#Confirm Train Ticket | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherienymphe · 5 months

Text

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas imagine #tbosas fanfiction #tbosbas imagine #tbosbas fanfiction #dark fic

4K notes · View notes

railmitra · 1 year

Audio

What Happens If Waiting List E-Ticket Does Not Get Confirmed?

If a waiting list e-ticket does not get confirmation status after the chart preparation. The Wait listed e-ticket gets cancelled automatically and your refund is credited to the same account from which payment was done.

For more information click here: https://www.railmitra.com or to get easy access of rail enquiry features download the RailMitra app: https://bit.ly/2o01TTi

#Waiting List E-Ticket Does Not Get Confirmed #chart preparation #train time table

1 note · View note

techqanswerdotin · 1 year

Text

How To Book Confirm Train Ticket Online: This is how to get confirmed train ticket every time

How to Book Train Ticket: There are many reasons to travel during festival days. Special trains are also announced by Indian Railways during this period, but due to the large number of passengers, train tickets are often not confirmed. There are many problems to be faced for confirmed ticket booking. In such cases, the tricks that we have mentioned ahead will come in handy, so you can book Tatkal…

View On WordPress

#book #Confirm #confirmed #online #Ticket #time #train

1 note · View note

globalcourant · 2 years

Text

GST on Cancellation of Confirmed Train Tickets; Here's All You Need to Know

GST on Cancellation of Confirmed Train Tickets; Here’s All You Need to Know

The cancellation of confirmed train tickets will now attract goods and services tax (GST) even as the finance ministry has also issued a notification regarding that. According to a notification issued by the finance ministry’s tax research unit, the cancellation charge for a first-class or AC coach ticket will now attract 5 per cent GST, which is the rate levied on the ticket. According to the…

View On WordPress

#Cancellation #Confirmed #goods and services tax #GST #gst on cancellation of train tickets #gst on train tickets #Heres #ticket cancellation #Tickets #train

0 notes

wileys-russo · 1 month

Note

Hey could i request a fic?

Maybe one where teenreader who plays for barça or arsenal gets a nose piercing behind alexia or leahs back ?

just putting this in the same universe and reader as stuck tiny silver flash II barça femeni x teen!r

"there is one other place i wanna go!" you piped up as jana had her car keys in hand, both her and bruna's arms laden with shopping bags as you motioned for them to follow you.

"pollito is this going to take long? i think my arms are going to fall off!" bruna groaned as you rolled your eyes. "nobody told you to buy half the clothes in here bru, sounds like a you problem." you quipped making jana snicker and her best friend kick at her with a scowl.

"what are we doing here? are you getting a hair cut?" jana questioned with a frown as you stopped outside a local salon. "oo you should get bangs! or dye it pink, or blue, or purple, or red, or-" bruna started to ramble before jana's free hand covered her mouth with a sigh.

"not exactly." you smiled innocently as both of their eyes narrowed. "why do i get the feeling we're being dragged into one of her little trouble making schemes." bruna mumbled to jana once her mouth was freed again, jana nodding tiredly in agreement as they both continued in after you.

"wait here, i won't be long." you promised as a worker guided you off and out of their sights. "should we have let her go off with a stranger? is that bad babysitting? was that responsible?" bruna questioned after a minute had passed, jana just shrugging as the two of them took a seat just outside the store on a bench in the middle of the shopping complex.

though when you finally resurfaced it confirmed her question that yes, this was in fact bad babysitting.

"dios mio what is that in your face pequeña!" you rolled your eyes as jana dropped her bags and hurried over to grab your cheeks, turning your head left and right with wide eyes.

"its just a nose stud compañero!" you brushed off both her and bruna's fussing. "how did you do this? did you forge someones signature?" jana questioned again in disbelief. "fraud is a crime pollito, you could go to prison!" bruna added on with a gasp as again your eyes rolled.

"relájese! está bien chica's. you have to be eighteen for a tattoo, sixteen for a piercing." you corrected with a grin, having been planning this for awhile now.

"they are going to kill you so i hope it was worth it pollito." bruna sighed and she didn't have to drop a name for you to know exactly who she was talking about. "i will hide it till it heals, then if they make me take it out it will not close, ningún problema." you shrugged carelessly.

"but you cannot take it out for a few weeks while it heals, sí? what about games? training? you also live with capi!" jana asked, crossing her arms and staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

"engaño." you smiled patting to your shopping bag full of makeup, patting them both on the cheek and striding off toward the exit.

"dios mio jana i was right. she has dragged us into one of her little schemes! estamos tan muertos." bruna moaned throwing her head back and dragging her hands down her face.

"hey! listen to me amiga." brunas eyes widened as jana balled her top in her fists, holding her tightly and yanking her forward so they were nose to nose, the fear obvious in both their eyes.

"the story you posted today? delete it. the ticket for the parking? burn it. the new clothes you bought? hide them. nobody can ever, ever, ever know we brought her here bruna. vale?" jana warned sternly as bruna nodded frantically and her best friend let her go as they hurried after you.

"oye, compañero i think this might be worse than when we got her and vicky drunk at bowling and they threw up everywhere." "imbécil! bruna what part of 'never speak of it again' do you not understand??"

you'd managed to keep your secret for a whole whopping two days by the time training rolled around, which was a god given miracle considering you lived full time with your hawk eyed captain.

careful makeup blending and a flesh colored band aid you'd cut into a tiny circle had served well to hide your new addition, making sure to keep alexia at arms length so she couldn't get close enough to really look at you.

though she was so busy preparing for the weekends match and all the media that came with the el clásico it wasn't hard to slip under her radar for once.

but there was one person you worried might be able to see through your attempted deception, and of course she was the first person you ran into that morning at training, considering she had a nose piercing of her own.

trusting you enough to find your way to the change rooms once inside alexia had left you to your own devices as she hurried off for a quick meeting with all the captains, as was tradition the last session before a game.

"bon dia pollito!" you tried not to tense as aitana appeared beside you, having parked a few cars down in the lot from alexia. "hola tana." you greeted her with a smile, quick to snap your head back forward, grateful she was on your left side and the hidden stud on your right.

the two of you made small talk about your days off as you wandered through the training complex toward the change rooms, the girl of course taking every opportunity to tease you were shorter than her, something that was not very common for the midfielder in a team full of leggy spaniards and scandi's.

but as you turned to push her away and she tried to grab you in a headlock, you gave yourself up by accident.

"espere." the smile dropped from her face and you deflated as she grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back and immediately spotting the backing of the stud in your nostril with a small gasp of surprise.

"tana!" you whined trying to pull away as her grip tightened and she shook her head before letting you go. "estúpida, is this new?" aitana questioned, sending you a warning glare not to be dishonest.

"maybe." you mumbled, giving her a smile as charming as you could muster as she hummed and went to walk off. "don't tell anyone, por favor tana por favor! i will do anything." you zipped around to block her path and begged, clasping your hands together.

"anything?" "anything, promesa! just do not tell, especially not alexia." you pleaded desperately. "vale pollito, i will keep your little secret." aitana started as you breathed out in relief.

"but, for a price." aitana smiled and the twinkle in her eyes had your guard up a little but you knew she had you against the ropes. “and what’s that?” you asked albeit apprehensively.

“no more messing with my things, no more letting mapi mess with my things, no more waking me up on the bus or the plane or the train with the ‘oh tana im bored entertain me!’, no more kicking the ball at my head or the back of my seat, no more squirting water at me and no more giving me the finger with the ‘oh look tana a bird!’. vale?” the older girl raised an eyebrow sternly as you nodded rapidly.

“vale, vale, vale. gracias!” you sighed in relief, squishing her in a hug as she chuckled and patted your back before you let her go, the two of you resuming your walk to the change rooms.

entering the change rooms you flashed a few smiles around as you sat at your cubby, pulling off your trainers and stashing them away as you rifled through your training bag trying to find the medical tape you knew was in there, your ankle a little tight today.

"bon dia pequeña mentirosa." a body dropped next to you, mapi grinning and kissing your cheek as you gagged jokingly and pushed her away, her locker next to yours.

"stop that. i will do it!" mapi rolled her eyes at your attempts to tape up your ankle, pulling your leg up onto her lap as you handed the tape. "something troubling you pollito?" mariona dropped down on your other side with a concerned frown.

