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missmaymay13 · 1 month ago

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i accidentally fell in love with you - w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith x fem! oc | 7.2k

summary: will smith is getting tired of the teams constant teasing about his love life, so, he starts a fake relationship with the athletic therapist intern, Elizabeth Brooke. the only problem? she has no clue she had been roped in to dating him.

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Elizabeth Brooke loved her job.

Even on the days when the locker room smelled like sweat and sports drink, and she had to politely dodge flying tape balls and chirps from players who still hadn't fully grasped what "I'm working" meant.

Still, working as an athletic therapy intern with the San Jose Sharks for the second season in a row was a dream. She was gaining hands-on experience, earning school credit, and learning from some of the best in the league.

And most of the guys were great—loud, chaotic, but respectful. She was "Ellie" to everyone, or sometimes "Brooke," and every now and then "kiddo" when they felt particularly big-brotherly.

She mostly kept her head down, made her friends at the university nearby, and avoided any unnecessary attention at work.

Which is why she completely missed that she'd been fake-dating Will Smith without knowing it.

—

"Bro, just admit you're lonely," Macklin teased from across the locker room, taping his stick lazily. "You've been here three months and haven't gone on a single date."

Will rolled his eyes, lacing up his skates. "I'm not lonely."

"Then who's the mystery girl you're always texting?" someone else chimed in. "Or are you just playing Candy Crush?"

Will, flustered and unbothered at the same time, shrugged. "I'm uh- dating someone."

That shut them up for half a second.

Mack squinted. "You're what now?"

"Dating someone," Will repeated casually, hoping it would blow over.

It didn't.

"No way," Mack said, grinning like a shark (the metaphorical kind). "Who?"

Will panicked.

"She, uh... " he said, thinking fast. "Dark hair, brown eyes, quiet. Like—super sweet. You probably don't know her."

He thought that would be vague enough.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

Mack's eyes lit up. "Noooo. You're dating Ellie?"

Will froze. "...What?"

"You literally just described her. Brown eyes? Quiet? You mean Elizabeth Brooke?"

"I—" Will started, but Mack cut him off.

"No way. She's way too nice to date you. That's, like, morally illegal."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Will asked, offended on behalf of himself and his imaginary girlfriend.

Right on cue, Ellie walked past the locker room, clipboard in hand, her soft smile aimed at the group like it always was—polite, sweet, almost shy. She gave a small wave.

The guys waved back.

"Dude, she's, like, adorable," one of them said. "You are not dating her."

Will, now far too committed to back out, stood up with unnecessary confidence. "Bet?"

Before anyone could respond, he jogged after her.

Ellie didn't flinch when he matched her pace down the hallway. She glanced up and smiled, recognizing him instantly.

"Hey," she said. "Need something?"

Will casually slung an arm over her shoulder. "Just walking my favourite AT to work."

She laughed, confused but not uncomfortable. "That right?"

It wasn't totally weird. The guys teased her like this all the time. She was the "little sister" of the staff, the one they all claimed to protect while also making fun of her coffee order and stealing her snacks.

So she didn't think much of it when Will walked her all the way to the recovery room, arm still resting lazily around her shoulder, chatting like they did this every day.

When they reached the door, he dropped his arm and flashed her a grin. "Catch you later, Brookie."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked straight back toward the locker room.

Back at her station, Allan, one of the athletic therapists, raised a brow as she passed.

"What was that about?"

Ellie blinked. "What?"

"With Will."

"Oh. I dunno. He's just being nice?"

Allan gave her a look but didn't press it.

Ellie shrugged it off and returned to the charts, not knowing that Will had just created a very real problem for himself.

Because now, officially, everyone on the team thought Elizabeth Brooke was his girl.

And she had no clue about it.

⸻

Will should've let it die.

He should've said he was kidding, or made up a name, or pulled a full "you wouldn't know her, she goes to another team."

Instead, he watched Ellie from far away, calm and clueless, and turned back to the guys like he hadn't just made the worst spontaneous decision of his rookie season.

Mack raised an eyebrow. "So, she's your girlfriend."

Will crossed his arms. "Yep."

"She doesn't act like your girlfriend."

"She's private."

"She didn't even blink when you walked up to her outta nowhere and slung your arm around her like you were in a movie."

Will shrugged. "That's just how we are."

The guys all gave him the same look: We do not believe you, rookie.

"Alright," Mack said, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd had all month. "Guess we'll keep an eye out. See how you two lovebirds act around each other."

Will blinked. "Why?"

"Just curious," Mack said. "Always fun to watch young love bloom."

Will gritted his teeth. He was so screwed.

Over the next week, things got... complicated.

He started getting asked way too many questions.

"Did you and Ellie meet here or before camp?"

"Does she like sushi or burgers better?"

"Wait, so are you guys, like, exclusive-exclusive?"

And worst of all: "When's she coming to dinner with the team?"

Will dodged. He weaved. He deflected with the skill of a man who had watched every season of Survivor and thought he could make it on the island.

But then there was Ellie—existing peacefully in her little bubble, smiling at him in the hallways, complimenting him on his stickhandling during practice, handing him water bottles like she wasn't accidentally the co-star in his elaborate charade.

She was the worst fake girlfriend.

Not because she was bad at it. She was great at it actually.

But because she didn't know she was one.

—

"You've been acting weird," she said one afternoon, handing him a compression wrap.

Will choked. "Weird? Me? I'm literally the least weird person in this room."

"There's only two of us."

"Exactly."

She narrowed her eyes, amused. "You're deflecting."

He fumbled. "I'm mysterious."

"You're twitchy."

"Hey, how's school going?!"

Ellie blinked at the hard subject change but let it slide, going off about her upcoming exams and a group project she was 99% sure would be the death of her.

Will nodded, listening but also sweating internally because why was she so nice? And why did pretending to date her feel so weirdly natural?

He needed a plan.

He needed to keep the lie alive long enough for the team to drop it—and definitely without Ellie figuring it out.

Which would be easy.

Right?

Right.

⸻

Will knew the guys were watching.

It started subtly—Macklin Celebrini lingering a bit too long by the gym entrance, pretending to scroll through his phone. Then William Eklund conveniently choosing the treadmill with the perfect vantage point of the therapy room. Even Tyler Toffoli, usually indifferent to locker room gossip, seemed to find reasons to be nearby whenever Ellie was around.

The pressure was mounting. Every time Will caught one of them glancing over, he felt the need to up his game.

During a routine stretching session, Ellie was demonstrating a new technique. Will leaned in closer than necessary, nodding intently, his arm casually brushing against hers. He could almost feel Macklin's gaze burning into his back.

"You're really getting the hang of this," Ellie said, her voice warm and encouraging.

Will smiled, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. "Well, I have a great teacher."

Ellie laughed softly, a sound that always managed to ease his nerves. She was so genuine, so effortlessly kind, and completely unaware of the silent battle Will was waging.

As the days went on, Will found himself seeking her out more frequently. Not just to keep up appearances, but because, truthfully, he enjoyed her company. They'd share lunch breaks, discussing everything from her university classes to his rookie experiences. He'd offer to help her carry equipment, their fingers brushing occasionally, sending unexpected jolts up his arm.

One afternoon, as they were organizing therapy bands, Ellie tilted her head, studying him with those deep brown eyes.

"I've noticed you've been around more lately," she said, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

Will's mind raced. He couldn't exactly tell her the truth—that he'd accidentally started a rumor about them dating and was now trapped in his own web of lies.

He flashed his most disarming smile. "Just love seeing my favorite girl!"

Ellie chuckled, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "You're such a goof, Will."

She returned to her task, leaving Will both relieved and increasingly aware of the warmth spreading in his chest whenever he was around her.

After a week of subtle surveillance, Macklin decided it was time to confront the situation head-on.

During a lull between practice drills, he approached Ellie, who was organizing medical supplies on the sidelines.

"Hey, Ellie," Macklin began, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with curiosity.

She looked up, offering her usual friendly smile. "Hey, Macklin. What's up?"

He leaned against the table, arms crossed. "So, the team's got a reservation this weekend at that new steakhouse downtown. Are you and Will coming together?"

Ellie's brow furrowed slightly, clearly puzzled. "Will and I? Together?"

Macklin nodded, watching her closely.

She hesitated, searching for the right words. "Oh, um, Will and I haven't really discussed plans yet. But if he's going, I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Macklin studied her for a moment longer before offering a satisfied nod. "Alright, just checking. See you there."

As he walked away, Ellie shook her head slightly, muttering to herself, "That was odd."

Unbeknownst to her, Will had been within earshot, heart pounding as he listened to the exchange. Ellie's innocent response had, miraculously, managed to maintain the facade without her even realizing it.

He exhaled a silent sigh of relief, mentally thanking Ellie for being her sweet, oblivious self. For now, his secret was safe.

⸻

"Hey," Ellie said casually, poking her head into the workout room where Will was finishing post-practice stretches. "Macklin said you and I were going to that steakhouse dinner together?"

Will's entire body froze mid-stretch like he'd been caught committing tax fraud.

"Uh—what?" he asked, voice suspiciously high-pitched.

Ellie raised a brow, laughing a little. "You good? You look like I asked you to do my calculus homework."

Will scrambled for a response. "Uhhh... I mean, yeah, yeah. We're going together. I—I think I said that because we live close to each other? So like... rideshare logic?"

Ellie blinked. Then smiled. "Oh! Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

Will let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Crisis averted.

"So," she added, tilting her head, "what time are you picking me up?"

Will's brain short-circuited again, but he somehow managed a grin. "Seven work?"

"Perfect!" she chirped, then turned to leave with a little wave.

He collapsed back onto the mat, hands over his face. "I am in so deep," he muttered to himself.

That Night – 7:25 PM

The Sharks were already seated inside the sleek, dimly lit steakhouse, tucked into a long table with just enough elbow room for their egos. Players and WAGs alike had shown out—suits, dresses, full glam. The waiters were clearly a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of the reservation.

Macklin Celebrini sat at the far end, nursing a soda and keeping a suspicious eye on the entrance. William Eklund beside him leaned back just far enough to peek into the lobby. They were both very ready to witness Will Smith's downfall.

Then the front doors opened.

And there they were.

Will, in a crisp navy button-up, hair actually brushed for once. And Ellie, in a soft yellow dress that made her look like literal sunshine, paired with wedges and a tiny purse. Her hair was pulled half-up, and she looked so perfect it physically pained Will.

What really caught the boys' attention, though, was the parking lot performance.

From their seats, they had the perfect view of Will jogging around to open the car door for her. They watched as she stepped out, a little hesitant in her wedges, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the San Jose chill.

Then—the move.

Will noticed instantly, rubbing the back of his neck before casually slinging an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they walked.

They couldn't hear what he said—but her head tilted up, cheeks pink, and she let out a giggle so soft and pretty it made half the table blink in unison.

Inside, Will leaned in. "Sorry, I'd give you my jacket if I had one, but I don't think the restaurant would be thrilled if I showed up shirtless. So... this'll have to do."

Ellie giggled again. "You're ridiculous. Thank you."

When they finally made it to the table, the group greeted them with a flurry of side-eyes and smirks.

Will, clueless, helped Ellie into her chair and pulled his in beside her like it was no big deal. Ellie greeted everyone like she always did—smiling, polite, a little shy.

Most of the guys exchanged a glance like, Oh. This is real.

Except Macklin, who squinted across the table like a man on a mission.

And Eklund, who whispered, "They're either dating or he's really good at improv."

"Something's off," Macklin muttered.

Will clinked water glasses with Ellie like he hadn't been spiraling all week and very much was about to choke on his Caesar salad.

He shot a glance at her, still laughing at something Toffoli had said, and smiled despite himself.

Fake girlfriend? Maybe. Unintentional real feelings? ...Yeah, possibly.

But for tonight?

He'd take the win.

⸻

Will was going to combust.

He'd made it thirty minutes into the dinner without incident, which was practically an Olympic-level achievement considering Macklin and Eklund were sitting directly across from him, analyzing his every breath like it was game tape.

Ellie, for her part, was just being... Ellie. Sunshine in a yellow dress, sipping water with two lemon slices like always, laughing at all the right moments, completely unaware that she was currently the centerpiece of Will's accidental soap opera.

She hadn't noticed the extra chair pulled just a little closer to his. Or the way he'd kept an arm draped over the back of hers like it was no big deal. Or the way he kept glancing at her like she was a live wire and he had no business being this close to it.

