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thefrogdalorian · 2 days

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The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Twelve

Din Djarin x F!Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Summary: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

Word Count: 13k ❁ Rating: Teen ❁ Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption, suggestive language. ❁ Author's Note: This is a very long one but I regret nothing, and I just reached 100k for this fic! Quite a milestone and I still feel nowhere near done, really. I get slightly carried away writing these two but I cannot resist. They're so cute, and writing their love fills me with so much joy! Thanks to @decembermidnight for being my beta. I appreciate your help amo!

12. The Calm [Din's POV]

Din tapped his brown boot anxiously against the carpeted floor of his room at the studios. He watched helplessly as the minutes ticked by on the large white clock that hung over the door, powerless to do anything but sit there as the original time he had arranged to meet you ticked by. The new time he had set came and went. Then, the time after that, too.

The Friday evening that Din had planned and the one which was unfolding before him were worlds apart from what he had originally intended.

First, Din planned to meet you after work and take you to the hotel he had booked. In a break from tradition, this time he had made the reservation under his name. Din had taken the precaution to avoid a repeat of the situation when a bottle of champagne had been delivered with Jim’s name emblazoned across it. After that, Din had planned an entire weekend of fun for the two of you. There would be some sightseeing and good food enjoyed by both of you. It would be the break both of you needed.

Din had even taken the luxurious step of booking a second suite for Grogu and Kuiil so that the two of you could enjoy some privacy in your room. After checking in, if you two could keep your hands off each other long enough to head out, Din had planned to take you for dinner. It was nowhere too pretentious but just something to help you wind down after a difficult week with some good food. Then he had booked a tour of London for the following day for him and Grogu and you, before an evening in the spa. Din hoped that it would be the exact treat you needed, given how hectic you had told him work was. Alas, it seemed that the universe had other ideas.

Now, Din was trapped at the studios, while you had finished work with no one to greet you. Din felt terrible. He knew how much you had been looking forward to seeing him. Even though it was far beyond his control, he still felt guilty. Din hated when plans were not kept to and schedules not followed. The uncertainty was by far the most distressing part of it all.

Din’s foul mood was not helped by the fact that it had been a particularly stressful day on set. One of those days when nothing was going smoothly and every shot seemed to be wrong. The most frustrating thing was that it was not one individual’s fault. Din Djarin was not the kind of man to lash out at people, his fury simmered deep below the surface. Yet, at least if there was someone for him to silently fume at, it may have distracted his agitated mind from the rage that bubbled within him.

The problems on set were not caused by a case of incompetence, of people not doing their jobs properly. The scenes were taking much longer to film than expected due to the intricate set. With so many components, it took so long to rearrange between takes and the cast and crew had to do a lot of waiting around. After each take, involving several stunts as Mando was tasked with fighting off a horde of enemies, the entire set was practically destroyed. It was a thoroughly frustrating process for all involved.

The hours that Din was required to be present on set had kept extending further throughout the day and now they were eating into precious time with you, a thoroughly unacceptable outcome.

While Din was frustrated that he was letting you down, he was downright devastated about the impact such a turn of events was surely having on Grogu. Din knew that his son was safe and being cared for at home with Kuiil, which was a relief. Yet, the separation anxiety that he felt when he was away from his boy was something that he had never managed to get comfortable with. Being away from Grogu caused Din to feel tremendously guilty

The only small comfort came from knowing that Grogu was with Kuiil, there was no one else – bar you, perhaps – that Din would trust more with his son.

Din was also relieved to know, courtesy of a picture you had sent him showing you in the hot tub, that you had successfully checked into the rooms at the hotel that he had booked. It was nice to know that the amenities weren’t going to waste, at least.

Yet, the selfie had caused Din further anguish, in a very different sense. Seeing the warm expanse of your skin, tantalisingly bare in the selfie, which revealed enough without being downright explicit, was causing his frustration levels to grow. How unfair that he was stuck here, while you looked so beautiful and all alone in that suite. Din was just grateful for how understanding and patient you were with him. Still, it didn’t give him bountiful new reserves of patience.

Din was irritable and lonely. The extended hours were miserable when he couldn’t even hang around with the rest of the cast without constantly fearing that his cover was to be blown. Peli was not required for this episode and Din missed his best friend. Din was alone with his thoughts as he frantically paced his room, waiting for a runner to fetch him when things were set up for the next take.

The knock on the door however does not herald the news that Din was hoping for, as an apologetic crew member informs Din that they were calling it a night and everyone would be required to return to set the following morning. Despite how frustrated he is, Din does not take it out on the young man who appears incredibly apologetic at the inconvenience. He knew that the crew member must have pulled the short straw to have to confront a fully armoured Mandalorian with such news.

As Din finally took a seat in the car that would drive him the short distance to his home, he was tired and irritated. Although he was careful not to take it out on the driver, Din is frustrated that he had spent hours longer away from Grogu than he had wanted, that he was forced into cancelled plans with you and even after both of those things, he had been told that he would have to return the following day. Not having anyone to blame it made it even worse. There was no one to silently seethe at and curse for their incompetence.

When Din eventually returned to his cottage it was almost midnight. After relieving Kuiil of his duties, Din wasted no time and immediately headed upstairs to his son’s room. Despite the old man’s reassurances that Grogu had gone to sleep without a hitch, Din knew that he would not be able to sleep without seeing that his boy was okay. It was a force of habit, a nervous question that needed answering.

Fortunately, when Din peeked around the doorframe, he was greeted with the soothing sight of his son sleeping peacefully. Grogu’s breaths were even, indicating that he was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that his father was experiencing. Din could not resist making sure that Grogu was tucked in and comfortable, kissing his son’s head carefully before he headed for a few fitful hours of rest himself.

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Despite beginning the morning in as optimistic a mood as he could muster, Din soon discovered that the next day on set would run no smoother than the last.

He had returned to set what felt like only minutes after he had left. The cast and crew were being pushed to their limits of endurance, hardly having any rest between arduous days of filming. Unfortunately, such a demanding schedule was necessary due to the tight deadline that was looming over them from the executives who were near-unanimously despised by practically everyone on set.

The fact that their well-being was shunned in favour of satisfying goals and targets set mostly by people who had never stepped foot on a set in their entire lives was a fact that irritated Din. It made him rue the day he had ever decided to work for such a mega-corporation. But he had. He was here now. That fact could not be helped.

Fortunately, Din believed that the weekend was still salvageable. If the shoot was concluded in the middle of the afternoon, there would still be time for him to join you for a portion of the tour and then dinner. He thought it was pointless to ruin Grogu and Kuiil’s weekend too, so the two of them had left to join you that morning. Din was relieved to know that you were not completely alone. The selfie you had sent him confirming their arrival had certainly buoyed Din’s spirits.

After lunch, Din returned to the set, optimistic that the stars would align and he would be able to join you as quickly as he wanted to.

Unfortunately, those hopes were soon scuppered. The shoot was just not moving as quickly as it should have been. With the way things were progressing, there was no way Din would be able to make it to the hotel before the evening.

With his tail between his legs after the latest disastrous take, Din retreated to his room. Once he had secured the door, he pulled his phone out to call you, his heart aching as he did so.

“Hi, Sunflower,” Din said, as soon as you answered.

“Hi, Din,” you cheerily responded.

Din felt terrible at the excitement that was palpable in your voice. After all, he had texted you that morning and said that he would ring you when he had news. Judging by the tone of your voice, you assumed it was good news. Unfortunately, you were about to be bitterly disappointed. Din braced himself for the news he had to impart to you.

“I’m so sorry about this but it looks like I’m going to be held up at work even longer than I was hoping. Looks like I might be able to join you at around eight if things go well, but no guarantees. I hate to let you down,” Din sighed, his voice cracking with guilt.

The heavy sigh Din heard down the phone made him feel even more anguished. He knew that you hoped just as much as he did that things would go differently today. Instead here he was, letting you down again.

“It’s okay, Din,” you said quietly, “I know it isn’t your fault. It seems like your job is unpredictable, I know you would be with me if you could be.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Din said, gratefully.

“Don’t worry, honey. I understand. Work is work, these things happen,” you said sympathetically.

Din knew you didn’t understand, that was the entire problem. It made him feel so much worse about the entire situation. He knew that if he had just been honest and told you the truth that day when he had planned to, there was a chance you could have journeyed to his cottage to await his return with Grogu. Instead, due to Din’s cowardice, there you both were; miserable and missing each other when you were both in the same city. It was all so needlessly painful.

Still, Din knew that you had Kuiil and Grogu with you at least. It went some way to soothing his anguish.

“Besides, I have Grogu and Kuiil here for company now,” you added brightly, “We’re heading out on a tour shortly.”

“Sounds wonderful, Sunflower,” Din smiled, “I wish I could join you.”

“I wish you could too, Din,” you sighed. “I can’t wait to see you. I really hope you can be here tonight, I was so lonely in this big hot tub. It’s far too big for one person,” you add flirtatiously.

“Ugh, don’t, Sunflower,” Din murmured warningly. “If it was under my control I’d be there in an instant,” Din rasped, his voice suddenly husky with want.

“I know you would be, Din. We’ll be together soon,” you reassured him. With your sweet voice reassuring him, Din almost dares to believe it himself.

Unfortunately, before his conversation with you can continue in any more optimistic terms, there is a knock at the door. Duty calls as Mando is required on set.

“Got to go, a colleague is calling me. I’ll see you soon, Sunflower,” Din said, repeating your reassuring words to you, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Din. Bye,” you reply.

Din sat there for a few seconds after hanging up. While he still felt awful about letting you down, he would never tire of hearing you tell him that you loved him. It went some way to soothing his anguished state of mind. Yet there was another part of him that felt intensely guilty for his failure, to be honest with you.

Despite your words suggesting otherwise, the pain in your voice as you reassured him that it was fine made Din feel awful. Even worse than that was the bright way you had reassured him that you understood how unpredictable his job could be. Your innocence broke his heart.

Even more so because Din knew how much you had been looking forward to a little getaway with him. You had texted him many times that week, complaining about how stressful work was for you. It seemed that the final rush before the summer holidays ended had brought all kinds of families and their children to the museums. Din had consoled you as you complained to him about how you were expected to provide information and be personable to them all, despite how difficult they could sometimes be. It sounded far more draining than his job. Although doing stunts for a Hollywood production was physically demanding and required a lot of fitness, Din did not have to be personable. He could hide his face. Those two things were enormously important for him. If he had to face the world as you did, he was sure that he would not last a day.

Din replaced his helmet and headed back out onto the set. He pushed his shoulders back and transformed into a stoic Mandalorian warrior, rather than the anxious, frustrated man he was beneath all of the beskar…

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It was almost entirely dark by the time Din was finally heading towards central London. Towards you.

Knowing that it would not be long until the two of you were reunited was causing little bubbles of excitement to spread throughout Din’s stomach. He could not wait to spend what remained of the weekend alongside you and was practically giddy with excitement.

Of course, Din enjoyed the domestic bliss whenever you visited his cottage in Nevarro. It was homely and comfortable. Yet he loved the thought of booking a luxurious room for the pair of you in one of the most exclusive hotels in London just as much. When Din had initially moved to London, he felt self-conscious and uneasy that such luxuries were at his disposal. However, since he had started dating you, he had become more grateful for such extravagances.

Din had always relished being a provider. Whether that be for his covert of Mandalorians or his son. Now he had someone else to provide for: his Sunflower.

He loved to take care of you at the weekend, after a long week of work. It went some way to alleviating the guilt that he felt at being paid many times more than your salary to do something that was, on the surface, a lot less demanding than the job you did.

Although the stunts Din was required to perform could be physically demanding on occasion, it was nothing compared to some of the arduous jobs he had had in the real world. It was all scripted and risks were assessed before the cameras ever began rolling. Since he had started his role as The Mandalorian, Din had been pampered in a way that was unusual to him, unfamiliar. Din had never been luxuriated in his entire life. It took some getting used to, to know that there were so many things such as the opulent hotel he had booked for the two of you that was available to him on only a moment’s notice.

It was an enormous contrast from the simple, solitary existence he had led for most of his life. Yet Din was becoming more used to this life and the luxuries that were on offer to him. As the hotel came into view through the window, Din found himself looking forward to a relaxing weekend there as much as he was looking forward to seeing you again.

All of the amenities were tantalising, especially when Din was so exhausted. He had been looking forward to this break all week, knowing that it would provide the rest and recuperation he so badly needed. The endless hours on set had proved incredibly stressful, Not just due to the scenes he was filming and the stunts he was required to do, but also the fact he had to be separated from Grogu for so many hours per day. So Din needed this break just as much as badly as he knew you did. He needed the time with his son and the opportunity to recuperate after filming for the final episode had been so intense. The stunts and physical acting were taking it out of him, though Din would certainly prefer that to the numerous children that he knew you had to deal with every week.

He couldn’t wait to take advantage of the spa and room service. Din knew that if you wanted to, neither of you would have to move a muscle for the entire weekend. Well, apart from the muscles Din knew that he would use in pursuit of your pleasure.

It would be utterly blissful, especially because Grogu and Kuiil would have their own space while Din enjoyed your company in the privacy of your room. Staying in this hotel was the escape from real life that Din relished. It was something that he did not feel anywhere else. Whenever you visited his cottage out in the country the times spent together were a blissful sense of domesticity that Din did not feel like he deserved. Still, it was preferable to spending time in your flat, a place where Din had never felt comfortable. Not due to its size or simplicity but because of the poster that adorned the walls.

So, to be granted an opportunity to escape your normal lives and just enjoy each other’s company here was a luxury that Din was immensely grateful for.

After exiting the car, Din practically sprinted through the hotel towards you. He could not wait to be back with you again. Gone were the times when he would stress about exposing his identity when he gave his name at check-in. You were waiting for him upstairs.

Now, nothing was stopping Din from being back with you again once again.

He smiled at the thought that he was only moments away from seeing you again and taking you in his arms. It would have been even sooner if the elevator would hurry up and arrive. Din tapped his foot frustratedly on the polished marble floor as he waited for it to arrive in the lobby with a ding.

When it finally did, he did not waste a second before he hastily entered and pressed the number of the floor you were staying in. His heart thundered as he made his way through the corridor, towards your room. Din feared it might well beat out of his chest as he stood there after rapping on the dark wooden door, waiting for you to answer.

Thankfully, you got the door pretty rapidly. When it finally swung open, there were a few seconds where Din stood unmoving, staring at you with his mouth agape in disbelief that you were finally back together. It was an expression that was mirrored on your face.

Then, he finally broke free of his trance and stepped forward to envelop you in a tight hug. Din could barely believe that you were in his arms again. He resented the fact that it had taken so long for you to be reunited. All the days of pain faded away, however, as Din gathered you close to him. He struggled to find words to express his emotions.

Fortunately, you spoke first.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into Din’s shoulder, where you had tucked your head into the crook of his neck. He smiled as he felt your voice reverberating there, a reminder that this was real.

“I’m here now, Sunflower,” Din replied, his deep voice muffled into your hair, “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

At that, you pulled away. Din saw how much love was there in your eyes that it floored him all over again. He wasn’t sure how he ever found someone to love him so much. All he knew was that your presence in his life had made him painfully aware of the fact that he had been missing something for so long.

He felt as though he had been sleepwalking through life. Existing rather than living, in the weeks it had been since he last saw you. Now you were back together, that difference was acutely obvious to him. Din closed the distance and claimed your lips with his, attempting to convey what he could not yet find with his words. He roamed his hands across the warm expanse of your back, before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him.

There was no doubt that things would have escalated further, were it not for the sudden presence of a certain child.

Din first heard Kuiil shouting at Grogu to come back and pulled away from you regretfully. Any feelings of disappointment were soon eclipsed by the relief he felt to once again be back with his son.

It had not even been an entire day since Din had parted ways with Grogu, but he missed his boy so much that he was so relieved to be back with him. The irrational fear that Grogu would think he was abandoning him had been gnawing at him all day. Coupled with the frustration of being stuck behind at the studios, it was an unpleasant combination.

Thankfully, Grogu seemed to be as cheerful as ever. He appeared to be in good spirits, which was unsurprising after the day he had spent with his two favourite people.

Din picked his son up and walked over to the sofa, placing him on his lap and doting on the little boy whom he had missed so much.

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Although Din had every intention of quickly leaving the hotel again, after dumping his belongings and making sure that Grogu was settled, his plans soon fell by the wayside. Din had intended to take you out for a meal after the tour he had planned for you as part. Nothing fancy, but it was a Saturday night and he wanted to make the occasion feel special.

However, after Din exited the bathroom to see you lounging on the bed, you looked so relaxed and almost sleepy in the suite, he was happy to instead spend the rest of the evening in your spacious suite.

After all, it had been such a draining week for the pair of you. You deserved a relaxing evening. So, Din’s dinner plans were soon forgotten.

“I was planning to take you out for a nice dinner somewhere to spend some time just the two of us,” Din explained, “But I was thinking, since Kuiil is here and the food here in the hotel is so incredible… how about we just order room service?”

The way your eyes lit up proved to Din that it was a wise decision. The way you leapt off the bed and threw your arms around him and voiced your agreement only confirmed that. You seemed instantly relieved that Din was thinking along the same lines as you. Din wanted to show you again that there was never any pressure between the two of you to the expectations of what constitutes a ‘proper’ date. It was something that had defined your relationship ever since that evening when Din had tried to take you out to a fancy restaurant and instead, both of you had ended up in the noodle shop. Merely spending time with you was all Din needed to feel happy. Any time with you was incredibly precious to him.

After you and Din had finally made up your minds and ordered something from the extensive room service menu, Din went to check how Kuiil and Grogu were and inform them of his plans. He wanted to give you some space while you changed into some more comfortable clothes, but he was also eager to check on how Grogu was.

Din could not help but feel guilty for leaving Grogu for much of the day and how he would again tonight, even though he knew the boy was happy with the old man and Din would only be next door. Kuiil was as close to family as Grogu and Din had. A kindly old grandfather figure that they could always depend on for comfort and companionship. Din felt a lump in his throat as he hovered at the door, watching the two of them interact.

Kuiil had Grogu sitting on his lap, facing him. The old man was regaling him with tales from his childhood in his distinctive gruff voice. Watching the pair of them gave Din a familiar sensation of how he felt whenever he saw you interact with Grogu. The warm, tight feeling in his chest at the achingly familiality of it.

Family was a difficult subject for Din Djarin.

There was the family Din had lost when he was young and had never truly got to know. There was the family he had found with Mandalorians and the golden-haired woman who was the leader of his tribe. Then, of course, there was the little boy whom he had been unable to resist when he had seen him bundled beneath that threadbare blanket in the dismal attic.

Din had decided to rescue Grogu instinctively. Without much thought or planning, which was unlike a man who ordinarily prided himself on his meticulousness.

The abruptness of such a life-altering decision meant that Din sometimes doubted whether he was the right person to take care of Grogu, or whether Grogu deserved someone better. Din frequently felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with a toddler, especially one with as many needs as Grogu.

His love for the little boy won out every time.

Their connection was too great for Din to ever give up. He knew that he was not a perfect father, but he was determined to be the best one he possibly could be.

As he hovered in the doorway and took a brief moment to appreciate the fruits of his labour, and Kuiil’s labour, reflecting on how much progress Grogu had made, Din felt humbled by how precious fatherhood was.

When Grogu noticed his father standing there watching him, his big brown eyes lighting up when he laid eyes on the man who had saved him, Din’s chest swelled with pride.

It was these precious moments that made Din realise that he could do it; he was a capable father to Grogu.

He thought back to the first days onset, when he had arrived there terrified with his boy in tow. How Peli would scold him, telling him that he had an awful lot to learn about raising a young one after she caught Din not warming Grogu's baby food properly. The curly-haired woman had not been impressed. Din had been mortified. He hadn’t expected to see her just storm into his trailer like that. Those days seemed like distant memories now, but they were an important part of what had made Din the attentive father he eventually became.

Finally, Din moved from the doorway and joined Kuiil on the couch. He listened intently to the end of the story that the elderly man was telling his son in his characteristic breathy tone. Din had always admired the elderly man for the way he spoke to Grogu as though he were a real person, not just a cute baby.

“Everything okay, Mr Djarin?” Kuiil asked and Din shook his head slightly at the old man’s insistence on referring to him by a title.

“We’ve decided to stay here for dinner. I ordered something for Grogu and yourself and I thought we could eat together?” Din asked.

“Thank you, that sounds wonderful,” Kuiil smiled appreciatively. “I know this one has had a long day. I should imagine he'll soon go to sleep after he’s eaten and bathed.”

“Wonderful,” Din nodded.

Before the conversation could continue any further, the sound of the door opening tore Din’s attention away from Kuiil and his son.

Din was mesmerised by the sight of you, his brown eyes instantly brightening at the sight of you as you stepped through the door. Even though you were wearing something far less formal than you would have been wearing had you ventured out for dinner together, you were no less beautiful to Din.

You shuffled in wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Even with your body hidden by your comfortable clothes, Din was still on fire for you. Your outfit was not necessarily befitting such opulent surroundings. Then again, Din would not have picked this hotel out for himself. It was still a shock to his system to be surrounded by such an embarrassment of riches.

Din was distracted from checking you out by a knock at the door. Dinner had arrived.

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Contrary to Kuiil’s hypothesis, Grogu had not immediately been ready to go down to sleep after dinner. It required a lot of attention from three weary adults and plenty of playtime before the mischievous boy was finally content to sleep.

With Grogu sound asleep and Kuiil eager to get some rest of his own, Din thought it was finally time for the two of you to retire to your quarters. It was, after all, a considerable amount of time since the last time the two of you had spent some quality time together. Now Din knew that Grogu was happy and settled, after receiving more than enough attention from the three adults whom he loved very much, he was content to leave his boy behind. Din knew that he would be there the second Grogu woke up the following morning.

Although it was tempting to take advantage of the spacious bed with its luxurious sheets, Din was determined to spend some quality time with you. He suggested watching something on the sizable flatscreen TV together while cuddling on the couch of course. Spending time with you and feeling your body on his was an intoxicating thought for Din. That closeness and companionship was something he had missed as much as the sex.

So, while you sprawled on the enormous sofa, Din hovered around by the minibar, fixing the pair of you something to drink. Din was content to leave you flicking through the various channels for something to watch. It reminded him of the time he had visited your flat when you cooked dinner for him and the two of you could not decide what to watch, despite the number of titles. This time, you were in control. He did not doubt that you would pick out something good. Or if you did not, he was certain that the pair of you would find other ways to amuse yourselves…

As he glanced up towards the screen, however, Din felt his stomach drop as you hovered over the streaming platform that The Mandalorian was on. He shook his head, hands suddenly trembling as he took the glass bottles in his hands. There was no way that he could watch the show with you. He hadn’t even seen it himself, too embarrassed to watch himself on screen.

“Looks like this hotel has a pretty nice collection of streaming services. Why don’t we watch my favourite show?” you said enthusiastically as you opened the app.

“What’s that?” Din replied, jokingly feigning ignorance. Hoping that you would not detect the terror that had suddenly settled in the pit of his stomach.

“You know what my favourite show is!” you exclaimed, thoroughly offended.

“Oh that Star Trek one, right?” Din replied, ducking as you threw a cushion across the room at him.

“Din!” you exclaimed.

“What, Sunflower?” Din replied, a cocky smirk on his face as he padded across the room and set your drinks down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Although he may not get all the nerdy references, by confusing your favourite franchise with Star Trek, Din Djarin knew exactly what he had done. He felt lighter already. Laughing like that and knowing exactly how to push your buttons made Din feel as though everything was completely normal. The burden of the secret was temporarily lifted.

When he joked with you like this, it was so easy for Din to pretend that the jokes he was telling about the show were like any other people in a relationship. Teasing banter. It was a sense of normality. But the reality was that Din used such jokes to deflect from the truth.

He was the man behind your favourite character from your favourite TV show. No amount of jokes could hide that fact.

As Din padded across the room to fetch some cushions and blankets to snuggle up on the spacious couch, the guilt felt as though it was eating him up inside. He struggled to contain his emotions. Din knew that he was doing a terrible thing by lying to you. He was well aware that you would probably be disappointed when you discovered the truth.

Yet, Din also knew that the connection the two of you had was genuine. It had nothing to do with the character he portrayed, despite the way he had first encountered you. After that day at the convention, Din knew that he would have fallen for you regardless. Your brain and wits had stood out to him at the museum tour. Not to mention the way you had bonded with Grogu.

Anyone who was going to capture Din Djarin’s heart was going to have to realise that he and Grogu were a package deal. You had done that effortlessly.

When he finally sat next to you on the couch, threw a blanket over you and drew you into his side, all of that anguish was forgotten. Din felt your warmth all around him, the safety and security he drew from your touch whenever he was close to you. It was enough to make him forget the secret he was hiding from you.

With your head on his chest and your legs kicked up on the sofa as you cuddled up together and a terrible movie starting to play on Netflix, it was effortless to forget everything else beyond the here and now.

It was easy for Din to pretend that everything about how the two of you had met was normal. That there was no devastating secret lingering over you. That it was love and fate, rather than a combination of his job and your love for the show he starred in, which had initially caused your paths to cross.

Din wished that time would freeze and he would always be as happy as he was together with you in that suite. Curled up with his Sunflower, as you watched a terrible movie together.

Yet Din Djarin was a pragmatic man. Perhaps because of everything he had been through in his life. He realised, with a sickening, sinking feeling spreading in his stomach, that this happiness was fleeting…

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That sinking feeling was a distant memory the following day, however. Din was strolling hand in hand with you through Hyde Park in London. Grogu was toddling alongside you, on a toddler lead. It was a beautiful, sunny day. You were both enjoying each other’s company, the anguish that the pair of you had felt for most of the weekend at being separated beyond circumstances that were out of your control was long forgotten. The quality time with each other was more than making up for lost opportunities. Din knew that it had been a more limited weekend than he had hoped, but he was still glad to spend time with you.

It was a warm, sunny day in the park. Unseasonably beautiful for mid-September. It was probably one of the last sunny days before the leaves would turn brown and copper and a colder breeze would be present in the air. So, naturally, most of the population had seemingly had the same idea as the one suggested to Din by you that morning, as you ate breakfast in the suite: to visit Hyde Park.

Despite the crowds, it was a spacious park, with plenty of room for all of you. Kuiil had been left at a cafe near the entrance, insisting that he was too old to join the rest of you, despite Din’s insistence that he would be more than welcome to join. Still, Din did not push him too hard. The kindly old soul had more than earned his pay this weekend.

Din squeezed your hand in his, enjoying the warm, comforting reminder of your presence as he strolled along at your side. He kept stealing glances at you, making sure that you were enjoying yourself.

Your eyes were covered by your sunglasses, but the small smile you wore near-permanently on your face proved to him that you were having as much fun as he hoped you were.

Din had been watching you extra closely this weekend. He always did, but he wanted to make sure that the time spent apart had not affected you. He knew how upset you had been, he was anxious to ensure that he had made up for the upsetting start to your weekend. Din found that his eyes were drawn to you. He could not get enough of looking at you. There was something palpably electric about the way the two of you would steal glances at the other.

The three of you stopped for an ice cream from a van sitting on benches as you licked the refreshing sweet treats. Grogu, naturally, ended up with far more ice cream around his mouth than actually in it. The contented coos of the little boy proved that he was enjoying himself, at the very least. Even though he had also spilt ice cream over his clothes.

The only part of him that was stain-free was his green bucket hat. The brown shirt with green shorts that he had selected for himself had fallen victim to his ice cream exploits. Green and brown was his favourite colour combination and Din had enjoyed the way you had gushed at the sight of him that morning.

After finishing your ice creams, you suggested that the three of you take a walk towards the water’s edge of the lake which was one of the main features of the park. At first, Din’s eyes were drawn towards the swans and ducks that were splashing around in the water there, as well as the people participating in various watersports and making their way across the calm, blue water’s surface on boats. He could have watched them all day, but his attention was taken away from them by the sound of your voice calling out to him.

“Din! Look!” you exclaimed enthusiastically, “There are boats we can hire!” you gasped as you turned to face him and pointed towards a boathouse with a few small rowboats tied up on the jetty in its vicinity which protruded into the water. “Can we hire one, please?”

Din released a sigh that was usually reserved for Grogu, an exasperated tired noise that ordinarily came out when his toddler was troubling him. But the childlike wonderment in your voice and face was too endearing for him to refuse. When you looked at him like that, Din knew he would have done anything for you.

The prospect of hiring a rowboat was something that Din would never have done on his own. With you, hiring a boat at the park suddenly seemed like an idea that he could at least entertain the prospect of. Din knew this was probably going to end in tears somehow, but he couldn’t resist indulging you and Grogu. Not when the pair of you looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. Waiting for him to give permission.

“Fine,” Din sighed, leaning his weight onto one leg and folding his arms in a way that was so characteristic of him.

It was a careless mannerism, one that was so distinctively Din Djarin. It was also unmistakably Mando. A gesture he often employed on the show, was to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies with just a lean and a sigh.

Din felt his blood run cold as he noticed the way that you stared at him for a beat longer than was usual. There was a terrible few seconds of silence where he was terrified that a glimmer of recognition had flickered in your eyes.

Fortunately, you soon snapped out of it. Shaking your head you took Grogu’s hand and led him towards the boathouse so you could figure out how to hire the boats.

When you turned your back, Din shut his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Without even realising it, he had slipped into one of his mannerisms that he had been so desperate to hide from you. The way he had stood and sighed was something that Mando would do. And he was certain that you had connected those dots.

Fortunately, you had hurried off before he had to lie to you, again. With his breathing back under control, Din paced over to the boathouse to catch up. You and Grogu were already at the desk, selecting the boat that you wished to hire.

After exchanging funds and a brief safety talk, with matching yellow life jackets to boot, the three of you were all set for your adventure in a rowboat. Din knew as he climbed into the boat that this was probably going to be a bad idea. Despite his reservations and hesitation and the grumpy dad facade that he was putting on, he was secretly intrigued by what this was going to entail.

“Have you ever done this before, Din?” you asked, as though you could sense his trepidation.

“No,” Din huffed, “Never.”

Din watched you shake your head at him with a smile on your face. He was confused by your apparent amusement, wondering what was so funny. Before you could continue teasing him, Din handed Grogu – who was wearing an adorable little yellow life jacket of his own – to you, and ungracefully clambered aboard the wobbly boat behind you.

As Din took a seat on shaky legs, you seemed intent to continue teasing him:

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I’m sure you’ll be great!” you said cheerfully.

“You’re not rowing with me?” Din said, aghast. It had been your idea to hire this damn boat, after all.

“Oh, there’s only one set of oars. I think you can take the reins here, honey,” you smiled.

Then you proceeded to thoroughly ignore Din’s existence and his predicament, pointing out a tree in the distance to Grogu who was babbling contentedly on your lap.

Din shook his head with a huff and grabbed the ends of the wooden oars. He began to move them with trepidation. The weight was not an issue, especially not for someone with as hulking muscles as Din. But it was difficult to find the knack for the movements. He was uncoordinated at first, the wooden boat wobbling around as Din found his rhythm.

Din murmured a string of apologies but once he eventually got into the groove, the little boat hurtled away into the middle of the lake. Happy with the position, Din paused his movements and the boat came to a stop. With the sounds of the water sloshing as it hit the sides of the boat, a chorus of birds tweeting and Grogu’s giggles floating into the sweet, warm air… Din wondered if it was possible to feel any more content than he did at that moment. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, appreciating the sounds as the sun beat down on his face.

“I wouldn’t mind having a turn rowing,” you said eventually, breaking Din out of the tranquil state he had fallen into.

“Okay,” Din agreed.

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.

First, Din watched as you placed Grogu onto the seat next to you. Second, Din stood up to allow the two of you to swap places on the two benches that were facing each other on the rowboat. Thirdly, he became acutely aware of how the motion of him taking a step towards you caused the little boat to rock as you stood up and your forces acted upon the tiny vessel.

The sum of your forces sent you hurtling over the edge with a yelp.

The splash which was produced when your body hit the water sent droplets of the lake all over Din and Grogu, who watched the entire thing with a scared look on their faces.

For a few, terrible seconds it seemed as though the entire world had stopped spinning on its axis as Din waited for you to reemerge from the lake.

Once he knew that you were okay, he felt certain he was about to get the biggest scolding of his life. He leaned over the edge of the boat, calling your name.

When you finally reemerged, hair wet and sticking to your face, Din breathed a sigh of relief. Principally, because you had survived your unplanned entrance to the water unscathed but mostly because you did not look like you wanted to murder him. A fact he was extremely grateful for. Instead of fire and fury, you were giggling breathlessly at the sensation.

Your airy laughs were the perfect accompaniment to the rippling waters of the lake.

“I hate you, Din Djarin!” you yelled between giggles.

It was a joke, there was no malice whatsoever behind those three words. Still, Din couldn’t help but wince slightly as you said such a thing to him. There were three words he never wanted to hear you say again.

Considering how well you were taking your impromptu dunking, Din thought he had escaped your wrath. He should have known that you would never allow him to get away with the predicament you found yourself in that easily.

Din leaned over the side of the boat to offer his hand out to you. He knew he would have no trouble pulling you back into the boat. You gladly took his hand and Din began pulling you inside the boat.

Except, Din’s helpful gesture was not met entirely with receptiveness from you.

It was turn for Din to let out a yelp of his own, this time as you placed all your weight on him and tugged him into the water.

It all happened so quickly that Din struggled to process what had just happened. For a second, everything was dark and murky. And cold. So cold.

Eventually, Din resurfaced, dramatically spitting a mouthful of water into the air and throwing daggers at you. There was darkness in those brown eyes, perhaps you would regret the day you ever pushed a Mandalorian into the water.

Din would deal with you later.

His first concern was for Grogu, who had been left in the boat all by himself. Din wanted to make sure that his son was okay.

Din discovered, as he pushed himself up to peer over the side that the water was incredibly shallow. He could easily touch the bottom. He felt instantly relieved once he peered over the edge of the boat and locked eyes with his son.

Except, rather than seeing Grogu’s expressive brown eyes full of concern towards his father’s predicament, there was a rather different expression across Grogu’s face. Din instead rolled his eyes as his son sat there, giggling at the scene unfolding in front of him and clapping his chubby hands together in glee. Din rolled his eyes and turned to face you, pushing his soaked brown hair up out of his eyes and onto his forehead.