"no, just a little tight today." you shook your head as now both older girls gave you a look, mapi strapping up your ankle. "está bien. if it feels off at all i will go see the physios, happy?" you looked between them as they nodded, mario messing up your hair and heading off for the pitch.

eyes roaming around the now half empty change rooms you caught aitana's eye who was talking with keira, and judging from the very slight narrow of the english womans eyes as they studied your face for a mere second or so longer than normal, you knew right away what they were discussing.

you shook your head at the midfielders, aitana sending you an apologetic smile and hurrying off before you could say anything, dragging keira along with her as you prayed to the high heavens both girls kept their mouths shut.

"what?" mapi chuckled seeing the strange look on your face, finishing up your ankle and glancing over her shoulder to try and see what you were looking at. "nothing, gracias maps." you smiled, pulling your leg back down.

"ingrid!" you called out to her girlfriend who was passing by, the norweigan raising an eyebrow as you held up a hair brush and smiled charmingly. "you could not have asked alexia at home?" ingrid chuckled as mapi kissed her cheek briefly and headed off to the pitch.

"alexia cannot even do her own hair, takes her about half an hour to slick it up into a ponytail." you rolled your eyes as ingrid started to brush through your hair, a comfortable silence falling between both of you as the rest of the team slowly filtered out.

"the baby can't do her own hair? awww." lucy teased, playfully kicking at your ankles with a grin as you tried to grab at her but winced as ingrid tugged on your hair in warning, still halfway through braiding it.

"oni!" you called out to your friend who turned around. "your girlfriend needs her leash and collar, she's acting out again." you sniped, lucy squaring up to you before ona rolled her eyes and pulled her away, chatsizing her quietly as lucy sent you a menacing glare as you gav her a fake scared face.

"you need to stop hanging around with maría so much liten, she is a bad influence." ingrid tapped your shoulders as she finished your hair. "she's your girlfriend!" you laughed as you stood, tucked into her side as the taller girls arm draped across you.

"i know, and every day she gives me reason to question why." ingrid sighed as you bumped into her. "no way, you two are so in love its disgusting." you gagged as ingrid playfully reached round to pinch your cheek.

"you will be in love one day liten, and i will be sure to remind your future partner that you think love is disgusting!" ingrid teased, letting go of you as you both smiled and gave a good morning to the social media admin filming the training arrivals.

"how do you know i'm not in love now? or that i will need a future partner?" you gave her a cheeky smile as her eyes widened. "are you-" you'd raced off before she could ask her question, the girl yelling after you that this conversation wasn't over.

"hola!" you launched yourself and near took jana down to the ground, her hands grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up into a proper piggyback with a grunt.

"i was thinking things were too quiet pollito, i was hoping you were sick and we might get a day off from babysitting." jana sighed dramatically as you scoffed. "babysitting! you need babysitting not me." you accused making her chuckle.

"i have to say pollito, you did a good job. if i did not know that you had the stud, i would not notice." bruna marvelled as jana promptly dropped you and grabbed the pair of you by the shirt, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

"what part of we do not speak of it did you not understand? nobody can know we took her there or that we knew about the stud!" jana warned bruna sternly who huffed and tried to pray her hands off her top.

"and you will not tell a soul we knew about it amiga, vale?" jana turned to you now, letting go of bruna and raising an eyebrow when you didn't speak, a roll of your eyes and a nod following.

"perfecta. remember compañero's, when in doubt; deny, deny, deny."

now your makeup and band aid combo may have done the trick for training, nobody batting so much as an eyelid of suspicion toward you.

but what you hadn't accounted for was your teammates being...themselves.

case in point; the water fight which broke out after training was finished.

you didn't think much of it at first, ducking out of the way of mapi's attack and launching your own on cata, laughing as patri and pina used you as a human shield, spraying lucy and mario over your shoulder as you copped the brunt of their own counter attack.

"vale! that is enough for today." alexia yelled out over the squabbles, though there was a hint of a smile on her face and you hadn't missed her spray her own bottle at a few of the younger girls when they weren't looking.

distracted by the feeling of your now soaking wet training top clinging uncomfortably to your body you snatched a towel off mapi, drying your face and arms and not giving it a second though.

that was when there was a tiny silver flash as your stud caught the sun and all hell broke loose.

"what is that?!" "a piercing?!" "who did that to you?!" "what did you put in your face?!" "you put a hole in your skin?!" "who said you could do that pollito?!"

your eyes widened at the questions fired at you one after the other, shrinking into yourself and starting to back away as the older girls advanced, mouths moving at rapid pace.

"don't you dare!" paños grabbed the back of your collar, snagging you as you tried to bolt, a hiss of pain leaving your mouth as alexia grabbed your ear next, dragging you inside and all sorts of angry spanish leaving her mouth.

"sit!" alexia pushed you to sit down at your cubby, flanked by ingrid, paños, irene and frido all glaring down at you. "when?" irene asked sternly as you huffed. "when what." you tried, the stony glares causing your stomach to flip.

"acting cute won't get out out of this one älska. the truth! now." frido warned sternly as you sighed, catching a few of the younger girls watching on curiously, but they all scattered as alexia met them with a hard stare.

"i got it on monday." you answered, looking down at the ground and pulling one knee to your chest, picking at your laces. "where?" alexia asked sharply. "a hair salon." you shrugged still refusing to look up but feeling their eyes burn into you.

"why?" ingrid questioned next. "looks cool and i can." you mumbled with a roll of your eyes. "don't you roll your eyes, drop the attitude." alexia warned as you huffed and mocked her quietly under your breath, whining as her hand smacked the back of your head.

"that hurt!" you rubbed it with a scowl as she now rolled her own eyes. "cannot have hurt more than putting a needle through your face pequeña." irene added on with a scoff as you fell silent again.

"i think it looks badass pollito." pina piped up from a few seats down, paling at the looks it earned her and hurrying over to hide behind patri.

"sí i agree, makes her look tough. which is hard with this cute little baby face!" mapi cooed as she appeared now, pinching your cheeks and admiring the small stud with a nod of approval that had you grinning.

"maría! stay out of it." alexia barked as the girl rolled her eyes, one of the few who wasn't scared (most times) of your fierce captain. "why? she is sixteen now. i had ear piercings at five!" mapi brushed off the issue ignoring her girlfriends eyes baring into her.

"ear sí, not face!" alexia scoffed crossing her arms across her chest. "its not like i got a forehead piercing, so dramatic." you muttered, shrinking and shuffling across a little closer to mapi at the glares which met it

"would you like to say that a little louder?" ingrid sent you a challenging look as her girlfriend wrapped an arm around you. "leave the nena be, it is one little stud. relajarse!" mapi waved them off again.

"who took you to get it nena? you do not drive." paños asked firmly as you couldn't help but let your eyes flicker briefly to jana and bruna who were frantically shaking their heads and waving their arms about. "deny, deny, deny!" jana mouthed at you.

but all it took was that brief millisecond for irene's head to snap around, catching both younger girls in the act as they froze. "you went shopping with the idiotas on monday!" alexia realised as now her head snapped around.

"we didn't know she was gonna do it we took our eyes off her for like a minute and she came back with it! promesa!" bruna blurted out as jana winced and smacked her hand against her forehead.

"you are the worst secret keeper ever!" jana hissed, both of them sprinting off as paños and irene chased after them. "you are taking it out älska." frido stated bluntly as you frowned. "no way!" you protested with a shake of your head.

"yes way. we can do this the easy way or the hard way älska, your choice." the swede warned as alexia and ingrid hummed their agreement and seeing them start to advice mapi's arm left you and she slid slowly away.

"mapi!" you gasped as she darted away. "traitor and a coward!" you yelled after her as she made a heart with her hands and hid behind lucy who rolled her eyes and pushed her away.

"easy or hard nena, choose." alexia warned firmly as you shook your head. "its not coming out, i paid for this!" you decided firmly, standing and holding your head high, hearing a few of the other girls whistle and shake their heads at your words.

"you get her legs, i get her arms, ale takes it out." frido instructed, all three girls nodding as you attempted a getaway, trying to climb up and over the small retaining wall of your cubby but being promptly dragged back down and restrained.

"did you even wash your hands! this is unsanitary alexia i could get an infection!" you yelled trying to squirm away but with no luck as alexia held your head still with one hand and you winced as with one little twist she'd plucked the stud from your nose.

"when we get home i'm searching your room for any other studs and they are being flushed down the toilet. get your bag!" alexia warned as you kicked away ingrid and frido with a scowl. "you're both on my list." you warned seriously, cata and salma oooohing at your words.

"you don't scare us liten." ingrid laughed unbothered, frido mirroring her expression with a smirk. "remember when mario lost an eyebrow? she was on my list." you spoke calmly, packing your belongings up.