And then—it happened.

In the middle of the meal, with conversation buzzing and forks clinking against plates, Ellie reached over without looking and gently wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of Will's mouth with her thumb.

Just. Like. That.

Not a second of hesitation. Like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Will practically short-circuited.

"Uhh—" he choked, blinking rapidly as she returned to her conversation with Henry Thrun like nothing had happened.

His eyes darted across the table. Macklin was staring at him with a raised brow and suspiciously slow sip of water. Eklund looked like he was watching an interrogation scene from a crime show.

Will swallowed. Kept his cool. Pretended he didn't just die a little inside.

Ellie leaned toward him a moment later, brushing her arm against his, and without thinking, Will rested his arm casually along the back of her chair again. This time, it wasn't even a strategic move—it was grounding. He needed it to survive.

Then Cat Toffoli, looking stunning as always in some sleek blazer-dress situation, smiled from a few seats down.

"Aww," she said sweetly, "you guys are so cute."

Both Will and Ellie froze.

Will felt his entire soul detach from his body.

Ellie blinked. "Oh... um. Thanks!"

And then—nothing. She just turned back to her food like someone hadn't just complimented her on her nonexistent relationship.

Will internally screamed.

Macklin's head tilted, slow and thoughtful like he was watching live footage of a wildlife documentary.

Eklund narrowed his eyes. "She's either the best actress I've ever seen... or she really doesn't know."

Will met their stares across the table and smiled tightly. He was losing control fast.

But then Ellie glanced up at him, catching his eye, and smiled that sweet little smile that always made his stomach twist.

And Will realized something terrifying.

He didn't want to stop pretending anymore.

⸻

After the dinner, Will dropped Ellie off at her place with a grin that he swore didn't tremble. She thanked him like she always did—sweet, soft, a little shy—and then gave a small wave as she walked through her front door.

He waited until the door shut behind her before fully exhaling, like he'd been holding his breath all night before walking back to his car.

Then he slumped back into the driver's seat of his car and let the silence wrap around him like a weighted blanket of doom.

What the hell am I doing?

This wasn't supposed to be a thing. It was supposed to be a fake relationship to get the guys off his back. A little white lie to preserve the dignity of a guy who definitely wasn't secretly terrified of girls.

Because Will Smith might've looked like he had it all together—confident, flirty, always saying the right thing. But deep down?

He was a mess.

The reason he'd never had a girlfriend? He was shy. So painfully shy when it came to feelings that he once ghosted a girl for trying to hold his hand on a Ferris wheel.

But with Ellie?

It was different. Too easy. She was sunshine in human form. The kind of girl who made everything brighter just by walking into the room. She laughed with her whole chest, leaned into people when she talked, and made everyone feel like the most important person in the world—even when she was just handing them a water bottle.

Will groaned, dragging his hands through his hair.

He was in trouble.

He didn't know when it happened. Maybe it was when she giggled at his dumb joke during warmups. Or when she'd wiped barbecue sauce off his face at the steakhouse like it was nothing.

Or maybe it was the way she looked at him sometimes. Like really looked at him. Her eyes soft, a little curious, like she was trying to figure him out.

He thumped his forehead gently against the steering wheel.

Honk.

A loud beep pierced the night, his horn setting off a chain reaction of startled honks from neighboring cars.

"Great," he muttered, covering his face. "Just great."

He was spiraling.

Actually, genuinely spiraling.

Hands in his hair, stomach in knots, brain screaming you are fake dating the girl you like and she doesn't even know!

Then—

Buzz.

His phone lit up in the cup holder.

Ellie: You okay?

Will blinked. Turned slowly.

She was standing at her front door again, wrapped in a blanket, phone in one hand, amusement written all over her face. She waved once, eyebrow raised.

He groaned, letting his head drop back on the seat.

She saw the whole thing.

Of course she did.

And of course, she probably thought nothing of it. Just Will being a goof. Her friend. Her coworker.

Not the idiot who was definitely falling for her one fake moment at a time.

Will texted back.

Will: All good. Just fighting for my life.

Her laugh echoed in his head even through the screen.

Yup.

He was in deep.

And this? This was going to be a problem.

⸻

Practice had wrapped, and most of the guys had cleared out, but Ellie was still in the hallway reorganizing a few treatment plans when Macklin Celebrini and William Eklund casually strolled over—just a little too casual.

"Hey, Brooke," Mack said, leaning on the wall next to her.

Ellie glanced up with a smile. "Hey guys. You need something?"

"Nope," Eklund said quickly. "Just hanging out. Long day, huh?"

"Always is," Ellie hummed, flipping a page on her clipboard. "Will was limping again. I told him to stretch more but he's stubborn."

Eklund exchanged a loaded look with Macklin, but kept his tone neutral. "Yeah? You two carpool today?"

"Mhmm," Ellie nodded without looking up. "We usually do after morning skates. I hate driving and he lets me control the aux."

Mack grinned. "What's your go-to playlist?"

"Oh, I've got a rotation. Depends on the vibe. But I always throw in a couple songs Will secretly likes but pretends to hate. He groans every time but doesn't skip them."

Eklund raised a brow. "What, like guilty pleasure music?"

"Exactly," she said, finally glancing up with a sweet, knowing smile. "He has a weird soft spot for Taylor Swift. But I won't tell anyone that."

Mack bit back a grin. "His favorite song?"

Ellie paused. "Okay, this is gonna sound fake, but he loves 'Wildest Dreams.' Like... screams the bridge in the car."

Eklund blinked. "Seriously?"

She giggled. "Dead serious. It's actually kind of impressive."

The two Sharks exchanged a look. This was going sideways.

Mack tried a new angle. "So, like... if Will gets hangry, what's the move?"

"Easy. Chicken tenders and a nap," she said, not missing a beat. "And keep conversation to a minimum until he's eaten. He's dramatic about it."

Eklund looked visibly thrown. "That's... oddly specific."

"I know," Ellie said brightly. "He's kind of a walking tantrum when he's hungry."

The boys were stumped. These were real answers. Couple-level answers.

And yet... Ellie seemed so chill about it. Not gushing. Not flustered. Just... Ellie.

"You ever get in fights with him?" Mack asked carefully.

Ellie scrunched her nose. "Not really. I mean, he gets pouty when I beat him at Mario Kart, but that's on him. I warned him I was good."

"So... no drama?" Eklund asked.

She smiled. "We're pretty easy together, honestly. It's fun."

It was fun.

Too fun.

Macklin and Eklund watched her walk off a minute later, still humming as she disappeared down the hallway.

"...Dude," Eklund said finally. "I think they're actually dating."

"No way," Mack whispered. "Will's been acting like a man on the edge for weeks."

"I don't know, man. She knows his favorite comfort food and his guilty pleasure song."

"She also just called him a tantrum in the body of a hockey player."

"...Fair."

Later that afternoon, the boys watched from afar as Ellie received a bouquet of flowers.

She smiled down at the card with that glowing, delighted look only she could pull off, and Will was standing right next to her.

Mack jabbed Eklund in the ribs. "He got her flowers."

"I'm seeing it," Eklund muttered. "This is insane."

(They did not know the flowers were from Ellie's parents congratulating her on finishing finals.)

Then there was the car ride home. Again.

Then the lunch they ate together in the corner of the lounge, shoulders bumping as they laughed at something on Will's phone.

Then the hallway.

They found them—alone, mid-conversation, completely unaware of their silent audience. Will was leaned against the wall, looking down at her with that look—the kind of look that belonged in a Nicholas Sparks movie.

Ellie was smiling up at him, cheeks pink, hands lightly clasped in front of her. Will leaned in slightly, said something that made her duck her head with a giggle. She bumped his arm, he nudged her back.

No one else was around.

No audience. No act.

And yet... it felt like something real.

The silence between Macklin and Eklund stretched.

Then—

"Okay," Macklin admitted. "Maybe we were wrong."

Eklund sighed. "Or Will's playing the longest con of all time and she's just the best partner in crime?"

They both kept watching.

And somehow, they weren't even mad about it.

They were just... curious.

And very invested.

—

Ellie rarely traveled with the team. She was usually tied up with classes back at the university, so most of the road trips came and went without her presence.

But this time?

Spring break aligned perfectly. No labs, no lectures. Just a brief window of time and an open seat on the team flight. So Ellie packed her essentials and joined the Sharks for their road trip to Colorado.

Will didn't hesitate to claim the seat next to her. Of course he didn't.

The moment they boarded the plane, he threw his backpack in the overhead bin, turned to her with a grin, and said, "Window or aisle, your call."

Ellie laughed softly. "Window. I like the clouds."

Macklin Celebrini and William Eklund were seated directly in front of them.

And they were ready.

Armed with subtle glances and perfectly angled earbuds that weren't even playing music, they listened in shamelessly—because this whole thing? This mystery situationship between Will and Ellie had become their full-time investigation.

And the second the plane started to taxi, the cuteness hit the fan.

"Do you have my headphones in your bag?" Ellie asked, nudging Will's knee with hers.

Will reached down, unzipped a pouch, and handed them to her without a word.

Macklin blinked.

Then Ellie leaned back, brows knitting. "Wait—did you remember to turn the oven off before we left?"

Will groaned dramatically. "You were supposed to check it after I made that frozen pizza."

She gasped. "You left it on?!"

He smirked. "Relax. I turned it off. I just wanted to see you panic."

"Rude," she muttered, smacking his arm.

Eklund tilted his head. "Are they married?"

Then Will added, "Don't forget to call your mom when we land."

"Oh yeah, speaking of parents," Ellie said, suddenly brightening, "how did your dad like that movie I recommended?"

Will grinned. "He loved it. Said he wants to rewatch it with you over FaceTime because he has questions and thinks you're smarter than me."

Ellie beamed, flattered. "He has great taste."

In front of them, Macklin was having a quiet meltdown.

"They're so real," he whispered.

"They're either actually dating," Eklund whispered back, "or we're living in a simulation and none of this is real."

Eventually, the conversation quieted. Will pulled out his laptop, propped it between them, and opened their current binge show—something light and funny that they both always watched together but swore they weren't watching without each other.

They didn't say much after that. Just quiet laughs, small comments, Ellie leaning a little closer as she got comfortable.

Then silence.

Macklin turned around to say something dumb—probably a chirp about their show—and stopped mid-breath.

He nudged Eklund urgently.

They both turned slowly.

And what they saw nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.

Will had shifted into the corner of the seat by the window, legs stretched out across the row. One arm was draped lazily but securely around Ellie, who was curled against him, practically on top of him, her head tucked into his chest, his hand resting on her arm.

Her arm was wrapped around his waist.

The laptop was dark. The episode long finished.

They were both fast asleep.

Macklin sat back in stunned silence.

Eklund stared blankly ahead.

"Okay," Mack finally whispered. "I think they might actually be in love."

"Yeah," Eklund agreed quietly. "We've lost."

And for once... neither of them minded.

⸻

It had been a smooth road trip. No injuries, no drama, just a few wins and a lot of good vibes.

Until Ellie got pulled aside in the hallway by Coach.

Not Will. Not one of the guys. Coach.

Coach gave her a polite nod, crossing his arms. "I've been informed that you're dating Will."

Ellie blinked. "I'm sorry... what?"

"I don't have an issue with it," he added quickly, "you're both adults. Just make sure you keep things professional when you're in the building."

Ellie just stared at him. Brain buffering. "Wait. Dating?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's what I heard."

"Who told you that?"

"I think it started with Celebrini."

Of course it did.

Ellie nodded slowly, like maybe if she gave herself enough time, the moment would start to make sense. It didn't. She walked away in a daze, grabbing her stuff and heading out to where Will was already waiting in the car to drive her home.

When she got in, Will gave her the usual lazy smile. "Hey. Ready?"

She buckled her seatbelt slowly. "Are we dating?"

The car jerked slightly as Will's foot nearly missed the gas.

"I—what?"

"Coach said we're dating," she said calmly, like she wasn't possibly re-evaluating every moment of her life. "And Mack apparently told him?"

Will froze. Completely.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

Ellie stared. "Are we?"

Silence.