Din stood there in the water, shaking his head and laughing at you in disbelief. Here he was, this man who was usually so hesitant to push himself even slightly out of his comfort zone, in the middle of a lake after an impromptu rowboat adventure.

Din looked at you, mesmerised by the way your face was bathed in the warm glow of a sunny afternoon in the park. Your eyes were shining a different colour than usual. Din was transfixed by the sight of you, the glow that seemed to surround you. As though you were an angel, brought to life. Your shirt was wet and clinging to your body, accentuating your figure which Din loved so much.

Before he was conscious of what he was doing, he had closed the distance between you. His hands were buried in your wet hair, it felt just as he had imagined it would, all silken and wet. His lips caressed yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Something about the way the water had caused your t-shirt to get so wet that it was clinging to your body had awakened something in Din. He was kissing you here in public, without a care for any onlookers.

“Everything okay here?” an unfamiliar voice behind Din caused him to snap out of the embrace in an instant.

Din cleared his throat and turned to face the mystery intruder. It was a lifeguard in a rubber dinghy, who had seen two people enter the water and been dispatched to make sure everything was okay. The man was probably close to retirement age and looked thoroughly unimpressed by Din’s antics, causing his skin to flush in embarrassment.

“Oh… uh, yes. Thank you,” Din stammered. Sorry, we were trying to switch places in the boat and then, this happened,” Din added with a nervous laugh.

“Well, there’s a kid in there you might want to return to,” the man in the boat observed as he nodded towards Grogu who still sat there with a grin on his face.

The blush that crept across Din’s face was unmistakable as the man in the motorised dinghy made his exit, the engine gradually becoming more and more distant. He could hardly look at you as he helped you back onto the boat, lifting you and pushing you back on there, careful not to disturb Grogu. When you eventually made it back onto the boat, you unceremoniously flopped down on the deck like a fish.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rest of the afternoon was spent lying on the bank next to the lake on fluffy towels. Thankfully, the boathouse had provided them to help dry you out from the soaking you had received. Din had resisted all calls on your part for him to take his shirt off so he would dry quicker. He knew it was just a cheap plea on your part to get to ogle him. He was too self-conscious to contemplate such an act. Despite the ease with which he had stepped out of his comfort zone by agreeing to a spontaneous boat excursion before, his typical shyness had returned.

Yet, as the sun fell lower in the sky and afternoon turned to early evening, Din decided that it was probably time to begin heading home. He knew a long filming day stretched out ahead of him tomorrow. A day that he knew was going to begin early, just after dawn had broken. Likewise, he knew that you would have to work early. And your job was far more draining and demanding than his.

The three of you had spent much of the afternoon in the same position. You cuddled up on Din’s warm chest as his hands rested around your waist, while Grogu leaned into his shoulder as the little child napped, exhausted from all the excitement. Din hated to move from this position. He would have been quite content to stay here forever.

“We should probably think about heading home soon,” Din whispered into your hair, nuzzling into the soft strands which were still slightly damp after your dip in the lake.

You nodded in agreement. Din carefully picked Grogu up and gathered him to his chest, grunting slightly as he stood up. Din noticed that you could barely meet his gaze as he offered you his hand and hauled you to your feet.

The three of you set off for the cafe where Kuiil had spent much of the day, Din once again laced his fingers through yours.

“Would you like to get a ride back with us or would you prefer to make your way home?” Din eventually asked as you approached the gates to leave the park.

Din had noticed the way you had become gradually more withdrawn and quiet. He wasn’t sure what had caused it, but he sensed that the tension in you was probably because you wanted to leave for home. It was a Sunday afternoon, turning into an evening after all. Din knew that you had work the following morning. But then Din noticed how your bottom lip was trembling as you looked at him. He knew that your idea of a peaceful, relaxing weekend had been ruined by his job. His heart ached for the disappointment which surely still lingered.

“Din, I don’t want to make you feel guilty. I hate to sound so clingy… but I feel like I hardly spent time with you this weekend. I thought I would see so much more of you and it’s been great to see you today… but we’ve been with Grogu pretty much the entire time and I,” you sighed, looking away from him as you attempted to compose yourself. “I miss you, Din.

“Oh, Sunflower, I understand. Don’t worry. I think this little one is tired so he probably wants to head home but, if you want, you can come back to the cottage,” Din offered.

When he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he had made the right decision.

“Perhaps we can go for a walk there and maybe have dinner together before you head home?” Din suggested.

He noticed the way that your shoulders immediately lifted. The thought of going back to work the following day without having seen as much of him as you were hoping seemed to be upsetting you deeply, Din could tell. So anything he could do to ease that pain made him instantly feel better. Din never wanted to see you upset.

“I’d love that, Din,” you smiled at him.

Your smile was one of the features that Din loved the most. Especially when you gave him one that made your eyes crinkle. Knowing that you were feeling better soothed Din’s shaky nerves. He thanked his lucky stars that the pair of you would not end this weekend with one of you feeling upset.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The Nevarro Arms was the most defining feature of the tiny village of Nevarro itself, aside from the huge studios, The Volume, that stood right next to it. It was where most residents of Nevarro spent their evenings, drinking and chatting with each other.

Although they were a staple of the British countryside, pubs seemed small, intimate and terrifying to Din.

Despite how much time he had spent in the UK and how much he was enjoying his time here, this was not the country of his birth. There were certain cultural oddities that he could not get used to, no matter how hard he tried. Pub culture was evidently one of them.

Fortunately, you were slightly more of a local than Din. So, you insisted, when you passed it at the village cross on your way to walk the path around the hill where you had infamously been caught in the rainstorm a few weeks back, that he had to at least have a pint in his local.

“You haven’t even been to a pub since you got here?” you asked, astounded, as the two of you walked hand in hand through the tiny village of Nevarro.

Except for The Nevarro Arms and a couple of small shops which sold basic groceries, there was nothing else really of note here. Besides The Volume, of course.

“No,” Din replied with a smirk. He found it adorable how worked up you seemed to be getting over something as simple as never having visited a pub.

“Din! That’s ridiculous!” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “Just didn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, we’re changing that today,” you smiled at him, “On the way back from our walk, you’ll have a pint, and you'll enjoy it!

Din was relieved to see how much you had brightened up since he had invited you here, you had been visibly upset at the prospect of leaving him. He still felt awful about the whole thing, about his work keeping him from you, but he was grateful for how patient and understanding you were with him.

Din was transfixed by the sight of the sun setting as the two of you strolled around a dirt path, bugs buzzing as the sun set, the two of you hand in hand. You started swinging your joined hands playfully. Din giggled at the sight. He loved the zest for life that you possessed. That something as simple as just taking a stroll at sunset with him seemed to perk your spirits up and make you so playful.

He would need every bit of those positive emotions to carry him through his first time stepping foot in his local.

Din felt his stomach churning with nerves as the two of you entered The Nevarro Arms. It was an old building with a slightly sloped doorway, indicating its age.

Din immediately felt like an outsider, an alien.

Part of what had prevented him from ever visiting the quaint old building was a fear that there would be a barrage of questions from the owner of the pub.

Din was nervous that they would suss him out somehow. He suspected that the pub did not get many foreigners in it. Once they realised how close Din lived to The Volume, that would be it. They would know he was The Mandalorian.

Although it was an irrational fear, Din looked and sounded much different than the character he portrayed, the terror at the prospect of being discovered never really left him. He was constantly checking himself, trying to speak differently and disguise the gait of his walk. He had found that it was surprisingly easy to blend in, given how people were never really going to imagine what Mando looked like without the suit of armour.

Still, as he stepped into his local pub for the first time, his clammy hand clasped in yours, Din was a bundle of nerves. It was amusing that he could fight people off physically like it was no more physically demanding than opening a jar of pickles. When it came to people… Din felt out of his depth.

Fortunately, it transpired that his fears were misplaced, for the pub landlord – not owner, you had corrected Din on the proper terminology – was just as much of an outsider as Din was.

Greef Karga was not from this part of the world either, like Din he had once been employed at the studios here. An actor from the US, after concluding his job here, had just never left. He explained how he had fallen in love with the environment here and bought a cottage close by.

When the former landlord of The Nevarro Arms had sold up, Greef had decided to step in and buy the pub to save it from closure. It was an icon of the surrounding area that desperately needed saving. Greef had heeded the call.

Upon seeing how relaxed and friendly Greef was, Din felt instantly relieved. The image he had feared of a nosy old lady with grey hair, mottled skin and too much time on her hands, who wanted to know everything about Din’s life as well as yours had been his biggest fear. With Greef, he needn’t have worried.

The only thing that did worry him, though, was how extensively Greef had talked about the studios here.

Now there was no way to avoid it. Surely you were going to bring it up.

When Greef finally got distracted by some other customers, Din followed you through the pub to find a table. He was appreciating the low beams of the pub, the unmistakable smoky feeling produced by the real wooden fire. He was finally beginning to feel calm and relaxed.

Until he saw it.

His heart dropped at the sight of it.

You were walking directly towards a huge display of Star Wars memorabilia. Various posters and autographs were framed, and hanging proudly on the walls. There was no way around it. No way you weren't going to stop and bring it up.

Everything Greef had just told you would have been a perfect segue for Din to come clean, to tell you the truth, that it was no coincidence that he lived in Nevarro, given its proximity to The Volume. That he was The Mandalorian.

When you inevitably stopped in front of the impressive display of memorabilia at The Nevarro Arms, it would provide a perfect conversation starter. He could just slip it in carefully. There would be no more paranoia that you would find the terrible secret he had been keeping from you. He would not have to hide such an enormous part of his life from you any longer. He could tell you all about how much being a Mandalorian meant to him. He could be honest with you about what kept him from you on long shooting days.

Once again, Din took the coward’s way out.

Right before you reached the display of memorabilia, Din called your name.

You turned away from it abruptly, spinning around to face him.

“I thought we could sit here, by the fire?” Din said as he gestured towards a cosy table tucked away in the corner.

“Sure,” you nodded and moved to join him.

Din breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down opposite you. Anxious that the conversation would not circle back to The Volume, or anything about the memorabilia on display, Din asked you a question that he knew would serve a dual purpose; that would keep you distracted and talking, while also pulling your mind far away from Star Wars.

“What’s the history behind Sunday Roasts?” Din asked, inquisitively. “I mean, I saw a sign for them outside here ‘Try our famous Sunday Roast!’ but I’ve never heard of one before.”

At once, you pivoted from someone Din was on a date with into your full historian mode. You launched yourself into an enthusiastic lecture, telling him all about Sunday roasts.

“So, British food has a bad rep around the world and that’s pretty fair. Some of this island’s cuisine is truly terrible. But I think the history of the roast is quite interesting and amusing,” you started, eyes twinkling with delight at finally getting to share your knowledge. “A lot of countries put pride and time into their cooking, but I think British people have always been a little more lazy than that. We think the Sunday Roast or Roast Dinner as we know it first started in the Middle Ages. After a busy week of working in the fields, the peasants would just shove a joint of meat into a roasting tin and leave it to cook over the fire while they went to church. So when they returned, I’m not sure what was tougher, the boots they wore to work in the fields all week or the meat!” you giggled.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Din laughed, “Interesting history, though. Never heard anything about it before. Thanks for the lecture,” Din added with a wink.

“Oh, there I go again,” You said timidly, biting your lip in embarrassment, “Off on another one of my lectures. You can take the girl out of the museum but you can’t take the museum out of the girl.”

“No, Sunflower,” Din whispered, smiling as he propped his elbow on the table, resting his hand on his chin, “I love it when you go off on your little tangents about things. Your passion and enthusiasm… it’s infectious. You’re also incredibly cute when you do it.”

“Din…” you scoffed.

Din smiled at your bashfulness. He loved how much more open you seemed to be to receiving compliments from him. You had been so shy at first and now you seemed to be getting increasingly comfortable with him admiring you and appreciating your presence.

“I mean it, Sunflower,” Din nodded, as he laced his fingers with yours.

Here, in this tiny, cosy pub, as the sun set and the fire crackled in the corner, Din thought you looked perfect. Your beauty was on full display to him, both inside and outside. The twinkle in your eye that was evident after the compliments he had paid you only added to your gorgeousness.

Din knew then that he had made the right decision. How could he ever let you go?

“Thank you,” you said with a wink, “Let me go and get us another round, do you want your usual?”

“A what?” Din added in confusion. He knew he understood the words you were saying, but some of them seemed so alien in this context.

“In the UK, it's common to buy a round of drinks rather than everyone going up to the bar individually. Saves time and as long as everyone sticks to the same drinks, it pretty much works out at the same cost. And your usual is just what you had before, so in your case a pint of the cider Greef recommended?”

“Oh,” Din nodded, fascinated as he was introduced to this new culture he knew nothing about. “I'll have another pint of cider but let me pay, baby,” Din insisted, placing his hand out to try and stop you.

“No, Din. I insist. I want to buy a pint,” you smiled as you walked away from his outstretched hand.

Din had no real concept of how long the process of ordering a pint should take. But as the minutes ticked by, he struggled to remain rational about what was taking you so long at the bar. After a few minutes, he became concerned about whether something had happened to you.

It wasn’t like The Nevarro Arms was the busiest pub in the universe, given the tiny village that it served. So, despite his reservations and fear that he was being overbearing, Din moved from the table and went to the bar.

Thankfully, he spotted you straight away and some of the tension that had been building inside of him was somewhat relieved when he caught sight of you standing at the bar.

However, his heart instantly sank when he saw who you were talking to. A familiar figure, who Din instantly recognised.

It was Migs Mayfeld, a security guard from The Volume.

Din suspected that Mayfeld was already slightly inebriated. Din locked eyes with the bald man, but Migs broke contact and resumed chatting with you.

He tried to quell his panic by remembering that Migs would have no idea who he was. After all, the only way that he would have known that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian was if he was standing there with a big suit of armour on.

But Din was not wearing armour. He was wearing jeans and a sweater.

You hadn't spotted him yet, your back turned as you continued chatting away to Mayfeld. Din suddenly felt guilty and awkward about his paranoia. He turned to leave, seeing that you had only been chatting to Greef and Migs and there were no more sinister reasons for how long you had taken. At that moment, you must have spotted him because from across the bar, he heard you call his name.

Din turned to face you and heard you say:

“Oh Migs, this is… uh, my boyfriend, Din.”

Din froze. There was no option now, he had to go and greet the man who had accompanied him to set so many times and checked him in at the little security hut at the entrance to The Volume. Din was silently praying that the armour hid enough of his build and voice so that Mayfeld did not guess who he was.

“Pleasure to meet you. Mayf– Migs, was it?” Din asked, his heart skipping a beat as he almost said the man’s surname. The nickname that everyone at work used for him. Luckily, Din corrected himself just in time.

Din noticed the way Mayfeld regarded him as he moved in to shake his hand, hoping that the flicker of recognition he thought he saw was something else.

“Nice to meet you Din, you got a wonderful girl here, I must say,” Mayfeld smiled.

The way Mayfeld turned to smile at you unsettled something in Din. He felt his blood turning hot. Luckily, you were on hand to diffuse the situation.

“Well, nice to speak to you Migs,” you nodded in the bald man’s direction, “And Greef,” you smiled at the man pulling pints behind the bar. “We’ll go sit by the fire and enjoy our pints. It's Din’s first time in a pub and he’s pretty excited to be here,” you smiled.

Din watched speechless as you walked towards him and grabbed his arm.

“You okay?” you asked, linking your arm through his as you led him back to the table.

Din nodded, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth, because of how you had referred to your relationship with him to Mayfeld. The fact that you had just referred to him as your boyfriend was running through his brain on an endless loop.

The pride, the happiness that he saw in your eyes when you said that word. It was something that the two of you had not officially discussed, but it felt so right. It would be wrong to refer to you in any other way.

After he had met you, there was no question for Din of there being anyone else. It was always you, only you.

Now, due to his cowardice, he felt immense guilt. That title, your relationship becoming something official was exactly what Din wanted more than anything else in the world. There were no doubts in his mind that you were the one for him.

You had brought him out of his shell, including earlier in the day on the boats in the park. It was something he never would have considered on his own but with you, it just felt so right and Grogu had the best time. Your relationship with Din’s son was just as special as the relationship you had with Din, it was plain to see how much joy you had brought to the special little boy’s life.

Rather than feel the sheer joy he should have felt at your decision to bestow such a beautiful title on him, Din suddenly felt heavy and burdened by it. As you slid back into the cosy table to enjoy the freshly pulled pints of cider, there was one emotion Din was plagued with above all.

Guilt.

Din knew he should never have allowed to get it to this point, such a serious step, without saying something first, telling you the truth about who he was. The guilt threatened to engulf him, it was eating him up inside. Din’s heart broke when you took his inner turmoil as a sign that he was not happy with the way you had just referred to him.

“I hope you uhh… you didn’t mind me saying that. I mean calling you my boyfriend. I know we didn’t talk about it or anything but uh…. I don’t think Mayfeld was flirting really but I just wanted him to know I was seeing someone and it’s serious,” you said, anxiously looking up at Din over your glass as you took your first sip from your pint.

Din felt awful about the anxiety that he saw there, that you were so worried you had been upset when you had done nothing of the sort. Now that he looked at you before him and thought of you as his girlfriend, it caused a sensation in Din’s chest that was quite unlike anything he had experienced before. Somewhere between pride, security and a dash of possessiveness – knowing that you were his. No one else’s. He moved to reassure you, he could not leave you thinking that it was something he would not have chosen for himself. Din placed his arms on the table and took both of your hands in his, gazing at you adoringly.

“I do not mind for a single second, Sunflower,” Din beamed at you, “We didn’t talk about it, that’s true, but to me, it feels right. I am honoured to hold your heart.”

Din brought his lips to your hands, marvelling at how soft your skin was as he placed a firm kiss on the back of your hand. The sigh of relief he heard you release was noticeable in the quiet of the pub, and Din was happy that he had managed to reassure you.

“And I am honoured that you want to,” you said, beaming at Din adoringly. “Despite how useless I am when it comes to rowing boats.”

Din laughed at that, the memory of your earlier exploits in the park was going to live with him for a long time and comfort him in his darkest days, Din was sure of that.

“Well, you can’t have it all. It would be unfair on the rest of the world, otherwise,” Din said as he took a sip from his cider.

“Din…” you scoffed, unused to such a beautiful compliment.

To Din, you did look so beautiful. The firelight illuminated your features as the sky behind the window your table was against turned to a dark blue behind you. The wooden panels of the pub combined with the traditional decor and crackling fire all contributed to the scene before Din. He thought it was one of the most stunning sights he had ever seen. Here was a man who, thanks to his work, had travelled the world and dined in many of the most luxurious, exclusive establishments. It turned out the greatest one of them all was this small, quaint, pub in the English countryside. All thanks to you.

It was such a beautiful moment, Din was almost swept up in it completely. But then he remembered what he was hiding from you, and the sickening feeling in his stomach came back. He was so terrified of ruining this, the most incredible thing in his life aside from his son, that he was tongue-tied. It would have been a perfect opportunity to tell you.

Instead, he sat there, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Whether from the love he felt for you or the crackling fire, he wasn't entirely sure. Still, Din basked in the moment. Committing every single sight and sound to memory as he watched you.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rest of the night was passed with pleasant chatter and laughter. Din could tell that you wanted to stay overnight, and he wanted you to. He didn’t want the laughter by the fire on this pleasant summer evening with the delicious pints of cider to end. But even if it would have been possible for you to blag a sick day, that was impossible for him, especially not with how filming was coming to a climax. It would never wash.

So, reluctantly, after one more pint, Din walked you outside and placed you into a waiting car that would take you home, thanks to the driver that the company supplied for him to use whenever he needed it. Din could tell that you felt hesitant to use such a luxury, but he had repeatedly assured you that it wasn’t coming out of his pocket.

Even if he was, he could surely afford it. Din usually felt embarrassed by the riches that were afforded to him, but wherever he could use a perk of the job to spoil you, it all felt worthwhile to him. Din watched the car leave down the narrow country lane one way before he turned around and headed back towards the cottage, back to his son who was surely asleep, having been lulled off by the dulcet tones of Kuiil. Din was always happy to get back to Grogu, but he missed you already.

Din returned to Grogu and the cottage. He hummed a happy tune, feeling a buzz from the cider. Blissfully unaware that something as simple as a visit to his local pub could have changed everything.

As he stood in the door, watching Grogu sleep peacefully, Din Djarin had no idea that by finally taking you to The Nevarro Arms, he had just set in motion a chain of events that would change the future for the two of you in the most dramatic way…

Taglist: @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #tbobw

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magpiefngrl · 3 days

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20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @hoko-onchi-writes! Great way to spend a lazy Sunday morning :)

Username: magpie_fngrl

1. How many works do you have on A03? 54

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 392,045

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've mostly written drarry. I'd started as a pynch writer (TRC) and lately I've written a bunch in other fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? all drarry:

dirtynumbangelboy

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy

The Full Monty

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There,

9 ½ Days

5. Do you respond to comments? I do my best. I made a decision back when I posted a lot of stuff and got more comments than I could handle that I would only reply to the comments on the last chapter of a multi-chapter fic. Other than that, I try my best to reply to everyone.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote a Major Character Death fic (The Death You Carry). Can't get angstier than that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics end happy, but now that I think of it they're mostly HFN in romance-genre speak. Happy For Now aka the fic ends with them as a couple, kissing or touching for example, the Ever After is implied but not explicit. Two fics which end with H/D living together, and thus more committed to each other, are Hush, darling and The Boy Who Died. These are also angstier than my other fics, which makes the happy ending sweeter imo.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate per se. I've received demanding comments ("Can you write more? Another sex scene? And make it mpreg?") or comments like "I like your story but I can't read on because you have X topping". Not hate. There was a time, though, that I got several comments about how stupid/annoying/an arsehole Harry is, which reflect an attitude I used to see in fandom, where Draco is perfect and Harry is a bumbling fool and the minute he says something sharp to Draco he becomes an arsehole and should be screamed at. Needless to say, I hate this kind of interpretation. I deleted a couple of these comments, I just couldn't have them on my page. It was the reason I de-activated comments on all my fics for some time.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The sexy kind, I hope LOL

Serious answer: I have written explicit sex scenes, although I tend to be more vague rather than write a play-by-play description of what is happening. I mean, there is some of that, but not as detailed as it can be. I don't know how to explain it better in English, sorry. Anyhow, I love sex scenes, I love reading them, I enjoy the challenge of writing them, and I think what I like best in what I read (and thus I try to emulate) is when a sex scene reveals the emotional state of these two people rather than just say whose dick does what.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I haven't! A couple of years ago I got a few asks about wangxian and drarry meeting up and although it was fun to reply to the asks and imagine how it would take place, I don't think I'll ever write it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Someone screenshot dnab and posted it on instagram. The whole 40k fic. If there have been others, I don't know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't and I'm not sure I could. I don't think my writing process would lead to successful collaborations. If I were to imagine it, the easiest for me would be that each writer has their own POV (I'd write Draco, the other person Harry, for instance) and we'd have a general idea but not a strict outline and we'd write it like a relay race: I'd post something, they'd write the next part, then me etc.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I tend to move on from fandoms, so it used to be pynch, then drarry, now wangxian. I don't have a lot of time for fandom these days so I'm not as obsessed with a ship as I used to be. I love all my babies equally.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic with a magical university of sorts, or rather 8th year but they'd be more like uni students than normal school students, and Draco was a Veela whose mate was Astoria. Not sure where it would all go, but well--it won't go anywhere now, because I have so many other WIPs that take precedent.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm decent at dialogue and I've been told my fics have great atmosphere. Occasionally I write an unusual turn of phrase and people comment on that. My fics are fairly short, but I've been told that they have a lot more story than the reader expected because of the word count, and I think that's because I edit ruthlessly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting is my main problem. I pants my stories and it takes me forever to figure out what happens next. I also lack confidence and doubt everything while writing, which isn't a writing weakness exactly, but it does affect my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It's cool. I like it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Raven Cycle. I was mad about pynch.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Currently 9 ½ Days but I have a very, very soft spot for The Boy Who Died.

Tagging: @lettersbyelise @lucifergraced @coriesocks @wolfpants @julcheninred @nerdherderette @lqtraintracks if they wanna!

#tagged #writer questions #thank you hoko!

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bambiraptorx · 7 months

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Alright I'm gonna stop talking about Big Mama before I get even more sidetracked-

This is your free ticket to info dump about any au or piece of lore (Of course, you can do this whenever, but personally I find it helpful to know someone wants to hear me infodump.)

-🔮🕸

*claps hands excitedly because I LOVE infodumping*

Okay, so one of the important things to the Draxum raises the turtles AU is that they all end up going to a yokai school, right? There's a specific reason Draxum picked the school he did for them: he used to teach there. For several decades, actually, and he was a reasonably popular and well respected professor up until he suddenly quit without an explanation. He went from being fairly involved in the community, if a little withdrawn, to basically disappearing, and no one really knows why. (What happened is that he discovered the prophecy that yokai would be destroyed and knew he had to do something about it. It became his sole focus.)

It isn't until he shows up one day to enroll four children in the next semester's classes that he gets involved with the school again, and the rumors start flying.

#asks #bambi's rambling #rottmnt #rottmnt au #draxum raises the turtles au #mcmt au #minor interference au #<- the history is gonna be relevant in chapter 20 of that fic #rottmnt baron draxum #rottmnt fanfiction #i always thought it was interesting how canon never shows draxum interacting with many other yokai #he talks to his gargoyles big mama and the council of heads (and a convo between him and the bounty hunters is referenced)#and like he's trying to save the yokai that's obvious. but he doesn't seem to have many actual connections?#something about him just seems so lonely and disconnected #and you know what's more fun to write than a character who has no connections? one who cut himself off :)#so i like to think that he actually had a lot of ties within yokai society and just. gave them up for his work #partly because it's massively illegal and he doesn't want people finding out #but also because he know that they might try to convince him to stop #and he's so determined to save his people that he's willing to cut his friends off for it

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haunted-xander · 5 months

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Fontaine, as a whole, is a nation I feel was so nearly perfect, but also just... somewhat unsatisfying.

Like, the exploration is nice, the puzzles and mechanics are fun, but... it's so easy. I have the entire map 100%. I didn't use a guide for most of it (only for Special Stuff like the treasure maps and foggy branches), nor did I have the treasure compass. All I had to help me was the hydroculus resonance gadget. The only regions in the game I got to 100% without any guides before was Galesong Hill (which, tbh, most ppl probably have at 100% or close %), and Hypostyle Desert (simply bc the underground ruins were so much fun to explore). Everywhere else I used a guide for at some point. During 4.0 I literally felt like I had to hold back on exploring just to not finish it too quickly. Yeah.

The world quests have a lot of interesting stuff going for them, especially the Narzissenkreuz questline and the ones in/around Merusea Village. But... they feel like they're missing something. I don't feel like I'm properly done with any of them, even though there isn't really anything more to add. The Narzissenkreuz quests had a very strong start, I cared about the characters involved and the lore they're a part of, and having it be 3 questlines that combine into one comprehensive story was really fun, but the ending feels... unceremonious almost. I can't pinpoint what's wrong with it, it answered what it needed to and it made it clear what everyone was doing going forward, but... it feels off. Anticlimatic, almost, despite it having the climax it needed. The world quest I was most satisfied with was the Questioning Melusine And Answering Machine quests, and it's a largely self-contained one. Everything else feels... unfinished, almost. But also not.

And the Archon Quests are so so good, but also... weird at parts. First of all, Childe's out-of-nowhere traumadump early on is jarring, especially since... they didn't really follow up with it properly? Like yes, the Narwhal and Skirk ended up relevant but... not to him, for the most part. The important questions this conversation prompted wasn't elaborated or followed up on, which is what could've justified including it at all. We still have no more clues as to why the Narwhal connected with him, we don't know what caused his restlessness or why his vision messed up, and Skirk was kinda just... there. She loredumped and that was that.

There's other oddities too, like Traveler getting upset at the twins for hiding their Fatui affiliation. Traveler has every right to be upset with them in that moment but... not for that. They should be upset because they lied about the magic show, not about being Fatui. Like, you literally called Childe you're friend just the other day! And he's literally tried to kill you (well, okay, not "kill", but he was still an enemy)! And later on you're suddenly fine with Arlecchino, a person we have seen time and time again is an absolutely terrible person? Because, what, she cared about this one specific problem that affected innocent lives? Really?

Furina and Childe not getting checked up on by basically anyone at the end of 4.2s AQ feels not only out of character (you're gonna tell me Traveler isn't gonna check on them after all that happened? Really?) but also just... very shitty. The only one who seemed to even care was Neuvillette, everyone else just kinda... forgot about those two. Despite the fact that 1) Furina was a well liked public figure who, even after the truth was revealed, people very much still cared about, and 2) Childe literally saved the entire nation but stalling the Narwhal for over a month. Even Neuvillette couldn't so much as deter that thing until he got his full powers back, and you're telling me nobody, not even the people who where directly saved by him, even wondered what became of him? Really?

The characters are fantastic here, don't get me wrong, everyone is lovely and I adore them all, but the way the story handled certain things is just... not great. It's unsatisfying. It feels like there were things they wanted to do but either chickened out of or simply didn't get to include. It's so jarring.

#i didnt mean for it to get so long but oh well #fontaine is so so good but just. somewhat off. and unsatisfying #also when i was going through the narzissenkreuz line #during 4.0 i felt like the cut-off for the next stage(s) of the quest for 4.1 was this... awkward cliffhanger #like yes ofc i understood they had to cut it off so they could continue in another patch #but the way they did it felt so weird and odd #and the cut-off for 4.1 to 4.2 was even worse #because not much even happened there other than caterpillar getting introduced and included #the story didnt really... progress #and then when it did conclude in 4.2 it didnt feel good #it was odd and unsatisfying #even though i dont know whats missing #i realize i used unsatisfying to describe it a lot but #that is what it is #unsatisfying #maybe the interlude chapter will help improve it #or maybe it wont #sigh. i miss sumeru. it had its own issues but the writing and exploration was peak #and the lore! the lore was amazing!#i miss sand. i want to explore the desert all over again it was so much fun #4.2 spoilers #childe #tartaglia #ajax #genshin impact #xander rambles

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marcusagrippa · 15 days

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heyyyy hi hello!! most of my new followers are classics related, so i'm not sure if this will interest any of you, but - ialso write weird toxic star wars desert husbands shitty old man yaoi if you didnt know. ive been pretty shit at updating recently bc all motivation for writing has abandoned me. HOWEVER,

this is my beautiful fic that has been dead for like four months..... the next chapter is now out! there is a train crash. and drugs also

#jase writes #obimaul #deep sigh. and so i return.#its really not the best chapter in the world i have had to struggle through a lot of it and its a lot shorter than others #but!!! it is there!!! finally!!!#also hello classics people i AM planning something romey however it will. probably not be posted here as it is my first attempt at histfic #and will not be very good. it's fun but yyeah NOT good. agrippa......

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incorrectsibunaquotes · 1 year

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The Interconnected Family Tree of Anubis

I was trying to keep my family tree headcanons on straight for fic purposes, so I devised my own family tree for all the complicated pre-canon HOA connections. Almost everything on here is headcanon, so take it with a grain of salt, but if you like it, feel free to use this!

First up we have the Frobisher-Smythe & Rush families! I added some lore surrounding RFS’ family, which is as follows (TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF SELF UNALIVING)

Eleanor Frobisher-Smythe (1841-1881) was a Paragon, but could not handle the burden, nor could she deal with the constant badgering from spirits and gods in her head. After the birth of her second son, Robert, she suffered with postpartum depression. She killed herself via morphine overdose a year after his birth.

Julian Frobisher-Smythe (1841-1908) was Eleanor's Osirian. He built the Anubis Estate (though it wasn’t called that yet) based on a vision he had that essentially insisted that it would be a crossroads of destiny. He could not save his wife and Chosen One from herself, and blamed himself for her death up until the day he died of TB in 1908

Robert Frobisher-Smythe (1880-) was a brilliant (and mental) man who was superbly skilled in chemistry/alchemy, riddles, metalworking, carpentry, masonry, archaeology, and history in general. He, after several successful trips to Egypt, suffered the from the curse placed upon all who disturbed the tomb on Howard Carter’s expedition in 1922, along with taking the fall for his friends on the expedition who dared to disturb the Staff of Osiris. He was cursed to sleep by Ammut for their folly, and pronounced dead to avoid suspicion, with only those he trusted for the ceremony aware of the truth.

Edward Frobisher-Smythe (1878-1918) was Robert’s older brother. He was not nearly as brilliant (or mental), but he was strong and good-hearted. He, like many brave men, fought in WWI and died in the Second Battle of the Somme in 1918.

(Louisa also had ancestors who were Chosen Ones, and while that does technically mean she and Robert are related, it’s incredibly distant since Amneris’ descendants are spread all over the globe.)

Sarah Frobisher-Smythe (1915-2010) was the Paragon, and her life was incredibly tragic and tumultuous, marked by being her family’s secret keeper for secrets she didn’t really know. She went into hiding in the 70s/80s after discovering the Society’s existence and what their ultimate goals were, and assumed the identity Emily Grant. She is buried with that name.

Rebecca Rush (1881-1950) was a brilliant woman, one of the first WOC to be educated in England, which is where she met both Robert and Louisa. She and Robert fell in love, got married, and a year after the birth of their son, Charles, in 1913, they got a divorce and she moved both herself and her son to America to set up with family there.

Charles Rush (1913-2012) grew up in America with very little contact with his father before he was put to sleep, but he knew his role well. He married a woman, Eloise, and had two children, Robert “Bobby” Rush and Nora Rush. Bobby suffered from severe depression and anxiety, but he was a good man. He married Josie Rush, and they had a daughter, Kara-Tatiana “KT” Rush. Josie died of melanoma in 2005, and Bobby lost his battle with depression that same year*. Nora moved back to England, and resides in London as a bit of a recluse museum curator.

KT Rush (1995-) is the great-granddaughter of Robert Frobisher-Smythe. She came to school at her grandfather’s behest to do what Charles had become too old to do. She was a member of Sibuna.

*Note that KT is raised by her aunt on her mother’s side, Becca Talbott

————————————————————

Now we move to Louisa’s side of the family, which you might recognize as the Denby family. Yes, I’ve decided to connect Louisa with the Denby family as a way of incorporating that family more closely with the Frobisher’s. Hang on tight cuz it’s about to get complicated.