"or when pina's cubby had that awful ant infestion? or patris car tyres kept magically deflating? also on my list." you slung your bag over your shoulder, smiling at the somewhat apprehensive looks now present on the tall scandis face.

"adios, traitors." you patted their shoulders as you passed, following after alexia. "pollito are we still on for-" mapi fell silent as your head whipped toward her. "you are also on the list, maría." you warned calmly, narrowing your eyes.

"i helped you create that list!" mapi gasped in disbelief. "sí, and now the student has become the master." you pointed at her menacingly, alexia growing impatient and grabbing you by the straps of your bag hauling you out of the change room.

"vamos pequeña, stop threatening everyone." alexia chuckled dragging you out with her to the carpark as you waved goodbye to a few of the staff, the older girl amused at how quickly your demeanor changed.

"they were not threats, they were promises." you huffed with a deep frown, kicking at a rock. "are you going to be moody and pouty all afternoon over a tiny little stud? estúpida." alexia cooed as you glared at her, sliding into the now unlocked cupra and tossing your bag in the back.

"do you want to be on the list ale?" you warned, shrinking at the fierce glare which it rewarded you with. "discúlpame?" the blonde asked scarily calm with a raised eyebrow. "nothing, lo siento." you mumbled sinking into her seat as she smirked and started up the car.

"buena nena, thats what i thought you said."

#woso community #woso #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

706 notes · View notes

newsdaliy · 2 years

Text

Train Ticket | Now the berth in the moving train will be confirmed, TTE will get a handheld terminal device

Gondia. TTE trains in South East Central Railway Raipur Railway Division will be seen checking tickets with Hand Held Terminal Device (HHT). For this, Raipur Division has got 96 HHT machines. Durg Based Ticket Checking Staff in Raipur Division is being provided 96 Hand Held Terminal Device (HHT) with 4G SIM which will inform about vacant berths in TTE trains and confirm tickets of RAC waiting…

View On WordPress

#berth #confirmed #device #handheld #moving #terminal #ticket #Train #TTE

0 notes

samkerrworshipper · 2 months

Text

the view between villages | alexia putellas x reader

based off of the tiktok edit…. tears have been shed in the making of this

warnings: horrificically brain numbing angst

All Alexia can focus on his the sound of the indicator of the van that she’s in. Her whole body stretched out against the backseat of the van. Alexia wishes that she was able to take up one seat, that she didn’t need to be completely straightened out against the leather seats.

Mapi’s sitting in the back behind her, chattering off, but Alexia’s brain syncs her out.

Her knee feels fine, sure it can’t bend and it’s swelled up so fat that her skin is stretched tight across her knee but she’s not in pain.

All she’d been doing was shooting, and then she was on the ground and it wasn’t even that bad, until she was pulled up and took her first step and everything just felt wrong. Her knee buckled out underneath her, and before Alexia even felt true pain, she knew exactly what was happening.

Alexia’s not a religious person, she couldn’t even tell you how to pray, but from the moment her knee buckled out underneath her to now, she’s been praying, every single thought running through her mind is a pray that she’s not actually going through this.

Alexia and unstoppable are two words that have become synonymous in her mind, Alexia is the best, she is untouchable. She knows it, it’s all that she thinks about, when she wakes up, when she goes to sleep. Alexia is supposed to be a fucking god, she is supposed to be indestructible. Yet, sitting in the back of this van, she feels like she’s completely dissociated herself with the person that she’s supposed to be.

Alexia is sitting eyes wide open with one thing stuck in her mind, is this the end of her?

Alexia doesn’t need scans to know exactly what’s wrong, she felt the crunch, she heard the pop, she’s heard and seen what an acl injury looks like.

Mapi’s been trying to tell her that they don’t know yet, that she scans are needed to confirm it, but Alexia knows, she just knows that this is the end of her year, the end of her Euros, the end of everything she’s been working towards for the last three years, maybe the end of everything she’s worked her whole life for.

There is the critical part of her which is telling Alexia this is her fault, if she had of just trained a little bit harder, if she had of gotten in the extra hours in the gym earlier in the morning or taken more time with her shot none of this would be happening, if she wasn’t so sloppy she would be fine.

The whirring of an MRI machine is a noise that Alexia’s brain will never forget, it’s one that she’d never thought she’d have to hear, a sound that no athlete wants to experience.

Within the hour, Alexia is handed a diagnosis and prognosis, as well as a ticket back to Barcelona. Her Euros and year are over.

She doesn’t cry, even though Mapi’s voice is in her ear telling her that it’s fine if she does and okay if she wants to.

Alexia doesn’t want to cry, she doesn’t want this to be happening to her, how could this be happening to her?

She gets taken back to the hotel within the same van, her body extended across the three seats, crutches sitting on the floor below her and her knee tightly hugged by a compression sleeve.

Alexia doesn’t feel like herself, she doesn’t know who she is right now but it’s not her. Alexia is supposed to be strong, she is the greatest, the indomitable force of Barca and Spain.

She’s surrounded by her teammates once she manages to crutch her way into the dining room, it’s silent, Alexia is grateful for it, she’s not grateful for all the sad looks and hugs that she receives.

Alexia’s phone has stayed in the same spot for the last few hours, tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. She doesn’t want to look at it, the hundreds of messages, articles and calls from the people that she wishes would just disappear.

She doesn’t need anybody, she doesn’t need any stupid consolations telling her that she’ll come out better, that it’s just a bump in the road, that she’s got people to support her.

She doesn’t care, she couldn’t give less of a fuck because at the end of the day a simple text message isn’t going to change anything. It won’t change the fact that she’s completely ruptured the most important part of her body, after doing something that she does hundreds of time a day.

Alexia knows though that the next week is going to be a fucked up whirlwind and she needs to get her business in order and that includes calling her mother and sister.

She finds herself a table by herself in the dining room, tucked away in the corner, ordering Mapi to just give her some peace.

It’s the first words she’s spoken, Mapi had answered all the questions at the hospital, something Alexia was so grateful for, because she still didn’t know how to put exactly what she was feeling into words.

The phone rings twice before Eli picks up.

“Mami, I need you to come pick me up from the airport tomorrow.”

Alexia waits a few seconds, she’s unsure about whether or not Eli will have heard the news, technically her injury hasn’t been formally announced but most of the football world would know already.

“Okay, Ale, is everything okay?”

Alexia is grateful that her mother doesn’t ask much more, she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle it.

“I just need you to come get me tomorrow, my flight should land at around 1, if that works.”

Alexia’s relationship with her mother is one of love and support, her mother is always there for her, she’s the person that will pick Alexia up no matter how low she is, no matter how much she’s begun to hate herself and treat her like she’s the most amazing thing in existence.

“Me and Alba will be there, if you need anything call me.”

Alexia nods, it’s the first time today that she feels like she’s holding back tears. She doesn’t want to burden her family, it’s the last thing she wants to do, but everyone she knows she is leaving behind to return.

Mapi brings her dinner, she doesn’t touch it.

She can’t stomach her feelings, she knows she won’t be able to stomach food.

Once Mapi’s done with her own food, Alexia gets her to help her up to their room. She feels so numb, like she could stab herself in the heart twenty times and it would feel better almost, better than the all consuming pain that she’s experiencing all across her body. At least being stabbed would be some form of relief, like she’d actually be feeling the pain of what she’s going through, instead she’s forced to look down at her knee which feels normal, and detest it for being so much worse than it feels.

Alexia doesn’t sleep.

She lays awake in the hotel bed all night, her knee elevated with as many pillows as Mapi was willing to sacrifice from her own bed and an ice pack that isn’t really cold anymore pressed to her skin. Alexia’s brain just can’t turn off, she finds it hard enough to sleep when she’s thinking about football, but right now football isn’t the sole thought that is running laps around her brain, instead it’s what's next for her.

Alexia’s always been interested in coaching, maybe that’s her destiny.

She just can’t imagine herself coming back from this. Alexia prides herself on always being her best, so even if she does somewhat recover, if it’s not at the level that she expects for herself then she doesn’t want it, she’d rather sit on the sidelines for the rest of her life than be another sob story on the pitch, a player that’s discredited due to an injury.

Alexia has clawed tooth and nail for her status, for her respect on the pitch and she won’t sacrifice that. She’s considering all of her options, retirement, coaching, anything that doesn’t involve her on a pitch with a ball.

The flight home is horrific, Mapi refuses to leave Alexia’s side, making the decision to miss their game for the day to make sure that her friend makes it back to Barcelona in one piece.

Alexia loves Mapi, she’s one of her oldest friends, but the woman manages to make Alexia want to pull her hair out before they’ve even boarded their flight.