Then—

"I didn't mean for it to go this far!" Will blurted, hands flying off the wheel at a stoplight. "I swear! The guys kept teasing me about being single and I panicked, and I just... said I had a girlfriend! And then they wanted to know who, and I kinda... randomly described you. Because I had a crush on you, like, a huge one, and you were literally right there and—"

Ellie stared, eyes wide.

"—and it made sense because you're always nice to me and everyone adores you, and I thought it would die after a week, but then they didn't believe me so I had to prove it, and you just—kept being you, and I couldn't stop it."

Will looked like he was fighting for air.

"And then I didn't tell you, and it just got worse, and I didn't want you to hate me for lying, and I really didn't mean to fake-date you, it's just now it's not fake because I have very real, very tragic, very permanent feelings for you, and I know I ruined everything and you probably want to punch me in the face but—"

"Will," she said softly, her cheeks fully flushed.

"—and I'm freaking out, and I think I need to call my sister or move to another country or maybe both—"

"Will."

He whipped his head toward her, wide-eyed. "Please say something. Oh my god, did I just mess this all up? I'm so stupid. This is so bad—"

She cut him off.

With a kiss.

Will froze for a second—completely stunned—but then he melted into it, arms loosening, hand finding hers between the seats. Her lips were warm and soft and it was better than every fantasy he'd ever had.

One hand found her jaw, the other tangled in her sleeve, and she melted into him, laughing softly against his lips as they pulled apart.

"I would've said yes," she said breathlessly, cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You know. If you had just asked me out like a normal person."

Will was dazed. "You... you would've?"

She giggled. "Will, I've always thought you were cute. You just never asked."

"I literally faked a relationship because I didn't think you'd say yes."

"And you thought I was the oblivious one," she teased.

Will groaned and dropped his forehead to the steering wheel.

Honk.

She snorted as he flailed. "You've got to stop doing that."

"I can't think straight when you're here," he mumbled into the wheel. "Oh my god, I'm in love with you."

"I'm starting to notice."

—

Unbeknownst to them, across the parking lot, Macklin Celebrini sat in his car, slurping a smoothie and watching the scene unfold through his windshield.

He hadn't heard the words.

But he didn't need to.

He saw the kiss.

He saw the smile on Will's face after.

He saw Ellie laughing, looking at Will like he was the sunshine for once.

Macklin nodded to himself.

"Alright. It's real."

Then he picked up his phone.

Macklin: ur not gonna believe this but it's actually real. like, REALLY real. they kissed. in the parking lot. right now.

Eklund: send pics

Macklin: dude i'm not a creep

Eklund: that's news to me

—

Will was freaking out.

He was pacing the sidewalk in front of her house, pulling at the collar of his sweater, double-checking the dinner reservation under "Smith, party of two," and obsessively checking his hair in his phone camera.

Then, like any reasonable man in distress, he called his sister.

"Grace. SOS."

She picked up on the first ring. "Please tell me you didn't forget deodorant."

"I brought flowers," he said instead, holding the bouquet in one hand like it might suddenly explode. "Is that too much? Is it weird? We've basically been 'dating' for like, two months. This is somehow more stressful."

"It's not too much," Grace said, laughing. "It's perfect. You're nervous because it's real now."

Will groaned. "Yeah, well, real makes me want to throw up."

"Then it's working."

—

Ellie opened her door in a soft sage green sundress and her favorite pair of heeled sandals, hair curled loosely and cheeks already blushing before she even saw him.

Then she did see him—leaning against his car, freshly showered, holding a bouquet of daisies.

Her stomach flipped.

"Oh," she said quietly, smiling like the sun. "You brought me flowers?"

Will froze for half a second, then handed them over with an awkward little shrug. "Thought you deserved some. You've been dating me for months without actually being asked out."

She laughed, soft and sweet. "I didn't mind."

"Well," he said, his voice low and suddenly serious, "I do."

And just like that, Ellie was nervous too.

—

They went to a cozy, hip little restaurant downtown—intimate lighting, trendy cocktails, tiny candles on every table. Definitely a date-night spot. Will held every door open, let her choose the booth, and complimented her three times before they even ordered drinks.

Conversation flowed like it always did—easy, natural, full of low laughter and little looks that lasted longer than they used to. They didn't check their phones. They didn't rush. They stayed long after the plates were cleared, just sipping and talking, the city glowing outside the window behind them.

It was perfect.

Then—

"Oh my god," Ellie whispered suddenly, leaning across the table. "Don't look now, but I swear that's Cat Toffoli."

Will turned immediately.

"Will!" she hissed, laughing.

Sure enough, Cat and Tyler were strolling past their table on their way out. Cat caught sight of them first and lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Ellie! Will! Look at you two!"

Will stood up and gave Tyler a side hug while Ellie leaned in for a hug from Cat.

"You guys look adorable," she whispered into Ellie's ear before pulling away with a knowing grin.

Tyler clapped Will on the shoulder. "Try the tiramisu. Trust me. Split it."

Then they disappeared into the night, leaving Will and Ellie smiling stupidly across the table.

"Tiramisu?" Ellie asked.

Will flagged down their server.

—

Will had barely made it to his stall before Tyler Toffoli, who conveniently sat between Will and Macklin, turned to him with a smirk.

"So?" Tyler asked, casually taping his stick. "How was the tiramisu?"

Will grinned, tugging off his sweatshirt. "Delicious. You were right."

Macklin's head snapped around. "What tiramisu? What restaurant? You went out without me?"

Will shrugged like it was no big deal. "I took Ellie out. Like on a date."

Tyler chimed in, totally unbothered. "Saw them at this cute downtown spot with Cat. They looked so cute all dressed up. I had to say something."

Macklin stared at Will. "You really took her on a date?"

Will smirked, still high off last night. "Yup. Proper one. Flowers and everything."

Mack slumped against his stall, looking betrayed. "Unbelievable."

"You'll get over it," Will said, tugging on his jersey.

But the whole time, he was smiling to himself.

Because this time?

It wasn't fake.

⸻

A year and a half into dating, and Will and Ellie were still the couple that made people's teeth hurt.

They were that couple—matching hoodies, forehead kisses at the rink, inside jokes that made no sense, and a suspiciously high number of shared playlists. Will still lit up every time she walked into a room. Ellie still blushed when he kissed her cheek, even if it happened thirty times a day.

Tonight, most of the Sharks were crammed into Mario Ferraro's house for a lowkey night of pizza, video games, and yelling at the TV.

Ellie and Will? They were in the kitchen.

Bickering.

Loudly.

"I told you not to watch it without me," Ellie huffed, hands on her hips, wearing one of Will's hoodies and looking so betrayed. "That was our show."

Will, leaning dramatically against the fridge, groaned. "It was one episode! One! I was on the road and bored!"

"It was our show, Will! That's basically emotional cheating!"

"You were asleep by nine that night!"

"I was exhausted because someone dragged me to an early morning skate!"

"You insisted on making pancakes afterward!"

"I thought it would be romantic!" she gasped, hand flying to her chest.

Will raised an eyebrow. "So this isn't romantic?"

They glared. It was heated. Petty. A little ridiculous.

And then—

"You never would've done that while you were dating me without my knowledge!"

Silence.

Utter. Silence.

The living room went quiet. Like dead silent. No chewing. No breathing.

Ellie froze, eyes wide. "Oh... shoot."

Will turned bright red. Like stop-sign red.

She winced. "I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?"

He lunged toward her instantly, wrapping her in a suffocating bear hug, smothering her against his chest. "You're so dead. You're so dead."

From the other room came a chorus of gasps and groans.

And then—two familiar heads slowly peeked around the kitchen corner.

Macklin Celebrini, smugger than ever. William Eklund, arms crossed and grinning like a cat who finally caught the canary.

"So," Mack said slowly. "It was fake?"

Will groaned into Ellie's shoulder.

Ellie peeked around him, cheeks pink but grinning. "For a good 3 months, yeah. I was as clueless as you guys."

Eklund pointed at Will. "We knew something was off. The way it came out of nowhere? The way Will was acting? Come on."

Will let his forehead fall dramatically onto Ellie's shoulder. "I hate everything."

"You faked a relationship," Mack said, "and then fell in love for real? That's some Hallmark-level stuff."

"I panicked!" Will shouted into the void. "And then she was just... her. And I couldn't not like her! Have you met her?"

"She's literally the nicest person alive," Eklund agreed, nodding solemnly. "Honestly, we're impressed."

From the couch, Cat Toffoli yelled, "Called it!"

Tyler shouted, "It all makes sense now!"

And from then on, no matter what Will did, the boys never let him forget it.

Anytime Ellie walked into the locker room? "Careful, boys. Will might be fake-dating her again."

Every anniversary? "Happy Fakeiversary!"

" Did you count all the months you were fake dating? Or only the months you were actually dating."

Every time he so much as looked at her with heart eyes? "Wow. That fake girlfriend really got to you, huh?"

And Will?

He took it. Because, yeah.

She really did.

519 notes · View notes

trainer-from-unova · 1 month ago

Text

a second

𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 masterlist 𖤐

SHIP: The Void x AFAB!reader (x Robert Reynolds)

SUMMARY: Void started feeling something about you, and when he discovered that Bob was your boyfriend he felt frustrated. Wanting to live what he lived every day he convinced you that kissing him or having sex with him wasn't being unfaithful since they both share the same body.

AU: Void is not sooo evil

C/W: post-canon, feelings realization and denial, love confession if you squint but Void's very bad at feelings, background relationship with Bob, implied cheating but I'm not sure about that, teasing, noncon/dubcon rough kissing, consensual rough sex, piv sex, masturbation, fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasm, no protection

A/N: this starts like my drabble "Muscle Memory" but obviously it's longer, spicy and ends very different. Also this was written before the movie drops in cinemas because I'm insane and it's post-canon so if you're reading this after watching the movie and something's different or lack something, it's because of that. (At this point Bob and Void are like my OCs and Void's probably going to be OOC af.) And English isn't my first language, so sorry if something's weird expressed. Edited version after watching the movie: 🖤

WORD COUNT: 3622

Everything can change in a second, including him. As a system, one personality may not remember the experiences of the other, but the muscle memory remained. On the few occasions that Void was present he couldn't help but turn his neck in the direction ______ was facing, fix his eyes on her, prick up his ears when he heard her voice, and even feel the urge to take her hand. To make matters worse she was often in his mind, and he didn't know if they were memories that weren't his own or if it was his imagination, which, for some reason, designed all sorts of scenarios with her. Those were things, or rather according to him, distractions that got on his nerves. He wanted to believe that it was more Bob's fault than his, so when he had the chance, on one of the occasions when he had control of his body, he went to ______ to question her.

When the young woman opened the door to her bedroom after hearing a knock on it, she smiled when she saw who it was, although when she saw his serious expression, it was quickly erased.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm Void," he informed her just in case, and she nodded, "Can I have a word?"

"Yeah, come in," she said stepping aside to let him in. As she closed the door behind him he looked around her bedroom, and noticed a cork mural on one of the walls, which had pictures with several of the so-called "Thunderbolts" and other friends, but mostly with Bob, with both of them grinning from ear to ear or pouting; selfies taken by them or full body shots taken by others, in different locations and wearing clothes from different climates. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him turn to look at her, who was approaching him slowly, at the same pace as he was.

"I see flashes... of you, in all situations," and if the young woman was already confused and interested in his presence in the body and in her bedroom, with that sentence the confusion and interest increased. "I don't know if they are memories of Bob or if it's my imagination playing tricks on me. I want to know if what I feel is mine or his."

"...What do you feel?" she asked intrigued, leaning closer to him.

"Weakness," he answered quickly and without any hesitation, very sure of himself as usual. She looked at him in surprise and confusion, though she tried to be discreet and didn't realise that her breathing was hitching with nerves; Void already make her nervous, not because she was particularly afraid of him but for Bob's mental well-being, and this strange conversation wasn't helping. "I feel... a certain favouritism towards you, which distracts me when it shouldn't. Has he said anything to you about it?"

"Um- yeah, well," she said with a shy smile. "We've been dating for a while."

"...Oh."

He understood everything now, including the pictures on the corkboard, but he didn't understand the frustration he felt inside him. He didn't understand what she saw in Bob because, although he hadn't met him (for obvious reasons), it was clear to him that he was better than him or anyone else in every way. It wasn't love, it couldn't be — that word had no meaning for him, and he didn't see himself capable of falling in love with a human, even if she wasn't very normal and ordinary. He could only make sense of what he felt and the fact that he found her physically attractive with one explication.