Cartwright & Elizabeth Denby gave birth to three children: Isabel, Thomas, and Louisa. They were strong willed people who were not afraid to push their children toward greatness.

Louisa Denby became Louisa Frobisher-Smythe (1883-1922) in 1913, after Robert and Rebecca divorce. Louisa is a brilliant mind, a woman who, like her husband, could make just about anything. As kind as she was, she was also greedy and complicit (often more than complicit) in her expedition party’s exploits. She gave birth to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe in 1915, and after several successful trips to Egypt, suffered the curse placed upon all who disturbed the tomb on Howard Carter’s expedition in 1922. She died in a horrific car accident the end of that same year.

Thomas Denby was a strong, no-nonsense man; he married an equally no-nonsense woman named Victoria. He was entrusted by his brother-in-law Robert to act as his Keeper, a roll he passed down to his only son Thomas Denby Jr, who then passed it down to his oldest and biological daughter, Harriet.

Harriet Denby (1977-) is a pragmatic woman, who made her living as a teacher, while also doing her best to live up to her family’s legacy as a Keeper. At least until she’s drugged and stuck in a mental facility by her adopted younger sister Caroline, who then assumes her identity and role.

Caroline Denby (1979-2012) was a deeply troubled young woman who was adopted by her neighbors, the Denby family, after her mother hanged herself. She had delusions of grandeur and didn’t care who she had to hurt, even if that meant her beloved older sister, to achieve that greatness. She was murdered and devoured by the goddess Ammut.

Isabel Denby became Isabel Zeno when she married Gustav Zeno, a French historian. She was a frivolous woman, and she had a bubbly, playful personality that was hard to dislike. She happily raised Sarah alongside her son Rufus after her sister died.

Gustav Zeno was a French historian from Paris, who married Isabel and had a son Rufus. He worked closely with Robert and Victor Rodenmaar Sr on the Elixir of Life recipe.

Rufus Zeno (1915-2011) was a bright, rambunctious, and strong young man, divinely tasked with being the Osirian to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe. He had ambitions far beyond being a mere protector, however, and the more Elixir he took, his resentment toward his cousin/adopted sister grew. He, Sarah, and Victor Jr founded the Amun Academic Boarding School in 1960, and soon after, he and Victor founded the Society, along with several others. In 1936, he had a daughter, Evelyn, who he and the woman he’d been seeing with decided to put up for adoption. Later in life, as he still appeared young, he had another child with Maggie Sweet, named Eric. He betrayed Sarah and the Society and eventually came to ruin when his hubris got him possessed by the Forgotten Ruler, Senkhara and sent to a fiery end.

Evelyn Meridian Martin (1936-) was put up for adoption almost immediately after her birth, and was taken in by a kindly American couple. She lived a happy life, unburdened by her origins, and eventually married a kindly man named William Martin, and had a son Peter Martin, who married a Spanish woman Marie. She raised her granddaughter after Peter and Marie died in a car wreck in 1999.

Nina Martin (1995-) is potentially the last Paragon to walk the earth, since she has fulfilled her purpose of restoring the Cup of Ankh. She is the former leader of Sibuna, and now lives her life back home in America.

Eric Sweet is the headmaster of Amun Academic Boarding School and a former member of the Society, as well as the Seeker. He attended school and lived at Anubis House in his teen years, but did not know that Rufus was his father until much later in life. He moved to America for a time after he met an American woman Catherine “Cathy” Miller, and had a son. When he discovered his son, Eddie, was the Osirian, he knew that if Victor or Rufus were to discover that, he would be exploited. So he divorced Cathy and returned to England.

Eddie Miller (1994-) is a rambunctious and loyal young man who also acted as the Osirian, until he sacrificed his powers to appease Ra’s wrath. After Nina stepped down, he acted as the leader of Sibuna.

#this was a lot #but really fun!#this family tree is a wreath lmfao #sorry to neddie shippers btw but since this is by no means canon fret not #i figured there had to be a way these people were more connected but I couldn’t really fit the Rodenmaars in as anything other than #friends of the family #i do think victor and sarah were courting tho before he betrayed her #anyway ya if you have any questions lmk #and if you like this #feel free to use it for fics/personal headcanon #house of anubis #sibuna #tess writes #this does is necessarily included in the canon of two is company #but it is canon to a pocket full of rye #whenever I finish chapter one of that lol #that’s why there are some unknowns or unembellished things #bc spoilers

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doctorbrown · 6 months

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DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 30 / 31 * SUNSET 」

July 31, 1992

❝God, Doc, I'm so nervous. Am I supposed to be this nervous?❞ Marty has been pacing back and forth for the last ten minutes, his anxiety spiking, and none of Emmett's previous attempts thusfar have managed to still his feet or calm the storm brewing over his head.

He understands the nerves, having felt them when he had decided to propose to Clara, fearing he may have been too forward and misreading the entire situation or she would, when presented with the opportunity, turn him down for his age or his appearance or the fact that the life he currently had was nothing glamorous, certainly not for a brilliant woman who had her entire life ahead of her.

Clara had quashed every single one of his own worries the moment they arose.

❝Marty. Marty!❞ Emmett stops him in his tracks with both hands on his shoulders and when Marty finally looks up, clarity returning the sharpness to the blue of his eyes, he looks exactly like his seventeen-year-old self again, far younger than his years. ❝Of course it's natural to be nervous, but try and relax. Take a few deep breaths. I can assure you that everything is on schedule, Jennifer is not going to stand you up, and things will go just fine.❞

Marty throws a look at him that says how can you be so sure? when he's feeling so uncertain about everything, and Emmett is certain he's running through possibilities in his head that are so highly improbable they could never happen in this timeline.

He squeezes his shoulders and when Marty follows his advice and takes a few long, slow breaths, Emmett switches to straightening the tie his worry has knocked askew.

❝You two love each other. There's nothing that's going to change that. Everybody is nervous on their wedding day and before other pivotal moments in their lives. The sun is setting on this chapter of your life as you take the next step forward. But I promise you that once you step out there and you see Jennifer walking down the aisle, you won't feel nervous anymore.❞

❝You're right, Doc, I know you are. It's just; it's really happening. I'm about to marry Jennifer. She's going to be Jennifer McFly. We're gonna spend the rest of our lives together.❞

❝So then what's the problem?❞

Marty shakes his head and fumbles for the words to explain the frenzy stirring in his chest. Emmett is unflappable even in the wake of the torrent of Marty's emotions and Marty doesn't know where he'd be right now without him. ❝I—the rings?❞

❝Safely in the possession of the ring-bearers.❞

❝The music?❞

❝The band is all present and accounted for.❞

❝My family?❞

❝Seated beside Detective Parker.❞

❝The photographers? Jen wanted to make sure we got lots of pictures.❞

❝Marty, you already spoke to them, remember? They had taken photos of us not long ago.❞

He shakes his head. ❝That's right; it feels like it happened yesterday or in a dream or something.❞

Emmett gently guides him over toward the long mirror and places him directly in the centre of it. Marty takes a moment to look them both over, dressed sharply in their well-pressed black suits. His hair is freshly cut and styled and Marty smiles at the way his best friend had gone through the trouble of wrangling his hair into something neat and well-kept rather than the wild mane it often was.

Clara almost certainly had a hand in that, he thinks, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes she can hear his thank you.

❝Doc? Can I, uh, ask you something?❞

Emmett nods, using the mirror to now fuss over his own appearance while he still has the chance. As best man, it was important everything be in place, and the setup and smooth operation of the wedding was far more important than his own personal appearance. Clara reminded him time-and-time again of his tendency to get too-caught up in whatever endeavour has his attention, and she had reminded him before they left to make sure his appearance didn't suffer as he ran about aiding in the day's proceedings.

Now that they have a moment and less than an hour until it all begins, the last thing he wants is to add even the slightest bit more to Marty's plate for him to worry over.

His black suit is still wrinkle-free, his hair has yet to adopt a life of its own and begin to fly every which way, and no matter how hard he looks, he can't find any part of his appearance that needs fixing.

❝I think maybe I'm also afraid that once we get married, everything's gonna change, you know? That things are going to have to be different now that we're husband and wife. I guess what I'm wondering is after you and Clara got married, did things feel all that different between you? Did things change a lot when she became your wife?❞

Emmett hums. ❝There was an adjustment period after the fact when it came to calling her my wife. As you know, I never imagined such a thing for myself. As a scientist, I was already married to science, as it was, and the idea of falling in love, let alone at first sight, was simply nonsense. The stuff of romance novels.❞

Marty actually finds himself able to manage a grin as he thinks back to the memory of seeing the doc wide-eyed and tongue-tied in a way he never imagined possible. ❝No kidding. I've never seen you look the way you looked at Clara before. You had it bad, Doc, right at the start.❞

❝Not unlike the way I've seen you look at Jennifer over the years. In fact, I think I still recall the way you looked when you mentioned her in 1955.❞ Marty's cheeks tinge pink.

❝But even after being officially married, our relationship didn't change. It became a little more proper for us to be together the way we were—as you may or may not know, perceptions were very different back in the nineteenth century, and as Clara was Hill Valley's only schoolteacher, it was necessary for her to maintain a very good image, as she was a role model for the children—but we didn't treat each other any differently.❞

They had already been married in all but name by the time their wedding day came around. All that was left was to make it official, sign the documents, and appease everyone else's old-fashioned sensibilities.

❝By that time, we were already practically living together. I wasn't rich by any means, but we had Clara's home and the stable which I had converted into living quarters, we were both working, and I occasionally assisted with some of the school lessons. She was my confidante, the one person with whom I could share the truth of my existence with, and she had embraced the idea of time-travel and life in the twentieth century so quickly that even I was astounded.❞

Emmett turns away from the mirror to properly look at his friend.

❝So I suppose that was a very long way to say no, nothing changed after the fact. Other than the entire town openly wondering when we would finally start a family of our own.❞

That prompts a groan out of Marty. ❝Guess I'll have to be ready for my parents to start asking when we'll be giving them grandkids. Got another question for you, Doc.❞

Emmett checks one of his wristwatches. ❝Sure; we still have a little time before the ceremony is scheduled to begin and we have to get into position.❞

❝What was your wedding day like? Since I didn't get to see it, I'd really like to know.❞

#doctober 2023 #GOD THIS IS THE SECOND TO LAST PROMPT THIS IS *WILD*#i almost didn't think i'd be able to get this challenge done but y'know #fuck yeah; i made it #and i'm very proud of myself and i had a lot of fun doing it #all these prompts were such a good time and definitely pushed me to think/be creative which i loved doing #i imagine marty proposed probably some time in '89 and they had a somewhat long engagement before the wedding to deal with life and #careers and getting themselves set up and all that #doc is obviously the best man and marty and jen would've had it no other way #if this was still tp timeline he might've proposed earlier but he needed that adjustment period as well to start figuring out this new #reality he (and doc ig) created #but anyway i chose to interpret sunset as the sun setting on a chapter of one's life to rise on another #rather than an actual sunset (though i had ideas for that too)#the idea of marty being all nervous for the wedding just gets me though #jen is also def stressed because she wants everything to be perfect but what can you do #i just really wanted to write some of this and as the last established prompt i thought it was too good to pass up #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」

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gendervapor14 · 10 months

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why the fuck are my chapters so long. editing an old chapter from an abandoned wip and it is taking forever. "just write shorter chapters!" that doesn't always work. my writing process consists of me thinking up of a few "scenes", a moment in time where the character(s) experience an Event or have a Talk. usually, i can fit two scenes per chapter. but sometimes the Event or Talk end up being super long! so i can only fit one scene in a chapter. and sometimes, if that Event or Talk is really long, the chapter ends up being really long. but if i cut the Event or Talk in half so it can bleed into another chapter, it ruins the flow.

or maybe i'm just terrible at pacing. this is also very possible :)

#sorry to everyone who reads or tries to read my monster chapters #or my monster oneshots #*glares at chapter 52 of 01746*#has absolutely no reason to be over 8k words #other than. rosinante dies 2 chapters later #so i wanted him to be happy one last time #shrug #look as a rule of thumb #if the story/chapter is really long #it usually means i had a lot of fun writing it #genrambles #wip stuff

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breadinanutshell · 6 months

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I made a list of Halsin facts for my own entertainment a while back but forgot to post it. Dunno if anyone would find this interesting but in case here it is, enjoy~ o/

ACT1

-He writes in tight scribbles, smokes the pipe and loves reading (likely non-fiction). He’s the studious sort, considering his unprompted interest in the parasites and his hunger for knowledge. This aspect of him was more defined in Early Access but sadly got lost during full release. It also briefly comes up during one of his banters in later chapters.

-He rarely drinks: he’s a lightweight and gets overly affectionate when drunk. He also sings when drunk. Badly, per his word.

-Is an actual Disney princess (he has birds scouting and reporting back to him).

-He has a strong sense of duty, so much so he will stop paying attention to other aspects of his life in the pursuit of it. At least in one instance, this has been depicted as a flaw (when he abandons the grove looking for the Nightsong).

-He enjoys spending time in his bear form, and appears to have been the main caretaker for the bears in the grove. Ormn in particular acts heartbroken that Halsin is missing.

-When given the chance, he’s eager to give up his position as archdruid, as he felt it was too draining and confining. Despite his insecurities in his ability as a leader, he’s more shrewd and wise than he lets on: he can play politics when necessary. And people around him have been more than happy to rely on him. He cares about those under his protection. A lot. “The grove is everything to me”.

-He doesn’t shy away from violence when provoked.

-He feels responsible for the shadow curse, and is compelled by the need to fix everything.

-This is a relic from Early Access but you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands: in the grove there used to be a fanfic titled “Shadow’s Kiss” written by the druid Roan that featured a certain “Balsin”. At the end of it a written entry by Halsin would threaten to feed Roan to Ormn if he ever saw the name “Balsin” again.

ACT2

-He likes open spaces, reading and whittling utensils and ornaments (ducks in particular). He’s got a sweet tooth and a fondness for honey. He finds it hurtful when he's made fun of for his interests: he admits people tend to underestimate his sensitivity.

-He’s a very religious man and invokes Silvanus any chance he gets. Even so he doesn’t believe in blind faith and chides Shadowheart for not questioning Shar’s teachings.

-He’s 350 years old.

-He has no mercy for goblins, to the point where he disapproves if you spare them in Moonrise. A bit funny, considering there’s a banter later on with Karlach where he insists that “mercy costs us nothing”.

-His scars were caused by a bear who didn’t appreciate being spurned during mating season.

-He’s a veteran who served in the battle against Ketheric Thorm in Reithwin, where eventually the druids and Harpers won. At the time he was likely second to the archdruid that led him into battle. When the shadow curse started spreading, said archdruid died, leaving Halsin in charge. He immediately evacuated the survivors. He still feels guilty for not being able to help more that day. From one of his party banters it’s clear Halsin suffers from survivor’s guilt. He’s lost many friends to the curse, so many in fact that “it would take a day and a night to recite the names of the fallen”.

-Considering how obsessed he’s been with the curse ravaging the land for the past 100 years, it’s unlikely he had any intimate connections during this period of time. He also claims that more good has been done since meeting Tav than in the 100 years before their meeting.

-His family is dead and buried at the foot of the Grandfather Tree in High Forest.

-He seems used to changing environments and affiliations. Once recruited, he’s quick to call Tav his new family.

-He remains polite in the face of scorn and ridicule. Right when he joins if you suggest all he’s good for is cleaning camp he responds with an awkward chuckle and a “wherever you need me”. Later in Act 3 his affections can be brusquely turned down by comparing him to a deep rothé, to which he calmly responds “a simple no would have sufficed”.

-As a child he befriended Thaniel, a spirit of nature, and ever since then he felt a higher calling. Thaniel appears to be as fond of Halsin as Halsin is of Thaniel, mentioning him often to Fist Art Cullagh during their imprisonment in the Shadowfell.

-He is the only expert of shadow curse alive, and if killed in Act 1 the curse cannot be lifted.

ACT3

-He believes himself, or at the very least aims to be, a protector. Any failure (or perceived failure) in fulfilling said role leads him to spirals of self doubt and insecurity. His self worth is heavily dependent on how useful he can be, and without a big purpose or mission to fulfill, he appears lost. In the same vein he seems incapable of staying still and relax, he always needs something to focus on.

-In true druid spirit, he considers cities to be intruding on nature’s realm. On his arrival to Baldur’s Gate, he's appalled and disgusted by the class inequality encountered in the city. He’s disturbed by the suffering of children, in particular.

-When called naive for his dream of a better future he mentions he gave up cynicism when he was 200 years old.

-He’s all for heckling Dribbles’ corny jokes.

-He sees his body as a vessel and his physical prowess as a tool. He takes no pride in it.

-He admits that he didn’t realize how much his responsibilities had been weighting on him until Tav showed up and took that burden away.

-He’s polyamorous, and pretty lax when it comes to sex and relationships: he has no qualms in taking pleasure where “desire finds purchase”. He mentions that he had many lovers in the past and that his heart doesn’t stir lightly. This might imply he’s laid with many, but cared for few. He also doesn’t appear thrilled by the prospect of marriage/tying yourself forever to someone. For a man so against putting a relationship into words, he acts incredibly smitten when romanced and showers his partner in all kinds of sweet praises.

-He’s so attuned to his wildshape that he tends to lose control of his transformations when overcome by strong emotions (i.e. anger, arousal). He appears embarrassed when this accidentally happens in an intimate situation. He does enjoy wildshape during intercourse though, as he even proposes it himself during an interaction with Shadowheart. Per his word, he doesn’t discriminate against any type: in an interaction with Lae'zel he implies he slept with a chimera.

-He considers lust to be the most essential of impulses and feels it’s only natural to be guided by it.

-He’s travelled far and wide. Where we do not know, unfortunately. He mentions he’s been to the Underdark many times and possibly the Nelanther Isles. In his youth he ventured into the Underdark to sate his own wanderlust, where he got captured, enslaved and sexually abused by drows for 3 years.

-He’s self aware of his obsession with nature. When Jaheira warns him not to fall into druid stereotypes, he comments that he does think about other topics such as high art and politics, but to him nothing compares to a tree.

-When speaking of his past, he comments that people seem to focus on the more “salacious chapters” and disregard his years of study. When confronted about it, he seems perfectly content with a life spent studying, meditating, counselling, fighting, training and fucking.

-He used to hibernate as a bear and mentions he spent at least 100 years of his life sleeping. It’s unclear if he’s still in the habit.

-At the end of the campaign he sets out to create a new community in Reithwin with the victims of war and refugees that were turned away from the city. The children of this soon-to-be-founded community refer to him as “daddy Halsin”.

-He considers himself an exceedingly patient man.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #bg3 spoilers #long post #brainrot be real #i might have missed stuff #but i tried to be as thorough as i could #if you want confirmation feel free to ask

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macfrog · 9 months

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you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

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captainfern · 2 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Five - Perfect •

141 x fem!reader

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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - rugby season is over, and the boys want to thank you for all your hard work lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 8.7k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, straight-up porn the slowburn has ignited baby, sharing <3 [4mx1f], unprotected piv, protected anal, oral [f!&m!receiving], m!masturbation, reader goes to paris lmao, voyeurism ig, praise, a lot of pet-names [baby, bonnie, love, sweetheart, etc], hella dirty talk, light overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spitting? cumplay? idk there's a lot of bodily fluids, price has a breeding kink and a sir kink, simon also has a breeding kink what a fucking surprise, gaz is a munch, johnny's just desperately horny, they work as a team but each get possessive in their own ways, um... that's it i think, oh strong language ofc

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part four

hi !! i am very sorry this took so long for me to write for you guys, but thank you so much for your patience and your support. i appreciate it !! and fyi, this has not been edited or anything like that. i’m posting this shit raw lmao. enjoy and thank you for reading <3

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It was two weeks after Price had asked if you were free this weekend. You were free, and you met up with the boys for dinner. It was nice, polite, and you really got to know them all a lot better. But, undeniably, the sexual tension was through the roof.

If it had been any other day, you would've gone home with them. But you didn't. You had work bright and early the next day, and you knew for a fact you wouldn't have been able to walk.

But two weeks later, it was the night of the Premiership Rugby Awards. Perfect.

The event itself was almost simply a blur. Kyle and Johnny were both commended for their work on and off the rugby field, and you beamed from your spot at the support staff table, watching them congratulate each other, dressed impeccably in ridiculously attractive suits.

Price was nominated for captain of the year, and was runner-up. Still, his team whooped and cheered for him, and you did the same. You and the other supporting staff clapped and hollered as he received a small award, standing awkwardly on stage. At least he didn't have to speak. Walking back to his table, he caught your eye and smiled, winking as the small glass trophy glinted in the light. He held it aloft for you to see, a subtle gesture that made your tummy flip. You held up a thumbs-up for him.

Then, the award of the night, Player of the Year. Simon was nominated and, hardly any surprises there, he won. You resisted the urge to spring to your feet and join the audience in the rapturous applause as he made his way on stage.

He looked out of his depth as he approached the microphone. But, hey, at least he looked really fucking good in that suit. You sipped casually at your champagne through the entire night and listened to the rich baritone of his voice as he delivered his quick, simple speech. And, towards the end–

"A huge thank you, too, to my team's support staff, and especially our physiotherapist, who should be getting award considering she keeps the lot of us intact and puts up with us on a daily basis."

The crowd laughed at that, and you smiled bashfully. Even from across the room, you could feel Simon's eyes on you. And John's. And Johnny's and Kyle's. You took another swig of your beverage, pressing your thighs together beneath the table.

Oh yeah.

Tonight was the night.

•º•º

Hours later, you and Gaz stumbled through the door of Johnny and Simon's flat together. He had his hands on your waist, his chest glued to your back and his face buried deep into the crook of your neck. You giggled as he wrapped his arms further around you, your hands resting on his forearms as he slowly began sucking a kiss onto the curve of your neck.

Although no one was drunk, you and Gaz were definitely the tipsiest. The small amount of alcohol in your system was enough to flood you full of liquid courage as you squirmed in Gaz's hold, rubbing your arse back onto his very prominent erection in his suit trousers. He groaned into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing against you, as the three others finally walked through the front door.

Johnny was the first to engage– his eyes lit up in excitement as he kicked his shoes off and hurried over to you and Gaz. You giggled again, smiling at his enthusiasm as he grasped your face in both of his hands and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss– messy with tongue and spit– and enjoyed the warmth of his hands against the side of your head. Gaz had backed himself against the wall, and he continued to suck a line of kisses over your neck as Johnny kissed you.

Simon and Price stood in the doorway, watching the way you were wedged between Johnny and Gaz. They exchanged a look, a knowing glint in their eyes, before they made their move.

Price lit up a cigar as Simon shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it into the living room and hoping it landed across the couch. He was left in his white, form-fitting dress shirt. He began rolling up the sleeves as Price exhaled a puff of smoke into the air.

Johnny was still kissing you like his life depended on it, but one of his hands had travelled south, slowly beginning to peel away the straps of your dress. They fell down your shoulders, and Gaz helped push it down your arm, all the way until your breasts spilled out the front. Johnny broke the kiss and moaned loudly, his hands immediately shooting upwards to cup you, twisting your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You whined, arching against Gaz, whose hands travelled down your stomach and pushed your dress down at the same time.

Your dress dropped, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your underwear. You heard all four boys react in different ways to the almost dramatic reveal of your body– a subtle hitch of the breath from Simon and Price, and two very desperate whimpers from Gaz and Johnny.

Wordlessly, Gaz's hands skimmed lower. They passed gently over the soft mound of your tummy, rubbing gently just above the hemline of your underwear. He was less than a second away from pushing his fingertips inside when Simon approached; a looming shadow over the three of you intwined against the wall.

Gaz looked up, his mouth still pressed hot against the bare curve of your neck and shoulder. His lips glistened with saliva, and so did your skin. Johnny looked at Simon too, his hands still cupping both of your tits.

"Not here," Simon said softly. "Come on lads, be gentleman. Let's take our girl to bed."

You whined when Johnny stepped away, the warmth on your tits vanishing with him, your nipples hardening against the cool air in the flat. Even the warmth of Gaz disappeared too– he peeled himself away from you with one last cheeky kiss to the spot just below your ear. For a brief moment, you were alone– until Simon's hands were suddenly gripping the back of your thighs and he was hoisting you into his arms.

You yelped, arms circling the broad expanse of his shoulders as he held you to his chest, your nipples catching against the buttons of his dress shirt as you squirmed against him. You squirmed for two reasons: one being because of the shock of him carrying you; and two, the fact he was happily groping the soft flesh of your thighs as he began to climb the stairs.

"S'alright, pretty girl, I've got you," Simon murmured in your ear before kissing your cheek. With impressive strength– the strength that won him Player Of The Year– he carried you effortlessly to the top of the stairs, and then carried you all the way to what was presumably his bedroom. When he entered, Gaz, Johnny and Price weren't far behind, and he settled you gently on the edge of his bed. With one hand, he gently cupped your face. "You okay, doc? S'this what you want? All of us?"

You were nodding before he even finished his sentence, looking between the men in front of you with glimmering eyes. Of course this is what you wanted. This is what you have wanted for the past several months.

"If at any point you want us to stop, jus' say rugby," Simon said, a sternness in his tone that had your cunt leaking in your underwear. "We'll stop, okay? Promise me, doc. Promise us."

"I promise," you squeaked out. "I promise."

"Good girl..." Price uttered, leaning down from next to Simon and kissing you on the forehead. He stepped away before you could pull him into a proper kiss.

Instead, you reached up and pinched your fingers around one of the buttons on Simon's shirt, beginning to unbutton it. He chuckled lowly, his hand leaving your face to grab hold of your wrist.

"Not yet, love," he said softly, his tone putting you at ease as butterflies began filling your stomach. "We've got this all planned out, okay? You'll have me soon, but Gaz n' Johnny are gonna make you feel good first. Is that okay?"

His words, searching for your consent, made you whimper. You nodded, of course, whining a yes please as Simon stepped away. Your eyes found Gaz, who was already walking towards you, and you couldn't help but giggle when he got close and slotted his mouth to yours.

Gaz kissed you deeply, his tongue breaching the seam of your lips and licking against yours as his hands came to rest on your hips. With a little force, he pushed you up the bed– still kissing you– and lay you down on your back. Your hands found his shoulders– now bare of his suit– and your fingers flexed down the smooth planes of muscle. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back and dragging his lips down the curve of your jaw, beginning to suck even more kisses to the sensitive expanse of your throat.

"Such a pretty girl, bonnie..." Johnny approached, the bed sinking to his weight as he crawled alongside you. Immediately, he slipped his hands between you and Gaz and began pawing at your tits, rolling your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Like Gaz, he had somehow stripped to his briefs between Simon putting you down onto the bed, and now. The hard imprint of his cock against his black underwear had you moaning, arching against Gaz– your clothed cunt rocking against his erection, making you moan even harder.

Johnny kissed you again as Gaz worked on peppering your entire body with kisses. He was now slapping Johnny's hands away from your tits so that he could take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around you. Johnny broke the kiss with a saliva-soaked "th'fuck?" and a light frown. Gaz looked up at him challengingly as he pressed his tongue hot to your nipple– pulling a little whimper from you– and Johnny accepted his challenging stare. The Scot slinked down your body, not wasting any time with extra kisses– instead, he attached his mouth directly to your other breast, his teeth nipping the soft flesh.

Across the room, Simon and Price watched. They were a bit older, a bit more experienced, and had a bit more patience then the two players pinning you to the mattress currently. Although, Simon could feel his patience wearing thin. Your moans and whimpers were heavenly, and you looked absolutely stunning. He felt his cock twitching in his trousers, and kept his palm pressing heavily against it.

Price eyed his teammate and then offered him a puff of his cigar while Gaz and Johnny sucked and kissed your chest, their hands beginning to explore your almost naked body.

Simon accepted the cigar and took a long drag. Price huffed, smiling coyly when Simon returned the cigar. "Patience, Simon." It was said in a whisper, and Simon's response was a grunt and a subtle roll of his eyes. Yeah, he can be patient. Sure.

"Gaz, Johnny, fuck–" You whimpered, one of your hands cupping both Gaz and Johnny's heads. Gaz blinked up at you and was the first to detach his mouth, lips still shining with his saliva.

He moved down your body as Johnny continued his sucking– he had moved back to your neck, nipping at your collarbone now. Gaz settled himself between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He searched your eyes for permission and when he found it, when you nodded and mouthed a desperate please, he carefully pulled your underwear down.

Instead of tossing them across the room like he usually would have done, he looked to his side and held them aloft, gesturing at the two men sitting on the couch in the corner of Simon's room.

Simon nodded, and snatched them up after Gaz threw them. His cock twitched in his trousers, painfully hard against the seams, as he felt the sheer dampness of your underwear and the expensive fabric against his hand. God, he wanted to wrap it around his cock and paint it white.

Gaz moaned loudly as he spread your legs, exposing your cunt to the shadowed lighting of Simon's room. Price and Simon's eyes were between your legs from across the room, and Price withheld a grunt in his throat, almost choking around an exhale of grey smoke. Like Simon, he left his cock twitching and straining in the confines of his trousers. There was a mutual competition that whoever gave in first and fucked their fist lost. There weren't any particular stakes. Not yet, anyway.

"Just as pretty as I remember," Gaz breathed, massaging your inner thighs. He watched slick dribble out of you and down the curve of your arse with a vulpine smile.

Above him, Johnny removed his mouth from your neck and you could feel how damp your skin was now. You wanted to turn your head to look at him, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Gaz.

The winger kneaded your thighs gently, massaging his fingers into the soft fat as he spread you out for him. His eyes, gleaming with excitement, were transfixed on the way your cunt fluttered, your swollen clit glistening between your folds. You watched him run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your pussy.

You gasped, chest heaving, eyes still on Gaz when he placed another kiss against you, as though he was kissing your cheek. His eyelashes fluttered and a deep moan rumbled from his chest. Quickly, he deepened the kiss until he was licking the point of his tongue through your folds and his nose was pressed flush to your clit.

"Oh, fuck–" you whimpered. Memories of the way Gaz ate you out last time flooded you, making your body heat up. He was so fucking good.

He looked up at you from between your legs, soft brown eyes staring into yours. They were still gleaming, crinkled at the edges as though he was smiling– smiling into your soaked cunt as he dragged his tongue through your folds and licked up as much of your arousal as he could. Cheeky little–

A hand grabbed your jaw and forced your head to the side. You parted your lips to gasp, but the sound was sucked from your mouth as Johnny smashed his mouth to yours.

He held your face firmly, whining loudly into the kiss as he licked his tongue against yours. His other hand was dipping into his briefs and pulling his achingly hard cock out. He fisted it, whining loudly again, and you couldn't help but smile.

Clearly, Simon found it amusing too.

"Gettin' desperate, are we, Johnny?" He mocked from across the room.

Johnny broke the kiss, panting against your mouth as he jerked his cock, his hand still holding your head in place. He whined softly when his fingertips ghosted the underside of his cockhead, and he breathed deeply in an attempt to bite back at Simon's remark.

"S'not fair..." He whined again, sounding more and more like a wounded puppy, or something else along those lines. "She's got such a pretty mouth an' s'not bein' used properly."

He kissed you deeply again, all spit and teeth and tongue. It was hard to keep up, the way Johnny was invading your space. Your brain was foggy, body on fire, only thinking about the men around you and, especially, the fact you were about to come.

You moaned into Johnny's mouth– both Price and Simon moaning in response as they palmed at their clothed hard-ons– as Gaz sucked your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the puffy bud, his top teeth just skimming it, before he was quickly dragging his mouth just that little bit lower so that he could stuff your leaking hole. He pushed his tongue in with a light moan, grinding his hips into the mattress as he did so. Your taste, your smell, your noises, everything was making him harder.

You managed to turn your head away from Johnny's mouth. He huffed, leaning his forehead against your temple, mouthing at your cheek and jaw with light puffs eliciting from his saliva-slick lips. He was still jerking himself off, his cock leaking pre-cum onto Simon's sheets.

"Kyle..." You moaned the winger's government name. "M'gonna– oh my god, oh my god–"

Gaz kept the thrusting of his tongue steady, humming against you as your legs shook within his grasp.

Johnny, the desperate man he was, pulled your mouth back to his, licking a stripe over your lips before muttering, "That's a good girl, bonnie. Come for us. Come n' then I'll– I'll stuff this pret– fuck, pretty mouth with my– ah– my cock." After uttering that against your lips, he was shoving his tongue back into your mouth.

Then, you came for the first time of the night.

The coil in your lower belly snapped and you moaned loudly against Johnny, back arching off of Simon's mattress as Gaz held your hips and thighs, pinning them as he licked you through your orgasm. His eyes were on you the entire time, watching as you unravelled while he licked up your release which dripped out of you and down his chin.

When Gaz pulled away, Johnny was manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You yelped, still fuzzy from your orgasm, as the Scot pulled you into position where your head was resting on one of his hairy thighs, your arse in the air.

"Need you," he muttered, pawing at the back of your neck while he stroked his cock and guided it towards your mouth. "Need you so fuckin' bad–"

"Slow down, Johnny." Simon growled from across the room.

Gaz laughed as he got up, not bothering to wipe the rivulets of your arousal that tracked down his chin and, now, down the column of his neck. He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension from laying on his front, before shucking down his briefs and shuffling back onto the bed.

"He's been waiting a long time for this, Simon," Gaz joked in the number eight's direction. "He knows our girl's been worth the wait."

Simon grunted, Price's cigar now between his lips. "Still doesn't mean he can throw her around like that."

"Simon–" Johnny gasped from the head of the bed. He was dragging the leaking, reddened tip of his cock against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over his saliva which already wet you. He looked over at his teammate. "Shut the fuck up."

Simon scowled. "Watch it–"

But Johnny wasn't listening anymore. Not when he eased his cock past your lips and into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. He moaned, really fucking loudly, as you hollowed your cheeks for him and took him further back in your throat. You withheld a gag, tears blotting the base of your vision as Johnny's cock nudged the back of your throat.

"JesusfuckingChrist," The Scot hissed, the hand on the back of your neck tightening so he could pull you closer towards him. Your nose rested in the coarse hair at the base of your cock, and you moaned quietly, eyes upwards and locked onto his. You could already feel him twitching in your mouth as you gently bobbed your head, a trickle of saliva being forced out from the corner of your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gaz was gripping his cock tightly at the base, his other hand squishing and squeezing at the fat of your arse and thighs. He was muttering something to himself, something you couldn't hear, but whatever it was made Soap chuckle above you.