She doesn’t mean to snap at her, she really doesn’t, but Alexia was getting sick of the persistent doting and questions that Mapi was asking her non-stop, even after Alexia would blank her, not trusting her voice or her mind to answer the insistent questions that María sends her way. It’s when they are sitting at the gate of their plane, they’ve been waiting for nearly an hour because Mapi had insisted they get there early to allow for Alexia to crutch her way through Heathrow, even though she was provided with a ride to the gate from the airport staff and one of their transport carts.

Leaving Mapi extremely bored, she’d gotten snacks, went to the bathroom twice and checked Alexia’s luggage three times. She was at her wits end, and that apparently translated to trying to ask Alexia as many questions as humanly possible.

It’s when Mapi starts asking her about who’s going to help her with her recovery and where she’s going to live that Alexia just cracks.

“Mapi I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to answer questions and I really don’t want your company. I’ve done my acl, I’m aware of it, I don’t need to be reminded every goddamn second, I have crutches and a useless knee that is enough of a fucking reminder.”

Mapi recoils immediately, if Alexia wasn’t so blinded by her anger and intense mourning for her life then she would apologise, but she doesn’t feel any kind of remorse or guilt, she’s to absorbed with the feeling in her gut that that’s obliterating everything in Alexia’s brain.

It keeps Mapi silent, the woman resorting to only talking when it’s completely necessary.

She stays silent on the flight, choosing to recline in her first class seat besides Alexia after she’s gently gotten Ale situated in her seat with her chair fully reclined to take the pressure off of her knee.

The rest of the flight, she leaves Alexia to continue to run the laps in her brain. It’s a mental workout, nowhere near as the real work out that she could have gotten today on the pitch had she not of screwed up so royally yesterday.

The flight isn’t so great, Alexia’s leg is cramping, her headphones are flat and for the life of her she can’t sleep.

So she sits, pondering and thinking about the next few days.

When the plane lands, she’s never been more terrified to be home in her entire life.

Alexia, through and through is a Spanish girl.

She’s lived in Barcelona her whole life, she spends her holidays in Ibiza.

Spain is where she feels the happiest, she’s a homebody in the sense that unless it’s completely unavoidable due to work, she likes to be around her club and her friends and being in Barcelona is where that is most achievable.

She loves Barcelona, loves the city, loves the beaches, loves the quiet life but also party life that Barcelona gives.

Yet she finds herself completely detesting the idea of returning home, mainly because of what she knows is going to ensue when she has to step off the airplane and face her new normal.

Mapi helps her through the airport, she’s flying straight back to England, but she walks her way out of customs anyways, even with Alexia’s insistence that she doesn’t have to.

She grabs her bags for her, wheeling them through the airport, until she spots Alba and Eli sitting near the entrance of the airport.

As soon as the two of them spot Alexia they are up on their feet, rushing forwards.

Mapi notices the look of terror on Alexia’s face as the two people closest to her approach, it’s something that Mapi’s never seen before.

Alexia and her family are so close, so close that sometimes Mapi is envious of the relationship she holds with her mother and sister. Yet Alexia looks at them like they are the last people that she wants to be seeing and it worries Mapi.

Mapi’s been worried enough the last twenty four hours. She knows Alexia didn’t sleep, she hasn’t eaten and she hasn’t been talking to anybody, she’s swallowing up all the pain and anguish that she’s going through and shoving it down. It’s what Alexia does best, it’s how she’s handled the fame and stature so well, she compartmentalises better than anybody Mapi knows. It’s why she worries about Alexia more than anybody else, she knows the depths that Alexia will go to try and hide her pain and eventually, it becomes too much for her.

Mapi is always the one to pick up the pieces, the person who is inevitably there when Alexia finally breaks down. She goes through it with her and once it’s over, they both act like nothing has happened, even though Mapi knows it is so much more than that.

Alba makes it to Alexia first, completely disregarding the crutches and Alexia’s injury, instead opting to bring her into a crushing hug, Alexia doesn’t allow herself to relax into the hug like she normally would, instead the tenses up, praying for Alba to let go of her, to just leave Alexia be, to stop reminding her that instead of being hugged after being away from home so long like they would have in a couple of weeks, she’s being hugged because she’s failed, because she’s been unable to complete the one thing she was destined to do.

Alba hangs on for a lot longer than Alexia feels necessary, her younger sister holding onto her like she’s going to somehow run away if she lets go. Once done hugging Alexia, she moves onto Mapi, embracing her and allowing room for Eli to look at her daughter.

She doesn’t hug Alexia, she doesn’t say anything, she just looks her up and down as if to say ‘You’ve fucked up’ as if Alexia isn’t already aware.

Eli moves onto Mapi, deciding that whatever she needs to say or tell her daughter, it doesn’t need to be said now, it can wait till they’re in private.

“Maria, thank you, you’ll join us for lunch?”

Mapi shakes her head, she wishes she could take the invite, but her flight back to London leaves in just over an hour and she really doesn’t have the time considering she has to go back through security.

“No, unfortunately I am needed back in England, but I'll take a rain check? Take care of her for me, keep me updated Ale, i expect regular phone calls.”

Alexia rolls her eyes at Mapi, it makes her smile, it’s the first fragment of emotion she’s seen across her friends face in the last 24 hours and she’ll take anything she can get. She gives Alexia a short hug, not wanting to make her uncomfortable before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and saluting her family before walking back in the direction she’s come from.

Alexia feels a part of her leave with Mapi, the part of her team that Mapi had been keeping with her, and now she was gone.

Alba fussed over her the whole way to the car, Eli stays silent.

Alba is the one who takes all of her luggage, gets her stretched out against the backseat of her Cupra and checks time and time again that she’s clipped in properly.

Alexia zones it out in favour of going back to the place in her mind where she’s been hovering for the past while, the part of her brain designated to thinking about all of her possibilities right now. Retirement, coaching, rehab.

Those are the three options that just won’t leave her head, in order of preference.

She does this the whole ride back to her house, it keeps her grounded, keeps her from focusing on all of the outside noise that she’s so desperate to drown out.

The announcement of her injury came out this morning, she hasn’t checked her phone, she doesn’t want to, she knows what she’ll be met with and it’s not something she wants to have to deal with. Instead of feeling supported, it feels more like a chore, like she has to thank all of these people who are wishing her the best even though they’re probably all grateful that she’s been sidelined. Alexia isn’t a threat if she’s injured on the sidelines, she’s not helping her team to try and win a European championship from a hospital bed.

When they arrive at her house, Eli orders Alba to go out and buy some food and collect any essentials from her own home so that she can partially move into Alexia’s house for the time being. Alba doesn’t hesitate to obey her Mamí, Alexia knows that there is a reason beside Alexia’s lack of food and Alba’s lack of belonging at her house, she’s trying to get Alba away, it terrifies Alexia a little bit knowing that she’s now going to be forced to talk to her mother, one on one.

Eli helps Alexia out of the car, Alexia’s house, is thankfully, one story. It’s an annoyance in the fact that if it were two stories Alexia would have a much larger backyard, big enough that Alexia could run proper drills instead of having to go down to the local oval to get a proper workout in.

It’s convenient in that Alexia can practically be self-sufficient during her recovery and won’t have to worry about finding someone to help her up and down a staircase every time she wants to eat or leave.

Eli gets Alexia seated on her couch, her leg extended across the surface before going back to the car and retrieving her suitcases, leaving Alexia to continue thinking about her current situation.

When she returns, she drags one of Alexia’s foot stools until she’s sat down directly in front of her daughter. Alexia refuses to look her in the eyes, she just can’t, it hurts too much knowing that instead of her being in any other position, she’s here.

“Alexia, look at me.”

Alexia doesn’t, she can’t, it physically hurts her to picture her mothers face. Her mother has been there for her in every single crucial part of her life, all of her wins and triumph and best moments.

“Alexia I did not teach you to ignore me or not look somebody in the eye when they are talking to you.”

Alexia is desperate not to cry, she’s been holding out, for the purpose of conserving peace and mind, it’s just for the best. It’s a struggle dragging her eyes up from the floor to her mother, it’s a struggle not to break down then and there.

She manages it though, she has to do it, she’s Alexia Putellas, she’s an animal on the field, nothing is supposed to scare her.

So why is it that she suddenly feels terrified to admit how she’s truly feeling, to admit that she feels more helpless than she has in her entire life.