"I suppose Bob's love for me is contagious," she said trying to hide the smile that formed on her lips.

"What you call love is just a chemical reaction I feel since I have a human body, since I share a body with him," he said, not very pleased with that fact, but unable to stop his eyes from scanning her up and down, from her lips to her breasts as he felt his body heat up, and she realised, "It's just the instinct to preserve the species," and she simply rolled her eyes at such a scientific and unromantic response, but he saw the perfect opportunity to bring up one of the memories he had, and perhaps it would lead him to be able to create a similar one of his own. "Yeah, that's what I remember," he said smiling sideways as he stood dangerously close to her and her face — she didn't flinch, she was used to being so close to him, even if it was someone else, "you rolling your eyes, naked while screaming my name... God," he said almost in a whisper as he slowly approached her lips.

For a second she thought about letting him do what he intended to do, and for a second he almost succeeded — but she averted her gaze and ducked, subtly avoiding him. He froze, processing what had just happened since he wasn't expecting it, while the other one stepped back a little and realised something.

"Well, I think you're..." she sighed deeply and took a quick glance at his crotch, "having a chemical reaction to preserve the species inside your trousers," she said trying to sound as serious as possible, but at the same time the situation was so surreal that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

He lowered his gaze to look at his crotch, though he didn't really need to, because he could feel it, and it frustrated him. It also frustrated him that he felt that his hands and her hips, like their lips, were magnets, but that she didn't want to bring them together — not if it wasn't Bob, apparently.

"Just one kiss," he said trying not to sound too desperate or pathetic, let alone intimidating. "Please," he said approaching her again, taking her hands in his.

"Bob and I have never discussed whether having a relationship with you would count as infidelity..." she said worriedly as she subtly shook her head. And it wasn't that she didn't want to ask, as she was curious about the answer, but she never asked him, as Bob hated to remember the existence of Void.

"Of course it wouldn't be, we have the same body," he said with the same gesture, trying to convince her with his confidence and calm tone. "Besides, he doesn't have to know," he said as he moved closer to her face again, placing his dominant hand on her cheek and behind her neck to lift her face, "nor will he be able to," he said before finally merging their lips and wrapping his other hand around her waist.

She tensed as she felt his lips on hers, but was there anything she could do to resist? He was Void, he was stronger than her — but he had the same body as Bob and kissed just like him. She let him do it, and surprisingly, it felt as good as if he were her boyfriend, causing her to inadvertently put her hands on his shoulders. When they parted they looked at each other's lips and then into each other's eyes — he looked at her hungrily, and she looked at him confused by what she had felt, and uncertain whether to continue.

"I don't think we should," she said, "this is wrong."

"Then why did it feel so right? And why are you still in my arms?" he asked smiling sideways, mischievously. "I can offer something different as well as similar," he said stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She, still hesitant, remained silent and thoughtful as she averted her gaze. He looked at her eyes and then her lips, and from her lips to her eyes, again and again. When he grew impatient he approached her lips again, but this one pulled back again and looked him earnestly and steadily in the eyes at last.

"...Say it," she said unable to keep her eyes from wandering to his lips for a second, but quickly returned to his eyes. He pulled back a little as his smile faded. Now it was he who looked serious and thoughtful, and she knew he knew what she meant. "Why so serious?" she asked tilting her head and the smile forming on her lips, looking for their eyes to meet again and enjoying the fact that she was now the one teasing him. "It's just a shorter way of saying what you've said before," she said as he put his hand from her cheek to her waist.

"I just want to have sex with you," he said wearily.

"Three words, honey," she said as she shook her head, "Even if it's a lie, just say it and I'm yours for a while. This is a barter, it works like this."

"I love you," he said defeated.

"See?" she asked teasingly. "It wasn't that hard."

Wanting to silence her and feel her closer again he moved closer to merge their lips again, and this kiss was better than the last one for she was ready for it.

When they broke apart for lack of air he raised his hand in the direction of the door to bolt it shut like a jedi (or rather, sith), not wanting any interruptions from the others in the house.

The clothes were a nuisance he wanted to get rid of violently. He would have been able to tear the fabrics of her clothes with his bare hands had she not stepped forward and begun to undress. He was in the greatest hurry to undress, and his eyes again scanned her body from top to bottom. Quickly the clothes ended up on the floor, making a path to the bed.

"Look at you... So hungry for sex, so human," she said still with her tone and smirk, already lying on the bed as he climbed over her like a predator over its prey. He was looking at her like one, like a victorious hunter, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like being looked at in that way — Bob had never looked at her like that before.

"I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing human in me."

Part of her wanted to ask him why a "God" like him needed so badly to prove to a human like her that he was also a God in bed if he supposedly didn't love her and it was just a chemical reaction he wanted to soothe and satisfy, but she assumed correctly that he wouldn't like to be questioned on that score and let him do it.

He leaned over her, and she could feel his erect member brushing against her. Now he wanted to scan her with his sense of touch, so he touched and squeezed with his hands wherever he wanted to touch as she spread her legs and rested her hands on his shoulders.

His face hid in her neck, which he bit and sucked. Then Void's lips descended to her breasts, where he intended to do the same and more. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away as she felt one of his hands grasp one of them tightly as she felt his teeth bite and stretch the nipple of the other. He wanted to devour her and mark her. He wanted to leave something of his own in her, and hopefully the next time Bob got his hands on her he would realise it wasn't him that did it, making him feel more insecure, sad and angry and thus having an easy opportunity to have dominance over the body and repeat what he was doing again.

When he came back up to her face he kissed her again quickly and intensely, and she was about to discover another difference between him and Bob: he got straight to the point and Bob took his time. He was devouring her mouth with such a relentlessness that it seemed he was actually hungry, wanting to satisfy his appetite with a good piece of meat. Her hands slid from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, slipping the hollows of her fingers through his locks of long hair as he thrust his tongue inside her, eliciting subtle moans from both of them as their tongues made contact.

He wanted to indulge his most primal instincts once and for all, and at this point it was almost a physiological need, but he took pity on her and decided to touch her, to make her enjoy it more and prepare her for what was next. Also, deep down, he wanted to do what Bob was lucky enough to be able to do whenever he wanted.

He settled in on her right and she closed her eyes as Void's dominant hand began to slide too low, seeking her warmth and wetness. His index and middle fingers just stroked over her folds, marvelling for a few seconds at the wetness of anticipation as she felt his erect member against her right thigh and a teasing smile against her neck.

"You're so wet," he said in her ear as he caressed her.

"It's not personal," she said, not wanting it to go to his head. He couldn't help snorting through his nose — to be honest he liked her sense of humour.

Void slid his fingers up to the top of her vaginal lips to caress her clit with an almost unique energy and enthusiasm, without warning and making her moan and writhe instantly. Luckily for both of them the walls of the base were soundproof, and probably by muscle memory he knew exactly where to touch. And even as she tried to move her hips to seek even more stimulation (or maybe try to pull away because it was too much pleasure) his other hand clamped tighter on her, preventing her from being able to move any further. She was a mess who only knew how to moan and talk nonsense, but she really wanted to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing the word "God" from her lips, even if she didn't say it in reference to him — he was already getting too much satisfaction out of seeing her in this state because of him.

When she noticed him stop masturbating her there, just as she was on the verge of orgasm, she noticed him slide his fingers back into her vaginal lips, and his fingers made their way inside her as well without warning. She wrapped her arms around his head, moaning at the intrusion. He was merciful only at first, as he pushed them in. Then he began to move them in a steady rhythm, causing the wetness inside her to be heard. When her orgasm came he couldn't help but form a smile of mischievous pride.

Void tried to search inside his mind for any shred of patience or sanity he had left, but he found none of that inside him — he was only burning with the energy of a million suns. He withdrew his fingers to finally massage his member a little, preparing to finally enter — this time the way he really wanted to. As he positioned himself between her legs and almost without thinking (out of habit) she tried to bring her hand towards the member pointing at her like an arrow, but before she could even brush against it he filled the void inside her, ignoring any cordiality but fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. She tried to stifle a great moan as she felt him fully inside her.

His gaze remained fixed on her face as he thrust his member in and out of her — his long, tousled hair falling across his forehead and eyes, his mouth letting out light moans and his breath hitching. Void's hands stayed on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts even more. Quickly the bed frame began to make its own sound, with a very faint metallic squeak and small knocks against the wall that grew louder as he leaned and settled over her. His hands went to her legs, forcing them behind his back, and she too went back to hugging his head and clutching at his hair.

"Say it," he said in his typical deep voice in her ear.

"God," she cried in his. That reminder of what he was was music to his ears, but more than a God he was an animal — a wild dog in heat.

Quickly her mind began to feel increasingly foggy, beginning to feel a great warmth inside her lower abdomen along with the wet sounds of their private parts colliding. She knew she was about to cum, and when she did, he, far from stopping, kept going. Deep down she was willing him not to stop — she begged him, not only with her eyes, but also in words mixed with whimpers. At that moment she was out of her mind, unable to think clearly.

Thanks to his supernatural strength he was able to have a lot of stamina, but the accelerated pace soon took its toll in the sense that he was about to cum too. He didn't want to, he wanted to hold on as long as he could inside her — her insides were still so tight, wet and warm that all he wanted to do was keep going and not stop for a second. He thrust deeper than he should have, stealing her breath for a second, and then he cum inside her, stopping short as he filled her and sighed deeply.

He pulled out and dropped down on top of her, but he didn't have a second to relax, as she pushed him off of her and moved to the side, seemingly annoyed. He knew it couldn't be because he had cum inside her, as he knew it didn't matter to her as there was no risk of getting pregnant.

"No aftercare?" he asked confused and slightly annoyed as he watched her reach over to the bedside table next to her, taking a half-empty packet of tissues between her fingers.

"Do you mind?" she asked now, annoyed and slightly confused as she got out of bed.

"I just told you that I love you!" he reminded her indignantly as he pointed with his arm to the spot where that had happened, where they were standing before, because he did want to do that — he wanted to relax and have her hold him after what they'd done, after what they'd been through.

"Didn't you just want to fuck?" She asked as she bent down and picked up his clothes from the floor to throw them on the bed, letting him know that she wanted him to get up and get out of there as soon as possible.

"I made you cum twice, you have my cum-" he said pointing to her crotch where it was starting to come out, and she grabbed a tissue from the small plastic packet to quickly wipe it off.

"Bob make me cum more and cums at the same time as me," she reported casually and without even looking at him as she threw the handkerchief into a small bin she had lying around.

Where was the passive girl from before, who begged him in every possible way not to leave her side? It seemed that now she was the one who had changed her personality, wasn't he the only system in that house? He didn't understand her — first she refused to kiss him, then she asked him to tell her he loved her, then they fucked, and finally this. Was this how unpredictable and unstable he and Bob were perceived?

"Didn't this mean anything to you?" he asked as he watched her hurry back and forth, picking up her old clothes and grabbing new ones from the wardrobe.

"Did it for you?" she asked stopping short to look at him seriously as she raised an eyebrow.

"...No," he replied, or rather, reminded himself as he got out of bed.

"Hurry up," she said annoyed pointing to the bedroom door with her head, indicating that she wanted him to leave as soon as possible, "and leave Bob alone," she added quickly, and even though she was the weaker of the two, it sounded like a threat.

She would admit that Void did well and had a good time humiliating him for acting like a human (or rather a dog in heat), including when he said "Please" when he asked her for a kiss, when he sort of confessed and when she coaxed the "I love you" that didn't really mean anything to her. Besides, she would never forget the hungry look in his eyes as he watched her, but if she agreed it was because he had the same body as her boyfriend — he kissed with the same lips and after a kiss she couldn't refuse to go on, going for more. But the one she loved was Bob, the shy and respectful boy who looked at her as if she was the Goddess there, who took all the time in the world to caress and kiss her between all kinds of compliments and "I love you"s that really moved her and she responded. And Void, although he didn't understand it, knew it. For a second he forgot that she wasn't really his. He may have felt favouritism for her, but she felt favouritism for Bob. He knew she wasn't lying when she said it wasn't personal. And unlike this one, he was truly alone.