"F'you like her arse so much, use it," Johnny joked, and you whined, your core fluttering.

Behind you, Gaz stopped muttering beneath his breath and released a breathy laugh, his hand holding one of your arsecheeks and pulling it gently to the side. "I'll need to stretch her out first..."

"We've got all night," Soap remarked, thrusting his hips and making you gag around him. A tear rolled down your cheek and you hummed out a whine at the way both of them were talking about you as if you weren't even there.

You couldn't see it, but Gaz smiled. He then vanished from behind you for a moment, before returning, popping the cap on the small bottle of lube and pouring a generous amount over two of his fingers. He then spread you again, pouring even more of the cool liquid directly onto your hole. And, for good measure, he let a glob of spit fall from his mouth and slide down your crack.

You moaned loudly around Johnny's cock as one of Kyle's fingers pressed against your hole, rubbing circles carefully while his other hand reached between your legs to rub a finger over your puffy clit. You moaned again, and the vibrations had Johnny whimpering quietly above you, hips bucking, the grip he had on the back of your neck tightening.

"Such a pretty mouth, such a pretty mouth," he chanted through his whining, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back as he continued to push and pull your head down his length.

Across the room, the sounds of your muffled moans and Johnny's whines, paired with the sight of Gaz spreading you open before him was enough– enough for him to hastily pull his cock out of his trousers and wrap it in your soaked underwear. He jerked his fist once, twice, three times before stopping, glancing over at Price who simply shook his head, chuckling.

"Soap," Price said after he had finished giving Simon an amused look. "Let our girl breath, yeah? Give her a break."

Your eyes rolled and you moaned loudly– not at Price's words, but at the feeling of Gaz pushing a thick finger into your arse, gently probing and stretching you open. You wondered if the light buzz of alcohol in your veins was making the sensations a whole lot more enjoyable.

Johnny whined. "But–"

"Pull your fuckin' cock out, Johnny," Simon hissed, resuming his hand movements, your underwear still wrapped around his dick.

Johnny whined once more, but pulled out like his captain and teammate said. He continued to hold the back of your neck, petting you gently as he slid his cock out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting your lips and his shaft. He moaned at the sight, tempted to shove it back into the warmth of your mouth– but the burning sensation of Simon's eyes on him made him pause.

"This better fuckin' mean I get to fill her cunt," he grumbled, much to your amusement. You smiled up at him, and he smiled back, moving his other hand to cradle the side of your head.

Price grunted, and you broke eye contact with the scrum-half to look over at him and Simon on the couch. He too was pulling his hard cock out of his trousers and fisting it in his hand. The sheer size of the both of them made your core heat up all over again, butterflies returning to your stomach.

After a short moment, Gaz had two fingers inside you, scissoring you open while Johnny pet your face, staring down at you as you mouthed gently at his cock. You ran the tip of your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside, causing his entire body to wrack with shudders.

"Ready?" Gaz asked Soap, and the Scot looked away from you in the first time in about five minutes.

He nodded eagerly, a grin splitting across his face as he slid his hands beneath your armpits and hoisted you up onto your knees. You yelped, the action unexpected, and the sudden loss of Gaz's fingers from inside you making you feel empty, almost hollow. But, as Gaz split open a condom and rolled it onto his length, Soap's hands were all over you, and not once did you feel empty again.

"You alright, bonnie?" He asked, hands gripping your knees and spreading your legs apart so he could slot himself between them, his cock rutting through the folds of your pussy.

You momentarily lost your train of thought, your mouth dropping open and a small "uh..." dripping from it.

Price exhaled a plume of smoke around his words as he spoke to you. "Use your words, darling. S'alright if you want to stop."

Forcing your muddled mind away from the feeling of Soap's warm cock, you looked over at Simon and Price and shook your head, uttering out a string of "no, no, no."

"M'fine," you added for good measure. "Please don't stop."

As long as they had the green light, the lads weren't going to stop. Gaz had a large hand across one of your arsecheeks, holding it to the side as he guided the head of his cock to your stretched hole. Johnny waited patiently, his cockhead rubbing cruel circles against your swollen clit, not quite enough to give you proper stimulation. But, it was a pleasant distraction– a distraction from the initial stretch of Gaz carefully pushing his cock into you. Slow, slow, slow.

You released a shuddered gasp, head dropping forward to rest on Johnny's shoulder. Breathing laboured, you panted against his dewy skin as Gaz stopped, pulled out a centimetre, then pushed back in– over and over until his hips were wedged up right against your backside and he was dipping his mouth into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume.

"Good girl, baby..." He whispered, pressing a kiss to the pulse below your ear. "This okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah... it's okay."

"Tell me when you want me to move."

"Now," you said almost immediately, mind fuzzing over with pleasure. The pleasure of feeling full and hot and sweaty and completely fucked out. "Please move, Kyle, fuck–"

He did. He pulled out and pushed back in, ebbing like the tide with gentle thrusts that knocked the air out of your lungs. You cried out his name, head no longer resting on Johnny's shoulder, but leaning back against Gaz's.

Johnny couldn't wait any longer. The tip of his cock soon aligned with your leaking cunt, and he was pushing in just as Gaz pushed in as well. Both me released a guttural groan, their cock's only separated by a thin wall inside you.

But the noise you made was nothing short of pornographic– a high-pitched, breathy whine that was punched from the depth of your stomach. Your entire body fizzled, tingling with pleasure as both men used you at the same time, thrusting in and out at the same time. The intensity of it all had tears running down your cheeks, your chest tightening between breaths.

Soap's voice broke around a whimper. "You're so damn tight."

Gaz was next to speak. "Can't believe... can't believe we went so long without having you, eh, doc?"

The way they were talking to you was driving you crazy. Hell, the way they were moving against you was driving you crazy. You couldn't believe you went so long without letting them have you, either.

"Doing such a good job for Johnny and Kyle, sweetheart," Simon said, which you only heard vaguely, like an echo in a dark room. "Looking so fuckin' pretty taking both of their cocks. Doesn't she, lads?"

"Fuck, yeah–" Johnny moaned, not really listening, his eyes attached to the way his cock pistoned in and out of you.

Gaz was the same. Distracted. Too busy sucking wet kisses along the side of your neck. Too busy trying not to come straight away, the tight walls of your hole milking his cock with each upwards thrust. He did leave his trance-like state for a short period of time, enough to praise you and say your name in a breathless moan.

"Our good girl, doc. Y'just our good girl," he breathed against you. "Fuck– knew you'd be good. We just knew you'd be perfect."

That sentence alone had your stomach tightening with your next orgasm, thighs trembling and sweat building between your bodies. For a split second, you wondered what your electrolyte levels would be after this (the thought was wiped from your head when the head of Johnny's cock slammed up against your g-spot, making you mewl).

You struggled to keep your eyes open as your climax neared. Your senses were going into hyperdrive– the smells, the sounds, the everything was making you drunker than the alcohol you had already consumed earlier that night.

The smells of Soap and Gaz, their sweat and cologne, was like an aphrodisiac as they pinned you between their bodies, moving in tandem. The sounds of Johnny's moans and whimpers, and Gaz's breathless whines and grunts were driving you insane– as were the quiet groans coming from the couch across the room.

"Gaz... Johnny..." You mewled, body hot, clit throbbing. "I..."

You couldn't finish your sentence. Luckily, you didn't have too.

"Gonna come?" It was Price who put the words out into the open. "You gonna come, pretty girl? Go on. Tell 'em."

You repeated the first two words Price had said, following them with desperate moans of both Johnny and Kyle's names. Johnny's hands tightened on yours, slamming up into you while Kyle's were smoothing up and down your abdomen, hips grinding into your backside. The sensations threw you over the edge.

You came hard– both men caught off guard by the way your body tightened around them. Your head dropped back against Gaz's shoulder, and he kissed your cheek.

"Holy fuck," Johnny cursed, breathless. His chest was heaving, forehead glistening in a thin layer of sweat, and a slight tinge of red to his cheeks. Your cunt fluttered around the girth of him, all wet and warm and tight, causing his thrusts to falter, stutter, before he was coming inside you with no warning. "Holy fuck."

You whimpered, energy being sapped from your body at the feeling of him coming inside you while you were still coming down from your high. You could feel his cock twitching as he emptied himself up against your cervix, but you were distracted from the simple movement when he leaned forward and slotted his mouth against yours.

Soap kissed you exactly how he'd kissed you at the beginning of the night. Still full of passion and longing as the warm mass of his tongue swept over yours, slicking over the tops of your teeth. One of his hands found the back of your neck once more, and he held you to him while you kissed– all the while Gaz continued to rut gently into you, his own orgasm nearing.

"Baby, m'gonna pull out..." Gaz whispered into your ear, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your arse. "M'gonna pull out, take this fuckin' condom off, and come where you want me to come, m'kay?"

You forced your way out of Soap's searing kiss, turning your head so you could nod your acknowledgment to the winger behind you (luckily for you, he began kissing down your chest instead). Gaz did as he said and pulled out. He did so slowly, his hands rubbing your arse and hips the entire time. When his cock left you, you released a little whine, cool air seeming to fill you and make you shiver.

"You're okay, you're okay..." Gaz reappeared behind you after pulling his condom off, tying it and tossing it somewhere in the room (Simon had shot him a dirty look for that). One of his hands was on your hip again, his body melting into yours, his chest to your back. You could feel him fisting his cock behind you, the leaking tip smearing pre across the small of your back.

"Where d'you want me?" He asked you softly, and for a moment, it just felt as though you and him were the only ones in the room. If it wasn't for Soap sucking on your tits like a fucking maniac, the private intimacy between you and Kyle would've been believable.

To answer, you wiggled your hips against him, mumbling something along the lines of on me while trying to grab a fistful of Soap's mohawk and pull him away so you could arch forward. The Scot was stubborn, though, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth with a sparkle in his eyes.

Simon helped you out.

"Johnny, don't fuckin' push it," he growled and that was the first time you had heard him speak in a while.

You looked over to him, finding that he was still languidly fisting his cock; the tip red and angry, leaking pearl after pearl of precum. He was edging himself. Your stomach flipped with arousal, pussy fluttering.

Johnny backed off like a kicked dog, pouting as he shuffled to the edge of the bed. Gaz smiled, winking at his Scottish teammate as he placed a hand to the small of your back and guided you onto your knees and elbows, creating a perfect arch in your back and a perfect view of your arse for him. Then, he quickened the pace of his wrist, stroking his cock for a few seconds before he was painting your arse white.

Like Soap, Gaz moaned loudly when he came. The sound dissolved into a low whine as he fucked his fist through it, not stopping until he ran dry and his cock only just softened beneath his grip.

A few moments passed before you flattened yourself across the bed, laying on your stomach with exhaustion rolling over your body in waves. Johnny was the first to up and leave, placing a kiss to the crown of your head before he was moving across the room. Gaz stayed with you, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"Doing so well for us," he told you. "D'you need anything? Water?"

You nodded and mere seconds later, Johnny was offering you a glass of cold water. You sat up to drink it, Gaz's cum smearing against Simon's sheets. You were hyperaware of Soap's cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets too. It made goosebumps bloom up your arms and legs, a shiver crawling through you.

Once you had drunken, the lads switched places like they had been practising.

Johnny and Gaz slipped away with one more kiss each to your lips, before two larger, broader figures were blocking your vision. Both Price and Simon had stripped now, all big chests and soft stomachs and hard cocks. It made you salivate.

"Just a bit longer, sweetheart, then you can have a nice break," Price cooed, walking up to the edge of the bed and placing his hand beneath your chin, gripping your jaw and angling your eyes up to him. While he did that, Simon slipped onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and slotted himself up against you. Price squeezed your jaw once. "You feeling okay?"

You nodded, but something inside you prompted you to respond with a sultry "Yes, sir" while you stared up at him. A coy smile split along his face and before long, he was leaning down to kiss you. He tasted of smoke and expensive liquor as he kissed you, his tongue immediately invading your mouth.

"You want her first?" Simon asked, and you jolted in fright, almost forgetting he was right behind you.

John broke the kiss and, still holding your jaw, looked over at Simon and shook his head.

"You can go first."

The arrangement was set.

Simon pulled you away from John, and you couldn't help but yelp at the way he manhandled you onto your stomach. Then, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back onto your knees, your breasts and arms resting against the bed. The captain had crawled onto the bed and, after tossing aside Simon's pillows, settled himself at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He spread his legs, patting one of his thick thighs invitingly.

Simon acted for you– pushing you up the bed and pushing another startled yelp from you. Your head came to rest against the warm, solid mass of Price's thigh, and his hand was put to work atop your head, petting you as though you were a cat.

Behind you, the number eight was nudging your legs apart with his knee, his large body doubling over yours as he slotted his hips against your arse, his achingly hard cock brushing over your soaked folds. You keened, moaning lightly as the tip of his cock nudged your clit, the thick weight of him smearing your and Johnny's cum up and down your slit. It made you shiver again.

"You don't have to do anything, okay, sweetheart?" Price uttered above you, still petting your head. His other hand gripped the base of his cock tightly. You watched a dribble of precum leak down the underside of it. "You're just going to lay there and be a good girl for me and Simon, okay? Be a good girl and take everything we give you."

At the completion of the captain's sentence, Simon notched the head of his cock at your hole. Your breath hitched.

Price cooed down at you. "S'alright... that's a good girl, just take it."

Simon eased into you, his cock splitting you open more than Soap's had. He was a bit thicker, and the stretch of it all had a moan catching in your throat. It stayed there until Simon bottomed out– the sound filtering from your mouth sounding like something out of a low-budget porno (it made Price's cock twitch, though).

"Fuck," you heard Simon hiss behind you. "S'a tight fuckin' pussy."

"Told you."

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny." Simon almost growled as he pulled out and then slammed back into you.

You cried out, sobbing a "S-Simon!" as his pace increased, his thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time. You could feel the ruddy tip of him hitting the plug of your cervix, his girth stretching you open in such a way that you wondered whether you'd be able to walk tomorrow.

Probably not.

You realised both Gaz and Soap were sitting on the couch, and without even turning your head, you knew they'd be watching with their cock in hand. The intensity of the entire situation was otherworldly, and most definitely contributing to the fast rate at which your orgasm was approaching.

The sound of Ghost's cock moving in and out of you was lewd and wet. Wet shlick, shlick, shlick's and the slapping sound of skin-on-skin echoed throughout Simon's room, as well as the occasional creak of the bedframe and the hushed sounds of pleasure coming from the couch.

Bent over you, Simon was huffing and grunting. Deep groans left his parted lips periodically as he fought off his orgasm. God, the second he shoved his cock into the tight clutch of your cunt he wanted to come. But not yet. Not fucking yet.

"S'that feelin' good, pretty girl?" He asked you, his voice swimming through your head.

"Yes–!" You cried, one hand holding Price's wrist (his hand was still on your head), the other fisting the bedsheets beside Price's other leg.

"Yeah? You like being fucked by all four of us, hm? Like being stuffed full, don't you?" He didn't let you answer. He continued, "O'course you do, baby. 'Course you do. Such a needy little pussy... She just loves gettin' filled up, I can feel it."

Words evaded you. So you nodded. You nodded against Price's thigh, tears smearing against his hairy skin. He petted you gently, shushing you as Simon continued to rut into you, his entire body shaking with restraint. He needed you to come first.

"Want you to come for me," Simon whispered to you. "Want you to come all over my cock."

Then, one of his hands found your clit, and you were a goner. He rubbed three rough shapes across the swollen bud, and you were coming with his name falling from your lips.

You squeezed him tight, gushing around him as pleasure overtook you. The entire time you spasmed, your cunt leaking out around his cock, John held you against the mass of his thigh, petting you and massaging down your neck. You heard the odd "good girl" being whispered from him.

Simon praised you in similar fashion. "Good girl. Good fucking girl. My good girl."

The last part was whispered so quietly that you were sure no one else heard it but you. He said it as he curled over you, his chin against your shoulder, his massive arms holding himself over you as he fucked you hard.

"My perfect girl," he whispered again. Only to you. Then, it was like something went off in his brain. He released a low growl, something like a groan but much deeper. "M'gonna come."

"S'about fuckin' time," John joked, but Simon didn't find it at all funny. He ignored his captain.

His attention was only on you.

"M'gonna come right up in here, love." Simon held himself up with one arm, his other arm winding beneath you to grab hold of your tummy. He gripped it, kneading it, before pushing against it until you let out a small moan, the pressure making you dizzy. "M'gonna fill this pretty tummy right up. Fuckin' breed you right in front of the boys."

You were definitely drooling against Price's thigh.

With one last grinding thrust– and just as overstimulation crept into your head– Simon came. He came with a grunt and a quiet moan of your name, his cock right up against your womb as he emptied himself, filling you hot.

The heat made you moan, as well as the image of his cum mixing with Soap's and filling your womb.

What the hell–

The number eight didn't pull out straight away. He stilled above you, hips flush to your arse and his half-hard cock still plugging his cum inside you. Against Price's thigh, you mewled tiredly, shuffling your backside against the solid form of Simon behind you, your hands now travelling along the captain's legs.

Finally, Simon extracted his body from yours, but remained inside you. He kneeled, his large hands travelling down your back before finding your arse. He chuckled to himself, dragging his fingers through Gaz's load that painted you. With his pointer finger, he drew a smeared SR against your left arsecheek.

"Simon, gross," You complained, listening to the way he chuckled darkly to himself. You couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew he was probably grinning too.

Just like in the small period of grace between Soap and Gaz, and Simon and Price, you were offered water, with each man waiting patiently until you had finished the glass. While you drank, the four pairs of eyes on you made your stomach tighten.

This was all so foreign. But, god, you fucking loved it.

When the glass of water was placed soundly on the bedside table, Price slid down from the top of the bed and kneeled towards the end. He held out a hand to you, and you accepted, enabling him to gently lay you down with your head in the pillows (Simon had ordered Soap to pick them off the floor from when Price tossed them).

"Comfortable?" Price asked you, running his warm hands up and down your sides before slowly, slowly parting your legs and exposing your cunt to him.

You nodded. "Yes, sir."

He huffed proudly at that, a small smile surfacing. His hands shifted, and he brushed his knuckles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Beside you, the bed dipped. Simon kneeled on the floor next to the bed, his upper body leaning against the mattress. It was the perfect angle to cradle your face in his hands and wipe the steadily drying streaks of tears and saliva from your skin with his fingers.

Fingers, you realised, had not been cleaned. Fingers that still trekked a milky stripe of Gaz over your face.

You grimaced, and by the way Ghost was biting his lip to hide a smile, he knew what the grimace was for.

"S'a matter, pretty girl? S'just a bit a'cum," he teased lowly, and you had half the mind to smack his hand away. But his next words had you forgiving the action– the cheeky bastard. "Look so pretty covered in us, don't you?"

Kneeling between your legs, Price grunted his agreement with his teammate. He was fisting his cock, watching Simon and Soap's loads dribble out of you.

Pushing his hips forward, he slowly ran the head of his cock up your slit, making a mess of you. You whined, hands holding one of Simon's, as Price repeated the action a couple of times, eyes transfixed.

When Price's eyes did finally find yours, they were glazed, his pupils blown.

"Beg for it, sweetheart," he uttered, voice hoarse. "Beg for my cock."

You did. You started with a few desperate please's and several different curse words when you struggled to find the right things to say. But eventually, with your heart hammering against your ribcage and your clit pulsing in tandem with it, you begged out a yearning, "Please, sir, please– need your cock so bad. Please, captain–"

The captain hummed, pleased, as he thrusted himself into you without another warning. You cried out, arching off the bed as your cunt stretched around him, the tip of him knocking up against the plug of your womb just like Simon's had. It all felt so good you wanted to cry.

"That's it..." Simon whispered to you, nuzzling the side of your head as Price set his pace.

He held your legs either side of him as he fucked you, shunting your body against the mattress again and again. You'd already fucked him before, in his car just a couple of week ago, but this was different. So much different.

It's like he had something to prove. Maybe it was because his teammates, his closest friends, were watching, but he fucked you like he owned you. His thrusts were deep and driving and hit the perfect spot inside you each time. His hands on your legs were firm but gentle, and the way his eyes raked hungrily up your body were claiming enough.

His fingers dipped down to your arse momentarily as he shifted your hips, changing the angle so he could fuck you deeper. He looked over at Simon for a split second and nodded towards one of the pillows. The number eight got the hint, reaching over your head to grab one of his pillows. While he did that, unbeknownst to both you and Simon, Price's fingers wiped the sticky SR from your skin.

Once he had the pillow, Price shoved the pillow beneath you to keep your hips at the perfect angle. This way, he could continue to fuck his cock deeper and deeper into you, and still continue to worship your body with your hands.

But, he was closer than he would've liked to admit. He could feel, with each thrust, and each tightening of your slick, warm walls, his orgasm looming closer and close. That familiar coiling heat in his lower belly.

"C'mon, sweet girl, need you to come," he said breathlessly, then proceeded to push your legs upwards, bending your knees towards your ears. "Need you to come 'round my cock."

"M'close..." You whined, and the change in angle was pulling you tighter, sweat sticking you to the sheets below. But your body was exhausted, shaking and trembling and filled with honey-like pleasure that had your joints feeling heavy. "John, I don't... fuck, I can't–"

"Yes you can, sweetheart, yes you can," Price whispered, leaning down to kiss you. It was a sweet kiss, his facial hair tickling the warm skin of your cheeks and chin. When he pulled away, he placed a few more kisses to your nose, your cheeks and your jaw. "Just one more time for me. C'mon. One more time for your captain."

Well, when he put it that way...

It was like he had trained you, Pavlov's dog style. Your body jerked and you arched up against him, the same time the band of pleasure in your lower abdomen snapped.

"John!" You almost screamed, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Warmth seeped into your body, flooding your veins as you came around his cock, spasming and fluttering. You were dizzy, euphoria blinding you as he fucked you through it, Simon's hands on your head keeping you grounded.

Your release gushed around John, and he groaned at the way you drenched his pubic hair. The sounds of him moving in and out of you too were too much for him to handle.

(And too much for Soap and Gaz to handle, who spilled over their fists with loud moans from where they were sitting on the couch).

Price desperately wanted to praise you as his girl, a possessive my girl spoken into the universe. But, as captain, he knew better. As much as it did pain him to say, he croaked out a, "That's our girl."

You whined and whimpered, your body thoroughly fucked-out. As much as you enjoyed this, you felt as though you wouldn't be walking for the next few days, and would probably sleep for the next thirty-six hours.

"John, sir..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know, m'coming," he muttered, thrusts beginning to falter. "M'gonna come deep in this tight little pussy. Yeah... fill her up real good."

First Simon, now John? Damn. The personification of your pussy was not what you expected to get out of this tonight. But you weren't complaining.

The captain came, moaning your name loudly into the room. With a gentle hand splayed across your belly, he emptied himself inside you alongside two of his teammates'. The feeling of it never ceased to make his mouth drop open in pleasure.

Simon kissed your temple. "Alright, pretty girl?"

You nodded. "Yeah... more than alright."

•º•º•

You should have known that all four men would be absolute kings at aftercare. It was pure bliss.

Johnny popped into Simon's bathroom to run you a bath while Simon cradled you in his arms, not letting you feel an ounce of loneliness. He had dragged you over to the couch, hugging you to his broad chest and watching as Gaz stripped the bed and made quick work of changing the sheets. Price entered the room with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of your favourite sweets (you didn't question why Johnny and Simon had them in their flat in the first place).

You sipped your water and snacked on the sugary food for a little while, Ghost's hands rubbing up and down your back. Before long, Johnny reappeared and helped his teammate in guiding you towards the bathroom.

There was a slight argument between who was going to get into the bath with you, but ultimately Gaz one, and Simon begrudgingly handed you over to him. The pair of you sunk into the warm water, and you immediately melted back into him.

"Did such a good job for us, doc..." Gaz whispered in your ear, massaging your thighs and hips from where you were nestled in front of him between his legs.

Simon, who was lurking over the bath like some sort of spectre, nodded. "Such a good girl."

The praise made your body heat up, the steam curling up from the water suddenly scolding.

In the doorway, Johnny watched on with his phone in his hand. He asked you, "D'you want me to order some food?"

You nodded. "Can we please get–?"

He was already walking away. "I know your order, bonnie!"

You made a face at Simon. He shrugged.

Price, like Simon, stood at the edge of the bathtub. He looked down at you with adoration in his eyes

"You're just perfect, aren't you, sweetheart?" He said, and Simon and Gaz were agreeing with him before the sentence even registered in your head. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Our perfect girl, hm?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#141rugby!au #call of duty smut #141 x reader #captain john price smut #price cod #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod #johnny soap mactavish smut #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick smut #gaz cod #call of duty #141 x you #captainfern

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plmp0 · 2 months

Text

The Nerd

Summary: Jake moved to your school because of his parents work, and you couldn't help but think how a nerd like him would fuck so u made that ur challenge.

Warnings: Nerd!Jake, kinda mean Jake, kinda switch Jake, pervet!reader, kinda uncomfortable, reader is so pushy (whatever that means), public touching, manipulative!reader, hair pulling, spanking, rough!fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (please protect), squirting, fingering, i think that's it.

A/N: Again this was an old draft so sorry if the quality is not the best,i tried to edit some stuff but it's 3 am right now so idk what i was doing 💀, also there might be some typos sorry for that. And finally just note that english is not my first language but yeah enjoy ~~ (also i just realised how long this is)

Jake has been always the top of his class, most of his time is around his books, not having a single friend because for him that means wasting time. So it was quite surprising when his parents decided to move to a new house, and in the middle of the school semester, no less. He didn't like that at all.But when he arrived in his new home, Jake didn't feel so bad anymore. It was a really big house, almost as big as his old school, and with the biggest library he'd ever seen, even bigger than the town's. Not having to worry about leaving his friends was also one of the things that didn't let him have ones, they have to move a lot because of his dad's work so things weren't adding up anyways.

It was Jake's first day in this new school, spending the whole night studying to catch up to their pace and also to maintain his top student image, he went to the asigned classroom. As he expected, no one knew who he was, everyone looked at him weirdly and a boy with glasses even whispered to the person next to him that he "looked like a nerd".He sat down and waited for the class to start, the teacher arrived a few minutes later and greeted the students before calling the attention to the new student. "Everyone, please, give a warm welcome to our new student, Jake. Now, I don't want anyone disturbing his studies, if you do I will make sure the principal knows." the teacher said, giving a stern look at some boys in the back, one of them was the same one who had made fun of Jake's appearance.The boys in the back, as if sensing their teacher's glare, tried to look as innocent as possible. Some of the other kids were talking about the new student while the rest were too focused on their phones or books. Jake nontheless ignored and filtered any meaningless noise, focusing on the class instead. "Alright, now, open your books on page 249. Y/n, you can read until page 270, then we will move on to the next chapter." The teacher said, making Jake shift his attention to you.

You nodded, but Jake was sure you hadn't heard the teacher, as your eyes were glued to the phone, scrolling through something. You didn't even try to look like you were reading, and when the teacher noticed this she went over and took the phone away from you, Jake shaked his head unimpressed not liking that you made him waste a full 10 minutes. You tried to convince her to give it back, but the teacher, Mrs. Smith, didn't relent and kept it until the end of class. Jake tried to focus again on the class, but his mind was somewhere else, you not shutting up talking loud enough as if u were sitting next to him, he huffed turning around to face you and giving you a cold glare, making you stop and shiver, not saying anything else but finding interest on him, you've always liked nerds. He sighed, relieved, and continued to pay attention to the class, writing down everything he was supposed to and more. Once class ended, everyone left except you, Jake and Mrs. Smith, who wanted to speak to him about some important things, as well as talk to him about his grades and how he would fit into the class. You stood up and stretched, yawning before heading towards the teacher to get ur phone back, not caring much for what the two were discussing, "Oh, Mrs. Smith, do you happen to have my phone? You took it earlier and I just want to go to my next class." You said, trying to sound as polite as possible to avoid getting scolded, you didn't care that much but the principal had told you to behave.

"Oh, yes. Here you go. But next time please try not to use it during class, or else I'll have to take it away again, alright?" She handed you the phone, you quickly nodded and thanked her, turning on the phone and walking away rolling your eyes. "Oh, and before I forget, here are the things that are new to the semester. Jake, I'm sure you'll do great." She handed him a folder full of papers, which he took, thanked her and left. He went over the papers as he walked, not paying much attention to where he was going, but making sure to read every line, his eyes were so focused on the paper that he didn't even notice you. "Hey, watch out." But you didn't, instead, the two of you bumped into each other, dropping the papers and Jake huffed losing the spot he was reading. You fell, not being able to catch yourself because your hands were holding the phone, you scoffed annoyed. "What the fuck, watch where you're going." "Says the one who didn't watch their step, dumbass." Jake mumbled, picking the papers. "What was that?" You asked, not quite hearing him, and not happy about being called a dumbass.

Jake turned to face you, giving you a stern look while collecting his papers not wanting to drag this convo any longer. You were about to argue back when you noticed the papers he was collecting, and how much there was. You got curious, how could this nerd get so much extra credit on the first day? "Hey, let me see." You took the papers away from him, skimming through them. "Are you serious?" U exclaimed,"Hey, give it back. And watch your tone, it's very rude." Jake glared at you. "Why should I?" You smirked. "What are you gonna do about it? Tell on me? Go ahead." You said mockingly, Jake massaged his forehead annoyed and grabbed the papers, pulling them from you, making you stumble and drop the phone again, "Hey!" You yelled, looking at your phone. "Do you have any idea how expensive that was?!" "Then be more careful with it, maybe then it won't fall" Jake shrugged, fixing the papers and putting them in his backpack, you rolled your eyes and picked up your phone checking it and you huffed relieved seeing that it didn't break. U bit ur lips this new student is really getting into ur nerves, but you had a better way to deal with him. "Whatever, loser." You turned around and left, not wanting to get in trouble on the first day.

Jake chuckled a little bit as u left, "what a great first day" he mumbled with sarcasm in his tone, heading to his next class but he stopped mid-way, he was so focused on what had happened that he didn't realize how lost he was, not having any idea of where he had to go and now his late for class, great. He spent a long time looking for class that now he has arrived late, sighing relieved when he finds the door open and walks in. "Sorry for arriving late, sir. I'm the new student, Jake." "Don't worry about it. Go ahead and take a seat. You're in the back." the teacher said, and Jake nodded, walking towards the back and sitting down trying to ignore the fact that u were his seatmate as you were already sleeping or that's what he thought, the teacher didn't even stop to breath in the passing 30 minutes making everyone yawn well everyone appart from Jake, he was busy writing when he let a very loud gasp making everyone look at him questionably, he excused himself feeling embarrassed as he felt your hand wondering in his thighs above his jeans, his mind was racing and he wasn't able to focus at all, he looked at you and noticed the smirk on your lips as u rested ur head on the table,

oh that was not good. The teacher didn't say anything and continued the lesson, but Jake couldn't focus anymore. He couldn't believe this, he never let anything shift his attention before neither was he touched this way by a girl in a fucking classroom. He shifted on his chair, trying to move away from you, but that only caused your hand to travel higher, making his face flush and you grin liking the reaction u got from him, ur grin got bigger when u felt his bulge on ur hand. Jake felt a chill go down his spine, he was not enjoying this at all, why would he? This was just distracting, and he wanted to stay focused that's what he tried to convince himself but the fact that he stopped getting away from you made you continue ur movements, you caressed his thigh through the fabric, and then moved on to his bulge, squeezing it gently and rubbing him.

He gasped and tensed up, closing his eyes and trying not to move. He bit his lips as the sensation was getting stronger, and soon his cock was rock hard, throbbing under your touch, Jake was so new to this feeling he was going crazy, you smirked as u felt his member twitch, you looked at him and could see the embarrassment in his face, u leaned on him and whispered quietly "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Naughty boy." you teased, licking his ear. Jake bit his lips and moved his head, trying to get away from you, he was so scared that someone is gonna see the both of u, and seconds later the entire class was staring at him wondering what's wrong when he hitted his knee on the table while trying to squirm. He didn't know what to do, this was kinda embarrassing but it feels so good, and he didn't want it to stop, he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but when he felt your hand squeeze him, he gasped and couldn't hold back a moan, causing him to cover his mouth. He was redder than a tomato, and he couldn't look at the teacher or the other students afraid to get caught, you continued, enjoying his reactions, and the fact that everyone was focused on their things. It was obvious that Jake wasn't getting away, and that was fine with you. He was hard and throbbing, and his precum had leaked, creating a small dark stain on his jeans. Jake bit his lip and tried to muffle his moans, but you didn't want him to almost punishing him for what he did previously, you squeezed him again, rubbing his length. "You're so hard, Jake. I didn't think you would like this. You're so naughty~" you whispered.

Jake whined and closed his eyes, shaking his head, not wanting to admit that neither to hear it now it was hard enough from his to muffle his sounds, but it was true, he did like this. And the fact that he was hard as a rock proved it if only he didn't have to be in a space full of people he'd acted differently. He was getting close you could feel it as he was breathing heavily his eyes were tightly shut, his hips were moving with your hand and you thanked god that u were sitting at the end of the class or the teacher would have seen everything, you sped up your movements and that's when Jake lost it, his body tensed up and his hips buckled, he groaned as quietly as he could before releasing his load on his jeans, making a small wet spot. You grinned, stopping your movements and moving away from him. Jake opened his eyes and looked at his pants, noticing the stain, and realizing what just happened, he looked around, seeing everyone staring at him, the teacher was waiting for him to answer a question, and the rest were looking at his flushed form face confused. He gulped and cleared his throat, looking at the teacher, not knowing what the question was.

"Are you okay, Jake? Are you feeling sick?" The teacher asked. "N-no... Sorry, I'm okay..." Jake said. "I would like to believe you, but, I'll let it pass since it's your first day. U should focus or u wont catch up, understood?" , "Yes, sir..." Jake nodded. "Good. Now, can anyone tell me the answer to the question?" The teacher looked around, waiting for someone to answer. "Uh... Y/n." The teacher looked at you. "Yes, sir. 54." You said, knowing the answer and not caring enough about this class. "Correct. Thank you, Y/n. Now, let's move on." The teacher turned around and started writing on the board. Jake felt relieved that he got out of this situation without getting caught, but now he had to deal with the mess you made, his jeans were ruined and he turned to look at you, seeing the mischievous smile on your face. He knew you weren't gonna leave him alone. He sighed and looked away, trying not to think about it and focus on class. But he couldn't. For the rest of the class, Jake couldn't focus, and his thoughts kept going back to you, and what had happened. His cheeks were pink, and his dick was still hard, the cum stain on his jeans didn't go away, and every time he moved, he felt it rub against him.