Eli’s face softens a little bit when Alexia’s eyes meet her, she recognises the pain in her daughter's eyes, it’s the same pain that was on her face the day that her father died, it’s a level of grief and sadness that Eli hates to see on anybody’s face, especially her daughters. Alexia’s world turned upside down when her father died, Eli swears from that day onwards her daughter changed, there was no longer room for leeway or jokes in Alexia’s life. She knuckled down, harder than anybody, it was how she’d become the football player she was, she’d worked every single day to get to where she was and to see her now completely and utterly shattered, it’s almost enough to kill Eli.

“Ale, you can do this, your papí would want you to do this.”

For once in her life, Alexia doesn’t care. Eli can see the complete disregard in her daughter's eyes, she knows that right now all Alexia wants is to give up and as bad as it is she knows that her father may be one of the only things that will convince her daughter to use her brain and really take a minute to think about what’s next for her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alexia is stubborn, she knows what she can and can’t do, she doesn’t need her Mamí to tell her.

“Too bad, we’re talking about it. Alexia, you my daughter, are the best in the world, you have something to fight for, something to return for, you will prove them all wrong, you must.”

Alexia’s household was one that had a never quit rule. It was drilled into her by her father, quitting was the most shameful thing any person could do, it was worse than losing or any other kind of shame, quitting was embarrassing.

Yet Alexia can’t find herself wanting anything more, she wants to quit, she wants this all to be over. Alexia’s brain, since before she can remember, has always been football. She wakes up thinking about football, she thinks about football in the shower, when she’s brushing her teeth, when she’s eating, when she’s training, when she sleeps. All Alexia thinks about is football, she’s obsessed, it’s insanity. Yet Alexia has always loved it, she’s prided herself on being the most consistent, the hardest worker, the person who never stopped. All she wants is for the constant football buzz to finally silence itself, she wants her brain to be quiet, it’s all she wants and yet somehow her thoughts are louder than ever.

“Mamí, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alexia looks down at her knee, and then back up at her mother, her stupid fucking knee which has wrecked everything.

Alexia knows Spain is playing right now, and she wants to support her teammates more than anything, but she just can’t, she can’t put her team on and act like it’s nothing when really it means everything to her, it literally means everything, every part of her body, soul, heart and brain was so ready for that game and yet now she’s sitting on her couch with a fucked knee.

“Alexia, I need you to promise me, for your father, that you are not going to give up, that you are going to take this recovery as a bump, not a wall and push through.”

It’s so incredibly unfair using the memory of Alexia's father against her, because her mother knows that was her inspiration for everything, when he died something flipped in Alexia that made her who she has become, right now she doesn’t care though, nothing matters to her.

“Mamí, I’m tired.”

Alexia is tired beyond her sleep deprivation, everything else in her life has had her exhausted for years and right now, for the first time it’s all hitting her at full force and it’s more taxing than she could even begin to comprehend.

“Alexia, promise me.”

Alexia shakes her head, her eyes darting away from her mothers face so she doesn’t have to see the disappointment on her face.

“I can’t Mamí.”

Alexia tugs at the blanket on top of her, tugging it over her good and bad leg.

“Then you aren’t the daughter I raised because my daughter would at least try.”

Alexia expects her mothers words to hurt her, but they don’t, she’s already been telling herself the same thing, that she’s no longer the person everybody thought she was, she’s an imposter of who she used to be and there is absolutely no coming back from that.

Eli stands up, leaving Alexia on the couch in contemplation.

Alexia would love to say that her mothers words resonate with her, but they don’t. All Alexia can think about is herself, about her own problems, about her own life, she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about it, not even her mother.

Alexia stays like that, on her couch, for hours.

Her mother makes her lunch, she doesn’t eat.

Alba returns and tries to talk to her, she ignores.

Her mother cooks her dinner, she doesn’t eat.

She just sits on the couch, thinking, the same thoughts over and over again.

Eventually, Alba forces her to go to bed, her younger sister struggles with Alexia’s weight but is determined to get her into bed, and she does after a bit of push and shove.

Alexia ends up in a similar position to the night beforehand, her bad knee laid on top of as many pillows as possible, ice pressed to it.

Alexia hates it, she hates it so much that she tries in vain to tear the pillows out from under her knee, but she just can’t, she’s too weak.

She collapses back into her pillows, the pillows that smell like Alexia’s perfume and a mix of grass and her body wash.

Alexia’s whole house has some resemblance of football in every single corner, whether it’s the case of trophies she’s won in the entrance, her cleats which are spread out everywhere, different pieces of memorabilia she’s got, kit bags, balls, barcelona kit, Alexia’s house is a shrine for football and right now there is nothing she wants more than to tear it all to pieces, she wants it all to be gone.

In one place, Alexia has started and ended it all.

Everything is over for her, every single dream, every single thing she yearned for at 16, it’s all gone. Alexia can’t believe in a god, no god would do this to her, no god would be so cruel as to condemn her to such a hell.

Alexia’s life is a rinse, lather and repeat for the days leading up to her surgery.

Her Mamí doesn’t talk to her, she force feeds her, makes sure she’s always got an ice pack pressed to her knee and that she’s sleeping. Alexia swears at some stage she begins to slip sleeping pills into her water because sleep that Alexia was running away from suddenly hits her at full force and she’s spending most of her days asleep on her couch.

When her surgery date comes around, she doesn’t feel anything, Mapi calls her, she doesn’t speak, Mapi does enough speaking.

Spain are looking like they’ll get knocked out in the early rounds, something that could have been avoided had Alexia been there, been with her team, instead of a hospital bed awaiting a surgery that would alter things far beyond just her knee.

Alexia wakes up groggy, her mother sitting at her bedside and her sister pacing back and forth at her bedside.

Alexia looks down at her knee and it’s bandaged up so tight and covered so heavily that she knows that this is going to be bad. She doesn’t get a break from her thoughts, they hit her full force, her brain works her out, keeps her going.

Alexia is home by the end of the day, hopped up on pain pills that make her feel even less, which she didn’t think was achievable. She sleeps for three days straight, it doesn’t help the never ending exhaustion she feels.

On day three, she’s forced out of bed to see a physio, the man is abrasive, rude and old. She doesn’t want to participate and all he wants is the pay check, they don’t get along.

He gives her a series of exercises that Alexia won’t do, he gives her pain pills that Alexia won’t take and gives Alexia a number for a psychologist that she will never see.

Alexia is back on her couch within an hour, Alba fussing over endlessly, even though Alexia has expressed her desire for independence multiple times.

By the end of week 2, she’s about ready to take a blade to her throat and quit.

She won’t do the exercises, as much as Alba tries to force her too, this creates some waves between her physio and herself. Alexia’s muscles are gone, she’s not bothered to regain them because why should she be? What does she need a muscle for if she doesn’t plan to use it again?

Alba is at her wits ends, so is Mapi.

María manages to squeeze a visit in during a spare day and what she sees when she arrives at Alexia’s is alarming, it terrifies her.

Alexia doesn’t talk, she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t move.

She thinks, all she does is sit and think.

She thinks about the anger, the people and things she’s lost, the people surrounding her, the air in her lungs, the rush of her blood.

Alexia thinks about everything and also nothing.

She likes it that way, she likes her brain all cloudy and foggy with disclosure. It’s her safety blanket.

At the two week point, Alexia forces her mother and sister out of her house, for her own safety and theirs.

The next day, she gets a knock on the door.

She ignores it, assuming it’ll be Alba trying to feed her or entertain her.

The knocking doesn’t stop, it goes on and on until Alexia’s brain is vibrating with the constant noise and she has no choice but to awkwardly crutch her way to her front door and open it.

Alba isn’t standing there, but another woman is.

“Hola, you’re Alexia Putellas?”

Alexia doesn’t know what to say, she’s been through plenty of media training, what to do if the paparazzi show up at her door, but you don’t look like a paparazzi.

“Yes, what can I do for you?’

You smile so brightly that Alexia isn’t quite sure how one person can look so happy in the current world you’re living in.

“Doctor Matthews sent me, I’m here for your physio.”

Alexia is about to argue, but you push your way past her door and into the threshold of her house.

“Doctor Matthews and I have an appointment tomorrow, not today, and it’s supposed to be in his office.”

Alexia was planning on cancelling it, or postponing it, like she does with most things these days.

“He’s made a change in your treatment plan, due to your refusal to do your exercises at home, Barcelona has advised that they would prefer you take part in a more home-based recovery.”

Alexia follows you back into her own kitchen, slightly shocked at your comfortability with letting yourself in.

“I’m good.”

You roll your eyes at Alexia, looking her up and down before setting down your bag on her counter.

“You haven’t been doing your exercises, I’m here to make sure you do, you can make this as hard as you like but I’m not leaving until you do.”