447 notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 10 months ago

Text

— LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — When Lord Tyrell organizes a huge tournament, the rumour has it that the winner might get his eldest daughter's hand in marriage. When she finds out that certain twins are not playing fair and are scheming together with her father to win, she finds herself a champion she wants to succeed instead – Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was sent by his father to win the tournament.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. Although I am not sure if we have even seen them in House of The Dragon, so they can literally look like anything...? 🤔 Thank you so much for reading my last fic with Gwayne and leaving lovely comments and messages! 🌹 It inspired me to write for him again and I already have more ideas for him and a Tyrell Lady Wife (although I don't think the fics will be connected, so they can be read separately). For some reason it makes SO MUCH SENSE to me for Gwayne to have a wife from Highgarden! Some sexual things are mentioned here but there is no actual smut, so I didn't put the warnings. 😉

WORD COUNT — 5,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

Beautiful courtyards of Highgarden were filled with tents and knights. The sound of horses and clinging armour reached your ears as you were taking a stroll between the tents – against your father’s wish. He didn’t want you to walk freely around all those knights but you had your own guards and your curiosity had no match because you knew perfectly well what that expensive and flashy tournament was about.

You were in the right age to marry – some would say the age was more than right, too right even. You were Lord Tyrell’s eldest daughter and out of all the three sisters, you were the only one who still remained unmarried. The reasons behind that were two. First of all, you were a picky and proud Lady. Second of all, you didn’t want to leave Highgarden and The Reach.

Your father hoped that your marriage would create a powerful alliance and as a daughter of The Lord Paramount of the Reach and The Warden of the South, you were quite a catch for your suitors. Walking amongst them, you saw them turning around and staring at you with smirks. You were the only Lady around and your pale green dress was showing off just enough of your virtues in a typical Highgarden fashion. There were golden roses in your hair and golden eyeshadow on your eyelids as you were all dolled up for the first day of the tournament.

You took a turn around the Lannister tent and you hissed at the sight of your father. Thankfully, he was not looking in your direction and you managed to hide behind your guards but you ordered them to stand still. You wondered why your father was even by the Lannister tent. Talking so openly to one of the knights participating in the tournament was a clear favouritism.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell, your support means a lot,” Lord Lannister said and you tried to see him better from between your guards’ shoulders. You didn’t like him at all since arrogance was written all over his face.

“It is no secret for all the men here that I would like you to win. It is a formality,” your father lowered his voice. “An alliance between such big houses… It would make us both stronger,” he put his arm around The Lannister. “But I liked the idea of the tournament. It has splendour, don’t you think? I like to show off,” you father grinned.

“As I said before, I am no knight. My younger twin brother is,” Lord Lannister said and your father looked around before shushing him and they both entered the tent.

Curiously, with furrowed brow, you peeked inside the tent despite your guards’ protests. And you nearly gasped at the sight of another man inside who was being prepared for the tournament as a squire was putting his armour on. He looked identical to the man your father was talking to.

“My brother, Ser Tyland, will pretend to be me during the tournament. No one will know,” Lord Lannister told your father and your father nodded at that. “I will sit and watch, pretending to be him. I will be criticising his techniques out loud just like a real knight would criticise his foolish brother who takes part in a tournament without being a knight,” he explained, very proud of himself.

He wouldn’t be the only man who wanted to take part in this tournament without the title of the knight. After all, everyone was aware that the prize was your hand in marriage and you didn’t necessarily need a knight. There were lots of common Lords joining the tournament but they were all honest with their intentions. Not only Lord Jason Lannister had your father’s favouritism but he also was planning to obviously cheat by using his brother.

It made you angry as you carefully took a step back and nodded at your guards to follow you down the path. It seemed like the whole tournament was just a show and a theatre play – you were no longer excited since the end result seemed to be fixed. You would be sent to Lannisport to marry that annoying and arrogant Lord Jason Lannister. Tears filled your eyes and you didn’t even care about your makeup anymore since you no longer longed for the tournament to begin.

You walked past the greenest tent around and saw a man in auburn hair washing his face outside. He noticed your staring and looked up with a dashing smile. He recognised you immediately from the portraits and your clothes. Also, what other Lady would dare to take a walk here? Only the one for whom the tournament was taking place.

“Lady Tyrell,” he bowed his head but his blue eyes were still on you.

You sniffled your tears back and straightened yourself.

“Lord…?” You asked and turned your head to see the banner on the tent. “Lord Hightower? No, that cannot be. Lord Hightower is in King’s Landing, is he not? And he is much older. He is The Hand of The King Viserys,” you tilted your head a little.

“You mean Otto Hightower, my Lady,” the man nodded with a smile as he approached you. His armour wasn’t fully on yet and you could see his shirt slightly open. “I am his eldest son, Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he introduced himself and reached his hand out.

After a while of hesitation, you allowed him to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower. You are a brother to our Queen Alicent! Are you to inherit Oldtown after your father’s death?” You asked.

“That is correct, My Lady,” he nodded and straightened his back.

You hummed to yourself. Oldtown was in The Reach and it was the second largest and most populated city in the Seven Kingdoms. To get there from Highgarden, a horse needed around ten days down the Roseroad. You had been there before a few times with your parents but you had never met Ser Gwayne before.

You looked him up and down. He had a cocky grin on his face but there was something about him that you actually quite liked – especially compared to Lord Jason Lannister. Ser Gwayne seemed to be confident but in a different, less exasperating way.

“Did your father encourage you to take part in this tournament, Ser Gwayne?” You asked him as you raised an eyebrow at him. “I do believe he is known for being an ambitious man.”

“Yes, my father insisted on me taking part,” Ser Gwayne admitted. “But I do not mind it myself.”

You nodded at that. Well, a union between your houses seemed to be right. You were both from The Reach and perhaps The Tyrells were more significant but The Hightowers were a real power, especially now. Sadly, your father seemed to be fixated on that whole idea of you marrying a Lannister.

Unless… Unless you would interfere somehow.

Your silence was interpreted by Ser Gwayne as a sign of exhaustion or boredom, though. He nodded his head and took a step back.

“It was nice to meet you before the tournament, my Lady,” he bowed his head. “I know there are dozens of knights around but, please, do remember about me while choosing your champion, I humbly ask,” he gave you one more dashing smile before walking inside his tent.

As a Lady for whom the tournament was taking place, you had the right to choose your champion. A man you favoured. Although, since the unofficial prize was your hand in marriage, it would be very awkward for a man who was not your champion to win. You assumed that your father would try to force you to choose Lord Jason Lannister.

And you had been right. Now, when you were holding a golden rose prepared for this occasion as all the knights were standing in front of you and your family in the audience, your father squeezed you by your elbow. He leaned in to whisper into your ear:

“You shall give the rose to Lord Jason Lannister and name him your champion,” he said with a fake smile before moving away.

You swallowed thickly and took a step ahead to be able to reach the man you would choose. You glanced at The Lannister man on the horse – Tyland, pretending to be Jason. And in the audience nearby you there he sat – Jason, pretending to be Tyland. Your eyes met for a second and he grinned at you confidently although he had no idea you were aware of his plan.

You searched for a different pair of eyes now, amongst all the knights. And then you found them, the blue ones. His armour had beautiful ornaments and even his horse was armoured. It all looked so elegant and you smiled at the sight.

You bit on your lower lip. But was he a good knight? Did he actually stand a chance to win?

Well, you were about to find out.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you took a few steps to the right to be closer to him as he commanded his horse to take a few steps ahead. “I choose you to be my champion,” you smiled at him and leaned in to hand him the golden rose.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, it is an honour,” he bowed his head and you saw in his eyes that he was quite surprised that you had named him amongst all the men your champion. He took the rose from you carefully and pinned it to his armour before closing his helmet and returning to the other knights.

You took a deep breath in before walking away to take your seat. Your father’s burning gaze was nearly painful but your mother kept smiling, unaware of the schemings.

“That’s Otto Hightower’s eldest son. The Queen is his sister,” your mother babbled to your father. “Our daughter has chosen wisely,” she smiled at you. “And he’s handsome and quite young.”

Your father ignored her words and gave you a deadly glare instead but you only huffed and walked away, locking your eyes with Lord Jason again. The real one, sitting in the audience. He was not grinning anymore.

Thankfully, Ser Gwayne turned out to be an excellent knight. Sadly, so was Ser Tyland Lannister, pretending to be his brother Lord Jason.

On the second day of the tournament, they already got rid of most of their opponents as they defeated them in combat. Some of the knights were seriously wounded.

On the third day it was already known that the last duel would be between Ser Gwayne and Ser Tyland. Everyone was taking bets and your father was gritting his teeth.

All this time, you were carefully watched by him and you had no opportunity to speak to any of the men taking part in the tournament. But on the night before the last, fourth, day when the final duel would take place, your father had thrown a feast, during which you were approached by Ser Jason Lannister.

Or Ser Tyland. Were they pretending to be each other during feasts as well? You were tempted to ask but you had no courage to do so.

“Lady Tyrell, there should be songs about your beauty,” he bowed his head and you bowed down.

“Lord Lannister,” you mumbled out, uninterested. “Why aren’t you busy writing them then?”

Your mother looked at you with terror in her eyes but you ignored her.

“Oh, believe me, I do not have time for such frivolities although I wish I had. However, my duties in Lannisport are many. My treasure is full and I shall spoil you with my goods when you are my Lady Wife,” he grinned at you, luring you with his wealth.

“You sound so sure that you’re going to win, my Lord,” you pointed out.

“Oh, I am sure. Ever since you named that Hightower knight your champion, I am determined to show him his place. But I hold no resentment towards you for your choice. I do realise that you, women from The Reach, like to tease,” he winked at you and you had to pretend his words were not an insult. Even your mother gasped a little at his boldness.

“I cannot believe you would spoil me with your wealth for nothing in return, my Lord,” you raised an eyebrow, curious of the response.

“Well, of course not. Like every husband I want my wife to be obedient, easy on the eye and give me many, healthy children,” he informed you. “Sons, I mean,” he fixed himself. That arrogant smirk was still on his face.

“I think your father is calling us,” your mother saved the day as she quickly took you by the arm and excused you both to walk you away from Lord Jason. “Oh, what an insufferable man! Sadly, your father seems to be fixated on the idea of you marrying him. And you know, dear (Y/N), after all the matches you had dismissed in the past… You just can’t say no now. Especially at your age,” she looked at you sternly, but still worried.

You didn’t answer that. You simply nodded your head and walked away to go outside and catch a breath.

You kept walking ahead of you, leaving the noise of the party behind you. You wanted to be alone and despite the darkness, you knew where you were going because you knew this garden better than yourself.

You entered the maze to hide in your favourite spot but after a while you heard unfamiliar steps behind you. You gasped and turned around to see a male silhouette, which caused a shiver go down your spine. If something happened to you now, unguarded and with no one to rescue if you called for help… You didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

“That is only me, my Lady,” you heard a familiar voice and the man took a few steps ahead. It was Ser Gwayne Hightower, smiling at you.

“Ser Gwayne!” You pretended to sigh with relief but the truth was that you didn’t trust him either. You trusted no man who was creeping up on a Lady like that. “We shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone,” you pointed out.

“Forgive me, I saw you running away and quite upset. I wanted to make sure nothing bad would happen to you as you wandered off from the crowd without any guards following you,” he lowered his voice as he approached you.

You swallowed thickly. He was right in front of you and behind you there was a tall live-fence that was making it impossible to escape. As he leaned in, his auburn hair fell onto his face and you felt it tickling your cheeks. That close he was.

“How chivalrous of you,” you breathed out, starting to feel dizzy. You had never been so close with a man.

He looked down, his gaze fixated on your tight, revealing dress. Your breasts were squeezed under the silky golden fabric.

“What if I don’t win tomorrow?” He asked as he lifted his eyes up again to meet yours. “Lord Jason is surprisingly good, especially for a man who is not a knight.”

“It’s because it’s not him,” you confessed with a heavy sigh and Ser Gwayne furrowed his brow at you.

“Are you suggesting that…?”

“I am not suggesting, Ser. It is true. I know from the very beginning, I have overheard them talking to my father. My father wants me to marry Lord Jason Lannister and this tournament is nothing but a show-off. He was angry at me for choosing you as my champion,” you told him.

Ser Gwayne seemed to be confused as he took a step back and you surprised yourself because you wanted him close again.

“That is… Unhonourable and disrespectful,” he pointed out. “Do you wish for Lord Jason to win as well, my Lady?” He looked at you, intensely.