Once the class ended, Jake gathered his things and left as fast as he could, not wanting to see anyone, or get more attention. He rushed out of the classroom and walked quickly, heading towards the bathroom. He needed to change and get out of this, it was too much for him, he got to the bathroom taking care of the mess and removing his jacket tacking it around his waist while getting his dresshirt out of his pants hoping that i'll hide something before getting out of the bathroom, he sighed trying to calm down as he felt a hand on his shoulder "Hey, nerd. Wait." It was you, smirking. Jake turned around, facing you, his face still a little flushed from earlier and his body tensed upon seeing you, "Y-yes?" Jake asked his words getting out more broken than he anticipated,

he cleared his throat waiting for you to speak, u scanned him the grin never leaving ur lips " looks like you took care of yourself already" u whined disapointed "too bad i wanted to help you" "Wdym?" he cleared his throat again fixing his hair as he felt some sweat forming at the end of his forehead "no need to do that" he mumbled looking at you giving him your puppy eyes, he shifted his eyes to look elsewhere just wanting to go home at this rate feeling tired already but there was no way u'd give up, you really wanted him to lose it so curious to see what he'd do. "But, Jake... You looked so cute when you were enjoying yourself..." You purred, putting a hand on his chest. "I wanted to make you feel good..." he furrowed his eyebrows not loving how you are adressing him "s-stop" his voice was breaking, he didn't know what was going on but he didn't like this. "Aww, come on, Jake... Just admit it... You liked it... And I'm sure you would love it if I continued..." You smiled, and moved your hand down, resting it on his lower stomach. "Stop, we are still in school!" He exclaimed, his voice slightly louder. "Oh, come on, Jake... There's no one here..." You grinned, pressing your palm against his crotch. Jake bit his lips, holding back a moan and his eyes widened when he felt your hand press against him.

His pants were too tight, and he was already half hard. You didn't know how or when but you felt ur back pressed on the wall Jake leaning to face you as his lips were inches away from your ear "I get that you want to be fucked soo badly but i have things to do" Jake whispered you moaned feeling him suck on your earlobe before he left leaving you hot and confused, a smirk formed at your lips licking them "ahhh m gonna have so much fun" u mumbled adjusting ur clothes and heading to meet one of your friends from the other class. After the incident with you, Jake avoided you as much as he could. But that didn't stop you from teasing him, and he always had an excuse not to interact with you, or anyone else, really. He focused on his studies more than the normal days trying to distract himself from you, he was starting to get really frasturated by all of your teasing. You on the other hand were getting annoyed, you had tried so many times to get close to him, or just talk to him, but he always had an excuse to brush you off, and he always seemed so busy. You knew he was trying to avoid you, and you were determined to make him give in taking it as a challenge at that point.

One day, during class, the teacher decided to choose randomly two people for next week's project and to ur luck Jake was paired up with you for the presentation and you couldn't be happier. He wasn't too happy about it that's what you noticed but he had no choice, and the teacher said the two of you would have to meet outside of class. That's when the fun began. Jake was sure that he was screwed. You had him trapped.You were gonna make him lose his control, and there was no way out of it. It was the day you r supposed to meet up for your project, Jake suggested going to a cafe nearby the school but you being your stubborn self insisted to meet up in ur house saying that it'd be better and calmer and blah blah blah, Jake couldn't help it but agree after his failed attempts. He was standing in front of your door inhaling deeply before knocking a few times, you were quick to open the door smiling at him and welcoming him in.

He was surprised when he saw ur outfit, your small shorts not leaving anything for imagination, ur blue crop top hugging ur breasts perfectly, he clicked his tongue rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly when you told him to sit in the living room and you went to get some water, coming back quickly and sitting next to him body stuck to his with the glass in ur hands. "So" Jake started wanting to start with the project and leave quickly "we should start, what's the theme?" He asked looking through his backpack and taking out a notebook and a pencil, u rolled ur eyes at his words "come on, Jakey, you know we don't have to do this right now." u said handing him the glass of water which he accepted "it's not healthy for you to be always studying, let's take a break." "We need to get this done, Y/n." He said sternly, sipping the water. "We can't waste time. So, what's the theme?" "The theme is... The importance of a good education." You smiled, remembering the topic that you picked out. "Seriously?" Jake said mockingly knowing very well how u r always sleeping during classes or just on your phone. "Yeah, seriously." You smiled, taking the glass from his hands and setting it on the table. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid." "I know." He said, and before you could say anything else, he pulled out his phone. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Sure, Jake." You smiled, and started explaining your ideas for the project, and the two of you started working. Jake didn't like that you kept distracting him flashing ur cleavage every now and then but he couldn't say anything cause you were being very professional. He didn't think it was possible, but you were doing a really good job. Maybe this wasn't so bad. You noticed his reaction and you couldn't help but smirk a little, you knew he was gonna lose it and soon. The two of you worked for a couple hours, and by the time it was over, Jake was exhausted. He was glad you were smart enough to not screw this up, but he was still suspicious. You had been nothing but nice the whole time, and it was a bit out of ordinary.You stretched and smiled. "That was a good session, huh?" "Yeah. I'm glad we were able to get some work done." Jake said, packing his stuff. "Yeah. Me too." You smiled, and stood up. "I'm gonna get some snacks, I'll be right back." Jake nodded and waited for you. You came back a few minutes later, carrying a tray of fruit, cookies, and drinks. You set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him, Jake had some cookies eyes not leaving his phone for a couple of minutes before speaking "Alright, I think we should stop here." , "Oh, why?" You asked, tilting your head. "Because we're finished." Jake said, closing his notebook. "We're not done yet." You pouted. "I wanna hang out a bit." "Hang out? With me?" Jake asked raising one of his eyebrows, "Why not?" You shrugged. "Well, we have nothing in common." Jake said, standing up. "Besides, I have a lot of work to do. And so do you." "Aw, come on, Jakey." You pouted, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him down onto the couch. "We have plenty of time." "No, we don't." Jake said removing ur hands from his body, but you were faster as u landed one of them on his crotch making him gasp loudly.

"W-what are you doing?", "What's wrong, Jake? It's just a hand." You smiled, squeezing his crotch. Jake exhaled his eyes fierceful as he looked u down tongue clicking, one of his hands sliding his hair up "you are really a slut ha" "Only for you, Jakey~" You purred, stroking his growing erection. Jake groaned and bit his lip. "Stop i don't think you'll be able to handle what's coming!" Jake warned, his tone more stern. "I'll take my chances." You grinned, continuing rubbing him over his pants, Jake growled and grabbed your arm, pulling it away and pinning it to the couch. "You really don't get it, do you? This is the only chance you're gonna get." He growled, tightening his grip on your arm. You winced a little at the pain and bit your lip. "Sorry. I'll behave. Promise just give it to me" you said pouting a bit. "Woah" Jake chuckled lowly, "someone is being a needy slut today." He said having enough from restraining himself his frustration takkng over him, and you moaned loving his choice of words,"Please, Jake. Please. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, anything please" You begged. "Anything? (He paused for a second) but again it's not a surprise after seeing how hard you tried to get to my dick" He hummed licking ur lips slowly. "Yes. Anything. Just fuck me." You begged, and Jake leaned down, kissing you roughly. You moaned, enjoying the kiss, and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued kissing you hungrily, his hands exploring your body.

He broke the kiss, and pulled back, staring at you, his eyes moved to your boobs who were almost exposed because of this position, the blue complementing your skin and making him lick his lips constantly, he has never really went with a girl above kissing and touching here and there however he watched enough content to know what to do, his hand groped one of ur breast squeezing it roughly his nails digging on the fabric as u moaned loudly. "You're so beautiful, Y/n." Jake whispered, his soft tone contradicting his rough touches, "T-thank you." You said, blushing a little , he smiled seeing how calm you are now that you are getting what u want, he pulled the strap of ur crop top down exposing your breast the sight making him gulp as he massaged the other one he neglected earlier, his other hand moving down to cup your pussy through your shorts making you moan and squirm. He groaned as he felt your wetness through the fabric "Fuck, you're so wet, Y/n." Jake grinned, "Soaking." "J-Jake..." You moaned, arching your back, grinding against his hand. "Shh, isn't that what you wanted? So shut up and enjoy it"he smirked, leaning to deliver kisses on ur neck. He kept rubbing your pussy through ur shorts and you couldn't help but whine wanting to feel him against ur bare skin. He pulled his hand away and looked at you. "You want more, Y/n?" He asked, smirking. You nodded, your chest heaving and your eyes wide. "Then take them off." Jake said. "Your shorts." You gulped, and stood up, pushing your shorts down, and taking them off, tossing them aside.

Jake sat on the couch manspreading a bit and patting his lap, u followed his order and sat on his lap grinding your pussy against his hard member while he cupped ur ass, his hands running over the soft skin, he leaned down and placed his lips on your nipple sucking on it making u throw your head back moaning and grinding ur pussy harder against him. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside and running your hands over his chest. Jake groaned and moved his hands down, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, you raised your hips, helping him as he pulled them down, tossing them away. His hand went back to cup your pussy, and he moaned feeling the wetness. "God, you're soaked." Jake groaned, running two of his fingers on ur slit, spreading the juices and making you moan loudly, Jake grinned as u were already a mess, and he has just started. "So fucking wet. Just for me." Jake hummed, his fingers playing with your clit, the pleasure making your body jerk. Jake felt his hands act on themselves, his index finger teasing ur entrance making u buckle ur hips, "I'm not gonna do anything if u don't behave, y/n" he growled,

his fingers going to rub your clit roughly, his eyes were focused on ur reaction and you didn't have to try to put up an act, your body was shaking eyes rolling back. You nodded and closed your eyes, biting your lip and trying to stay still, even though all you wanted was to grind your pussy on his fingers, he lifted his free hand spanking ur ass hard making u gasp, your body jerked a bit and Jake rubbed the spot he had spanked, "Good girl." He purred his finger went to tease ur hole once again. He slowly pushed his finger inside, his cock twitching at the feeling of your tight walls. He has only seen a pussy on videos and nothing could compare to the feeling of the real thing, he pushed his finger deeper and moved it in and out slowly, feeling you clench around him. He moved his finger a bit deeper, looking at ur expressions mouth gaped eyes long gone and he grinned. adding another digit and moving it at the same pace, he lifted u a little curling his finger inside you, hitting a sweet spot. "Feels good, huh?" Jake asked and you nodded, moaning loudly, and he spanked you again. "Words." He growled. You gasped, and let a small cry. "Y-yes! It feels so good, Jake!" Jake grinned, and kept moving his finger, hitting that same spot every time. Your body jerked and he noticed how close you were, "you were acting up just a few days ago and look at you now, where did that attitude go ha?" He chuckled when u didn't answer him his fingers reaching deeper making u spasm on his lap,

"Come on, cum for me. Let go." He groaned, his voice husky, and a few seconds later, your pussy clenched around his finger, and you let out a loud moan as you came, squirting all of your juices on his pants, Jake groaned feeling the warmness of ur juices land on his cock, ur body still shaking as he was still moving his fingers inside you, he pulled out groaning at ur attempt to keep him in by squeezing him tightly, his cock throbbing inside his pants as he licked his fingers clean tasting u making you squirm and he gave them to u, you licked them and moaned at the taste, his free hand moved down cupping ur ass before he spanked u again, you moaned loudly and looked at him, "You want me to fuck you, right?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Please." You begged. "You've been such a good girl for me so far, so I'll give it to you." He kissed ur jaw talking over ur skin "but i'll have to punish you for what you did these passing days" he mumbled making u shiver a bit, his hand squeezed ur ass roughly. "Now get up, i'm gonna bend you over the table and fuck your slutty little pussy" he said patting ur core and you whined, but did as he told u, getting up and bending over the table, spreading your legs for him, he groaned at ur eagerness and quickly unbuttoned his pants pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock finally springing free, you looked behind you and bit your lip seeing his length, "wow, you're big." You mumbled. He smirked and leaned over, his body pressing against yours, his lips near your ear. "I'm gonna make sure to make you scream, and never think about going around whoring for nerds again" He whispered, making you whimper, his hands grabbed your ass, giving it a few squeezes, he rubbed his cock on your pussy, making you moan and squirm. "So impatient. Behave." He growled slapping ur inner thighs and steadying u in place

"Sorry" u mumbled trying to stop yourself, Jake smirked and rubbed the tip of his cock against ur clit, making you whine and bite your lip, you felt like you were gonna explode, the teasing was driving you crazy. His hips rolled and his tip poked ur entrance, you moaned and arched your back, trying to take his length inside, he spanked you again making you yelp and he held you down, "i'm the one in charge here, not you" he growled and you nodded, letting out a breathy moan, he pulled back and slapped his cock against your clit a couple times making u shake, the sensation driving u mad and before u could complain his length entered u, the tip slowly entering u and stretching your tight walls making you cry out, "fuck you're tight." Jake groaned, feeling the warmth and wetness of your pussy wrapped around him, the pleasure was almost unbearable, his hand went to massage your ass and squeeze it a few times, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, nails digging into the skin, his eyes were focused on where his cock met your pussy and how he disappeared inside of you. He pushed himself deeper and pulled out slowly, the drag of his length inside you was incredible, you moaned and gripped the edge of the table, your body trembling as he kept thrusting into you, his cock filling you completely. Jake's hand traveled up, his palm resting between your shoulder blades and applying pressure, making your cheek rest against the table. He pulled out and slammed back into you, his balls slapping against you and you let out a loud moan, the feeling was overwhelming.

You felt his fingers grab your hair, pulling you up and his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, his tongue invading your mouth, the kiss was sloppy yet intense, his thrusts were getting faster, his tongue moving in and out of your mouth, tasting every inch of it. You broke the kiss and let a loud moan, feeling him brush at ur spot, his hand was gripping the hair at the back of your head, his nails digging into the skin and he was panting, his breath fanning your cheek, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of ur walls around him, Jake was scared that he'd become addicted to ur pussy the thought of getting out of you was already not clicking with him, his other hand grabbed your hip and he started slamming into you harder, his cock hitting that same spot again, making you scream in pleasure. He groaned, feeling his orgasm building up, his movements became sloppy and his hips stuttered "Fuck, look at u now, taking my cock so well" Jake said, his words coming out in a mix of moans and groans, he let out a low groan and threw his head back, his hips snapping into you a couple more times and he buried himself deep inside of you, cumming and filling your pussy, you moaned at the feeling of his cum filling you and painting your walls white, your legs trembled and you let out a loud moan as your body jerked, reaching your orgasm and squirting all over his cock, your walls tightening around him, milking him. "Fuck" Jake groaned, his hands leaving your hair and hips, his palms resting on the table as he leaned forward, panting heavily, his chest pressed against your back. He was sweating his skin hot.

Jake's cock slipped out of you and he let a small groan. His eyes focused on your pussy and how your juices were mixed with his cum, and the sight alone made him hard again, he grabbed your legs and spread them, making you whine. His other hand stroked his cock and he guided his tip to your pussy, pushing his cock inside making you whine "J-Jake, what are you doing? I'm sensitive." You mumbled, your voice tired. "We're not done yet, baby. I need to teach you a lesson." Jake growled, his hands going to rest on your hips squeezing them, he started thrusting into you roughly, not giving you time to adjust and his hips snapped into you, his balls slapping against your clit, you were a mess, moaning and whimpering, begging for him to stop. Jake growled and bent down, his face next to yours. "I warned you before but u didn't listen. So shut up and take it." He growled, and his hand went to slap your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body was trembling and the feeling of his cock pounding into you was amazing, it felt so good!

tbh u didn't imagine him to go this hard on you and ohh god how you love it, no one has ever fucked you this good. The sound of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd sounds of his cock entering you filled the room you were a mess, ur hair sticking on ur face, juices mixed with his cum dripping from your pussy messing up the table. Jake groaned, his breathing uneven and his hips stuttered. He was close again, and so were you. "Cum for me, Y/n." Jake groaned, his thrusts were getting faster, he was losing his rhythm eyes closed biting his lower lip until he couldn't hold it anymore, his hand reached ur clit rubbing it fastly making u whimper "OmG" u rolled ur eyes ur release hitting u like a truck and with a couple of hard thrusts he followed u, cumming inside of you, his cum mixing with the previous one, his hips kept rolling, riding out his high, the feeling was intense, his cock twitched and he pulled out, collapsing on the couch, panting heavily. "Holy shit." You mumbled, trying to catch your breath. Jake nodded, running a hand through his hair.

The two of you were quiet for a few minutes, then Jake got up, helping u getting up too and bringing u to the bathroom. "I'll clean the table." Jake said, leaving and coming back with some wet wipes, he cleaned the table looking at u wearing a robe while scanning his body "u okay?" He asked suddenly feeling nervous not knowing what to do now, u smiled and nodded, "yeah, thanks" u mumbled, he nodded back and looked away, he was wearing his boxers now looking at his pants that are full of ur juices, he sighed and grabbed them cleaning them with the wet wipes and getting dressed, u stared at him confused, "what are u doing?" You asked. "Leaving." Jake said, buttoning his shirt.

"It's getting l-late" his voice stuttered when he felt your hand helping him with his shirt, he heard his phone ringing and went to get it seeing his mom's name on the screen, "hi" his voice was low as he answered, and u could hear his mother's voice asking where is he, he told her that he was busy with his homework and forgot to call, he was glad that his parents are never home so he wouldn't have to explain anything, he bid goodbye to his mom and hang up. "Is everything ok?" You asked, and Jake nodded. "I gotta go." Jake said, gathering his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said, and Jake nodded, giving you a small smile and leaving, making you finally drop on the floor as u couldn't feel ur legs anymore but u smiled nonetheless u had so much fun, and this will not be the last time for sure.

Woah i couldn't edit this whole thing so m gonna comeback to it after having some sleep, also this was supposed to be a virgin Jake fanfic but yeah i got carried away and forgot about that sorry

#enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake x reader

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hyypnotix-writes · 7 months

Text

Part 3

~ howdy! it's here ..I don't fully know how I feel about it, I might keep editing it at another point, but I've taken the piss with keeping you waiting for so long, I just want you to have something ~

~ it's long - I thought the other two were bad enough but this is longer than both of them combined. it's 26k words so I'm very sorry, and I do understand if that's too much for any of you ~

~ I don't know how to break it up to make it easier, or more fun, for you to read. I hope it doesn't put all of you off, but unless you're an incredibly quick reader ..you will probably have to read this one when you genuinely have nothing else to do ~

~ I'm not sure how well this chapter will go down, this could well be the end of our little journey together ~

~ I've had a lot of fun writing for all of you if it is, despite me stressing myself out with it! you've all been very kind and lovely, and however you've enjoyed any part of my writing, I've really appreciated every interaction ~

~ whether you liked, reblogged, or sent me a little message - every single one of you has made me smile, so I really hope this doesn't disappoint any of you too much! ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

Part 1 Part 2

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Rain is absolutely not what you signed up for when you agreed to come to Barcelona with your sister. Travelling all the way to sunny Spain, and bringing the bloody British weather with you as you go? What a horrible little joke.

You’re not going to be the sun-kissed envy of your friends if it stays like this, you’ll be going back to London even paler than you were when you left it.

The rainfall dribbles down the outside of the window, opposite where you rest your forehead, and a mournful sigh escapes your lips as you look out at the abysmal sight of the city streets down below. You draw a smiley face with your finger, where your breath fogged up the glass, and you try to mirror the expression on your own face as you extract yourself from the pane and flop back down onto the bed with a very dramatic groan.

It’s already been one of the longest mornings of your life, and it’s only just turned 10:00.

Sleep eluded you once again last night. Every hour, on the hour, you watched the clock tick over. Seconds suspending themselves in the air, minutes moving like molasses, as you counted infinite sheep in your head. Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say, but boy does it drag its heels when you’re praying for it to soar.

Despite your fun little belief that you might’ve finally been sleeping soundly last night, it didn’t actually come to fruition. It turns out that it’s quite difficult for someone to fall asleep after finding out that the woman they’re falling for has secretly been a famous sporting icon the whole time that they’ve known her. Who’d have thought?

It’s still a little hard for you to wrap your head around. The fact that she’s a bit famous, and her celebrity status stems from football of all things. Even with detective skills as exceptional as yours, that possibility never crossed your mind.

Exhaustion is starting to plague your body after so many restless nights, and the antisocial behaviour you’re demonstrating because of it, isn’t largely appreciated by your sister. Abandoning Em to go and have breakfast on your own, before she had chance to wake up and join you, wasn’t a deliberate act of cruelty from you, you genuinely thought you were doing her a favour by letting her have a lie in.

You are on holiday together, though, so she didn’t fully enjoy waking up alone in your shared hotel room. She made that much abundantly clear to you, with the countless strongly worded text messages that you received as you awkwardly traipsed back upstairs to apologise to her.

A silent and forceful barging into your shoulder was all that greeted you, as you returned to the room and she made her exit from it.

It’s unfortunate. She’s in a pissy mood, the weather’s in a pissy state, and you have to go to a pissing football match later on this evening. What a cruel world it is that you’re living in.

It’s very unnatural that your one saving grace of the day is the pissing football match that you have to attend. That being one of the highlights of your holiday, really won’t make much sense at all to any of your friends when you tell them about it.

You stare longingly at your phone for a while, tapping your fingers over your torso as you wait for Em’s return from breakfast. You let out a soft sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling, before gently closing your eyes, in the futile hopes of having a quick nap. The darkness behind your eyelids allows your mind to wander all too freely. Which it very quickly does, to more thoughts of Alexia. The same way that it has done, since the very first moment that she so casually waltzed into your life.

This morning, however, it’s not thoughts of confusion, that cloud your brain. Sexuality concerns and hopeless pining are far from the forefront of your mind. It’s excitement that envelops you, anticipation. The fact that you’ve found your impossible-to-find woman, and that she’s no longer impossible for you to find at all. She may very well be one of the easiest people to locate, in all of Barcelona, as it happens. Knowing that you get to see her, at least one more time again this evening, even if it’s only from a distance, is a promise that has an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and your heart doing cartwheels inside of your chest.

There’s the distinct feeling of potential that hangs in the air for tonight. You can’t pretend that you’re not feeling hopeful about seeing her a little bit more up-close-and-personal than just from your seat in the stands. You’d quite like to be able to congratulate her, if the scoreline goes in her favour.

You pull the neck of Alexia’s sweatshirt up over your face, in an attempt to fully bring the possibilities to life in the playground of your imagination, and you let out another sigh as you rest your hand over your stomach.

It really doesn’t smell enough like her anymore, but it still your favourite item of clothing, as it is still very much hers. It’s the most effective key for unlocking your memories with her, and you breathe it in deeply, as you let your thoughts of her consume you.

You really are feeling desperately needy, you’ve already been in this position once this morning.

It’s not a hunger that’s ever infiltrated your body and mind quite so fervidly. You’re not a particularly clingy person, you’re not usually so obsessive, or lustful. You’re certainly hot-blooded, and you know how to enjoy yourself, but there’s never normally this type of craving in you for another person.

Having your mind be so fanatical about someone else really isn’t something that’s ever overcome you quite so powerfully. It’s a rare sort of desire in you, that only she’s been able to spark, and it’s proving very difficult to satiate it.

Your hand wanders slightly, as she takes over your head, the tips of your fingers trailing the waistband of your shorts, before the excessively loud opening and closing of the hotel room door, abruptly halts you from getting too invested in your fantasies.

You turn your attention to your sister, removing your fingers with an unfortunate twang, as the elastic hits back down your skin, and you slowly free your face as she obliviously trudges across the room.

You offer up an apologetic smile for abandoning her earlier, as she places her coffee on the table, and, with a piece of toast dangling from her mouth, she smiles back at you, the power of a full stomach seemingly diluting her previous feelings of anger.

Her smile quickly contorts into a mischievous little grin, and there’s a glint in her eye, as she pounces on the bed.

“Are you good?” You chuckle, as she rummages next to you, but she doesn’t gift you with any verbal reply. It’s your phone that she’s interested in, you realise, and you hold out your hand, for her to return it to you. “Behave.” You warn her, but she only giggles at the unlocked screen and shakes her head at you.

“Do you have a new girl crush?” She mocks, goading you as she waves the device in front of your face. “Big into Alexia Putellas, are we?”

“I was just ..familiarising myself.” You tell her, shuffling yourself a little, as a soft pink hue rushes to your cheeks.

“Is that what you’re calling it?” She scoffs. “You know, I also tend to search for someone’s back tattoos when I’m trying to memorise their face!”

“I was— I ..can I have my phone back, please?” You sigh, giving up on any attempt at trying to defend yourself.

You don’t need to defend yourself to her. You like Alexia’s tattoos, and simply wanting to see them again, is merely an appreciation of art. That’s entirely innocent enough. It wasn’t a perverse search; it didn’t come from a sinful place.

The fact that it immediately triggered flashbacks to you tracing over all of them with your lips, really wasn’t exactly your fault. It was unintentional, an almost reflex response from you.

Letting yourself get mildly carried away with remembering how Alexia had kissed along your own body and how her lips had this wonderfully curious tendency of just always roaming down. The little knot that tied itself in your stomach, and your breath hitching as you relived the eye contact that she made with you before she had your back arching under her.

That’s all a little less innocent, maybe, but it still wasn’t deliberate. It couldn’t be helped; it was just an automatic reimagining of events.

You’re allowed to do that, they’re your memories. It’s entirely permissible for you to take a little journey through them every once in a while. It’s been over a month for you, and you have some overdue frustrations. That’s not a crime, you’re not a pervy creep.

“You have a real thing for Spanish women at the minute, huh?” Em recognises, pulling you from your dirty thoughts again as she drops your phone down onto your stomach and takes another bite of her breakfast.

“Mhmm. I quite like her tattoos.” You tell her casually, and she smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Whenever you’re ready for me to do your next one, let me know!”

“Mm.” You mumble, as you feel the ink on your rib cage begin to sear under her stare.

You really do like tattoos, but there’s a reason that you only have the one on you. Your distinct lack of body art probably doesn’t seem like the greatest advertisement for your sister’s abilities, but it’s your own indecisiveness, and aversion to needles, that’s stopped you from getting too many, not her deficiency of talent. Maybe you’re a little bit squeamish, but it really did hurt.

“You’re a big baby.” She laughs at you as you rub at the side of your body, trying to relieve the faint burning of your skin, and she claps the remnants of toast crumbs from her hands onto the floor, as she lays next to you. “What do you fancy doing today?” She asks you. “I’m sorry about the shit weather, that’s kinda fucked with your tanning plans.”

“It’s not really your fault, but I was going to ask for your help, actually. If you’re feeling a little guilty?”

“Oh?” She turns her head, furrowing her brow at you, her interest piqued, and you let out a sigh as you swallow your pride.

“I was hoping, maybe you’d help me learn some football things.”

“Football things?” She scoffs, but you don’t let her mockery deter you, as you nod at her decidedly.

“Mhmm.”

The back of Em’s hand very quickly finds itself pressed against your forehead with a quiet little smack, and you scrunch up your face in confusion as she frowns down at you.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!” You sigh, pushing her arm away from you to stop her from checking your temperature. “I’d just like to know some things. Stop me from going into the match so blind.”

She narrows her eyes, considering you for a moment. “What do you want to know?” She asks, and you wince at the freedom she’s granted you.

“Just like ..players’ names, probably? I think that’d be helpful. Maybe some basic rules.” You shrug.

She continues frowning at you, and you buckle a little under the intensity of her stare.

“What?”

“You’ve never cared before..” she reminds you, the suspicion in her eyes only increasing, as you release a small huff through your nose.

“That’s not really true..” You try to start arguing, but it’s a completely pointless activity, you’re both far too aware that you’re completely lying.

Football has existed for your entire life, and you’ve been interested in it, a grand total, of zero times, before now. You find out that it’s Alexia’s favourite thing to do, and you suddenly want to know everything you can about it. It's entirely tragic of you, and it's too convoluted of a confession to share with your sister right now. She was useless enough when you admitted to a single kiss with another woman, trying to explain all of this mayhem would absolutely break her little brain.

“I’ve definitely cheered with you a couple of times!” You offer and she shakes her head, laughing loudly at you.

“No no no!” She states. “Quietly saying ‘woo team’ when I tell you someone’s scored, is not cheering with me! I told you Rachel Daly scored once, and you still threw your fist in the air!”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She plays for Aston Villa!” She points out, smacking your shoulder, and you let out another tiny huff. “I could tell you that Emma Hayes had scored, and you wouldn’t question it.”

“Why would that be weird, is she the goalkeeper?”

“For fuck’s sake!” She sighs, scraping her hands down over her face. “She’s the manager.”

Yikes. You really are an idiot.

“Well.. okay..” you wince, “and that’s why I need your help.”

“Why does it matter?” She asks. “This’ll be the only match you ever watch.”

“Maybe, but I quite like the woman who gave me that shirt.” You admit, gazing over at it as you play with the hem of the sweatshirt you’re wearing. “I don’t want to let her down by knowing nothing.”

“Will she be there today?”

“Mhmm.”

Em contemplates for a moment, and you know that look in her eyes, she’s about to cave in. You sit up on the bed, readying yourself to deliver the final blow to her composure.

“Please?” You say, pouting with a perfectly rehearsed, quivering bottom lip.

“Nooo! Not the puppy dog eyes.” She groans, averting her gaze from you to try and stay strong. You don’t back down, and she lets out a pathetic cry of defeat when she catches your expression again.

“There’s not much else for us to do until this rain stops.” You point out innocently.

“That’s not true! There’s that aquarium you wanted to go to?”

It’s a valid point from her, but rather incredibly, it’s no longer as appealing an option to you. You want to embrace football today. It’s important to Alexia, and she’s becoming important to you. As such, football ..is also important ..to ..well, no. Let’s not push it. She isn’t your girlfriend; you don’t need to be football’s number one fan just yet. Football will be tolerated by you, until further notice.

You plead to your sister again, adding a small sniffle after your words for extra impact, and her resolve is positively crumbling in front of you.

“You’re really serious, you want to learn about football?”

“Mhmm!” You grin, excitedly crossing your legs, to fully show that you mean business. “Please!”

“Fine.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes at your childish little excitement.

“Thank you!” You grab her head to place a kiss to the top of it, and she quickly pushes you off of her. “I’d just like to know enough, though.” You clarify, before she starts getting too carried away with her lesson planning. “Just enough to stop me from looking like a fool.”

“Well, steady on.” She snorts, with a roll of her eyes as she reaches for her sketch pad from the nightstand. “We’ve only got a day!”

There’s a lot of information for you to learn it turns out, and you really hope Alexia’s worth all of this relentless studying you’ve subjected yourself to.

It isn’t just her teammates that you end up memorising. Em also makes sure to teach you some footballing fundamentals, what ‘being offside’ really means, how the Champions League works, and she takes a great twisted pleasure in letting you know that tonight’s game of all games, could go to extra time and penalties, if no side is able to score more sodding goals than the other.

You’re definitely being tested. 90 minutes is all that you signed up for when you agreed to watch the football, not a possible 120 with the looming threat of a penalty shootout attached to it. It’s entirely far too much. Why the hell is this Alexia’s favourite thing to do? Why are you still so into her? This is unbearable.

It proves a little hard for you to keep concentrating on all of the facts that your sister keeps throwing at you, but she very quickly realises, that letting you watch some of Alexia’s highlights at irregular intervals, keeps you from getting too bored with everything else.

It quite amusing to you, to see Alexia wearing the captain’s armband, if you can believe. This nightclub nuisance, taking on a leadership role? That doesn’t seem right at all.

Club captain, best on the team, best in the world? Turns out, it’s you that has the impeccable taste in women.

She’s very sexy in her little football kit and watching her kick a ball around is surprisingly entertaining. She’s also very good, even you can see that, and the fact that she’ll occasionally lift her shirt when she’s a little frustrated with herself? Well, replaying that in slow motion is entirely fine and acceptable.

There’s no real heterosexual explanation for your enjoyment of it, but you can pretend it’s merely an appreciation of fitness for you to keep pausing all of the videos and zooming in on her body.

It’s not something that you ask to learn about, but Em can’t help mentioning all of Alexia’s achievements to you. It’s very fun to find out about everything, and there’s a genuine sense of pride in you for all of her plentiful accolades.

It does feel a little misplaced, perhaps. You probably still don’t know her well enough to be just as proud of her as you are, you’ve certainly not known her long enough to be quite so pleased for her.

It’s also slightly daunting, maybe, realising how decorated she is. Finding out about her FIFA’s best awards, the World Cup, her consecutive Ballon d’Ors.

This is a very highly celebrated woman that you’ve been mingling with.

She’s widely regarded as the greatest women’s player, of all time. It’s not just your sister that’s been saying it, Alexia’s been awarded for it, on the television, in front of the whole world. There’s a mural of her in Barcelona, a viewpoint that’s been named after her, and it turns out, that there’s a fairly huge amount of people that really enjoy calling her La bloody Reina. She’s revered by these people, almost worshipped.

You’re not letting it get to you too much. Yes, she’s widely adored, she’s won pretty much every single award it’s possible for her to achieve, and she’s only just turned 30. She’s famous and well-loved and you’re just a little nobody from London, but you’re not letting that get to you too much.

That probably wouldn’t be very wise. That would bring questions into your head, and make you start doubting yourself. That’s not a fun thing for you to do. Why would you do that?

Don’t do that, you’ll start spiralling. It doesn’t take much to get you overthinking. You spent the past month questioning your sexuality because of one single night with another woman. Don’t let yourself worry about it, that won’t end very well for you. Don’t let her success in her career start clouding who she is to you. She’s still just the confusing lime woman, at the end of the day.

Don’t start thinking of her as Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas. That’s putting her on a pedestal that you’ll never be able to reach her on up there. That’s very careless of you, to leave her up there on it without you sitting next to her, don’t do that. She’s just a woman. A very beautiful and successful woman. That’s fine, there’s lots of them about. Calm down.

The rain finally relents a few hours before the big match, and while it doesn’t really grant you a huge amount of time to do anything too adventurous, it is a relief to realise that you won’t be getting completely drenched as you watch Alexia play.