Alexia doesn’t like your assertiveness, doesn’t like that you are somehow able to make her feel more attentive then she has in three weeks.

Alexia can’t remember a single exercise she’s been given, she simply hasn’t cared to look at them.

“I don’t have any exercises.”

You roll your eyes once again and it makes Alexia feel more genuinely human then she has in a while.

“You do now, we can get started on the couch if you’d like?”

Alexia nods, she doesn’t know what else to do but nodding seems like a good idea.

“If you can just get yourself sat down and then we can get started.”

You nod towards Alexia’s couch, and she follows your direction, crutching over towards her couch and sitting down before swinging her good leg onto the cushions and then her bad one.

It’s probably the most activity Alexia has done in days, she feels inexplicably uncomfortable with you being so controlling over her, yet you don’t care.

“So Ms Putellas, assuming that you’ve done none of your exercises, I’d like to test your ability to straighten out your knee and bend it, does that sound okay to you?”

The smile, it’s like your lips are being stretched into a line that is inhumane.

“Alexia or Ale please, and I did the exercises with Doctor Matthews.”

Alexia wants to tell the physio who’s name she’s yet to learn that she’s been wearing her brace, she’s been staying off her knee, she’s been behaving. Yet she finds herself not saying anything, why should you care, why would you care? Alexia is just a bothersome patient that you are being forced to see, just another broken person.

“So once every couple of days? You do know that a successful acl recovery requires you to exercise more than once every few days. I assume somebody like yourself wants as quick and steady of a recovery as possible.”

Alexia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what she wants, if she’s being honest, she’s trying to prolong this recovery in an attempt to keep herself away from the pitch for as long as possible, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near a ball or anything resembling her sport that she once held so much love for but now she only holds resentment for.

Alexia flinches when your hands come into contact with her brace, slowly unstrapping the different pieces of velcro.

“Alexia, do you have any plans to play football again?”

Your question may sound rhetorical, but it’s a genuine one.

It’s a question that Alexia has been avoiding for weeks, the brain fog has been enough of a distraction.

“What does that matter?”

You manage to slip the brace off of Alexia’s knee, then the compression sleeve, revealing a swollen knee.

Her stitches had been removed a couple of days ago, leaving an ugly looking scar that Alexia couldn’t bear to look at.

It was just another reminder of her failure, the biggest reminder.

“I want to get you back onto the pitch, but Alexia, you don’t really seem like you want it.”

You don’t mention that you’ve been asked to visit Alexia at the request of her family and friends as well as Barcelona, this is what you’re good at, this is your specialty.

“You have no idea what I want.”

Alexia flinches when your finger flattens out across her scar, her knee jerking at the feeling of the most vulnerable part of her body being touched.

Alexia herself hasn’t dared to touch it, it’s the source of all of her hatred, the last thing she wants to do is touch it, because somehow that makes it all more real.

“Your scar has healed nicely, the surgical site is looking really good.”

You continue to prod around Alexia’s scar, before moving onto the rest of her knee, poking at different parts of the swelling.

“Alexia, do you want to get back on the pitch or do you want to spend the rest of your life on the sidelines?”

It’s another one of those questions that Alexia has purposely been avoiding, because what sort of question is that.

“Best footballer in the world, condemned to a life on the sidelines, that’s a pretty good front page headline, just saying.”

Alexia doesn;t know who or what gave you the nerve to behave so rudely, she just knows that you are getting on her nerves.

“I’m going to bend your leg now Alexia, tell me if you feel any discomfort.”

Before Alexia can protest, your hand is resting underneath her knee and gently lifting it from a 180 degree angle upwards.

“Stop-stop I’m not ready for this.”

You don’t stop, even with Alexia reluctance, gently pushing her stiff knee upwards, finding zero resistance.

“Seems like you're pretty ready to me.”

You smile as you get Alexia’s knee fully bent, her foot flexing to support the weight and steady the movement.

Alexia doesn’t like anything about it, she doesn’t like the fact that you brazenly have taken charge of Alexia like she’s a child.

“Feels good, yeah?”

Alexia doesn’t nod, she doesn’t think it feels good, it feels like bending her knee has just become twenty times harder and there is nothing good about that.

“I’ll take the silence as a yes, have you started walking yet, without your crutches?”

Alexia shakes her head, walking is not something that has been on her mind the last few days.

“Well, let’s try and get you walking then.”

You stand up, extending Alexia’s crutches to her and waiting patiently for her to stand up.

Alexia doesn’t, she’s sick of being bossed around like she’s got absolutely no say in her recovery.

“No.”

You cock your head at her, silently questioning her.

“You want to return to a football pitch in the next 9 months then you are going to get up Alexia.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I’m not walking today, it’s not happening, I’m not ready, I can’t.”

You take a step back, one of your eyebrows lifting up your forehead.

“As much as I love the can do attitude, if you don’t walk today then you’ll walk tomorrow, I’m not here to make suggestions Alexia, I’m here to rehabilitate you, whether you feel like you’re ready for it or not.”

Alexia shakes her head, again, she wants this person out of her house, effective immediately.

“I don’t have to do what you tell me, get out of my house.”

You laugh at her, you have the fucking audacity to laugh at Alexia.

“Technically no, but your life will be a lot harder if you don’t listen to me and your Mamí gave me her explicit permission to be in here as much as I like, as well as Barcelona. We’ll be doing daily rehab, because you can’t be trusted to do it on your own, so you can walk today, you can walk tomorrow, you can refuse to, but we’re going to do it at some stage and you’re only making your life tougher with everyday you delay yourself.”

You manage to leave Alexia speechless, your arms crossed over your chest, head cocked and eyebrow raised.

“You don’t have to walk, but just get up please, at least move around on your crutches a little bit.”

Alexia meets you halfway with that offer, allowing you to help her stand up and hobble out from her couch and into her kitchen.

Alexia is once again shocked when you walk directly into her kitchen and begin to look through her fridge and pantry.

“You’ve got no food.”

Alexia knows that, the last thing on her mind the last couple of days has been food, most of her meals have come from take out meals that Alba has brought around on her random drop in visits.

“Aren’t you my physio, not a nutritionist?”

You pivot, turning around and eyeing Alexia up and down.

“I’d like to say my services extend beyond traditional physiotherapy, I work in an unconventional space, which calls for unconventional methods.”

The complete confidence you portray makes Alexia wary, and a little bit intimidated.

“Can you take your unconventional methods elsewhere?”

You snort at Alexia, but don’t object.

“I can, I’ll be back in the morning, be ready for more of a workout, I’d get your beauty sleep. I’ll give you my phone number, if you need anything, at any time of day, whatever it is, I’m here if you need me.”

You smile at Alexia, writing your phone number down in her phone which she passes to you, before collecting your things and making your way to Alexia’s door, waltzing your way out like you’d never been.

That night, when Alexia’s laying in bed you’ve managed to insert yourself into her constant brain chatter, you feel like a figment of her imagination more than anything, you insert yourself into her thoughts in a way nobody else has been able to do since her injury and it honestly confuses her more than she thinks possible.

Alexia struggles to sleep, as she does every night, tonight it's for a slightly different reason. She just can’t figure out how or why you’ve suddenly made your way into her life and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Alexia isn’t happy when at 9am the following morning there is a non stop knocking at her door, lately, the Catalan has been spending as much time in bed as possible. There is nothing to wake her up, Alba’s taken Nala with her so that her dog can get proper care, Alexia has nothing to wake up for besides her bladder and water if she’s very desperate.

Recently, she’s been sleeping till 12 if possible, getting up between 12-3/4 and then going back to her bed to toss and turn until she finally falls asleep.

It’s tiring, doing nothing, acting like everythings normal when in reality it’s all been turned upside down for her. Alexia hasn’t cried, she can’t, she knows that as soon as she shows any real evidence of how she truly feels it’ll all crack, it’ll all turn into one big mess that she won’t be able to wade her way out of.

Alexia almost trips on four different obstacles on her floor as she crutches her way to the door in a half asleep state, struggling to keep her eyes open as she makes it to her front door.

You’re standing behind her door, multiple bags in hand and the same smile from yesterday on your face.

“Alexia! Bon dia.”

Alexia’s not awake enough to really even take in your presence, let alone reply to the amount of happiness behind your voice.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, you push your way past Alexia and into the threshold of her house, lugging the multiple bags through the hallway until you unceremoniously dump them on her kitchen table.

Alexia crutches her way into her kitchen, still confused by your sudden presence and energy.

“I’ve got food for you, I can make breakfast or we can go for a walk to a cafe and get you out of the house.”