“No! Why would I choose you as my champion then, Ser?” You shook your head, desperate to make him believe you.

“To toy with me, perhaps. Or to tease Lord Lannister,” Ser Gwayne pointed out.

“I do not wish to have anything in common with that man,” you huffed.

“And me? You do not know me, do you, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne smirked as he leaned in again, his nose nearly brushing yours as he put his right hand on the live-fence above you. You felt so small underneath him suddenly.

“What do you expect from a wife, Ser Gwayne?” You asked, swallowing a lump in your throat and he looked confused at that question as if it was a stupid thing to ask.

“Loyalty, of course,” he answered.

“And that’s it?” Now you were the surprised one. “What about children?”

“Well, it would be nice to have them, don’t you think, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and rubbed your nose with his.

“What if I am flawed like my mother and I can give you only daughters?” You bit on your lower lip, slowly getting drunk at the feeling of having him so close.

“Then we shall make them all great ladies of great houses. My sister is The Queen. Us, Hightowers, we are ambitious,” he told you. “And I have many younger brothers who can produce their male heirs. The future of my family is safe whatever I do,” he assured you and raised his other hand to caress your cheek with his fingertips.

At first, you got startled at his touch as if it was causing you pain because you were not used to being touched like this by a male hand. But then, after a short while, you gave in and hummed to yourself, making him smirk.

You leaned back onto the live-fence and arched your back, connecting your crotch with his. You had no idea what made you do that… It was as if your instincts were telling you what to do. And it felt good.

“Don’t,” Gwayne scolded you and took a step back as you whined.

“Aren’t you here to claim me just in case you lose the duel tomorrow?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heating up. You couldn’t believe the boldness of your own words.

Lord Lannister had been right about the women from The Reach, apparently.

“Perhaps you should have not made me your champion, Lady Tyrell, if you think so lowly of me,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head and turned around to walk away, leaving you alone; confused and full of embarrassment.

One thing was certain – he was messing with your head. You couldn’t stop thinking of him all night long, touching yourself to the thoughts of him standing so close, to the memory of his touch and his voice.

You would rather die than marry Lord Jason Lannister. Any attempt to imagine anyone else other than Ser Gwayne touching you, was making you physically sick.

You watched with fear, clenching your fists on the railing and leaning down to see better although, at the same time, you didn’t want to see; you were that scared.

You knew that people had been betting on who would win this combat. And more people had bet on The Lannister. Your eyes followed the golden rose attached to Ser Gwayne’s armour, though. You only wanted to keep looking at him as you prayed to the gods old and new for his victory.

The combat was fierce and long. Both of the horses got hurt and taken away and the two opponents were standing face-to-face now, having to duel with their swords on the ground.

Lord Jason Lannister – the real one, the one in the audience – stood up and clenched his fists on the railing, too, as he watched his twin brother.

“Come on!” He yelled and that was when the other Lannister struck Ser Gwayne down. “Yes! That’s right!” He cheered alongside the audience. Then, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Ser Gwayne!” You exclaimed in a high-pitched, scared voice.

To your relief, your champion stood up after taking the blow and you clenched your fists even tiger around the railing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the wood with your hands.

After a few more attempts to strike each other down, both opponents were roaring with frustration. And then you spotted Ser Gwayne taking his helmet off and throwing it aside as people gasped.

Was he insane? You had been thinking that he was a rational man but apparently much less than you expected.

He looked up at you and nodded his head as the wind ruffled his auburn hair a little. You had to admit that he was presenting himself very handsome and you were aware that the helmet was limiting his view during combat but it was still very risky.

When you nodded back, he went back to the fight. His strikes and blows were fast and determined as if the fight was to death. You held your breath whenever he would get a punch or a strike since he was wearing no helmet. However, he seemed to be doing much better now.

Eventually, The Lannister was laying down and not standing up for quite a long time now as Ser Gwayne spat some blood out and looked up again – his face covered in blood and a few bruises but other than that, he was fine.

Your father stood up, carefully, before walking up to you to see with his own eyes. He hesitated and froze instead of announcing the winner and the whole audience was now looking at him.

“You shall announce my champion the winner,” you reminded him and he swallowed thickly.

“I… I announce Ser Gwayne Hightower the winner of this tournament. Congratulations!” He exclaimed and turned around this very instant to sit back down on his chair.

“You fought bravely, Ser Tyland,” Ser Gwayne helped his opponent to stand up as everyone froze at his words. “Oh, Lord Jason, do forgive me,” he nodded at him with a smirk before leaving the field.

Your heart picked up its pace and you couldn’t help a big grin. You glanced at The Lannister in the audience and he gave you a very unpleasant look this time. You couldn’t blame him, really. Ser Gwayne’s little mistake would make people gossip about The Lannisters cheating in the tournament. It was bringing you lots of satisfaction.

You were about to excitedly leave your parents’ side, when your father grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” He asked, harshly.

“To see my champion!” You answered him.

“Absolutely not,” your father shook his head. “You are coming with me to meet with The Lannister brothers,” he told you and both you and your mother widened your eyes at him.

“Father… Ser Gwayne has won the tournament… Fairly,” you pointed out.

“You said that the winner would have (Y/N)’ hand in marriage,” your mother reminded him.

“It was never officially announced, was it?” He barked at the both of you. “It was just a rumour.”

“Do you want to enrage The Hand of The King by disrespecting his son? Do you want to enrage The Queen herself by disrespecting her brother?” You asked him.

Your father let go of your wrist but he kept staring at you with anger and resentment in his eyes.

“Why did you want The Lannisters to win so badly?” You asked him. “To the point of letting them play it dirty and cheat?” You continued as your mother’s eyes were widening. “I have overheard your conversation on the first day while taking a stroll between the tents like you had forbidden me to,” you admitted. “Why, father?”

“My Lord Husband?” Your mother asked him, enraged by what she had just heard.

“Perhaps you have also overheard the part where I was saying that the tournament is a nice show-off,” he explained.

“I do understand why you threw the tournament. The question was not about that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Wealth,” was all he said after a short silence.

“And… that’s it?” You asked, disappointed.

Your father nodded and looked away.

“Wealth and splendour. An alliance between The Tyrells and The Lannisters would be a powerful one. And their treasure is big,” he added.

You opened your mouth to say something but you had no words.

“Your foolish sisters!” He continued as he raised his voice suddenly. “One married some Dornish lesser Lord and the other went up North to marry a knight in The Vale! The Ladies of House Tyrell! I should have been creating powerful alliances with you, foolish girls, but, no, all of you know better! All of you!” He yelled at you as your mother began to calm him down.

“I would never marry a man without an honour like Lord Jason Lannister,” you only said. “A cheater who plays dirty by using his brother because he knows very well that he would lose his very first combat if it was him down there,” you finished.

Without any other word, you hurried downstairs to run up to Ser Gwayne’s tent. His squire was working on removing his armour off of his body and you approached him to cup his bruised face splashed with blood.

“Ser Gwayne…” You started and then you swallowed thickly and looked down, remembering your encounter with him from the previous evening and the things you had been thinking of at night.

“Lady Tyrell,” he nodded at you with a smile.

“Are you alright, Ser? What has gotten into you to take the helmet off?” You asked as you dared to look up again, right into his blue eyes.

“It was limiting my view,” he answered. “I am alright, my Lady, no need to worry about me.”

“Are you always that irresponsible, Ser?” You asked yet another question. After all, it was important to know if he was supposed to be your Lord Husband.

“Never, my Lady. But it was rather an important combat, was it not?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you smiled widely at him.

You let go of his face as you took a few steps back to let his squire continue his work with the armour.

“I shall leave you now,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head slightly as he watched you walking out of his tent.

There was a feast again on that evening but instead of being with the guests, your father was locked in the library with Ser Gwayne, discussing the unofficial prize of the tournament – your hand in marriage.

You were pacing around the corridor, all dolled up for the party in a pastel pink dress but with no interest to walk down and participate in the celebrations. You were afraid that your father would be rude to Ser Gwayne or scare him off, so you wanted to be around just in case you needed to put out some fire.

At first, you had chosen Ser Gwayne Hightower to be your champion simply to annoy your father and to avoid showing any favours to Lord Jason Lannister. But as the time progressed – especially after last night… – you just wanted to become Ser Gwayne’s wife. You would still live in The Reach and have your mother quite close but at the same time you’d be away from your father and his constant remarks of remaining unmarried despite your age.

Oldtown was an important place on the map of Westeros and you would be The Queen’s sister-in-law. Your father would be foolish to choose Lannister's gold over that honour.

The doors opened finally and you saw your father who was visibly surprised at the sight of you nervously pacing outside the library.

“Are you curious or nosy, dear daughter?” He asked you with his eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps both,” you answered.

“Either way,” your father shrugged, taking a step aside and revealing Ser Gwayne standing behind him, “that is not a problem of mine to deal with anymore,” he finished. “Disciplining her might be a challenge,” he chuckled at Ser Gwayne.

“With all respect, Lord Tyrell, I am not Lady (Y/N)’s father to discipline her,” Ser Gwayne nodded at him and approached you to hold your hands in his as he looked at your face. “We are going to get married, my Lady,” he announced to you and you smiled widely at him, feeling a huge wave of relief washing all over you. Relief, happiness and… excitement.

“When?!” Was all you asked before looking at your father’s face. He seemed to watch you carefully but wasn’t as displeased as before, right after the tournament.

“Ser Gwayne is running Oldtown in the name of his father so he must return there immediately tomorrow morning,” your father answered. “We will escort you to him for the wedding once all the preparations are finished. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!” You whined. “How am I supposed to wait for so long?”

Ser Gwayne chuckled at that and so did your father as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You have been waiting for so long to get married, my dear, you can surely hold off a few weeks more,” your father pointed out.

But he didn’t understand. Now, when you actually wanted to become a wife and found a man worthy enough to be called your Lord Husband, you didn’t want to wait a day longer. However, being whiny about it would only make you look childish and desperate.

“I shall wait then,” you sighed and looked down in defeat.

“And I shall prepare The Hightower for your arrival, my Lady,” Ser Gwayne nodded at you. “What is your favourite colour, may I ask, my Lady, just so I know how to tell my people to decorate your new chambers?”

“It’s green, Ser Gwayne,” you answered with a soft smile. “Green and yellow like the colours of my house.”

“Something tells me we are going to be an excellent match,” Ser Gwayne smirked at your answer with a wink.

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x oc #tyrell oc #lilysfiction

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damneddamsy · 2 months ago

Text

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part viii)

SOFT INFINITY—Not endlessness, but the gentle refusal to end.

summary: As Joel entirely embraces new fatherhood, it becomes glaringly obvious that it isn't what it was cut out to be—it's harder, messier, and terrifyingly real.

a/n: oh yeah, this one's got it all. it's biiiiiig. you want cowboy joel? you got it. you want flirty joel? you got it. you want a daddy joel? you. got. it! might be one of my favourites until now, can't wait for you to read this one! WARNINGS this time, alcohol abuse, substance abuse, light smut.

Joel realized, maybe too late, that raising a kid meant surrender. Not in a way that made him feel small, but in a way that made him feel like everything he was, everything he did, mattered. Really mattered.

Who you were, what you believed, what you let your kid see in you—every single second of it meant something. It was stamped onto them in ways you wouldn’t even notice until you caught a glimpse of yourself staring back. And God, did he see it in her.

Months passed in a slow, golden stretch, summer giving way to autumn. The heat receded, but the sun still burned, casting everything in deep amber, draping the world in honeyed light. The days, despite their quiet toil, had taken on a kind of sweetness. He didn’t think much about it at first, but one evening, as he watched Maya toddle across the porch, her curls catching the last of the light, he felt it sink in.

His days were sweeter because of her.

Maya was at the age, where she knew what she wanted with no second-guessing, what she liked and what she didn’t, and it wasn’t a surprise that she was turning out just like him. Stubborn in one way, expressive in others, passionate to understand the world in her own little way.

And—well, it felt like a miracle, but she liked his guitar. She liked his music. She liked to sing with him.

Whenever he let out that familiar grunt as he lowered himself onto the porch swing, Maya’s ears would perk. From wherever she was—inside, out back, tucked into Leela’s arms for a story—she’d drop everything and make her way to the front door.

He’d hear her small, eager footsteps pad against the wood floor, and then—there she was, peeking around the big front door, wide-mouthed and grinning, her four little teeth on full display.