Em makes a rather hasty escape to the beach, as soon as the sun makes its long-awaited appearance. She hasn’t enjoyed your little study session quite as much as you have. You really just can’t win with this woman. She’s grumpy when you hate football, she’s grumpy when you’re a fan of it. She really just loves being grumpy with everything.

Your constant refusal to be taught anything about the Chelsea players probably didn’t help you to keep her happy, though. Your insistence that Barcelona is the far superior team, didn’t go down very well with her either. Your new ‘girl crush’ on Alexia Putellas was something she began to find really irritating. You were almost actively trying to wind her up, actually. Maybe you did deserve her abandonment, looking back. You were lucky the rain kept her about for as long as it did.

She didn’t ask if you wanted to join her at the beach, but you’d have decided to stay where you are anyway. Making sure you really have learnt enough for tonight, is your number one priority at the moment. Quizzing yourself and rewatching a few more compilation videos, is far more important to you than the city around you. The tan you actually came out to Spain for really is taking a hit today, but you can enjoy Barcelona a bit more tomorrow.

You’re having a small dilemma in the hotel bathroom, as you’re getting yourself ready for the game. It’s an escalating concern for you, and one that your sister is growing increasingly frustrated with you for. You’re going to be late to the match if you don’t start getting a move on.

Em barges into the bathroom, startling you as you study yourself in the mirror, and you narrow your eyes at her reflection as she stands in the doorway, staring at you.

“What’s taking you so long?” She asks, with a very clear tone of exasperation.

“I’m debating.” You tell her thoughtfully, ignoring her choice of intonation completely, by offering her an innocent little smile, as she lets out a very long and loud groan behind you.

“Of course, you are.” She mutters, and she leans against the doorframe, preparing herself for you to begin your impending little spiel.

“Right. So, I want to have the whole shirt on display.” You begin, gesturing down the front of your body and tapping your fingers to the lettering across your back.

“Of course, you do.”

“Right. So, I’m thinking, hair up,” you explain, demonstrating your vision as you carefully scrape your hair up into a ponytail, before narrowing your eyes at your sister again, to see if she can also see the problem with your plan, “buuut..”

“Is that a love bite?!” She exclaims, rushing towards you and tugging at your shirt collar to examine the light bruising on your neck.

“Ex-actly!” You sigh in defeat, letting your hair cascade back down as you grab your makeup bag again, to have another go at concealing the little gift that Alexia left on you yesterday. “I knew I hadn’t done a good enough job with it.”

“How did you get a love bite?!” She asks, still clearly shocked by your rather tame, levels of promiscuity, as she pushes you away from her in disgust.

“The usual way.”

“A man sucked on your neck?”

“Is that how you usually get your love bites?”

She pulls an immature face at you and flips you off in the mirror. “I’m 24!” She says, indignant. “I haven’t had a love bite in years!”

“Well, that’s very sad and tragic of you.” You tell her with a sympathetic pout. “I can only apologise that you’re so prudish and boring, I hope you’re able to recover from that soon!”

“You’re in a very annoying mood.” She recognises with a sigh, frowning at your reflection as you carry on with your camouflage attempt. “We’ve only been here a day! I thought I was supposed to be the slutty sibling!”

“You are the slutty sibling.” You remind her with a chuckle. “You were in a relationship just last week, and I’ve already had to make breakfast for three different girls since you broke up!”

She smiles at you, very proudly, because she’s very very gross, and has absolutely no shame in it.

“It’s no wonder you looked so happy last night, then.” She says, carefully inspecting your neck for you. “That’s covered it, you’re fine.”

“Mm. Thank you very kindly!” You tell her, giving her a great big kiss on the cheek for her assistance, that she very quickly rubs back off again.

“Be less annoying!” She begs.

“I will not be making any promises!” You warn her, smiling widely as you tie your hair up and give yourself another once over. “How are we looking?” You ask, giving her a quick twirl.

“Traitorous.” She grumbles.

“Perfect!” You squeal, excitedly grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the hotel room with you.

Your enthusiasm doesn’t die out at all, as you clamber into the taxi with your sister, and, as luck would have it, your driver is an even bigger culer than you are. You’re able to have a pretty in-depth conversation with him, what with all of the new knowledge that you’ve so recently acquired, and Em’s just ecstatic for the pair of you.

It isn’t a long drive from the hotel to the stadium, but you do clearly make quite the impression on the driver, as you end up having to reject, with as much politeness as possible, his invitation of a date for after the game.

You’re really hoping to have other plans tonight, with some much-preferred female company.

“He’s not ugly.” Em informs you quietly as you get out of the car, and she certainly isn’t wrong.

‘Not ugly’ is just about as big a compliment as Em will ever give, regarding a man. So, you can rest assured that he is actually a very good-looking gentleman. She narrows her eyes at you suspiciously as you close the door to the vehicle, and you furrow your brow back at her.

“What?”

“You can agree to go out with him tonight, you don’t need to look after me.”

You shake your head at her, with a mild grimace, muttering out an ‘mm’, as your only offering of an explanation for your lack of interest in him. “No doubt you’ll be going home with someone else after the match?” You check, trying to switch the focus back to her.

“Naturally.” She winks. “It’s been an unsuccessful holiday otherwise!”

There's still an unfortunate level of determination in your sister to get you a date for tonight, and you have to really insist, that you simply don’t want the driver’s number. She eventually reluctantly agrees to let him take off, giving him an apologetic nod as he rolls up the window, and you give her an uncomfortable smile as she turns her attention back to you.

“I really think you should be getting back on the horse.” She encourages, still eyeing you with suspicion as you start the short walk to the stadium. “You can’t waste your life pining after Jamie forever.”

“I’m really not doing that.” You tell her with a sigh. “I just didn’t want to go out on a date with him.”

“Do you already have plans with hickey-man?” She giggles.

“Please don’t call them that,” you chuckle, “and no ..not technically.”

“But that’s who you’re hoping to find again?”

“Mhmm.” You mumble, trying to stifle the smile that’s pulling at your lips.

“Is he nice?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is he attractive?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do you like him?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“..Mhmm.” You reply again, and your slightly nervous smile fully takes over your face.

“Oh ..you really like him. After just one love bite?” She questions, narrowing her eyes at you again. “You don’t usually fall so quickly.” She tells you, and you can only shrug at the suggestive tone to her voice.

“I don’t really know what you want me to say to that?”

“I just ..want you to be careful.” She explains. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

“You were just trying to bag me a date with him?”

“Yeah, but as a one-night thing.” She clarifies. “Falling in love with a random Spanish man isn’t the best way of getting over your ex.”

“I’m not in love with them, and I’m not ..really still trying to get over Jamie.”

“Hm. Good. He was a prat.” She reminds you with a rather disgusted looking frown at the memory of him.

“Thanks, Em.”

“Ugly cheating bast—”

“Okay, Em. Enough.”

“But he was an ugly cheating bas—“

“Enough!”

“Sorry. He was a horrible dickhead, though.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I get it, thanks.”

“He still gets to you?” She realises, noticing that your hands have balled themselves into tight fists, and your stomach turns slightly as you shrug your shoulders at her.

“A little.” You admit, as a less exciting reimagining of events begins to torment your brain. “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, only to find out he’d been sleeping around for two years.”

“Two years?” She asks, eyes going wide, and you kick yourself for saying too much.

“I thought I already told you that.”

“No ..you told me he’d been with a few women. Two fucking years?”

“Please don’t do the maths, you’ll hate him even more.”

You attempt to walk away, already having had enough of the conversation, but you don’t get very far.

“You are joking.” She says, grabbing your arm to stop your escape attempt. “He cheated on you, because Mum died?”

“Not because Mum died, you idiot. Even he wouldn’t be that foul.”

“But it’s linked?”

“Enough, please.”

“No. What the fuck, Y/N?”

“That’s enough, okay. I just want to enjoy the match. We can talk about it later.”

“We can talk about it now! I have the tickets,” she reminds you, with a very clear anger brewing in her, “you’re not getting in there without me! Why the fuck would he cheat on you aft—”

“Because I didn’t really fancy having sex with him straight after.” You interrupt, in a hushed tone, trying to stop her from causing a scene. “I didn’t fancy having it for a while, he clearly had ..needs.”

“Don’t justify it.”

“I’m not ..but ..I understand why he did it. I practically pushed him into the arms of other women.”

“That’s disgusting, Y/N. You can’t really be blaming yourself for it?”

“Well ..I don’t know..” You mumble.

“He cheated on you for two years, because you didn’t want to sleep with him for a bit, and you think that’s okay?”

“That’s not what I said. I just ..get it.”

You turn away from her again, to carry on with the walk and she hurries after to you to keep in step, not really content in letting this godforsaken conversation die out just yet.

“That’s really the excuse he used?” She asks.

“That’s why it started, apparently. There was obviously ..something else, for him to want to carry on doing it.” You admit, fidgeting with your fingers uncomfortably as you start thinking. “Maybe I was ..missing something that he liked or ..not doing something he wanted me to. I—” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “..it really doesn’t matter, okay? Please, that’s enough. I honestly haven’t been thinking about him, I don’t want to start again now.”

“I’m sorry.” She tells you, with a clear look of remorse, and you give her a light nod with a tight-lipped smile in an attempt to ease her guilt.

You carry on your walk for only a few paces before realising Em is no longer travelling with you, and you turn back to find her staring at her feet. “What are you doing?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers and thumb.

She taps her toes to the ground a few times, before lifting her head and approaching you with a real sense of purpose. “Here,” she says, handing you a small piece of paper, “in case you can’t find hickey-man.” She tells you, and you do let yourself chuckle a little at Alexia’s unfortunate new nickname as you unfurl the note.

“You got his number for me? I really don’t need this.” You sigh. You hold the paper out to return to her, but she pushes it back to you.

“I think you do.” She tells you earnestly. “I don’t think it’s good for you to keep getting hung up on people. First Italian-man, now hickey-man. You were even working yourself up about one kiss with that Spanish woman.” She rolls her eyes at you, before giving you a sincere look of concern. “I know you fall hard, but you don’t usually fall fast. It's weird, and it’s not like you.” She explains, placing her hands on your arms, trying to get you to listen to her better. “I think you should have a proper meaningless night with someone.” She suggests with a shrug “He’s not ugly, and you’re not interested. That’s perfect one-night stand material! You're welcome!”

“Fine ..thanks.” You mutter, giving her a little nod in defeat as you stare at the number in your hand.

A meaningless night with a stranger really isn’t what you’re after, but you’re not about to fight her on it now. It’s not an ideal conversation to have just had, really. Your sister isn’t exactly calculated enough to have done it deliberately, she’s not trying to upset you because your footballing-happiness was winding her up too much.

It’s frustrating from her, but she’s genuinely concerned about you, and maybe she has a reason to be. Maybe you have been ignoring some things about yourself, refusing to confront a few little issues that are bubbling under the surface.

The ending of your relationship isn’t super ancient history, and you were with him for an unfortunately excessive amount of time. Meaningless hookups were exactly what you were preparing yourself for before Alexia ended up being your first one and ruining the rest of your plans.

You do know that you’re not letting yourself get hung up over three separate people, though. Italian-man, hickey-man and Spanish-woman are all one person, and letting yourself get so hung up on Alexia as quickly as you are, is fine. Probably. That’s not really a cause for concern.

Right?

Of course, you’ve still spent less than 24 hours with her, there’s probably still lots of things you don’t know about each other. You have shared some pretty intimate details about yourselves together already, though, and she doesn’t feel like a rebound, as such. That would be grotesquely underselling the connection between you both.

She is a woman, which is still new to you, and you really don’t usually fall so quickly for people. It took that bellend over six months to finally wear you down for a date. All Alexia needed to do was hold out a lime for you, to get herself wedged inside of your head.

Don’t let yourself think about it too hard, you’ll do yourself a mischief. You’re just here to watch some football. You’re here to watch the girl you like, play a bit of football.

Let’s not overthink, it isn’t good for you. It will only lead to questions and concerns, and that’s not what you need right now. Let’s have fun!

The atmosphere around the stadium is quite the riot, and it’s very effective in distracting you. There’s flares being let off, the sound of trumpets and drums, there’s colourful smoke everywhere, the most enormous flags you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s like a little carnival, and it’s invigorating, letting yourself get swept up in the excitement of it all.

You receive a tremendous amount of friendly looks, solely because of the badge over your heart and the name proudly on display on your back and noticing that your sister isn’t shown the same courtesy for wearing her Chelsea shirt, really only adds to your enjoyment of the occasion.

Em drags you through the large flock of fans, trying to make sure that you don’t get separated from each other on your way into the stadium, and you keep offering up apologies on her behalf, as she carelessly mows people down for you. She is quite the woman on a mission.

You opt to keep your head down, a little embarrassed by your sister’s rudeness, but even as you make an effort to avoid making eye contact with all of the disgruntled supporters that she keeps barging through, there is one thing that you do struggle to avoid seeing, with some of the Barcelona fans.

An overwhelmingly impressive amount of them, also have ‘ALEXIA’ on their shirts.

This doesn’t come as a complete shock to you. She is the best player on the team, after all. There is something about seeing her name plastered over quite so many strangers’ backs, however, that has sent your heart racing.

This turnout of people is undoubtedly nothing compared to the millions of followers that you found out she has on Instagram yesterday, but it’s a very different feeling, seeing her fame condensed into a little figure on social media, than it is, to actually seeing so many of them in person. It’s much harder for you to ignore the countless amount of admirers that she has, when you keep physically bumping into all of them.

“Are you good?” Em asks, as you find yourself frozen in the crowd, staring at the back of another person’s shirt.

“Hm? Yeah, sorry.” You mutter, giving your head a shake, before letting yourself get dragged along again. “She’s very ..popular.”

“Putellas?” She checks, and you can only nod back at her, still a little dumbfounded by it all. “Well, yeah. Obviously!” She snickers. “Come on!”

Maybe it’s pride that you’re feeling. Knowing you’ve been spending a bit of time with someone so well-liked. That’s very nice for you, that’s entirely enjoyable and fun. It doesn’t need to be anything other than that. What good would that do for you?

Perhaps there's a slight nervous tension in your stomach, at seeing her name absolutely everywhere. That’s probably understandable and fine. You knew she was famous, but that’s still a little confounding to actually play witness to. No one’s going to hold that against you, it’s okay to be a little overwhelmed by it all.

It’s a new reality for you. It makes sense that that would be accompanied with a new feeling too. Anxiety isn’t something that’s really presented itself to you when thinking of Alexia before now. Of course it isn't, why would it have been?

Picturing little scenarios with her in your mind was fun, it was silly. It didn’t really mean anything when you were never going to find her again. You didn’t need to go putting doubts about yourself in imaginary-Alexia’s head, that wouldn’t keep things very fun and silly at all.

There are a few doubts about yourself in your own head now, perhaps. Seeing as you have found her again, you’re falling for her, and she’s clearly not the little nobody that you thought you’d entangled yourself with, but that’s probably fine. It’ll be a temporary thing. Let’s not worry about it right this second. Let’s just enjoy the game instead!

It really isn’t wise for you to start stewing on things. You really will start spiralling.

How could you not?

If you start letting yourself think too hard about all the things that you were lacking, and what you simply couldn’t offer to keep a pathetic pig of a man satisfied, and you really start allowing yourself to question why you weren’t good enough for him, that isn’t going to put you in a very good mindset when seeing all these fans that Alexia has.

Her supporters aren’t limited to just little kids or grown men. There’s a lot of women here, also sporting her name. It isn’t necessarily the case that all of these women are gay, that’s not really how watching women’s football works. She can have straight women being her fans too.

Some of them are probably gay, though, aren’t they? Lots of the ones that are gay, with her name on them, might have a little crush on her. It’s very likely that absolutely none of them will have had to do research all day to make sure that they knew what was going on this evening. All of them will have already known everything. They’ll be genuinely into football, genuine fans of Alexia.

Gorgeous, confidently gay, and really into football. Those are the women that surround you right now. That’s fine. What’s wrong with that?

Why are you letting yourself worry? Why are you letting them get to you? Because they make more sense for her? Because they’re better for her? Because you’re not a fan of football?

Alexia already knows that, she didn’t walk out on you because of it.

She did giggle a few times at your idiocy, though, didn’t she? So, she probably did think you were a little foolish. She would presumably think it was a bit lame of you, to have spent quite so much time studying for a football match. Who else has ever had to do that? You really probably are the only one. That is a bit embarrassing. Quite pathetic of you.

Damn.

What a loser, you are.

Shit.

Maybe you should let it get to you. Maybe you’ve let yourself get carried away. Maybe you’re having a psychotic break. You’re letting yourself fall for a woman. A Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman who plays football professionally, for crying out loud! Look at all of these beautiful lesbian fans that she has here. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?

You? A little nobody from London, who couldn’t even keep an ugly bastard of a man happy? If you weren’t even able to manage to do that, how could you possibly hope to be good enough, for two-time Ballon d’Or recipient, current Champions League and World Cup winner, Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas?

That doesn’t seem very likely at all, does it? You being the soulmate of this ethereal goddess of a woman? Behave yourself. You really are delusional.

Maybe that’s why she wanted you here, to laugh at you. Point and laugh at you with all of her football friends.

Just go home now. Pretend that you’re ill. You do look a little ill. You’ve let yourself spiral, haven’t you? I did warn you about doing that. Now look at the state of you. This is very tragic.

“Mate, what are you doing?” Em asks, as you once again find yourself paralysed, staring at yet another stranger’s shirt.

“I just ..I don’t feel well.” You mumble.

“Noo. Please don’t do that!” She begs, all too aware of what your next statement is going to be. “We’re here now!” She reminds you, bouncing on her toes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up that wanker, but please, we can still enjoy this together. You’ve been so excited about it all day.” She gives you a very sad pout, lightly pulling on your arm, trying to encourage you to keep following her.

You really have been excited all day. It would be a shame to let your intrusive thoughts ruin it for you. You don’t want to let that bastard keep dictating all of the fun you’re allowed to have. You’re just here to enjoy some football.

Woo!

“Sorry. I just—” You pause, giving your head another shake as you try to catch your breath. “She’s just ..very popular.” You reiterate, gesturing to the stranger’s back with your thumb.

“Did you think you’d be the only one here wearing her name?” She snorts. “I told you the woman who gave it to you was basic.”

Your mind is still racing a little as you follow your sister out towards the stands. The atmosphere is even more intense inside of the stadium, and you try to let yourself embrace it all again, but it is mildly dizzying this time around.

Em has nabbed you some pretty decent seats to be fair to her, though. One thing about your sister, she is absolutely going to treat herself and overspend on her interests without a care in the world. It’s something you often advise against her doing, it's not the wisest thing for her to do with her money. You couldn’t really be more grateful for it right now, though, when you’re practically sitting front row.

Both teams are still out warming up, and you let your eyes roam the Barcelona side for a moment. You finally notice Alexia amongst all of the chaos, and you immediately stop noticing anything else. Your mind goes completely blank, just at the mere sight of her.

She really does calm you right down, truly nothing else matters when she’s around you. That’s really very lovely. It’s a good thing you don’t live in two separate countries from each other. Imagine the way your mind would implode if you couldn’t just look at her all the time to stop your mental deterioration..

You watch Alexia, as she completes her runs, does some drills, begins to stretch. It’s like she’s the only one out there on the field, working in slow motion, putting on a show, just for you. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be as sexy as it is, she’s literally just warming up, but you find yourself, jaw clenched, as you observe her movements.

She pauses for a drink break, and you remain mesmerised as she squeezes a jet of water into her mouth and pours a little extra over her face. You bite down on your bottom lip as you follow the beads of liquid rolling down her neck, slowly travelling under her shirt, and your breath hitches, as you allow yourself to remember exactly what it is that she’s concealing under her shirt. You can picture that body perfectly; you’ve thought of little else aside from it for over a month.

She’s all hot, and sweaty, and— please! Pull yourself together! You’re in public, and you’re practically drooling. Do you remember when you were straight? Straight straight straight. Try channeling a bit more of that, perhaps. You’ll be an absolute puddle right there in your seat, otherwise.

“There’s your one.” Your sister reminds you, making you jump as she nudges you and gestures down across to the pitch, once again pulling you away from your redacted thoughts.

“Oh yeah! Thanks.” You tell her, feigning surprise, as you hide the small smile on your face, and swallow down on your arousal. You subtly wipe at the corners of your mouth with the back of your finger, just in case a bit of drool really had started falling, and you nod to your sister in acknowledgment. “She really is quite ..pretty.” You say pointedly, paying close attention to your sister’s thoughts and feelings on the matter.

It probably wouldn’t be ideal if your sister showed an interest. She has a rather troubling talent with the ladies, and you’re not too sure you’d rate your chances going up against her, where another woman’s concerned.

It really isn’t something you’ve ever had to think about before. There was never any chance of you two being into the same person until Alexia flicked a switch inside of your head. It was only a joke when she mentioned it in the café, but you can’t pretend it hasn’t niggled in the back of your mind a little.

If you do end up introducing them, and they really hit it off? They almost certainly have more in common than you and Alexia do. They could talk for days about football together; they both have multiple tattoos where you only have a single measly little thing on your ribs. They’re both definitely gay, which is far more than you can say about yourself.

That’s three strikes right there, isn’t it? That’s not very good.

That’s all you get.

You’re already out of the race.

You’ll introduce them, they’ll fall in love, get married, have kids, and you’re left pining after your sister’s wife for the rest of eternity. Even the sweet release of death wouldn’t save you from a heartache that powerful. That’s an eternal pain. It’s permanent, infinite. A truly deathless agony that’ll haunt you till the very end of time itself.

Good grief!

What’s going on with you? You’re being very dramatic and sad suddenly. This really isn’t like you. You’ve only met this woman twice. Snap out of it!

“Sure, I guess.” Em shrugs, not at all taken in by Alexia’s beauty. She really does have very questionable taste in women. You really should have known that already, that isn’t new information to you. You desperately need to calm down, you’re getting yourself into a really bad place.

“Which one’s that?” She asks you, testing your knowledge as she points to another player on the field.

“Ona Batlle.” You tell her confidently, shaking your worries from your head as you try to focus on what really matters right now. “Defender. Used to play for United.”

“Very good,” she commends, genuinely quite impressed with the results of your last-minute cramming, “and that?”

“María León. Mapi. Also, a defender. Didn’t go to the World Cup.”

“Mhmm! And that?”

“Not a bloody clue!”

“For fuck’s sake.” She grumbles.

“What? She’s one of yours,” you point out, grinning, “I don’t give a shit about the Chelsea players!”

“You really are a twat.” She tells you, smacking your shoulder, before she crosses her arms and leans back into her seat. “Do you remember how the game works?” She asks you, rather condescendingly. “Do you need me to go through it all again for you?”

“No, thank you.” You reassure her, innocently. “I think I’ve got it all memorised ..it’s just the best of three sets in the women’s game, right?”

“Twat.” Em calls you again, and you chuckle to yourself, relaxing back down into your own seat, entirely satisfied with just how incredibly easy she is to wind up.

You return your attention back to Alexia’s warmup routine, making sure to not keep letting your mind run wild with more dirty thoughts. It has been over a month for you, but even your sister’s showing a bit more decorum with her ogling of Sam Kerr. You really can control yourself better than this, you are not an animal.

Alexia pauses her drills to have another sexy little drink, and you notice her surveying the crowd as she downs her water. She does a very careful examination of the away section, and she stops to stare, as soon as she finds you.

You’re once again the only two people in the whole vicinity, as her eyes meet yours, and a bashful smile takes over her face.

Whatever concerns you might be battling with, you can definitely be certain, that this woman wants you here today, and she isn’t at all discreet about how happy she is to see that you’ve come, and that you’re wearing her shirt.

She mouths a little ‘hi’ to you, and it’s impossible for you not to smile at her, when your heart’s jumping up inside of your chest. You mouth back a ‘hi’ followed by a ‘wow’, with a slight wince, as you dramatically flit your eyes around your surroundings, and she bites at her lip, with a clear sense of awkwardness.

‘I’m sorry.’ She tells you silently, but you shake your head at her with a furrowed brow.

‘Don’t be daft, good luck!’ you offer with a smile, and a subtle thumbs up. You tap proudly at the badge on your chest, and Alexia’s smile only grows as she watches you.

She responds with a nod, a ‘gracias’ and her own thumbs up, which clearly wasn’t as subtle as yours, as it didn’t go unnoticed by your sister.

“Was that directed at you?” She asks, squinting at Alexia as she moves with the other players down towards the tunnel.

“Hm? Looked like that, didn’t it?”

“That’s quite cool.” She acknowledges. “She’ll probably think you got lost on the way in, sitting here with us. You don’t exactly blend in!”

“No, that’s true.” You chuckle, tapping your hands down the red stripes on your torso. “Maybe she just felt bad for me, stuck here with you losers.”

“Mm.” She grumbles, pulling a face at you. “That’s Sam Kerr!” She informs you excitedly, quickly moving on from your interaction, and focusing back on who she deems to be, the more important star of this evening’s show.

“I know who Sam Kerr is,” you sigh, “I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen her poster on your wall.”

“Mmmmmm.” She hums, gazing very dreamily at the striker as she makes her own way off of the pitch.

“Oh, please.” You start, rolling your eyes at the state that she’s getting herself into. “Have some self-control, Em, we’re in public!”

You really are a shameless little hypocrite.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as the teams return to the pitch, and the Champions League anthem rings out around the stadium. You can feel the excitement really getting to you, as the hairs on your arms stand up on end.

It’s very overwhelming. You couldn’t have cared less about this match yesterday morning, and now it’s the most important thing in the world to you.

All for a girl, what has gotten into you?

The game is highly contested right from the first whistle. With the first leg ending in a 0-0 draw, neither team is able to rely on aggregate to get themselves through, and you can feel the pressure that the players are under.

Both sides are naturally desperate to win, though expectation is slightly higher for Barcelona, seeing as they won the whole thing last season.

There’s a very mild sense of nervousness in you about the result. You’re not really sure how you’d go about consoling someone after a huge sporting defeat. You’ve never been very good at comforting Em when a football score has left her upset, and it’s probably far worse when you’re actually on the team that’s lost, and not just watching it through the television.

You know exactly how Alexia would be able to cheer you up, and you’d be more than willing to try the same technique with her. She might not be as horned up as you clearly are, though. You may very well need to start drafting a proper commiserative speech for her, if the game does start running away from them. Sexual favours may simply not be enough.

You do take some comfort in the fact that Barcelona haven’t lost to Chelsea before, and while you appreciate that nothing’s guaranteed in sports, Alexia’s very good, and you know for a fact that the rest of her teammates really aren’t too shabby either. There’s a reason that they’ve won this whole thing twice, and you’re letting the knowledge of that keep you from getting too worked up about it.

Alexia’s the best in the world, and no best in the world is losing to bloody Chelsea, not today.

Alexia’s incredible for you to watch when she plays, even when she only has possession for a second. She’s just a wizard on the ball, the way she reads the game so easily, how she seems to predict everyone’s movements. She’s always in control, unwaveringly calm, deliberate in her choices.

She almost dances with the ball, and it’s impossible to deny how unbelievably gifted she is, as she weaves around her opponents. She has a very distinctive flair, for making it all look so effortless. It’s just incredibly sexy of her, and you find yourself wiping at the corners of your mouth again as you watch on, just in case.

It’s not a skill that you’ve ever really appreciated in a person before. You’ve had boyfriends that played football in school, you watched your sister plenty of times when she was little, but you never really focused on them while they were actually playing.

You’d cheer at the right moments, making the correct noises when you needed to, just following the rest of the crowd’s lead, mainly. You found it all a bit boring, really, it didn’t mean anything to you.

Now, Alexia’s only casually passing the ball between herself and a few of her teammates, and you’re absolutely entranced by her, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather be watching. There’s a glow to her as she plays. She’s enthralling, captivating. You might be her number one fan.

The match aside from Alexia’s performance, is far more tense than you’d care to admit. Both teams have plenty of attempts on goal, neither of them score. Every missed shot from Barcelona has you cursing under your breath, and every near goal from Chelsea has you covering your eyes like a child. It’s a little unbearable, you absolutely love it. It’s what sport’s all about.

It’s a very unexpected reaction from you. The way your heart’s started palpitating, the slight tightness in your shoulders whenever a Chelsea player’s on the ball, the elation shooting through you every time Barcelona regains possession. It’s the skin around the nail of your thumb that suffers the most under your passion, as you nibble at it relentlessly, watching everything unfold with a high degree of intensity.

You keep knocking your sister every time Alexia gets close to scoring, gripping at Em’s sleeve and tugging at her in anticipation. It’s hard to tell if it’s an excitable twitch, or if it’s stress-tapping of your foot, but every nerve in your body is on fire as you watch Alexia in her element. Em still can’t really understand your newly established avidity for the game, but she continually embraces it all with a light chuckle as she keeps telling you to “please, calm down.”

The whistle blows for halftime and it’s still level at 0-0. You can barely contain yourself, letting out a huge breath that you weren’t fully aware you’d been holding in.

“I can’t survive another half like that!” You warn Em, bashing your head against her shoulder. “I need a goal. Just one goal!” Your legs are bobbing up and down, as the adrenaline in you tries to find a way of escaping your body, and she rests her hand over them to calm you down.

“Do you need a wee?” She asks, a little concerned at the mess you’re turning into, and you shake your head with a laugh.

“No, I’m good, thanks! I just ..really want them to win.”

“You’re really into it, aren’t you?” She chuckles.

“Mhmm. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome! I’m glad you decided to stay.” She tells you, with a proud smile on her face at finally winning you over on her favourite interest. “It’s a shame you’re rooting for the dark side, though. It’s weird that this is the team that speaks to you.”

“Mm. I’m sorry about that.” You offer half-heartedly, pulling at the badge on your shirt to give it a kiss.

“You’re such a traitor,” she tells you with a flick to your forehead, “Dad will be disgusted when I tell him.”

The second half starts, and it’s much the same as the first. There’s more near misses, a few choice attempts on goal, and the game starts getting far sloppier as both sides get more desperate to score. There are some pretty ugly fouls, resulting in a few yellow cards being issued to both teams, and you’re suddenly far less concerned with winning, and far more worried about Alexia just making it out in one piece.

“It’s quite brutal!” You point out to your sister, flinching as another Chelsea player goes tumbling to the ground.

“Mm. You think she’d be more careful.” She tells you. She taps at the number on your shirt, and it sends an instant chill racing up the back of your neck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, biting down hard on your thumb as you await her response.

“She tore her ACL a couple years back, took her out of the Euros. She hardly played at all last season.”

“Tore her ACL?” You ask, exhaling slowly as you make the connection in your head. “Would that be her knee?”

“Mhmm.”

“Shit.” Drops out of your mouth, as you bite your thumb a little too deeply, and you try to shake the stinging from your hand.

It makes sense, that Em would choose to withhold this little titbit of information from you, you really are quite squeamish. If you’d known this game could turn into such a bloodbath, you’d have probably elected to stay home.

Alexia had played it coy, when you traced your fingers over her scars that night. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with you asking her about them, but it still wasn’t something she was going to get into with you. You weren’t going to force the issue too hard, you’re not an idiot, but it had certainly piqued your interest. She really wasn’t forthcoming with any information about herself, and it quickly became apparent how talented she was at deflecting from your queries.

It stopped being at the forefront of your mind completely, when she was otherwise so distracting with it. Her scars didn’t inhibit her at all when she was pressing her knee against you. It felt good, she seemed fine, who were you to question?

“Should she be playing at all?” You ask flicking your thumb against your finger to try and weaken the pain shooting through it.

“Sure! Lots of them do, you just think it’d freak ‘em out a bit more.” She tells you. “It’s amazing she still throws herself into it as much as she does, really.”

“You don’t become the best by tapping out.” You recognise, and she excitedly nods her head at you.

“No, exactly! Sometimes it happens again, though. Can be the exact same rupture, different tear, same leg. A few players have it happen to their other leg..” Em continues to give you a very unhelpful rundown of just how common this career-jeopardising injury seems to be, and an uncomfortable lump forms in your throat as she goes a little too deep into all of the details with it. “Are you okay?” She asks, cutting herself off at your obvious discomfort at her lecture, and she gently taps at your shoulder. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

“I don’t like seeing people get hurt, you know that.”

“She’ll be alright.” She reassures you, gesturing to the Chelsea player as she pulls herself back to her feet. “It’s just when a player gets stretchered off, really. That’s when you properly worry about them.”

You suddenly find yourself, very stressed.

It immediately feels like Alexia, in particular, has a target on her back as the game continues. Every time she gets on the ball, a Chelsea player comes flying in, rather aggressively, trying to win it back off of her. It’s a very violent onslaught, and it’s not one that you’re keen on watching.

She spends most of the second half having to drag herself back to her feet, and you no longer feel like you can just blame it on the slightly wet grass, when there’s a menacing little Chelsea player hovering ominously over her every time she goes down to the ground.

The game is still level as the clock starts running down the final few minutes, but any sense of relief that this torture is almost over, is immediately extinguished, as you remember that this specific game would have to go to extra time, and then penalties, if no one’s able to break the deadlock.

Penalty shootouts, on their own, are usually just about the only thing you can tolerate in football, when you’re a neutral with zero stakes. It sounds like a nightmare now, however. Especially as it means you’d have to endure 30 extra minutes of the Chelsea players’ assault on Alexia.

You really can’t take it. Your heart’s started thumping. You have a headache forming. Your fingers have turned to ice.

You’re out of your seat as Alexia makes a beeline for the goal in the 87th minute. It’s an incredible scoring opportunity, she can’t miss.

A Chelsea defender appears to the side of her, as if from nowhere as Alexia lines up her shot, and she’s brutally slid into, just outside of the area.

You can hear the collision as it happens, it almost reverberates throughout the whole stadium. Life in the arena comes to a complete standstill, as everyone just watches it all unfold.

Alexia goes down, and the world stops spinning, your heart stops beating, and time stands still.

She stays down, and your body goes rigid, your blood runs cold, and you want to be sick.

Get up. Please get up.

Your sister grips on to your arm trying to comfort you, trying to tell you that it probably isn’t as bad as it looked, but your eyes don’t move from where Alexia lies on the floor, clutching her knee.

Medics are rushed onto the pitch with a stretcher in hand, and you remain frozen in place.

Please get up. Just get up.

The defender is back on her feet only a minute after the tackle, and she’s shown a yellow card for her foul. You want to throttle the referee right there and then.

“It should be a straight fucking red!” You shout, as you grip your hands together on the top of your head, trying to distract yourself from the burning in your eyes, and the new quiet ringing that’s started in your ears.