Alexia hasn’t left her house since it happened for anything besides physio appointments, she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to face a real world, a world where she’s supposed to be a football player and instead she’s a invalid.

“I can make my own breakfast.”

You open Alexia’s fridge, beginning to unpack the exorbitant amount of food that she’s bought.

“Your focus today is to walk, I’ll focus on breakfast.”

Alexia frowns, a big frown, the last thing on her agenda for today had been to walk, the first thing had been to get a little bit more sleep but that’s already been taken from her.

“I’m not walking today.”

Alexia doesn’t want to have to relearn how to walk, the only time she thinks it’ll ever be acceptable for her to struggle to walk is when she’s 90 and her bones are old and unusable.

“Are you not? I’m fairly sure you are, according to my planner for today.”

Alexia settles herself on one of her island stools, sick of standing and bearing weight.

“You can’t make me walk.”

You shrug at her.

“Technically no, but I beg to differ. Any allergies?”

Alexia shakes her head no, to both questions, you nod your head at her.

“You can’t keep yourself in crutches forever, I imagine you want to get out, go to a pitch and kick a ball or something. Being in your house without any entertainment can’t be much fun.”

Alexia begs to differ, being in her house is the only place she feels safe right now, leaving terrifies her, it makes her feel more vulnerable then she’s comfortable with.

She watches as you pull out some of the groceries you’d tucked away in Alexia’s fridge, placing them out on her countertop before moving into her shelves and finding the tools and pans you needed.

“You haven’t even told me your name and you are in my kitchen making me breakfast.”

You turned and looked up at Alexia, the same smile spread across your face.

“Doctor y/n, y/l/n.”

Alexia nods, she feels a little bit more at peace now that she knows something about you, in comparison to absolutely nothing.

“What are your interests? If we’re going to be seeing each other so frequently then I’d like to know the person I’m with.”

You start to mix together the food, keeping eye contact with Alexia as you do so.

“My job is my life.”

Alexia doesn’t like that answer.

To be fair, anybody who had asked Alexia that same question would have received the same answer in the last fifteen years.

Football is Alexia’s life, or was.

She doesn’t think it is anymore, or she doesn’t really know, it’s one of the big questions constantly circulating in her brain.

“You must have things you do beyond this.”

You shrug at Alexia, this isn’t supposed to be about you, it’s supposed to be about her.

“I enjoy my job, I enjoy rehabilitating people, it’s what I’m good at, if there was a ballon d’or for what I do then I would win it, nobody does my job like I do.”

Alexia believes you, she believes every word that leaves your mouth. The confidence you breathe isn’t over crowding, it’s refreshing, she finds herself feeling more level headed around you then she has in weeks.

“But, you have something else.”

Alexia knows that whilst her life used to be football, and she would define it as so, she still had other things, a party here and there, her family, her dog, food. She has other things that added to her success in her sport.

“I used to dance, the ballet and whatnot, until I tore both of my achilles. That’s why I do what I do. I understand what it’s like to want to spend every single day after an injury thinking about your existence, thinking about what the point is in living if you aren’t defined as your sport anymore. My job is my purpose.”

Alexia doesn’t know what her purpose is anymore, it used to be football, her father, the history behind it all. She doesn’t know if that’s her purpose anymore, she doesn’t think it is. She wants a purpose, she wants to be as sure as you and decide that she’s going to devote herself to helping other people like you do, but she can’t, she doesn’t even see herself leaving her house in the next month, let alone trying to help other people.

The omelette you make Alexia is so delicious that Alexia doesn’t even really notice she’s eating until all of the food is sitting in the bottom of her stomach and she suddenly feels sick.

That's the reason Alexia hasn’t been able to eat, the sickness, the gut rotting feeling that eats at her after any food touches her lips.

There’s no explanation for it, Alexia just hates the idea of nourishing herself, nourishing a body that she’s grown to hate so heavily.

Once Alexia is done eating, you walk around to her, smiling in a way that makes Alexia slightly worried.

“We’re going to walk.”

Alexia shakes her head, although you don’t waiver.

“Up, get up, on your crutches, in the hallway.”

Alexia only obeys for the purpose of keeping the peace that she’s desperate to have a balance of in her home.

She makes it to the middle of the hallway when you tell her to stop, walking up to her and swiftly pulling her crutches out of her hands and walking to the opposite end of the hallway.

“Walk to me.”

Alexia realises your plan, she’s not in reach of leaning on either of the walls beside her without taking a step, she’s stuck, she takes a step or she stays stood.

“Give me my crutches.”

You put them back down against her island, standing with your arms crossed over your chest at the end of her hall.

“Walk to me and you get them back.”

Alexia looks down at her feet, her good one is doing all of the work to support her weight, her bad leg is hardly bearing any weight whatsoever.

Alexia honestly doesn’t know if she could put her foot down, if she could share some of the weight, there is a mental block in her head telling her that something terrible is going to happen if she does, that she’s going to retear her acl or break her knee.

The scariest thought in her mind though, is the thought that everything will be fine, that Alexia is going to be able to walk, that nothing is going to be wrong and she’s going to take a step and it’ll be okay.

The thought terrifies her, because if nothings wrong, then that means that her recovery is going as it should, that she’s on track, that she’s expected to walk and fucking try instead of just slowly fading away into nothing.

“I need my crutches.”

You shake your head, your eyes squinting as you look her up and down.

“Alexia, try and walk for me.”

Alexia looks down at her bare feet, her feet which are holding her body up, without the help of her crutches.

It’s more that she doesn’t want to walk in comparison to feeling like she actually can’t walk.

It’s then that she takes a step.

Alexia’s never been held back by the things that are hard, the things she doesn’t want to do, because that’s what’s always made her so great.

She supposes that if you’re as determined as you say, then she’s going to walk, whether she wants to or not.

The first thing she realises is that it doesn’t hurt, it’s uncomfortable, sore and weird, but it doesn’t hurt in the way that she feels like it should.

One foot in front of the other.

That’s all it is, a foot in front of the other.

Yet, as soon as she does it, something washes all over her.

Her team, her memories, her love for everything that she does.

Football is the only thing on Alexia’s mind, except it’s not about how Alexia can be better, it’s not about what Alexia can do next time she’s on the pitch, it’s not about Alexia’s need to train harder or put in more work. It’s about the love, the atmosphere, the people that she knows and loves and surrounds herself with. The things she’s lost, the people she knows, the people that have surrounded her through it all.

Alexia looks up at you, your grin somehow grown even larger as Alexia slowly, but surely steps her way closer to you with every small bit of meterage that she makes up.

When she makes it to the end of the hallway, you’re there to steady ehr, both on her feet and her mind. Alexia doesn’t reach for her crutches, she steadies herself briefly before making her way back to her couch and taking a seat.

She can’t deal with the praise that she can hear you throwing at her, not with the blood that’s rushing through her ears and the buzzing in her head as the thought of football, or her football memories bounces around in her brain.

Is she ready to let that all go? Disappear from her sport completely and just give up the people and memories that she’s grown to love so deeply? She doesn’t know.

Alexia feels like a broken record, it all goes straight to her head and she can’t get it out.

Alexia supposes she must send herself into some kind of panic attack, because before she can even try to compartmentalise or explain any of her thoughts to herself, she’s fucking crying.

It’s the one thing she’s been avoiding with all of her might, and yet she’s bawling, tears that she detests dripping straight down her face.

If Alexia hates crying, then crying in front of people quite literally makes her want to slit her throat.

Yet here she is, crying on her couch and struggling to take control of herself whilst you take a seat beside her, a hand on her shoulder rubbing circles into her skin through her cotton sleep shirt.

“Alexia, deep breaths.”

Alexia doesn’t want to breathe, or she doesn’t feel like she can, everything is so much harder to do when she’s so in her head, it makes it all so much more difficult.

“Breaths, come on Alexia, focus on your breathing, you can do it.”

Alexia’s never reacted well to being comforted during a breakdown, as a kid she would quite literally lock herself in a wardrobe or some small confined space until she calmed down, Alba would try and hug her, her mother would try and bathe her in random compliments and her father would just be there, she hated it though. She hated pity, she hated attention that wasn’t focused on achievement or greatness,

Yet you somehow don’t make her feel like that, your hand is comfortable and your words are breezy, there are no guarantees that everything is going to be okay, or attempts to rationalise whatever it is that Alexia is feeling, there is just comfort.

Alexia gets herself under control, in a matter of a couple of minutes, but the damage is already done, she’s well aware.

As soon as her breathing evens out and her tears stop falling you remove yourself from her, squatting down directly in front of her, looking at her on eye to eye level.

