, more innocence. Let's be honest: River has never truly been innocent. But she is more innocent than the River that I know best. I smile as I take the journal in my hands. It's perfect. It'll be easy to carry around, and it is absolutely gorgeous.

So much has yet to come for The Doctor and River, both terrible and happy. And even though I have lived through things that they haven't, they have lived through things that I haven't. This book will hold stories that cannot be shared with the ones I love the most. If I were to share it, it could ruin everyone's timeline. Time is a delicate balance of... wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey... stuff. Okay, I'll admit that wasn't the most eloquent I have been, but it'll have to do.

With a smile, I look up at my husband and wife (well, future for them), "Thank you. I have a feeling that I'll be using this a lot."

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hi!! Sorry to bother you but i just want to feel like im not sick and wanted to share my thoughts with someone that wont judge me

But i feel really bad, i really feel like there’s something wrong with me i don’t like sex and every time i had sex before has been bc i was supposed to do it, i forced my self to lose my virginity bc i felt like it was about time and i was too old for keep being a virgin. Also i thought “well, maybe if i do it i’ll start liking it like everybody says” but i didn’t, i didn’t like it but i thought again “oh well, it’s the first time (im a ciswoman)they say it always hurts the first time, maybe the more i do it i’ll start liking eventually” but again, i didn’t, i had sex with different people that i felt attracted to and it ALWAYS HURTED, also every time i had to be with at least a little alcohol in my system, so actually i have never had sex being 100% sober.

Now i’m in a relationship but I don’t even like kisses and it sucks bc i really love my boyfriend, he knows about this but i kinda feel like even if he is very supportive about it and says he still wants to be with me, I think there’s this little part of him that wishes that one day i’ll change and we can have sex.

I feel bad bc is it ok to call him my boyfriend and not just a close friend? Im i even allowed to love? Do i have to force my self to do something I don’t really want to or enjoy to be loved? Am i worthy of being loved?

I'm so sorry. As a thirtysomething that had the privilege to afford never to have sex, and who doesn't plan to change that any time, soon, I can tell you from my own experience that yes, not wanting it is valid, and no one should blame you for it. No one should blame you for forcing yourself to try it (because damn the societal pressure is so real), and for never liking it either. I'm so sorry you've been so invalidated just for wanting to live as you are for so long.

Seems to me that what you have right now is something you've always deserved and it's tragic that you didn't get it any earlier, but it's such a relief you have it now. Of course it's OK to call him your boyfriend. As much as our closed-minded, stuck-in-its-own-way, can't-see-past-its-own-nose society would try to lead you to believe, you don't have to have or want sex with someone to love them, that's not a mandatory condition at all. Of course you're allowed to love and worthy of being loved. And no, you don't have to force yourself to do something you don't want to or enjoy to be loved. That applies not only to sex but to so many other things. You don't have to force yourself to do anything to be worthy of love.

It's idealistic thinking maybe, but I always think communication is incredibly important between two people, so I'd personally recommend (although take for that what you will, you were just sharing feelings here, it's not like you came into this inbox to be told what to do and it's kinda pretentious on my part to write this in the first place) to share those fears with your boyfriend, emphasizing, if you need to, that it's not that you don't trust him or don't love him, it's that with the struggles you've had to go through for so long as an asexual person, it's hard for you not to be scared of such things even if things are going great. Of course I don't know your boyfriend, but if you have the feeling he's supportive, I want to believe that he'll be there to reassure you and keep supporting you.

And heck, if it winds up being a disappointment and he actually did have sexual ulterior motives he can't do without... That's on him, not on you. There's nothing wrong with you not wanting sex. You have every right to enjoy loving someone and being with someone on your own terms. I'm fortunate enough to do so myself, at the moment (granted, in a queer platonic relationship so it's a bit different, but still), so I know first-hand it's possible. And I sincerely wish you the best. You don't deserve to be doubting yourself, your happiness and your right to happiness so much but I can't blame you for that either. Society can really fuck up an asexual's self-esteem. But fuck that noise. You're so valid as you are.