You receive a couple of snide looks from the supporters surrounding you for your little outburst, and you can hear a few less-than-friendly words being bellowed out at you, but frankly, you don’t give a fuck.

Just get up. Get up and walk off if you have to. Just get. up.

You want to jump over the seats. Push every annoying, arsehole supporter in a Chelsea shirt right out of your way and invade the pitch to be with her. Your body’s screaming out at you to do something, anything, and you can’t. You’re useless to her.

Just get up.

Alexia looks to be in agony on the ground. A few of the Barcelona players are swarming the referee for her blatant incompetence. Even the other Chelsea players are a little amazed that they’ve gotten away with it, without going a player down.

It was a dirty foul. Out of character, according to your sister. You don’t care. It could’ve been a complete accident by her, and you’re not fussed. It was reckless, it was filthy, and she should be off that goddamn pitch with some level of suspension at least.

Get up. Please.

Em tries to pull you back into your seat and you still don’t budge. You stand where you are, watching the small crowd on the pitch, as it slowly blocks Alexia from your view. You bite at the skin on your thumb, willing yourself to stay calm, willing Alexia to just get the fuck up.

It feels like a lifetime waiting for things to happen, for any sign of development from the scene on the ground. You ultimately collapse back down into your chair, trying to catch your breath, trying to stop the world from swirling around you, trying to stop your brain from assuming the worst. You close your eyes, holding your face in your hands, blocking it all out.

Get. Up.

This isn’t really what you signed up for, is it? You wanted to watch the girl you like, play a little game of football. Possibly celebrate her winning, with some adult-fun-time. Not find out that she’s fairly recently had such a serious injury, and then watch her go crashing down to the ground, holding that specific body part. You can’t do anything about it. You can’t help. You’re stuck in place, watching it all happen right in front of you.

This is torture. Maybe this is why you never let yourself get into football. Who is this fun for exactly? What’s the point in it all?

What an unbelievably useless waste of your time. You were already in a bad enough place before the game kicked off and distracted you from it. Now it’s made it worse. This is terrible. You really should have just stayed home. Imagine coming all the way out to Spain and making yourself bloody ill with it. Jesus Christ.

Please. Get up.

After what feels like hours, the medics do start slowly dissipating and there’s a cautious ripple of applause around the stadium, because Alexia has gotten up, but not of her own accord. She’s being flanked by Mapi and Asisat, and she looks very unstable.

They carefully remove themselves from under her arms, and she’s not very well balanced at all. She’s reluctant to put too much weight on her leg, she’s limping, and she’s still gripping onto Mapi for dear life, but she's not being stretchered off. She’s up, and you can breathe again.

You watch on as she tests her strength, steadily gaining confidence that her knee isn’t going to give way beneath her, and she puts her hand up to Jonatan to indicate that she will not be getting subbed off. She gives her body a shake, looks over in your direction, and she nods to herself with a reinvigorated sense of determination.

You don’t know if you’re completely turned on by her bold display of bravery, or if you want to give her a slap for being quite so carelessly audacious. She doesn’t need to play the hero; you’d rather she just sat it out.

“What is she doing?” You mutter under your breath, shaking your head as Alexia waits to be let back into the game.

“You don’t become the best by tapping out!” Em reminds you, with a smile, patting your shoulder reassuringly. Her entire demeanour is in stark contrast to the one that you’re currently displaying, and as comforting as she’s trying to be by rubbing at your arm, it isn’t very effective. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “You look really unwell.”

“Mhmm.” Is all you’re able to mumble out, as your eyes lock onto Alexia on the sidelines.

The free kick awarded for the foul is saved, and Alexia’s back on the pitch for the corner. You want to stop her. You want to swear at her. You can’t handle it. You need a drink.

You grab at the neckline of your shirt and pull it up over the bottom half of your face. You’re very very stressed. Even the familiar smell of her on your top isn’t doing much to comfort you. She’s an idiot. She’s so unbelievably stupid. What the fuck?

You watch the corner kick, as the ball goes sailing over the heads of everyone, before it connects with Alexia’s forehead and skims past the tips of the keeper’s fingers.

The stadium erupts around you, and you’re back up off of your seat, letting out your own roar in celebration. Your eyes are absolutely stinging with tears, as you hold your forehead against your hands, and there’s more than a few snide looks at you from the supporters you’re buried in, given your lack of propriety about the situation.

You’re getting called every colourful derogatory term under the sun for your rather ungodly little cheer, and still, you couldn’t care less. You let out a few huge breaths, trying to steady yourself, and despite her team now trailing in the final minutes, Em wraps her arms around you, giving you a shake, as she tries to get you to properly enjoy the moment.

Alexia points up to the sky in celebration, and you can hear her name being gradually chanted around the stands. It catches in your ear, echoing in a crescendoing drone. It’s deafening, unrelenting, and you try to shake it back out of your head before it really starts getting too much for you.

You know that there’s going to be a fair few minutes of added time with how many fouls the second half has had and given how long Alexia was just down for especially, but you can see how the life’s just been completely zapped from the Chelsea side. They’re not equalising today; the game is done.

The whistle blows for full time at 1-0 and you finally slump back down into your seat. The stadium is going absolutely wild around you, and you just close your eyes to it, waiting for it all to die down.

You can hear your sister trying to pull you out of your head, but you press your palms against your eyelids, trying to block everything out. Your body’s racking itself. There’s a sharp shortness to your breath, an uneven rapidity to your heartbeat. Your head’s burning up, and your eyes are stinging.

You’re not really cut out for this, are you? It’s all gotten a bit much. You really are spiralling, look at the state of you. All this, because of one unfortunate, mistimed tackle? Because there’s a few extra people here that know Alexia’s name?

Barcelona just won, Alexia just scored the winning goal, and you’re collapsing in on yourself.

What would you have been like if they had just lost? If Alexia had been genuinely hurt? Not much good, clearly. Not very helpful.

Alexia deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t go into a panic in the stands whenever she hits the deck. Someone who isn’t unnerved by her celebrity status. Maybe someone, who isn’t questioning her identity, at the ripe old age, of 26.

She deserves someone, who very much, isn’t you.

It takes a few minutes for you to come back around, pulling yourself from your oppressive thoughts, and you can see colourful stars in your eyes as you finally relieve the pressure you were forcing against them. Em offers you some water, and you down it while she stares at you, her brow wrinkled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm. I’m fine, sorry.”

“You won!” She points out, with a cautious optimism, smiling at you as she chuckles softly. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not ..whatever the hell this is.”

“I’m really sorry, I just ..I don’t like people getting hurt.”

“You wouldn’t have had to go to a hospital with her, it’s alright.”

“Mm.”

She gives you a hug, which lasts a suspiciously long time for her, and you can feel her jaw moving against your shoulder as she lifts her head slightly.

“Are you okay?” You ask, frowning as you push her away from you.

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, not moving her eyes away from whatever it is that she’s seen behind you. “Are you definitely fine?” She checks again, with a mild desperation to her voice.

“..Yes?” You reassure her, turning around in your seat to try and follow her gaze.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then!” She tells you hastily, and she nudges your arm, before tossing your sweatshirt from her bag at you, and straightening herself up.

“Wait, what?” You question, rather baffled by her quick switch in focus. “Where are you going tonight?”

Em just directs your vision up a few rows of seats, to a red-headed woman who has very clearly taken her fancy. They’ve been making googly-eyes at each other all match apparently. Since you wound your sister up earlier, with your unwavering new support for the enemy, and Chelsea have just crashed out of the Champions League again, she’s going home with her tonight, to drown her sorrows.

She really does have an incredible success rate with the ladies, at least you won’t have to make breakfast for this one in the morning.

“You’re off, just like that?” You ask.

“We can hang out again tomorrow?”

“Aw, I appreciate that, Em. Thanks!”

She chuckles at you, bouncing on her toes. “Ring taxi-man.” She advises you with a wink. “Or try to find your mysterious hickey-man, again! You deserve to have fun tonight. Celebrate the win properly! Get yourself another love bite!”

“Mm.” You mutter, and she crouches down in front of you again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “I can stay with you, if you want?”

“Hm? No, don’t be daft. It’s fine, really. Thanks. Go, have fun.”

She doesn’t hang around long enough for you to change your mind. She gives you a far quicker hug than the previous one, patting you on the head, before running off and introducing herself to her new friend at the steps. They both cast you a quick wave, which you return a little awkwardly, before they walk up towards the exit. Just as easy as that.

“Be safe!” You call out to them behind you, as you turn your attention back to the celebrations on the pitch.

It takes a long while for the atmosphere in the stadium to really start fizzling out, and there’s still a distinct little hum of excitement that rattles through it, as the crowd dwindles, and the players continue making their way around the grounds.

Alexia grins up at you as she passes by your section, and you can only manage to give her a weak smile in return as you pat your leg at her with a questioning look. She smacks her knee a couple of times, smiling with a dramatic roll of her eyes, and she gives you a thumbs up to signal to you that she really is okay. She isn’t limping anymore as she heads over towards the fans, so you could almost pretend it hadn’t happened at all, if it hadn’t been quite so mentally draining.

A fair amount of supporters still line the barriers, holding out shirts and signs, and just about anything else that they can get a player’s autograph scrawled onto. Most of them are shouting for Alexia’s attention, and her popularity and fame is still quite an overwhelming thing for you to take in.

She doesn’t miss any of them, they all get their moment with her. She makes sure everyone gets seen too, everything gets signed. She doesn’t rush a single encounter, and you don’t miss the way people’s faces keep lighting up whenever she approaches them.

It’s very hard not to keep falling for her, watching her interact with people, the way that she is with them. She’s just good. She’s good at what she does, she's good with her fans, she’s a good person.

You’re biting at your thumb again.

The knuckles on your other hand, turning white, with the vice-like grip that you have on her sweatshirt. Your legs are bobbing, and you can feel your fingers freezing up. There’s a lot of combatting emotions fighting for dominance in your head, and you’re very unsure of yourself.

The Chelsea fans were in far less of a partying mood, clearly, as you find yourself the only one left in the away section. You watch Alexia converse with the ever-diminishing crowd for a moment longer, before deciding, maybe it’s time for you to go, too.

This isn’t your world; you don’t belong in it. It’s been a fun time with her, and there’s definitely a something between you, that’s been nice to explore, but there’s clearly been some sort of mistake. A divine, serendipitous little mix-up. She can’t be the one for you, as you’re really not the right one for her. It’s okay for this to be it, it’s okay for you to go.

You walk down to the barrier and carefully rest her sweatshirt over it. You can’t really also leave her football shirt behind with it, but she’s probably not desperate for that back. She’ll have loads of them lying about, there’s probably another one waiting in her training bag, ready for her to give to someone else.

You pat at the sweatshirt a few times, debating with yourself, and you look back up across the pitch to where Alexia is still signing shirts. She almost certainly does deserve someone better than you but abandoning her is still quite a harsh thing for you to do, she definitely deserves better than that.

You can’t just leave her and not give her a reason for it, that’s very cruel. She was excited to see you, she’ll be upset if you walk out on her.

You crash your head down onto the sweatshirt trying to decide your next move, letting out a quiet groan as you draw a blank. She’s still preoccupied with her fans when you raise your head again, and you start pacing the length of the railing tapping the tips of your fingers together.

You look back down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit. Down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit.

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit.

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. Exit. Exit.

You find yourself stuck on the steps, only a second later, facing away from the pitch, without her sweatshirt in your hands. You’re really not sure what your plan is.

You do still have that number in your pocket, you could always give him a call, he really was very good-looking, exactly your usual type. Tall, dark, handsome. Friendly. Very friendly. It’s classic to you, it’s easy. Maybe your sister’s right. You need to have a meaningless night with some random company that you just don’t give a shit about.

You really just don’t want to go out with him, though. There’s a woman on the other side of the pitch that your heart’s still lunging out in the direction of, who still puts butterflies in your stomach every time she so much as looks at you.

You don’t want to leave. You like this woman too much. There’s something real between you. Something strong.

Maybe it’s too strong.

It’s impossibly strong.

It’s a delusional level of strong.

You’re almost at the final step before the exit, when you hear a little whistle from behind you and it stops you in your tracks. Maybe it was that little bungee cord between you both, that alerted her to your leaving.

It sends another chill coursing up the back of your neck, and there’s an instant blurring to your vision, as your eyes start welling up.

“Y/N?” She calls up to you, with a small strain to her voice, and you flinch, your gaze dropping to the floor. Your jaw clenches, and you freeze in place, closing your eyes, in the hopes of just disappearing from right there in front of her.

You can still go, just keep walking. It would still be very hard for her to find you. She doesn’t have your surname, or your address, she doesn’t know your phone number.

You can get a clean break.

Leave it as a solo night of fun. The meaningless distraction from him, that it was always supposed to have been. Stop letting yourself fall for her. Stop letting yourself care and worry, about a woman that you barely know. Go home. Behave. Find yourself a man and get on with your regular life.

There’s another cautious whistle as you debate with yourself, and your heart aches, hearing it echo around you. You shift your body weight, awkwardly, from your toes to your heels, and back again, a fair few times. You drum your fingers against your thighs, over your stomach, and you look up at the sky, searching for an answer.

You need someone to give you a push, give you a sign that you’re not making another mistake. You want your sister to come back and slap some sense into you. You want your mother to tell you what to do, she always did have the right answers.

You gently tap your fingers to your face, trying to pull yourself back into your body, as you study the stars above you.

There seems to be a definite twinkle to one of them, and you really don’t care if you’re just seeing things. You’re looking for an excuse, any excuse, and a slight flicker in the sky, is exactly what you needed.

You straighten yourself up, before letting out a long breath with a small nod. You bounce on your toes, and you give your eyes a quick rub, before you ever so slowly, turn yourself back around.

You might still be an idiot. A whole damn blasted fool.

But she’s impossible for you to walk away from. That’s just not how it’s going to work with her. She already means too much, you’re already in too deep. She’s set up shop inside of your head, she’s already living inside of your heart. You couldn’t walk away from her, even if you wanted to.

She has your heart skipping beats, whenever she says your name. She has the rest of existence fading into nothingness around you, when all she’s done is take your hand in hers. She sends goosebumps down your neck when she whispers to you, has you rolling your eyes with a chuckle, when she’s being a playful windup. Your mind starts spinning when she kisses you, and you feel safe when you’re resting in her arms.

You had one of the best afternoons of your life yesterday, doing nothing, but spend a bit more time with her. Learning about her, laughing with her, kissing her. She’s put a burning inside of you, and a smile on your face. You spent the whole of last night, wide awake, because you couldn’t wait to see her again. She told you that she couldn’t wait to see you, either.

This isn’t a solo night of fun, it’s not a meaningless distraction. It never really has been with her. It might very well be your person, that’s waiting for you down there, and you’d only stand to lose everything, if you walk away from her now.

You draw in a breath and look down to the sidelines of the pitch. It’s the greatest women’s footballer in the world, that’s leaning up against the stands for you, and she’s hoping, that you’re not about to leave her, not without at least saying goodbye to her first.

She looks very small when you see her. All the grandeur, and spectacle that shrouded her during the game, has been completely wiped once again. She’s just Alexia, Ale, A. She’s just a woman that you met in a nightclub, just a girl that you’ve been getting to know.

There’s a very obvious sense of worry in her, it’s not a look that often spreads across her face. She shuffles herself, tapping her hands gently on the sweatshirt over the barrier as she tilts her head down towards the ground, and you steadily make your way back down the steps towards her.

“Felicitats.” You offer weakly, and she smiles softly up at you.

“Gràcies.”

“Is your knee okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“It wasn��t a very friendly challenge.” You tell her, frowning at the tunnel that the Chelsea player made her escape from you down. “You gave me a fright, when you didn’t bounce straight back up. Are you definitely okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” She insists. “Look!” She tells you, patting her knee a few more times, and kicking her leg out to show you that it hasn’t fallen off. You can’t not smile back at her when she’s being so very cute, even if she is incredibly stupid. “I promise you, it’s fine.” She repeats, and you just have to believe her.

“You didn’t fancy telling me your big secret, yourself?” You call out, as you continue making your way towards the pitch, glancing around the stadium, before sliding your hands into your back pockets.

“It didn’t feel ..that important,” is the excuse she gives to you, as she picks at the fabric in her hands, “the night that we first met.”

“And yesterday?” You push, crinkling your brow up slightly. “Still not that important?”

Her gaze drops to the ground as you wait on the bottom step, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth. “Are you angry with me?” She asks nervously, quietly tapping her hands with a bit more agitation, and not yet meeting your eyes.

There’s a painful twinge in your heart as you watch her unfamiliar mannerisms, you much prefer when she’s being insufferably cocky and annoying. It’s far less painful, a lot more fun.

You let out a breath, before closing the rest of the distance between you both, and you gently rest your hands on top of hers, to stop her little nervous drum solo. She still doesn’t lift her head to face you, and you take in a shaky breath, readying yourself.

“Do I seem angry?” You ask her quietly, trying to encourage her to look at you, as you delicately draw shapes on the backs of her hands, to distract you both a little from the obvious tension.

You don’t miss the goosebumps that quickly form up Alexia’s arms as you do, and there’s a feeling that jolts inside of you, knowing that you both have the exact same effect on each other, even with the most casual of touches.

She lifts her eyes to study your face, and she shakes her head, as you smile softy back at her.

“Well, there you go then!” You tell her with a light chuckle, placing a kiss to her forehead before resting yourself against the railing between you both, and she lets out a wobbly breath. “Of course I’m not angry with you ..I did feel a bit stupid last night, that I really didn’t know.” You explain. “..I feel a bit intimidated, now that I do.”

“I’m still just me.” She reminds you quickly, and you can see the shimmer in her eyes, as she tries to keep herself from cracking.

You can’t help narrowing your eyes at her little claim as she collapses her head down into you, nestling it in the crook of your neck. “They call you the bloody queen, Alexia.” You remind her, and she shakes her head against you.

“I hate that title.” She confesses. “I promise you, I’m still just me.”

It’s hard to deny her that. When all of the noise has died out, and it’s only the two of you left. She is just her, she’s just another woman. A woman who is very clearly worrying about you and your reaction to her career. She knows that she stands to lose you because of it, and it’s very obvious, as her tears pool on your skin, that that isn’t something she wants to happen.

Despite it still being ridiculously early days between you both, this connection that you feel so strongly, may very well be reciprocated by her, and it would be a shame, for a bit of football, to stand in the way of it.

It’s terrifying, knowing that she can get hurt. Realising that everything she’s worked so hard her whole life for, rests on a knife’s edge, every time she steps foot onto the pitch. It isn’t easy, being made aware of how common of an injury it is, and how there’s no way of protecting her from it.

If she’s going to get injured again, that’s just a harsh reality of football, and that’s a very difficult pill for you to swallow. It’s not a risk that you can stop her from taking, either. This is her dream, and you’d just have to support her through it. The good, and the bad.

It’s also a little disconcerting, knowing how adored she is. The fact that she’s quite a bit famous, especially in this city, if nothing else. As much as you don’t want to let it seep into your mind, and affect your thoughts about Alexia too deeply, it’s impossible for it not to have altered things for you slightly.

You’re only human, and you weren’t really fully prepped, on what her celebrity actually entailed. She was just another regular person to you yesterday, but in reality, she is clearly very far from that, and it’s a little unfair that she wasn’t the one to break the news to you. To give you some sort of heads up, before throwing you in at the deep end today.

But ..you really were having fun, before it all went south. You were excited, you were proud, you were enjoying a football match. She does things to you. She brings out a side of yourself that you’ve never explored before, a side that’s laid dormant, for your entire life. She’s incredible, in ways that largely transcend her achievements on the pitch.

Alexia’s never made you doubt yourself. She’s never given you any reason to question her interest in you, that’s one thing that she’s never been secretive about.

She doesn’t know what you do for a living, but she probably correctly assumes that you’re not famous, and that hasn’t put her off at all. She doesn’t think she’s too good for you, she hasn’t treated you like you’re beneath her.

Her fame doesn’t follow her everywhere, you were able to be completely oblivious to it, before your sister told you about it. It’s not debilitating, it doesn’t stop you from having moments together. It’s something you might have to get used to. Find a way of understanding it, learn how to cope with it. Especially on match days, when you really can’t ignore the actual magnitude of it. That wouldn’t be impossible for you to do.

There’s a connection between you both, it doesn’t matter how celebrated she is. You haven’t just shared a few careless kisses; it wasn’t just one night of meaningless sex. There’s something real between you both, and it already existed before you knew who she was. This madness that surrounds her, was always the reality; you were just unaware of it.

There was a spark, regardless. You’d have the same connection with her if she was filling shelves in a supermarket, why should this be any different?

She wasn’t put off by your lack of interest in football. She really wanted you here today. She gave you her shirt to wear. She told you she hoped you’d enjoy the game. There were tens of thousands of people in attendance this evening, and she searched for you, specifically.

She deliberately put you in a contrasting shirt, so that she’d easily be able to find you, so that she’d definitely know that you came, and that you were here, watching her. That’s all she wanted. She just wanted you to see her play, and for you to have fun while doing it. She wanted you here, cheering her on. The best player in the world, and she's been choosing you. A little nobody from London.

You’re allowed to be excited about that. You’re allowed to stop questioning her and second-guessing yourself. You don’t need to pay attention to the noise around you, the excited obsession with her from strangers, those distracting little seeds of doubt that he’s put into your head about yourself.

There’s just her. There’s just Alexia, and she wanted you here.

“Well ..just you,” you start softly, placing a kiss to the side of her head, “is a bloody lot more impressive than most people ..you were incredible out there.” You whisper shakily, and you can feel as she smiles against you, burying her head further into your neck.

“You enjoyed it?” She breathes, and you can see a small bit of the weight that she’s bearing, lifting from her shoulders.

“Until that moment. Yeah, I really did!” You tell her, smiling in mild disbelief at yourself. “I was worried, that I might have to pretend for you, but I just ..really loved watching you play, seeing you score!”

“Were you quietly cheering?” She asks, pulling herself back from you, to excitedly take you in.

“There was nothing quiet about it!” You admit with a grin, as you wipe away the streaks of tears on Alexia’s cheeks with the backs of your fingers. “You scored the winner!”

The biggest smile spreads over her face at your bold act of tiny rebellion, and she pinches at the fabric of your shirt, gliding her fingers down the front of it, as she gives it a quick examination. “You were lucky they didn’t throw tomatoes at you, then!”

“Mhmm! I did get a few words thrown at me, mind! There’s some horrible people about.” You tell her, as she continues holding onto your shirt. Her eyes meet yours and it’s a pair of nervous smiles that you exchange with each other. “I know it won’t mean much, coming from me. I’ve not watched a lot of football, and I know you have some pretty big awards for it, but ..you’re really bloody good! I’m so proud of you.”

“It means everything.” She tells you ardently, pulling you into her over the railing. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

You let yourself get lost in her embrace for a moment, while she clings to the back of your shirt, and you can hear as her breath hitches when you place a quick kiss to her neck.

“I really didn’t enjoy watching you get taken down, mind.” You reiterate, quietly.

“No? I didn’t love that either, really.” She admits, chuckling to herself.

“But you’re definitely okay?” You check again, pulling away from her to look properly at her leg.

“Yes. I promise you. It’s fine, I’m fine. It just happens sometimes.” She shrugs.

“Please don’t tell me that!” You beg, quickly shaking your head at her. “You can’t be putting me through that every match!”

“Mm? You’ll be watching more games?” She asks, with that famous little smirk coming back into view as you nod your head at her.

“I mean, it’s a bitch of a commute to do this weekly, but I’ll definitely be watching you on the telly, when I can’t make it.”

“Wow.” She says, linking her arms together behind your neck. “You really did enjoy it.”

“I know ..you’ve broken me!” You chuckle, as she rests her forehead to yours, and her lips are once again, the only thing you can focus on. You watch as she wets them in front of you, and it almost feels like she’s taunting you a little bit. “Are we allowed to kiss here?” You ask, trying to disguise your desperation, as you pull yourself away to scan the stadium.

There’s only a few random stragglers making their exits up the steps, and none of them seem to be paying any attention to the pair of you at all. So, it might not be beyond the realms of possibility.

Alexia takes your face in her hands and tilts your head. “Yes.” She tells you, simply, and she pulls you into her, capturing your lips with hers. She doesn’t do her own check of your surroundings at all; she really isn’t too fussed if anyone’s watching you both this time.

It’s quite the romantic place to have a kiss, honestly. A huge colosseum, that’s almost entirely empty, a blanket of stars in the sky up above you. It’s not a kiss with any caution. It’s not hasty or secretive. It’s familiar, safe, and it’s able to finally be unreserved.

It’s a kiss that the pair of you have been craving. One that doesn’t taste of tequila, that doesn’t have to be hidden from view, and one that doesn’t have the looming dread of immediate departure attached to it. It’s a slow deep kiss, that feels like home, and you’re quite content to drown yourself in it.

“Where’s Em?” Alexia asks, and she really has ruined the moment.

She seems unaware, as her lips are still moving against yours, but you freeze, breaking the kiss at her twisted choice of topic.

“Woww?” You drag out, pulling back from her with a frown. “Mentioning my sister is a real mood-killer I do hope you realise!”

“I’m sorry!” She giggles, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re supposed to have come over here for me, not her!”

“I did come over for you!” She tells you, rolling her eyes at your dramatics. “I just meant ..you’re here on your own.”

“Mm. She left me.”

“Why?”

“She met a girl, while we were watching you play,” you explain, “they’ve gone back to hers already.”

“Oh?” She questions, her eyes sparkling as she arches an eyebrow at you. “To play cards?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I think so.”

She links her arms back over your shoulders, leaning in very close. “So ..you’re without company tonight?” She checks, her lips ghosting yours, and your heart starts racing again at the suggestive tone to her voice.

“Mhmm. That’s quite sad, isn’t it? When I’m on holiday?”

“That’s very sad.” She agrees, tracing your jawline with her index finger.

It’s hard not to have a physical reaction to the way that she’s always touching you, and you swallow down as she angles your face to draw her mouth even closer to you, your breath catching in your throat as her lips brush against yours.

“Are you short on company tonight?” You whisper, rather shakily.

“Mhmm.”

“Oof. That might be even sadder.” You point out, and she nods in agreement with a small pout, before finally succumbing to another long kiss.

You breakaway, entirely short on breath, and she smiles as the obvious effect she’s just had on you as you try to come to your senses. “Do you ..not want to celebrate with your teammates?”

“Not really.” She tells you, her pupils dilating as her eyes roam over your body.

“Would you ..maybe, want to do something with me, then?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” She asks, her cocky little smile curving her lips, and you chuckle despite yourself.

“I really think I might be. You admit. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me!” You tell her, shaking your head with a smile. “I’d never looked at another woman before, never cared about a football result. Never asked someone out on a date.”

“Mm? And now look at you.” She says, cradling your face as she searches your eyes. “Does it scare you?” She asks, stroking her thumb over your cheek, and you pause for a beat in consideration.

“A little,” you confess, “but never when I’m with you.”

Your candour earns you another kiss. Whether she’s fully aware of the power her lips have on calming your nerves, or she just fancied kissing you, you don’t really know, and you don’t really care. You welcome it the same way you’ve welcomed every other kiss from her, and the same way you’ll continue to welcome any future kisses from her, should you be so lucky.

“Were you going to leave me?” Alexia asks after a moment, tapping at the sweatshirt again with a horrible look of uncertainty in her eyes.

“I really don’t know.” You tell her honestly, and worry creases her brow, as you let out a breath. “I don’t think I’d have got very far,” you admit, “but it’s just ..been a lot to take in.”

There’s a familiar look of understanding from her. It’s the exact same look she had given you when you’d stayed still in the hotel elevator, as she had made her exit. It’s a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, that barely curves her lips. It’s a look of acceptance, resignation, and it’s a heartbreaking sight to see.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You clarify. “I don’t really know ..what this is, between us, but I know how I feel about you, and I don’t want to run from it. I just know ..that you can probably do better.”

You bop your own hand gently on the barrier in a fist, and she narrows her eyes at you. “What do you mean by that?” She asks, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth.

“I freaked out ..when you went down. It got to me outside, seeing your name everywhere. I couldn’t ..really tell you what my sexuality is, at this point.” You take a breath, still knocking your fist awkwardly on the railing. “There’ll be so many other women, more sure of themselves, more ..prepared, and ready to embrace everything.” You explain, closing your eyes to stop them from stinging. “They won’t need to study your team before you play, they won’t go into a panic every time another player gets a little too close to you. They’ll be just as desperate to be with you, and they’ll be bett—”

You’re cut off from your little ramble, with what you’re assuming was a kiss.

Your eyes are closed, and it was unbelievably quick. You’d be forgiven for thinking you’d imagined it completely; it was really quite so fleeting. If the fireworks that Alexia’s set off on your lips weren’t quite so familiar to you, you might have thought it was a bee that had stung you. She’s really gone and left you all lightheaded with little more than a peck.

“You kissed me!” You tell her breathlessly, as though she wasn’t the one to do it to you.

“Mhmm. Imagine that.” She says, as she lets her eyes roam over your face with a small smile. “You studied the team?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You cringe. “I just didn’t want to not know who you played with. I mean, I didn’t even know who you were yesterday, what chance would I have had with any—”

She kisses you again, the exact same way, leaving you with the exact same reaction.

“You kissed me!” You repeat, and she chuckles at you, nodding her head.

“Mhmm. You’re on vacation,” she reminds you, “and you spent the day studying my team?”

“Mm.”

“And you worried about me getting hurt?”

“Mm.”

“And you’re so desperately into me, that I’ve got you questioning your sexuality?” She winks.

“I mean..” you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes, “..maybe.”

“And you really think, that any of that ..would make me like you less?” She asks, narrowing her eyes with that familiar smirk.

“Well ..sort of.” You admit. “I mean ..the studying. Most people wouldn’t need to do that.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” She points out.

“Mm ..no, I really think I did.” You chuckle. “I didn’t know anything about football this morning, you can ask Em.”

“You don’t care about football.” She reminds you.

“Maybe not ..but I care a little bit about you. I just knew it was important to you, I didn’t want to be completely clueless about it.”

Alexia shakes her head at you lightly, before kissing you again. It’s not so quick this time, so you don’t need to be as embarrassed about her still leaving you lightheaded and short on breath.

“You kissed me!” You repeat, a childish grin taking over your face, and she rests her forehead to your shoulder, chuckling at your excited little reaction. “So, you do still like me the same?” You double-check and she lifts her gaze to meet your eyes.

She cradles your head in her hand, shaking her own lightly back at you as she rubs her thumb over your cheek. “I think I might like you even more.” She tells you. “I wasn’t really sure that would be possible after yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well ..what else are you into? I can study anything.”

She giggles at your eagerness before kissing you again. “I’m very into you.” She says, and your eyes light up in front of her.

“That’s so unbelievably lucky, I know almost everything about her already!”

“Yeah? Then maybe we’re perfect for each other.” She tells you, with a distinct conviction in her voice that sends that special little thrill running right through your body as she pulls you in for another kiss.

“So ..is that a ‘yes’?” You ask. “To maybe going on a date with me? It’s a bit late now, I know, but we still have tomorrow.” You suggest, beginning to stumble over your words. “I know it’s probably not the smoothest way you’ve ever been asked out. I’m new to this. I’m not very good, but I’ll work on it. I’ll get better.”

“I think you’re already better than you think you are.” She tells you softly, resting her forehead to yours. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Even though my head’s a mess and I’m still figuring things out?”

“Mhmm.” She giggles, gently rolling her bottom lip under her teeth. “I’ll help you figure things out. We’ll work it all out together.” She offers.

“That could be a lot of work.”

“I know, and I really think you might be worth it.” She tells you, giving you another gentle kiss. “I’m sorry all of this got to you. I should have told you about it yesterday, but ..I didn’t want to scare you off.” She explains. “I know it can be a lot, I don’t love every part of it..”

“It’s okay, I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for it, really. I knew you’d have a lot of fans ..it was just seeing them all. Like this ..Alexia army.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for.” You reassure her. “Not unless all those other buggers also got their shirts from you?”

“No,” she chuckles, running her fingers up the front of the fabric on your body, “you’re the only one.”

“I should probably feel quite special, then.” You wink. “People would kill to be wearing this.”

“Mhmm. You are special.” She tells you, her fingers trailing the neckline of your shirt. She pulls you back into her, her lips feathering yours. “You’re in my top three for a reason.”

The barrier’s proving to be a little bit of a pest to the pair of you, what with it being such a hindrance to all of your kissing. After receiving confirmation from Alexia, that no one would attack you for joining her on the grass, you throw her sweatshirt on over your head, and quickly negotiate the railing to be with her.

It might be your favourite place to be, just melting into her arms as she holds you against her. Even though she’s still a little bit gross from running around for so long, you wouldn’t really swap it for anything.

Your eyes flick around the stadium as you look over her shoulder. There’s a faded majesty to the arena when it’s empty like this. You’re the only ones still out here and the beauty of the place isn’t lost on you, as you get to share it with Alexia. It feels more special without thousands of other strangers crammed in here with you, it’s like a secret discovery you’ve both stumbled upon. A vast abandoned colosseum, existing just for you two.

“Does it not freak you out, playing in a place like this?” You ask her.

“Not really.” She tells you, rather casually, joining you in staring up at the stands.

“There’s so many eyes watching you.”

“Mm. You sort of just block it all out.” She says. “You can hear everything, all the chanting and singing, but you don’t really pay too much attention to it. Not until you score, and then again at the end of the game. It isn’t really scary at that point, though. Then it’s just thousands of other people celebrating with you.”

“You’re quite amazing,” you realise, gently nudging into her, “I think I’d shit myself.”

She giggles at your blunt confession, intertwining her hand with yours. “I’d probably freak out if I did that in front of everyone.” She admits, kissing your fingers. “That’d be quite hard to live down.”

“Do you not get nervous at all?”

“No.” She tells you, simply. “I’ve worked hard for this. I trust myself; I trust the team. Us playing in stadiums like this, in front of crowds like that, it’s what we deserve. It’s what we’ve been doing it all for.” She drops her head momentarily, taking in a breath. “I wasn’t too sure I’d get the chance to play again at all, after..” she gestures loosely down to her leg and stands a little taller as her grip on your hand tightens, “I don’t take it for granted, that I’m able to be here. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going to waste time being scared of it.”