“21 steps.”

Alexia nods, 21 steps, 21 fucking steps.

“That’s a lot of steps for a woman who tried to tell me she couldn’t walk.”

Alexia tries her hardest to glare at you, but it doesn’t work, not with her red and swollen eyes.

“Never again.”

You snicker, the smile returning to your face.

“3 weeks and 21 steps, you don’t want to know what I can do in a matter of months, I’ll get you back on that field Alexia, better than ever.”

Alexia nods, taking a deep breath through her nose.

“What if I don’t want it?”

It’s the first time she’s admitted that allowed and it’s hard, it’s hard to even utter the words that break up her relationship with her sport.

“Then you are stupid, we can get you back to where you were, I know that sounds ridiculous, but I will get you there, if you want it, if you try hard and trust me.”

Alexia nods, because she feels like she has to more than anything.

“If I do it, I want one thing in return.”

Your eyebrow raises up.

“What do you want?”

Alexia’s never felt more comfortable with a person in her life, it’s a trait she wants in her physio, but also one she’s searching for in another walk of her life. She realised that the minute your hand fell on her body when she was stressing, that somehow you just understood her. Whether it was the injury, the sporting commitment or the work ethic, there were overlaps that Alexia couldn’t be overlooked.

“Let me take you on a date.”

You falter for a second, something Alexia is yet to have seen in the 24 hours she’s met you.

“I don’t date clients.”

Alexia is persistent, something she prides herself on.

“Make an exception for me, if you can make me as good as I was then you’ll let me take you on a date as a form of repayment.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m already getting paid plenty by your club and family.”

Alexia frowns.

“Please.”

Alexia doesn’t like to beg, she saves begging for the people below her.

“Fine, if you listen to me for a whole 9 months then I’ll let you take me on a date, if you don’t hate me by the time we get there.”

Alexia smiles.

“I’m already planning it out in my head.”

540 notes · View notes

rudrjobdesk · 2 years

Text

Delhi: ट्रेन ट‍िकट कन्‍फर्म कराने के नाम पर धोखाधड़ी और लूट, मासूमों को ऐसे बनाते थे न‍िशाना

नई द‍िल्‍ली. ट्रेन की ट‍िकट कन्‍फर्म (Confirming Train Ticket) कराने के नाम पर धोखाधड़ी (Cheating) करने के मामले आए द‍िन सामने आते रहते हैं. रेलवे स्‍टेशन से लेकर ट्रेनों में लोग जरूरतमंदों को अपना श‍िकार बनाते रहे हैं. इन सभी पर लगाम लगाने के ल‍िए और उनकी धरपकड़ के ल‍िए भारतीय रेलवे (Indian Railways) भी समय-समय पर स्‍पेशल ड्राइव चलाता रहता है. बावजूद इसके लोगों से धोखाधड़ी करने के मामले थम नहीं…

View On WordPress

0 notes

batboyblog · 3 months

Text

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week.

January 19-26 2024

The Energy Department announced its pausing all new liquefied natural gas export facilities. This puts a pause on export terminal in Louisiana which would have been the nation's largest to date. The Department will use the pause to study the climate impact of LNG exports. Environmentalists cheer this as a major win they have long pushed for.

The Transportation Department announced 5 billion dollars for new infrastructure projects. The big ticket item is 1 billion dollars to replace the 60 year old Blatnik Bridge between Superior, Wisconsin, and Duluth, Minnesota which has been dangerous failing since 2017. Other projects include $600 million to replace the 1-5 bridge between Vancouver, Washington, and Portland, Oregon, $427 million for the first offshore wind terminal on the West Coast, $372 million to replace the 90 year old Sagamore Bridge that connects Cape Cod to the mainland,$300 million for the Port of New Orleans, and $142 million to fix the I-376 corridor in Pittsburgh.

the White House Task Force on Reproductive Healthcare Access announced new guidance that requires insurance companies must cover contraceptive medications under the Affordable Care Act. The Biden Administration also took actions to make sure contraceptive medications would be covered under Medicare, Medicaid, CHIP, and Federal Employee Health Benefits Program. HHS has launched a program to educate all patients about their rights to emergency abortion medical care under the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act. This week marks 1 year since President Biden signed a Presidential Memorandum seeking to protect medication abortion and all federal agencies have reported on progress implementing it.

A deal between Democrats and Republicans to restore the expand the Child Tax Credit cleared its first step in Congress by being voted out of the House Ways and Means Committee. The Child Tax Credit would affect 16 million kids in the first year and lift 400,000 out of poverty. The Deal also includes an expansion of the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit which will lead to 200,000 new low income rental units being built, and also tax relief to people affected by natural disasters

The Senate Foreign Relations Committee voted for a bill to allow President Biden to seize $5 billion in Russian central bank assets. Biden froze the assets at the beginning of Russia's war against Ukraine, but under this new bill could distribute these funds to Ukraine, Republican Rand Paul was the only vote against.

The Senate passed the "Train More Nurses Act" seeking to address the critical national shortage of nurses. It aims to increase pathways for LPNs to become RNs as well as a review of all nursing programs nationally to see where improvements can be made

3 more Biden Judges were confirmed, bring the total number of Judges appointed by President Biden to 171. For the first time in history the majority of federal judge nominees have not been white men. Biden has also appointed Public Defenders and civil rights attorneys breaking the model of corporate lawyers usually appointed to life time federal judgeships

#good news #thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #us politics #climate change #abortion #reproductive rights #child tax credit #judges

600 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 3 months

Note

If you could create and add a new DC character, what would they be like?

I'm going to tell you about David, and knowing you guys, you'll agree with me when I say he should have his own comic.

David has been my best friend literally since we were 8. He is the only constant I've had through my life. He introduced me to the drums and helped me get a motorcycle after I got my license. We are each other's platonic ride or die. If he asked me to bury a body, I'd do it no question, and I know he'd do the same for me.

That said, I clearly have the braincell in this friendship.

Don't get me wrong, he's smart in certain aspects. He's a talented musician, good athlete, taught himself to fix most plumbing issues, speaks decent Japanese, easily clicks socially, and is super empathetic. But in others, he's like a plate in a knife drawer.

Some highlights from over the years:

He ate the brown paper bag his lunch came in on a field trip

He thought hot chocolate was just cocoa powder (no milk or water) in a mug and the microwave would melt it. His sister had to call the fire department

He gave a stray dog his scarf for warmth and never saw that scarf again

He licked the dust off an XBox controller

He got a speeding ticket outside the DMV literally five minutes after getting his license

He made gender reveal cupcakes to come out to the rest of our friend group when we were 17, but he threw them into a Ziploc and they jostled around his backpack for half a day before lunch

He thought closing a browser tab would get rid of a computer virus

He tried hotboxing his own car while driving

He almost seasoned his food with pepper spray before someone stopped him

He had a tire swing on a tree in his backyard. He decided to stand on it while swinging and smacked his forehead against a branch in front of him. It was literally the most hollow thwock ever, as if confirming his lack of braincells. He then proceeded to get pissed off and punch the tree. He said it was his most gender-affirming experience

He brought me along on a family road trip and used me as a footrest in the car

He frequently writes drum tabs the way he'd write guitar ones (in short the two are very different kinds of sheet music and I'd need three hands to play them). He absolutely knows better. I think he's messing with me at this point

He mistook wasabi powder for matcha

He once got drunk at a frat party, crawled out the lawn of the house, and began eating grass like a cow

I wanted to know what kissing a dude was like out of curiosity and this was before he started physically transitioning, so to make it a more "authentic" experience, he gargled Gatorade beforehand

He tried to make his first battle jacket with washable Crayola markers

He also tried to dye his hair with his sister's watercolors

He's worn the same sweatshirt since he was 14 and I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him wash it (I was over at his house a lot)

He's the motherfucker that wears running shorts in the snow

He thought his area code would automatically change when we moved to a new state

He once kicked a soccer ball into an oncoming train

BONUS: when he came out to his parents, they were accepting and while he was at school, his dad mounted a fish on David's bedroom door because men I guess

So yeah, if I worked at DC, I'd insert David in the background of every comic just being his chaotic himbo self. David is beyond space and time. There could be a battle on fucking Oa and David would just be there doing a kickflip. That's who I'd choose.

#character idea #original character #personal #batfamily #batfam #batman family #justice league #gotham #batman #dc comics #superheroes #don't try this at home #transgender #lgbtq #story #himbo #tw swearing #tw food mention #tw alcohol mention

382 notes · View notes

rileyslibrary · 11 months

Note

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

“Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

1K notes · View notes