And then the clapping. Always the clapping.

“Yeah, yeah, trouble,” he’d grumble, settling the guitar on his lap. “I’m gettin’ to it.”

He’d strum a chord, throwing in an extra flourish, and she’d giggle, her small hands patting at the strings, feeling them hum beneath her touch.

“Maya's here to see me play her favourite song,” he'd first idly sing in tenor, and strum the strings, leaning down to push a kiss on her soft curls.

And her favourite song of the moment? Handy Man. He fucking loved that song now. And damn if she didn’t know the words already. Well, sort of, whatever her baby brain could comprehend. When he hit the chorus, she’d push close between his knees, mouthing along, all serious concentration, her tiny fingers gripping at the air like she could pluck the notes right from his hands.

“Come-a, come-a, come-a, come-a, come, come,” he would sing to her, and she'd tune with him with that big, pretty smile, “Oh, now, they'll come runnin' to me.”

“Comma, comma, comma, me-hee!” she'd laugh after the song was over, plucking the strings herself.

And Leela—she stood in the doorway, watching all of it. Always watching, never interfering. Sometimes, when Maya was wrapped up in his arms, conked out, she’d reach over, smoothing a hand over Maya’s growing curls, meeting Joel’s eyes with something so complete, so warm, it made his entirely too at home.

She didn’t say much, not with words, but she didn’t have to. He saw it in her face, in the way she touched their daughter, in the way she looked at him.

She loved him. She loved him in the same quiet, unconditional way that Maya did. God help him, he loved her too. He loved her 'til he was bursting at the seams.

And by that same front door, Maya waited for him. On the dot. Four o’clock sharp. His very own homecoming.

She’d perch on the porch step, her toy horse clutched tight in her hand, rocking back and forth, big brown eyes fixed on the street like a tiny sentry. And when she did spot him—dust-covered, exhausted, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders, pack in hand—she didn’t run straight for him. Not at first.

No, she’d squeal loud enough for the street to hear, all shy excitement, and scurry back into the house like she couldn’t bear to face it head-on.

That never lasted long. By the time he reached the porch steps, there she was, barreling into him at full speed, arms open, curls bouncing, calling for him in that desperate, earth-shattering little voice that never failed to gut him. His little shadow.

“Da-da-da-da—”

Joel never grabbed her up right away—not yet, not until he wiped every last trace of the day’s grime from his hands and face. She’d linger by his boots, gripping at his pants, all but vibrating with the need to be held.

“Hey, now, hold on, baby girl.” He held up his hands, palms out, dirty from the day, trying to walk his way around her. “Lemme—hey, hey. I'mna squish you, Maya, jeez.”

Maya bounced on her toes, impatient, grabbing at his pant leg with a whine. “Up, up, up—”

And she followed him all the way to the kitchen sink, opening and closing her fingers, teetering on her tiptoes, tugging at his pants like she could climb up his leg if she tried hard enough.

“Alright. What’d you do today, sunshine?” he’d ask, crouching down, draping the kitchen towel over his shoulder.

Maya, thrilled to be heard, would babble a response, half-gibberish, half-words, expressive as anything. One day about her clothes, one day about the fruits in the garden, one day about her lunch.

“Mm-mm…” she hummed this time like she was keeping secrets. Then, suddenly, “Mama ‘n me,” more incomprehensible gibberish, pointing out the window, “...bird.”

“Yeah?” He pushed a ringlet behind her ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You saw a bird?”

She flapped her arms, mouth forming a perfect little ‘O.’ “Biiiig bird.”

And he’d nod along, utterly rapt, hanging onto her every word. Every single time. Ever since she started to talk, he couldn't go a moment without hearing it.

And Maya—she was far more interested in his hands than her own stories. She grabbed at them, little fingers poking into his palm, inspecting. He chuckled, letting her turn them over, palms up, palms down.

With a knowing smirk, Joel reached back into his jacket pockets, bringing his fists between them, closed tight. A familiar game. One she never got tired of.

Her eyes lit up instantly. Excitement fizzled through her tiny frame, her little fists curling at her sides like she could barely stand the suspense.

Joel pulled his lips to a smile for her. “Which one?”

Maya let out a high-pitched giggle, practically thrumming, as she tapped her tiny fingers against his fists. She took her time, bottom lip jutting out in concentration, brows knitting together, her nose scrunching. Then—she tapped his right hand.

Joel uncurled his fingers. A small handful of blackberries spilled out of his palm, violet, ripe and plump.

Maya perked up. Letting out a curious sound, she carefully plucked one between two tiny fingers, examining it like it might reveal a secret if she looked close enough. She turned it over, squishing just a little before deciding it passed her test.

Joel popped one into his mouth, chewing slow.

Without hesitation, Maya followed, mirroring him like she always did, stuffing the berry into her mouth. Her cheeks rounded out as she chewed, her tiny jaw working. Then, as if suddenly remembering something important, she tilted her head back and grinned. Berry-stained, toothy, pure delight.

And by that same front door of her house grew the one thing she despised—to watch him go as the day came to an end.

Some days, she was content to wave from Leela's arms. Tiny hand flapping in the air, so dazed, until he crossed the street and closed the door behind him.

“Say 'bye,'” Leela coaxed her.

“Bye,” Maya echoed, watching him go, although not with that sweet spirit that always laced her voice.

And those nights—strangely, selfishly—were his favourite, even though the hardest. Because as much as it ached to walk away, it meant something. It meant she loved him in a way he could feel in his bones.

That carried him through the door, through the long hours, through the world beyond this big, white house of his. And when he returned—when he stepped onto that porch and saw her waiting there, chewing on her breakfast, beaming at him with her whole little heart—he swore, there was nothing on earth that could ever feel better.

Other nights—God, those nights—Maya wept like her whole world was caving in.

She’d stand at the door, fists rubbing furiously at her eyes, her lip trembling so hard she could barely get the words out. But she tried anyway, between big, shuddering breaths. “No go, no go, da-da.”

Again and again, like a prayer, like a plea, like she thought if she said it enough, it’d undo the fact that he had to leave. She’d cling to him, her small fingers curling into his shirt, her whole body pressed against his legs like she could anchor him there, keep him from slipping away.

And every single time, Leela would murmur knowingly from the doorway, arms folded, watching him with those calm, dark eyes.

“Guess you’re staying over tonight.”

And every single time, she was right.

He wouldn’t dare sleep in her bed—his courage only stretched so far—but he found his place in the nursery. The expensive memory foam mattress was properly equipped for a man of his size, but even then, he always woke up aching, every knot in his back a little worse than before. Not that he minded. He liked being close. Liked that if Maya so much as moaned in her crib in a sudden bout of loneliness, he’d hear it, could reach for her, could whisper, Shh, I’m here, and she’d settle instantly.

Some nights, he ended up in the basement instead.

Just to be near Leela.

She was always down there. Gloves rolled on, hair tied back, brow furrowed in concentration. Fixing something, building something, welding something—whatever it was, she did it with that singular focus, hands steady, mouth set, utterly in control.

And he was always there too. Hovering, passing her tools, handing her protective glasses, lifting the heavy things when she needed him to.

He told himself it was enough.

It was enough just to be close, just to hear her murmur thanks when he tightened a bolt for her or held a panel steady. It was enough to watch the way the glow of the welding torch lit up her face, how she wiped the sweat from her temple with the back of her hand, and how she chewed absently at the corner of her lip when she was thinking. It was hard to find common ground in the way he did with Maya—he didn’t have the brainpower for her technobabble, the same way she didn’t have the patience for guitar.

He told himself that. Over and over. It was totally enough.

“Y’know,” he muttered one night, leaning against the workbench as she tightened a bolt, “I got no goddamn clue what you’re doin’ half the time. S'like watching Top Gear. Can't understand shit, but it's fun as hell.”

Leela huffed a quiet laugh, not looking up. “I figured that out when you handed me the wrong pliers three times in a row.”

Joel rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. That was entirely her fault; those little shorts of hers were a daily nuisance and blessing. “Still doesn’t stop me from helpin’, does it?”

She finally glanced up, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in that soft, knowing way. “No,” she admitted. “I like it when you're next to me.”

Except—except sometimes it wasn’t.

Because every time he was near her, every time she was just within reach, he had to force himself not to touch her. Not to brush his knuckles down her spine. Not to stroke the delicate dip of her lower back. Not to slip his fingers just under the hem of her crochet top and feel the curves and planes of her skin against his calloused hands.

She was just so—beautiful.

It hurt sometimes, looking at her.

The smooth lines of her body, the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the effortless way she existed like she belonged in the world in a way he never had.

Sometimes, helpless to his wants, he'd reach out—slow, testing—just to brush the backs of his knuckles along the bare, soft skin of her thigh. Not much, just enough to feel the heat of her, just enough to see if she’d let him. God, he wanted his mouth there, he wanted to sink his teeth in, let his tongue taste what it was like there.

She didn’t move at first, and that was enough to make his breath catch—maybe, maybe—but, just as quick, she effortlessly shifted away, like she hadn’t even noticed. Like she hadn’t felt it.

She reached for a pen instead, silently scratching down something on a paper, brows furrowing in concentration.

Joel let his hand fall, flexing his fingers once before he curled them into a loose fist against his thigh. He told himself it didn’t sting. Not really.

Instead, he forced out a rough chuckle, trying to cover the way his heart still hammered up his throat. “You always this cruel, or am I just special?”

Leela hummed to herself, lips quirking like she might actually be amused. “You’re special, Joel.”

Joel grunted, shaking his head, but he couldn’t quite fight the smirk tugging at his own mouth. Damn tease, this girl.

It was getting maddening, waiting for her comfort. Waiting for her to want him.

Yet, here they were.

On his birthday, side by side in the Maranello, seats reclined all the way back, hood rolled down, the garage door cracked open behind them while the car lingered out on the huge driveway, the night breeze blanketing them. The scent of rain lingered from an earlier shower, mingling with the faint, distant burn of woodsmoke.

The sky stretched wide above them, endless and dark, stars scattered like someone had dragged their fingers through a bowl of salt. Crickets hummed, a lazy song against the quiet, broken only by the occasional clink of their beer bottles. A perfect, warm night.

Joel sighed, lifting his bottle to his lips. His gaze drifted over the dashboard, over the leather interior, over the sleek frame of the goddamn Lambo he was sitting in.

He still couldn’t believe it. Leela had gifted him this thing. Useless in the apocalypse. But fucking cool.

A snort rattled from his chest, and he thumped a fist against it to cover a burp. His stomach was full from his birthday dinner, grease and sauce still coating his tongue. Cheeseburgers, french fries with the little holes in them, cold beers. Classic. Having a grinning Maya pass him the glistening keys in the morning at breakfast? Adorable. Leela had outdone herself big-time.

“Burgers were top-notch, sweetheart,” he muttered, tipping his beer toward her in a lazy toast. “I 'preciate it.”

Leela pulled the bottle from her lips, raising a brow. “I believe the word you used for the burgers was 'gut-busting'.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shifting to glance at her, fully amused.

“Gut-busting, greasy-ass cheeseburgers,” they stated in unison.

Leela giggled, a hand over her mouth. His grin lingered, slow and easy. “A fast car and a fat burger. Hands down the best birthday I’ve had in twenty years.”

And just like that—just those few words—it struck him. Twenty damn years.

Joel rolled the bottle between his fingers, staring up at the sky, watching the way the stars flickered in and out of the clouds, how they dimmed and reappeared, shifting, changing—like they were alive. Like they had always been there, even when the night felt too dark to hold anything at all.

Twenty years.

This day had been a gaping wound for so long, torn open year after year, over and over, until it barely bled anymore. Just a dull, aching thing, carved into his ribs. A black hole that seemed to conquer him, again and again.

Twenty years ago, the world had ended. His world had ended.

He could still feel it if he let himself—the heat of the pavement. The smell of fire. The deadweight of her in his arms. The desperate, shaking press of his palm, Stay with me, baby, please stay with me—The silence after. The void. Sarah.

He swallowed hard, taking a slow sip of beer. Let the taste settle on his tongue, rich and bitter, grounding him to the moment.

Now. Now. Stay here.

Joel blinked, staring up at the stars, at the dark stretch of sky.