There’s a different air of confidence to her on the pitch as you watch her. It’s not the same playful cockiness that she so often uses with you. It’s not arrogance, she isn’t being smug. She’s just proud of herself, the journey that she’s been on. She’s proud of where she is, she’s proud of her teammates and she really has every bloody right to be.

“Are you okay?” She asks, her brow crinkling lightly as she looks to you. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry. You’re just ..very beautiful.” You shrug, and you can see a small flush of colour settle over her cheeks as she smiles before quickly averting her eyes.

“You haven’t told me what it is that you do for a living.” She reminds you, shirking the focus away from her as she walks backwards a little ahead of you, pulling you along with her. “We had an agreement.” She reminds you.

“I think it’s far less exciting than your big reveal.” You warn her. “I’m just in finance ..banking.”

You offer it with a tone of apology to your voice, which she certainly picks up on as she smiles at you and takes your other hand in hers. “That’s very impressive.” She assures you and a blush spreads across your own cheeks as she interlaces her fingers with yours. “You’re quite clever?”

“I’m not too bad with numbers.” You chuckle.

“Do you enjoy it?” She asks, and you nod your head.

“That must seem ridiculous to you.”

“Not at all. Are you good at it?”

“Oof ..I’m not awful.” You smile. “I’ve actually been named ‘Employee of the Year’ on more than two separate occasions.”

“Have you really?” She giggles.

“Mhmm. That’s the same as those balloon awards of yours, right?”

“Mhmm. Yes. Yeah ..I think that’s the exact same thing.”

She really must like you if she’s willing to lie like that. There is slight tone of sarcasm to her voice, and rightly so. Your sister’s explained to you what a Ballon d’Or is, and Alexia being presented with it, for two years on the trot, is no mean feat. She’s been recognised for being the undisputed best at her profession, globally. You’ve received ‘Employee of the Year’ bonuses because your boss is a filthy pervert with a crush on you. These are not the same things at all.

It’s very sweet of her to downplay her achievements for you and there’s something about her lack of arrogance with her career that’s very intriguing. She almost minimises her own importance, ignores the significance, and the impact that she’s had on the sport. It’s really just a regular job to her. She’s ‘just’ a footballer.

She takes genuine pride in it, but she’s not gloating at all, she’s not bragging. Without her fans around her, you really wouldn’t know how big of a sensation she actually is. The fame and accolades really aren’t what she’s done any of this for. She just loves playing the game.

“You’re staring again.” She points out, kissing your forehead.

“You’re ..still very beautiful.” You tell her, offering up another shrug in lieu of any better explanation for your continual admiration of her.

She places a kiss to the back of your hand, and her eyes twinkle over it as she meets your gaze. “We should get out of here.” She tells you. “I need to have a shower, but then we can go.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” You offer, and she frowns at you in confusion. “So that you don’t have to introduce me to anyone.” You explain, and she giggles, shaking her head.

“A few of them would probably recognise you.” She says, and a hot flush of embarrassment spreads right through your body.

“Shit! For being drunk and angry?”

“Mhmm! And straight.” She reminds you with a wink. “I think they quite like you, don’t worry. Mapi’s definitely a fan already.”

A small groan falls from your mouth as you remember your rather unfortunate behaviour from that night, and it’s hard not cringe at yourself. It’s amazing you made such a good impression on Alexia, all things considered, but it’s a bit embarrassing to realise there was more than one world-class footballer watching your drunken antics.

“I’ll have to stay out here.” You grimace. “That’s horrific!”

“They’re probably already gone!” She giggles. “We’ve been out here for a while.” She places another kiss to your forehead, before walking backwards towards the tunnel holding her hand out for you to join her. “Are you coming?”

You nod your head at her but make no real effort to move from where you are. “I never thanked you.” You call out to her, and she stills herself, tilting her head.

“For what?” She chuckles, narrowing her eyes.

“For saving me that night. From that old man ..I really don’t know where I’d be now if you hadn’t.”

A grin splits her face, and she doesn’t miss a beat. “Therapy, probably!” She says, and her laugh echoes in the air around you.

You quickly pull her sweatshirt back up to hide your face under it, shaking your head in shame, because she’s almost certainly right. It would have taken you a very long time to recover from waking up next to him the following morning. You definitely wouldn’t have been going for seconds, thirds and fourths with him all night. He’d have had a heart attack trying to compete with Alexia’s stamina.

“He was so gross.” She reminds you, pulling the sweatshirt down as she returns to you. “You were very drunk.”

She pushes the loose hairs back from over your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as she cups your face.

“I don’t remember you helping me with that.” You point out. “I had more drinks with you than anyone else.”

“Mm ..I quite liked being inappropriate with you. You were very daring,” she recollects, kissing you again, with her cocky little smile, “you’d already licked most of me before we even left the club!”

“You started it!” You remind her, and she giggles in front of you.

“Well, if that was a competition we were having, I think you certainly won!” She admits. “I’m sure abuelo would have enjoyed drinking with you just as much.”

“Oof. Please don’t.” You mutter, suppressing a gag. “I think I’d have slapped him if he’d tried licking me.”

Alexia laughs again, lifting your hand to her lips, to place a kiss to the back of it, and she winks at you, before she licks all down it with her tongue.

“You’re such a child!” You giggle, wiping your hand against your shirt, and she winks at you again. “You could’ve been here with that girl from the toilets.” You point out. “At least she was very pretty.”

“I know.” She sighs wistfully. “It’s a shame someone stole me from her.”

“Mmm ..okay.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

She shakes her head with a small smirk, taking your hand and pulling you into her before wrapping her arms around your waist. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” She tells you, lightly bumping her nose to yours. “Bit scary of you, though. Following me all the way out here!”

“I didn’t follow you!” You tell her, removing yourself from her hold. “I barely even remembered you existed before you draped your arm over me in that café.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” She scoffs. “You even followed us into that toilet.”

“No, I didn’t!” You chuckle, crossing your arms in front of you as you smile up at her. “You followed me, though. Couldn’t keep you away!”

“Mm ..maybe I really should’ve stayed with her instead.”

“Okaay, that’s enough of that. She’s gone now, you missed your chance with her!"

“Are you still jealous?” She winks, running her hands down your sides before slinking them back around your waist.

“I wasn’t jealous. She was just ..all over you. In the toilet, of all places! It was very gross of you both, very unsanitary.”

“Is that why you wanted to interrupt us?” She smirks, tilting her head very close to yours. “Bumped into me to stop me from catching germs? You’re very cute.”

“That was an accident.”

“You’re a terrible liar!” She laughs.

“You were winding me up! Kissing someone else, what were you playing at?”

“You went to go kiss men!” She points out.

“I didn’t kiss any of them, though.”

“It’s not my fault you were unsuccessful!”

“I wasn’t unsuccessful!” You giggle, pushing her away from you. “I didn’t want to kiss any of them. I had one person on my mind that night, and I was actually very successful in getting her to kiss me ..eventually.”

“I was on your mind?” She asks, bouncing her eyebrows as she rests her hands on your hips.

“You’re so annoying, always so cocky.” You roll your eyes, linking your hands behind her neck before pulling her down to kiss you. “Yes. You were on my mind.” You admit, collapsing your head to her chest. “You’re always on my mind. You’re like a bloody broken record in here.”

She kisses the top of your head, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “You’re always on my mind too.” She whispers. “I don’t think I’ve really stopped thinking about you at all since I first saw you in that club.”

“When you shoved that bloody lime in my face?” You mumble against her.

“I didn’t shove a lime in your face!” She laughs. “I held it for you, I was being helpful.”

“Mm ..well, then I owe you two lots of thanks.” You realise, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “One for your ..handy little lime assistance, and one for saving me from that ancient creeper. I am genuinely grateful for the second one.”

“You don’t need to thank me for either of them.” She tells you. “I was being selfish really.”

It’s difficult to know just how much time you both managed to kill outside, but the dressing room’s completely empty by the time you two make your way through to it. You sit, patting your hands against your thighs, as Alexia goes for her shower, and you try to keep yourself entertained without her.

There’s a lot of things for you to look at in the room, lots to take in. There’s a history to the stadium, which should be interesting to have a backstage pass to. It’s a privilege, being in here. Legends have roamed these halls, sporting greats from decades past. It’s very exciting for you to be granted access to it, and yet, none of it’s at all fascinating to you when you know there’s a wet, naked lady in the other room.

You continue drumming out your frustrations as you try to stop yourself from thinking of Alexia in the shower.

All on her own. In the shower.

Alone.

Showering.

You really just can’t help yourself.

She doesn’t take too long to return to you and a loud gasp falls from your lips when she re-emerges.

“¿Qué?” She winks, and the blush doesn’t even have the courtesy of creeping up on you, you’re just immediately bright red.

“You’re naked.” You inform her, very quietly, in case she hadn’t already realised.

“Mhmm.”

“Wow..” You breathe, gritting your teeth as you try to remain calm.

“Oh? That’s so funny. I seem to remember that being the exact same reaction to the one you had last time!”

“Heh heh heh!” You draw out slowly, rolling your eyes at her unremitting need to be cocky.

She leans against the wall in front of you, and it really isn’t very easy to maintain eye contact with her when her body’s on full display in front of you. It doesn’t feel like she’s particularly bothered about your wandering eyes, which is really rather lucky, because you’re not exactly doing it with any level of subtlety.

This isn’t really helping in keeping all of the dirty thoughts that you’ve been having about her at bay. You’re also going to split your lip open if you keep biting down on it as hard as you are.

She moves towards you steadily, and your heart starts beating in double time. “You’re staring.” She tells you, yet again, and you nod at her very astute observation skills.

“You ..are ridiculously beautiful.” You point out, struggling to keep your composure as she steps within reaching distance. “You’re also very dry.” You realise with a frown, trapping your hands under your legs. “You’re supposed to be having a shower so that we can get the hell out of here!”

“Mm.” She hums, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to face her. “I was wondering if you might want to keep me company?” She says, and you have to gasp again at her very friendly little suggestion.

“In the shower with you? While you’re naked?” You grin, and she chuckles, nodding her head.

“Mhmm. I was hoping you might want to get naked too.”

“Oof. What an incredibly tempting offer.” You admit, bobbing your legs as you wet your lips. “I just need a few minutes to really think about it.”

“Mm?” She shakes her head and folds her arms. “You have two seconds before I’m revoking.”

“Two seconds? Do you see what I mean about you being cocky and annoying? You think I fancy you that badly? That I’m that desperate and needy that I’ll just cave as soon as you—”

“Uno.”

“I’m in!” You exclaim, jumping to your feet with embarrassing haste. “I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in!” You continue mumbling against her lips to make sure that she doesn’t start her unnecessary counting again.

You make very light work of pulling both layers off over your head in one swift motion, and Alexia looks rather impressed with your efficiency as she drags her thumb down the middle of your torso. She bites her lip with her eyebrow arching slightly, as she takes you in, and you do feel a little bit proud of yourself.

“I’ve been going to the gym a lot.” You tell her, tensing slightly to show off your progress.

“I can tell.” She says, running her thumb back up your stomach.

“Really?” You grin, trying to ignore the goosebumps that have spread over your skin from her touch. “I slept with this girl whose body made me drool.” You admit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Felt like I was letting the side down a bit, so.”

“I think you’re beautiful naked.” She tells you, and your heart skips a beat as her eyes darken over you.

“That’s very crazy! That’s the same thing that she kept saying!”

“Mm?” She loops a finger through your belt buckle, drawing you in closer to her.

“It does turn out that she’s a professional athlete, though. So, I might have to just settle for being second best.”

She chuckles at you, shaking her head. “All this ..is for her benefit?” She asks, leaning into you.

“Mm. Well ..I wasn’t really sure I’d ever find her again,” you admit, letting out a very cautious exhale, “..but no one else has seen me..”

It’s a pointed confession from you, carrying a lot of added weight to it. Neither of you owe each other any loyalty from that night and you’d have no real right to be hurt, if she has explored other options. It’s not a test from you, you know it wouldn’t really change things, you did give it a try yourself, to be with someone else.

It didn’t feel right to you, when it wasn’t with her, you could barely even flirt with another person, but you can’t really have any negative reaction, if Alexia hasn’t had that same struggle. There’s a morbid curiosity in you, perhaps, given the direction your previous relationship went in, and you can only hope, that she will treat your heart more gently than he did.

She doesn’t know, that you were cheated on, she wouldn’t know, what her own admission would mean to you. You’re offering yourself up unprotected, to a woman who isn’t aware of the bomb she could be setting off inside your chest. It’s a silent plea from you, that this really has been as all-consuming to her, as it has been to you, and it’s very a big ask of someone, who you’ve only met thrice.

Her eyes pierce through to your soul, as she studies you, and it’s excruciating, waiting for her to give you something. There’s a clear caution in her, of what she’s about to tell you, and you’re not certain if it’s guilt, or sympathy, or something else entirely.

“Really?” She asks, and her voice is hoarse, as her eyes narrow at you. You can’t trust yourself with words right now, so you only offer her a silent nod, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes at your promise. She’s tentative, and nervous, and the mystery that once shielded her eyes when you first looked into them, is slowly dissolving in front of you. It isn’t guilt or sympathy that she’s feeling, she’s scared of letting you in.

It’s not unreasonable for her to have her own concerns, regarding you. You were incredibly pig-headed, about being straight, the night that you first met. You told her your relationship had ended only recently, and then you jumped straight into bed with her.

She can be certain that you’re attracted to her, you haven’t hidden that very well, but she has no real reason to assume that she isn’t a rebound, or a little sexuality test for you. You’re not the only one putting yourself in a vulnerable position here, she also stands to get hurt from this.

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her face, as she accepts that you’re telling her the truth. The subtle confession, that the girl who was so relentlessly hunting for some random male company the night that Alexia first met her, hasn’t been on that same hunt since, clearly means as much to her, as a similar confession would mean to you.

“I haven’t been with anyone else either.” She tells you, and it breathes life back into your lungs.

You catch her entirely off guard as you press your lips against hers, but she’s very quick to catch up with you. There’s a distinct desperation in the kiss this time, a fervent hunger. An intense desire to make known how much she means to you, to show her that the small question mark that you have over your sexuality, doesn’t extend to any questions about her. You’re in no doubt of your feelings, you’re very certain of what you want.

Actions speak louder than words, clearly, and you’re definitely not leaving anything up to speculation. The passion in you continues to build and it’s Alexia who’s left breathless, when you finally pull away. You’ve rendered her speechless, and she blinks hard a few times as she lifts her fingers to her lips, before collecting herself again.

You’re sporting her smirk as she looks back at you, and she rolls her eyes with a shy smile. “Are you getting naked, or what?” She asks impatiently, and a laugh rings out from inside of you.

“Oof. I love when you’re romantic with me, baby.”

This might actually be your favourite place to be. Not the random shower stalls, they’re not particularly important to the rush that’s shooting through you. It’s entirely down to the wet and naked company that you have in here.

Reacquainting yourself with the curves and the ridges of her body, having her pressed up against you as her hands explore yours. It’s exciting just being back with her, your body’s on fire under her touch, your soul’s been reawakened, and none of the scenarios you kept playing through in your head, could ever really compare to having the real thing in front of you again.

“Is your leg still sore?” You ask, placing kisses along Alexia’s jawline as she leans her back against the tiles.

“I’ve already told you, that it’s fi—“

“Because I was thinking,” you interrupt, cutting her off with a kiss to her lips, “we should probably take some precautions.” You suggest, and her eyes narrow as she smiles slyly at you. “We wouldn’t want to aggravate it..”

“Mm.” She nods, trapping her tongue between her teeth. “Are you offering to get down on your knees for me?” She asks you knowingly, tangling her fingers in your hair.

“Mhmm ..for the good of the team.” You offer, feigning herosim as you kiss along her chest. “For football.”

“Mm ..well, I did score the winning goal.” She reminds you.

“Well, exactly, and that deserves to be celebrated.”

She chuckles, as she pulls you back into her by your neck, catching you a little off guard as her tongue re-enters your mouth. “I really have missed you.” She murmurs against your lips.

“Mm but like ..as a person,” you check, pulling back slightly, “not just my bloody tongue?” You pout softly up at her as she giggles with a nod. “Because I’m quite nice company for you to have around ..I’m very cute and funny.”

“You’re adorable and hilarious.” She agrees, running a finger up the middle of your torso. It sends goosebumps all along your body again, which she’s acutely aware of as that smirk is very much back on her face.

“But in like a sexy way.” You tell her, trying to ignore the heat she’s sent through you, and she continues to nod her head as she bites her lip. “Like a ..'I should take that girl home with me and do dirty things to her' kind of way."

“Is that what you’d like me to do to you?” She asks, with her eyebrow arching.

“After our shower ..yes please.”

“Okay.” She promises, tangling her fingers even further as she kisses you. “Then drop to your knees.” She instructs you, and much like a loyal little soldier, you’re very quick to do as you’re told.

She’s never really been quite so assertive with you, and a mild moan escapes you from it, as you traverse down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as you make your descent. She tightens her grip on you as she tilts your head to look back up at her, sending a dull pleasure running through you, before she guides you to the place where she’s wanting you most.

It ends up being one of the longest showers of your life, and you’re lucky to be leaving the stadium together before you both get locked inside of it.

Discussion turns to sleeping arrangements as you walk the length of the parking lot. Neither of you have any intentions of going home without the other, despite the lateness of the hour, and it feels like there’s an obvious choice for where you’ll end up staying. The hotel isn’t the best place for you tonight. The receptionist would undoubtedly recognise the company you’re keeping, and despite Em being out for the night, she isn’t exactly known for hanging around with her lady-friends the morning after.

You don’t really want to have to kick Alexia out super early, and Em catching the pair of you tangled up in bed together when she gets back, also doesn’t sound ideal.

“Are you scared of dogs?” Alexia asks as she opens her car door for you.

“No..”

“Then we’ll go back to mine.”

“You told me Nala was a Pomeranian?”

“She is.”

“Well ..then even if I was scared of dogs, I probably wouldn’t be afraid of her.” You giggle, placing a kiss to her temple before getting into your seat.

“I was just checking.” She tells you as she joins you in the car.

“Is she unfriendly?”

“No, she is a very good judge of character, though.” She warns, with a smile that’s mildly disconcerting.

“Oh ..so it’s a red flag if she takes a disliking to me?”

“Mhmm. I’d have to kick you out!”

It doesn’t feel like a fully-fledged threat from her, but there is a tone to her voice, that tells you she’s not completely joking either.

She starts up her car and rests her hand on your leg as she sets off from the stadium. Her fingers trace circles on the inside of your thigh and you have to link her hand with yours as she starts trailing up, to stop her from doing too much when the goosebumps quickly form along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” she offers, “you don’t like it?”

“I might like it a bit too much.” You chuckle, placing a kiss to the back of her hand, before placing it back in your lap.

It’s hard to stop your eyes from drooping a little in the car, you really are very exhausted. You rest your head against your seatbelt and dig the nails of your free hand into your leg to try and stop you from falling asleep. You have limited time with Alexia as it is, and you don’t want to miss out on any precious minutes.

There’s something unfortunately hypnotic about the glow from the streetlamps above you, though, which isn’t super helpful with your plight. The light pulses through the windows as Alexia drives, and you give your head a shake when you find your eyelids getting too heavy.

“Are you okay?” She asks, a little alarmed at your sudden spasm.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, stifling a yawn. “I really need you to keep talking to me, please. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything.”

She stares out at the road in front of her, losing herself in thought for a moment. She raises your hand to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, and she bops her other hand on the steering wheel.

“I asked after your initial.” She tells you whimsically, and your face scrunches, not at all following what she means.

It was a very weird thing for her to say to you, it’s not entirely down to your sleepiness that you didn’t understand.

“Sorry?” You ask, and her grip on your hand tightens.

“I was back in London last week ..I went back to that club.” She reveals, and your heart misses a beat as she speaks. “I was hoping, maybe you’d be in there again ..looking for a man.” She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers over the wheel. “I was worried ..that you might have already found one, when you weren’t there.” You place another kiss to the back of her hand, and her fingers twitch as they link through yours. “I think we made a big impression on that bartender.” She giggles.

“Bless him. We really did put on quite the show.”

“Mhmm! He was there again, when I went. I asked him about you, and he said he definitely remembered us, but he told me he really had no idea who you were.” A sigh escapes her lips, and she taps at the steering wheel again. “I couldn’t stay in there for very long.” She admits. “It gave me a headache. It was bad enough being in the same hotel. I did have a roommate this time, so ..we really did end up playing cards together, but ..I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Knowing you had to be near, but I’d never be able to find you.”

“I could’ve gone to that game.” You tell her thoughtfully. You stroke your thumb along the side of her index finger and clench your jaw. “Em invited me, and I told her to bore off.” You explain. “If I’d have had any idea ..I’d have been front row for you. I hate that we missed out on time together.”

“We’re together now.” She points out quickly.

“Only until tomorrow night ..then we’re right back where we started.”

“Not really.” She assures you, giving your hand a squeeze. “We know who we are now. We know where we are, we’ll swap numbers.”

“And we’ll what, make a proper go of it? With all of these miles between us?”

Her jaw tightens slightly as she continues staring out in front of her. “If you also want to.” She says softly.

“I’ve never really loved the idea of doing long-distance.”

“You don’t think it works?” She asks you, and her voice cracks slightly.

“I know that it can. It’s just ..not ideal.” You sigh.

“You’d miss me too much?” She smirks, and you shake your head with a small smile.

“Maybe.” You admit. “Why’d you have to be bloody Spanish?”

“You’d prefer me to come from London?”

“Yes! I mean ..you wouldn’t sound as lovely, but at least you’d be local.” You point out. “It’d be far easier.”

“Mm.” She mumbles. “Well ..you could have been from Barcelona, that would’ve been helpful.” She pulls the car up outside of her home, and you stare out at it through the window. “Come on.” She tells you, patting your thigh as she opens her door. “We won’t have to worry about any of this if Nala doesn’t like you!”

Alexia greets you at your side of the car and takes your hand as she leads you to the door. “¡Buena suerte!” She whispers, and you’re not 100% sure what it means, as she gives you a very dramatic look of dread before she pushes through the entrance.

It feels like she’s really trying to worry you, but it would be very harsh to send you back to your hotel with your tail between your legs because her dog’s barked at a stranger. You’re not exactly Dr Dolittle but are you a fan of animals, and you’d be quite upset yourself if Nala didn’t take a liking to you.

You’re attacked, as soon as you step through the door. It’s not an uncontrolled ravaging that you receive, Nala certainly isn’t rabid. It’s a very excitable licking that you’re greeted with, it would seem that dogs really are like their owners. It really isn’t the big and scary personality test that Alexia likes to pretend it is at all, but she might have already known it wasn’t going to be a dealbreaker when she pushed you into the house with this vicious scary animal before her.

“Well, shit.” She sighs, looking down at you as you play with her dog on the floor, and the rare expletive from her mouth rings very cutely in your ears.

“What?” You giggle, craning your neck to meet her gaze.

“Now we might have to worry about it.”

You lift Nala into your arms and rise to your feet. A toothy smile spreads across your face as you move towards Alexia, and there’s a lot of affection for you being carried in her eyes.

“She quite likes me.” You point out, and Alexia nods her head, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “And she doesn’t even know what I’m saying to her.” You place a kiss to the top of Nala’s head. “You might have to teach me some Spanish ..so we can have a proper conversation.” You tell her, bobbing Nala in your arms as you bury your face in her fur. “It’d make my trips out here a bit easier too.”

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly at your casual words of intent, and she beams at you as you give her dog another kiss. “You do want to give us a go?” She asks.

“Mhmm. I think I’d be crazy not to.”

“It could be a lot of work.” She tells you, and you nod, smiling up her.

“I know ..and I really think you might be worth it.”

A full smile takes over her face as she quickly takes Nala from your arms and places her back down on the floor, before giving you a quick kiss. She pulls you through with her to let Nala do her business outside, and something shiny on the wall draws your eye.

“These are all your trophies?”

“..Some of them.”

“Blimey!” You chuckle, as you move closer to them all. You keep a small distance, crossing your arms to make sure you don’t accidentally knock anything, and you study one, in particular, that’s caught your attention. “You made my sister cry, when you got this one.” You tell her, pointing to her World Cup medal. “I thought something terrible had happened when she rang me.”

“I’ll have to apologise to her," she winks, “when we meet.”

“Mm. You’ll have to apologise for today’s match, too.” You point out with a grin. “You’ve ruined her life a few times, I think.”

Nala makes her way back inside, brushing against your legs as she scurries off to who knows where, and a finger tapping at your shoulder, distracts you from your perusal of Alexia’s trophy cabinet. She smiles as you turn to face her, and she runs her finger down your nose before giving you a quick kiss.

“Oh my god!” Escapes your lips in a breathy giggle as Alexia lifts you into her arms and you wrap your legs around her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi!”

It’s a passionate kiss that she gives you, and any sense of tiredness that was taking over your body a few minutes ago, is very quickly forgotten as you lose yourself in her.

“I can walk.” You remind her, as she carries you towards her bedroom.

“I don’t care.”

You’re almost winded when your back hits the mattress, as she flings you onto it, a little carelessly. You’d probably be more stroppy about it, if she didn’t pull her shirt off before joining you on the bed. She didn’t bother putting a bra on after your shower and you’re very easily distracted.

It is her actual eyes you find yourself fascinated by this time, though. They really are very beautiful, and there’s far less mystery lingering in them now. It’s tenderness you see in them as she looks over you, silent intimacy, devotion, and the idea of eyes being the window to the soul has never seemed more true to you.

There’s an honesty in her eyes that far exceeds any words she could ever say to you, but you’re fairly sure you know what she’s thinking. You’re almost certain, in fact, and you feel compelled to confess something to her yourself.

“You. are. staring. again.” She tells you, punctuating each word with an increasingly deeper kiss.

“Mhmm.” You concede, and your hands rest on her hips as she smiles down at you. You swallow down carefully as your eyes meet hers, and your heart skips a few more beats. “I really think ..that I might be falling for you.” You profess, and her pupils dilate as she smiles down at you. “Is that ridiculous? To fall for someone so quickly?”

“I don’t think so.” She says, her brow furrowing slightly. “Sometimes you just know.”

“Would it be okay ..if I did start falling?”

“Mhmm.” She runs her finger under your chin, rubbing her thumb over your bottom lip, before leaning herself down over you. “I’m falling for you, too.” She tells you, before pulling you into her by your neck.

It’s different, from the sex you’ve had with other people before, being with Alexia. It never seems to be quick, and it doesn’t feel one-sided. You’re not left wanting after it, it isn’t unfulfilling. There's a continual desperate desire in you, to have her be with you, and to make sure that she’s also feeling good. It’s not a chore, and it isn’t something that she’s demanding from you.

There’s passion between you, affection, and it’s an equal offering from you both. It’s exciting, it’s fun, and it puts all your past experiences to shame. There’s an innocence in your enjoyment of each other, it really isn’t just a physical act between the two of you. It’s a bearing of your soul to each other, every time, and it’s no wonder at all, that you’re falling as quickly as you are.

There’s far more confidence in you now. You’re not having to follow Alexia’s lead quite so much. You know her body, what she likes you doing to it, and you savour every second of having her back under you. Every whimper and moan that you’re able to coax from her, how she feels around you, the taste of her on your tongue. Having her able to cry out your actual name this evening, has also set your soul on fire. Hearing it echo around in the showers, having her moan it like a quiet secret into your ear, as she grips at the sheets beneath her.

Alexia does have you entirely at her mercy when she chooses to take back control, and whether she really did appreciate you being so selfless by caring about her injury in the shower, or the fact that Nala took to you quite so quickly, you can’t be certain, but you’ve definitely done something to have her wanting to treat you extra nicely, before you remind her that she doesn’t need to be quite so gentle with you.

This isn’t your first time; you’re very much wanting her to have her wicked way with you.

It satisfies the burning inside of you, completely, satiating your hunger, and happily leaving you a little worn out after everything. She’s in a similar state of exhaustion, panting when she collapses back down onto you. So, you can probably give yourself a little pat on the back for your own efforts with her.

“Are you okay?” She checks with you, as you try to steady your breathing. She places a kiss to your neck in such a way, that you know she’s leaving another mark that you’ll need to cover up, and you run your fingers down her sides.

“Mhmm ..I think you’ve wiped me out.” You admit, lazily kissing along her shoulder.

“I think you’ve done the same!” She tells you, chuckling, as she rubs her thumb over your neck, admiring the new bruise that she’s decorated you with.

She watches over you for a moment, and you raise your fingers to your face.

“Do I have something on me?”

“No..”

“Well ..now you’re staring.”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you want children?” She asks you, rather abruptly, and you have to chuckle at the timing of her question.

“What?”

“Children.” She repeats.

“..I don’t know what the Spanish education system has taught you, Ale ..but what we just did to each other ..isn’t resulting in any babies.”

“Idiota,” she chuckles, “but do you want them?”

“I don’t want you to go out stealing any.”

“Y/N!” She giggles, holding herself up over you. “I’m being serious.”

She shakes her head at you, and you grin up at her. “I think I do, yeah. Eventually, with the right person.”

A faint smile spreads over her face and she leans down for a kiss.

“Do you?” You question, and she nods her head, before kissing you again.

“Two.” She tells you. “One of each. A girl first.”

“I’ve always thought I’d have a girl first.” You admit. “Though ..I figured I’d just have two girls ..a little boy would be cute.”

“Mhmm!” She hums against you, linking her hands with yours as she pushes herself back up.

“That's a very intense question,” you point out, “before we’ve even been on our first date. I should be running for the hills.”

“Do you want to?”

“No,” you admit, “but you’ve got me picturing a family with you, and we’ve only hung out three times!”

“Is that what we’re doing?” She questions with a smile. “We’re hanging out?”

“What would you call it?” You ask her, and her eyes glitter above you.

“I don’t know,” she says, “but I don’t hang out with anyone else like this.”

“That’s a relief!” You chuckle, and she bites her lip as she shakes her head again.

“I think I want to be doing more than just hanging out with you.” She tells you, and a small smirk pulls at your lips.

“Well ..if our date goes well tomorrow, and we keep agreeing to meet up and go out with each other. Then ..we’d probably be dating.”

“Would that scare you, dating a woman?”

“Not when the woman’s you. I don’t think I’d ever shut up bragging about it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure on you, then.” She points out with a smile. “To make sure our first date goes well.”

“I know, and I don’t know Barcelona very well.” You remind her. “I wouldn’t know where I can take you, where you won’t get papped.”

She nods in understanding and leans down for a kiss. “Then, will you go on a date with me?” She asks, with a very knowing smile. “I can arrange our Barcelona dates, if you sort the ones in London.”

She holds out her pinky in front of you, for you to solidify your promise with her, and you place a kiss to your linked fingers, before losing yourself in her eyes again. “Deal.” You tell her softly, and a thrill flows right through your body as she collapses back down onto you.

It stirs in your head, as you realise that this is what it should actually feel like to be with someone. An excitement inside of you when you know you’re about to see them. A constant wish to be near to them, a genuine enjoyment of their company. A want to share your life with them, to talk about a future together without a sense of fear, or dread about it.

It’s what you could have gone on to miss out on, for your whole life, without her.

There’s a comfort in you, when you’re with her, a lazy pleasure in having her body resting on top of yours. The way her fingers trace over your every curve, how her lips light tiny fires on your skin. Each caressing touch from her is one that you crave. Every kiss, the way she laughs. Her relentless teasing, her continual cockiness.

It’s all something you want no other person to be lucky enough to experience the way that you’ve been able to. It’s all what combines together to make up Alexia. You want her, completely. Body and soul.

And it hits you, like a hammer to the chest.

You’re already in love with this woman.

“Are you okay?” She asks. “Your heart’s beating very quickly.”

“Mhmm ..I’m fine.”

She props herself up on her elbows over you and tilts her head with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m a terrible liar?” You realise, and she softly nods her head.

“You can talk to me.”

“I know, I just ..I’m just going to miss you, after tomorrow.”

“We can’t do that to ourselves.” She tells you quickly. “We still have the whole day to spend together.”

“I know, I just—”

She mutes you with a kiss and shakes her head. “No.” She says. “We’re not doing that. We can worry about it later. I’m taking you out tomorrow. You can’t go into our first date feeling miserable, the rest of our dates rest on the success of this one. You go into this date worrying about saying goodbye, we’ll never have any other da—”

You cut her off this time.

It seemed like she was really about to start spiralling almost as pathetically as you have been doing all day. What a pair of losers you are together. Maybe you are perfect for each other.

“Okay.” You tell her, nodding as you wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“We have one more day together,” she whispers, “we’re not wasting it being sad.”

It’s an unfortunate curiosity, that sleep has been so hard for you to come by when you’ve been so desperate for it, and now, it’s threatening to steal you away when you fancy nothing more than staying awake forever. You don’t want to go to sleep, but a yawn that you’re not quite quick enough to stifle, lets Alexia know that you’re struggling a little to stay up with her.

“Shit.” You mutter, throwing your arm over your face. “You caught that didn’t you?”

“Mhmm. You can go to sleep.” She assures you, but you shake your head with a petulant pout.

“I’m not tired.” You tell her, and she giggles, placing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off the side of you.

“You really are a terrible liar.” She says, opening her arms to welcome you into her, and you don’t waste much time nestling yourself in her embrace.

“I don’t want to sleep.” You admit to her chest, and she runs her fingers through your hair. “Not while I’m with you.”

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You’d better be.” You tell her.

She throws her leg over your hip, drawing you in even closer to her, and you run your fingers up her thigh.

“Are you quite comfy?”

“Mhmm! I’m not having you roll away from me again in the morning.”

“I really wouldn’t want to.” You murmur, placing a kiss to her chest, as you snuggle closer against her.

“Well, now you can’t!” She tells you. “I have very strong legs.”

“I know, you do.” You chuckle sleepily. “I’ve had them clamped around my head a few times.”

Another small yawn escapes you as you close your eyes, finally accepting defeat, and you place another lazy kiss to her chest as you begin drifting off.

“Te quiero, Y/N.” Alexia whispers. “Dulces sueños.”

“You sound really very lovely ..and I’m really bloody sorry ..but I don’t know what you’re saying to me.” You remind her, and you can feel her nodding her head gently.

“Sweet dreams.” She translates, tightening her arms around you, as you struggle to stifle yet another little yawn.

“Sweet dreams, Ale.” You manage to mumble in reply, before sleep fully consumes you, and you’re finally able to rest.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

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