Because somehow—somehow—he was here. Sitting in the front seat of a convertible. Beer in hand. A belly full of hot food. A beautiful baby girl waiting for her goodnight kiss. A woman at his side, stunning and easy in her skin, fulfilling his dreams.

For the first time in twenty years—this day didn’t feel like hellish grief.

It felt like something else. Lighter, better, easy.

Funny how life does that to you. How it yanks you under, pulls you apart, spits on your face, leaves you with nothing—and then, somehow, years later, it gives you this.

Because if it weren’t for them—if it weren’t for Maya or Leela—he wouldn’t have left his house. Wouldn’t have stepped foot outside that goddamn pullout. Would’ve let himself rot in it, hollowed out and mourning, still letting the world pile itself on top of him until he disappeared beneath it.

But she had given him this. Not just the car or the amazing dinner. The moment. The peace. Hope in himself.

“I planted onions just for these burgers. They don't usually last the winter,” she mused all of a sudden, pulling him back to reality.

Joel turned his head, blinking and eyeing her. “You did?”

She nodded. “Can you believe that? And now you just belch it up like it's nothing.”

“Chrissake.” Joel groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. Only she could make him sound that disgusting.

Leela laughed. A real laugh, warm and taunting, something she saved just for his ears. “But hey, you know what?”

Joel peeked at her from under his arm, and—shit. Shouldn’t have done that.

Because she’d rolled onto her side, head propped up on her palm, body stretched out, long legs draped lazily over the seat, the hem of her pretty yellow top riding up just enough to show a teasing sliver of skin. His gaze caught on the curve of her waist, the faint dip of her stomach, and the soft swell of her breasts pressed against the fabric of her top.

He had to collect his jaw back up and clear his throat. “What?”

She didn’t try. That’s what got him. Didn’t preen or pose. Didn’t shift under his gaze like she knew what she was doing to him.

She just was. Existing in the way she always had—effortless, untouched by his wanting, yet somehow still the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Best fucking birthday ever.

“We missed something crucial,” she murmured, eyes gleaming in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

Joel swallowed thickly. “That so?”

She nodded. “Sodas. My favourite was—”

“Cherry Coke,” he finished, tongue-in-cheek.

She rolled her eyes. “Good to know I've become that predictable.”

He grunted, shifting onto his side too, trying—but failing—to move as smoothly as she did. “Well, actually, I missed a birthday kiss.”

Leela’s lips curved. Slow. Knowing. “I can fix that.”

Then she leaned in, putting his heart in overdrive.

Not hesitant. Not rushed. Just sure. Soft, just a brush of warmth against his mouth, so fleeting it almost didn’t happen. A whisper of heat, a promise more than a kiss. One more soft kiss on his nose before she pulled away.

“Only because you asked nicely,” she said, wiping a thumb over his mouth.

And that just pulled the rug right out from under him. He managed a smile as she leaned onto her back, head resting back over her arm.

She'd only kissed him because he wanted it. God, what a fucking joke he was.

She liked him. That much he knew. She liked his presence, liked that he was there, liked the easy simplicity between them. Liked just being with him without expectation or pressure. And yeah—after everything she’d been through, that was a good thing. A great thing. She saw him as someone she trusted. Someone she felt safe with.

But sometimes—sometimes, it almost felt like she didn’t see him.

Not as a man. Not as someone she wanted.

Look, he wasn’t some goddamn heartthrob. Wasn’t James Dean or Paul fucking Newman. He wasn’t expecting her to look at him like that, wasn’t expecting her to ache for him the way he ached for her. But was it so much to ask that she did look?

That she saw him, really saw him, as more than just Maya’s dad?

Because he saw himself. And what was there to want?

He’d caught his reflection in the mirror earlier. Stared at it longer than he should’ve, cataloguing everything he hated.

There was a paunch in his stomach, slight sagging muscles beneath the too-tight flannel, a scatter of age spots across his forehead, deepening creases in his brow, endless white creeping into his beard and temples, and years settling into his skin like old grief.

He gave his chest a scratch. Jesus. Ancient, worn down, unexceptional. Maybe that was why she didn’t kiss or touch him much. Perhaps it was easier to see him as something safe and constant—because there was nothing desirable about him anymore.

Once, he found an old packet of men’s hair dye while rummaging for an electric razor, set on plucking away those stubborn white hairs from his beard.

He’d held the dye packet, turning it over in his palm, giving it more thought than he wanted to admit. Wouldn’t hurt, right? Just to try?

But before he could shove it away, a voice.

“Are you going to use that?”

Leela stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her mouth twitching like she was holding back a laugh.

Joel gritted his teeth, fisting the pack so tight his knuckles went white. “No.”

She hummed, stepping closer, and Christ—he wanted to die right then and there. Or flush the damn thing down the toilet.

But instead—she reached for him.

Her fingers dragged through his hair, combing it back, nails barely grazing his scalp. And fuck—he sighed, head tipping forward, catching her wrist in his palm, pressing a slow, reverent kiss against her pulse. Felt it flutter beneath his lips.

“I really like this though,” she murmured.

Joel lifted a brow, not trusting himself to look at her fully. “I’m gettin’ old, darlin’. Nothing left to like.”

She nodded, her smile small, a little shy. “Oh, I don't know.” A pause. “I know I can’t wait for my hair to get like that.”

He frowned. “Like what? A zebra?”

She gave him a look, like are you really making me spell it out?

So, softly, she said, “So we’ll look the same, Joel.”

His chest caved in with a tight breath.

She didn’t just see him. She wanted to be like him.

His heart felt like it was too big for his ribs, pressing up against the inside of him, aching in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with love. He was the king of the fucking world, alright. Jack Dawson had nothing on him.

He swallowed hard, gripping her wrist a little tighter, as if maybe—if he just held on long enough—he’d finally figure out how to put it all into words. How to tell her that she was everything. But all he could say was—

“You've got a long way to go,” he said, teasing.

She pushed her lips out to a pout. “Another few years?”

Joel huffed. She wasn’t even American. Her hair wasn’t going grey any time soon. He figured she had a good decade before she had to start worrying about it.

“Longer,” he said.

She hummed, tilting her head a little, studying him like she was trying to figure something out. And then, before he could process it, she leaned forward on her toes, pressing her lips to his. His hands instinctively came to settle on her waist.

Soft. Warm. Unhurried. Her fingers brushed along his jaw, the pad of her thumb stroking over the rough bristle of his chin. She lingered there for just a second before pulling away, pressing one last kiss to his cheek, like she was sealing something in place.

Because that single statement from her, that simple act, changed it all. Made him braver. Made him feel like maybe she did see him the way he wanted her to.

And come morning, he had his answer.

She was there at the kitchen island, waiting for him at breakfast, greeting him with another kiss—this time at the white hair on his temple, fingers curling into the curls at his nape as she slid a piece of toast onto his plate.

Yeah. He got the message.

There were bitter, darker days.

Less frequent than before, but still there, waiting beneath the surface. Days, where the loads settled too heavy on his chest, pressing him down, making the simple act of breathing, feel like a goddamn effort.

Yesterday had been one of those days.

From the moment he woke up, he'd known it, a dull, aching fog clouded his mind. His limbs felt sluggish, his body unwilling, his muscles all crumbs. He’d barely moved from bed, save for dragging himself to the kitchen, only to stand there, staring at nothing, gripping the counter's edge like it might keep him from drowning.

Sarah’s birthday. And he’d forgotten.

The realization had hit him out of nowhere, sucker-punching him in the ribs, making his breath catch.

How? How the fuck had he forgotten?

For years, her birthday had been a bare, uncleaned wound, a day spent drowning in liquor if it was nearby, in silence, in the unbearable pricks of memory. He’d counted down the days every year. Her age, had she been by his side. What she would've been doing.

And now?

Now he had let it slip past him, let it fade into the haze of normal days—just another morning, another afternoon. He had laughed yesterday. Laughed. He had eaten, spoken, kissed, sang, loved—without realizing what day it was.

A sickness had curdled in his gut. That painful guilt of living came unbidden. It made him disgusted with himself. So much, so that he couldn't dare face anyone around him. Not even Tommy.

So he did what he used to do.

He grabbed a bottle from the bar, kept his head down as he left, and took the back route home before Maya could spot him from the porch. He had seen her there, though. Tiny thing, peering down the street for him, waiting.

And he hadn’t wanted her to see him like this. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He had shut the door behind him, the bottle clinking against the wood as he sank onto the couch, letting the liquor do what it always did—burn through the hollow parts, dull the sharp edges, and take him somewhere else.

And still, it hadn't been enough.

When evening crept in, it came slow. Shadows stretched long across the walls, the last of the day bleeding out in streaks of dull orange, then fading to blue.

He barely heard the knock at the door. A soft pat-pat-pat. And then—a voice. Small. Muffled through the wood.

“Da-da.”

Another knock, more rigid and insistent. “Joel?”

Joel barely moved. Didn't even turn his head. He wanted to, he really did. His body felt leaden, pinned beneath—this day, this year, all the years before it—pressed too deep into his bones, sinking him down into the mattress. His head throbbed, a slow, punishing ache, that faded at the edges but persistent. And that wound—the one no one could see—still wouldn’t close.

He couldn't face them like this. This broken shell of a person. What if they never came back after this?

“C’mon, Maya,” Leela murmured, gentle but firm. Obviously attempting to tuck Maya back into her side. “He’s probably tired. He’s sleeping.”

A beat of quiet. Then—Maya, in that soft, curious little voice— “Sleeeeepy.”

“That's right,” Leela hummed, warmth threading through her words. Like it was the easiest thing. Like sleep was something you could just slip into. “We’ll come back later.”

“Da-da dinna’.”

Something rustled outside. A soft thud. Joel blinked slowly at the ceiling, tracking the sound.

“Very good. Put the lid on top.” A pause, that gentle patience he had seen in her when she was with her daughter. “Do you want to go back home, and Mama will put some music for you?”

A clap. Small hands smacking together. An excited squeal. “Comma, comma, comma, Mama.”

A breath of laughter. Light and soft. “Yeah, baby. Let's go.”

The warmth of their voices drifted away, their footsteps fading down the porch, swallowed by the quiet of the night. He wanted to walk out, stop them, follow them, hold them—but he imagined how his ribs might crack, or the lead in his lungs might choke him.

So, Joel stayed where he was, his gaze unfocused, tracing the cracks in the ceiling. Leela wasn’t wrong. He was tired. But not the kind of tiredness that sleep could fix. Not the kind that ever really went away.

Time blurred. Hours, maybe. Minutes. He couldn’t tell. Nothing made sense in the darkness.

The whiskey had burned low in his veins, leaving behind only the ache, the hollowing out. Everything hurt, but not in the way anything could soothe away.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold. Not rest. Not peace. Just a slow descent into the depths, dark and familiar.

At last, he dreamt.

Of Sarah. Of her arms around him, small, warm, clinging tight, her face buried in his chest, breathing deep. Of her laugh. The way it used to sound—radiant, uninhibited, lighting up the spaces inside him that he hadn’t even known were empty.

For a second, he could almost believe it. Almost feel her again.

But then—the cold came. Took it all away.

Cold that seeped into the marrow, nailed in deep, wrapped tight around his ribs and never let go. The kind that pulled him under, again and again, no matter how hard he fought it. And fought so goddamn hard.

And yet—somewhere, in the edges of that darkness, something else lingered. Something little.

The echo of a laugh. Not Sarah’s anymore.

No, this one was lighter. Younger. Breathless. He liked it. It didn't hurt to hear it as much.

A weight against his chest—but different this time. Not loss, not emptiness. A little palm, splayed over his ribs, forming a fist into his collar. A warm, sleepy body curled into his chest, tap-tap-tapping away like she was making sure he was still there.

Maya.

Joel’s breath stuttered. Even in sleep, his body knew before his mind did. The warmth of it, the shape of it—what he had now. His reality.

And for once—for just a glad moment—it kept him from sinking. A life vest in his raging ocean.

Morning came too late, in slivers of light through the blinds. Pale. Reluctant. Afraid for him. Like even the sun wasn’t sure if it was welcome here.

Joel blinked, groggy and slow, rubbing a heavy hand over his face. His throat felt raw like he'd screamed too loud for too long, his mouth dry, the taste of stale whiskey clinging to his tongue. His head was thick, his thoughts sluggish, and beneath it all—beneath the crusted-over exhaustion and the dull throb of his skull—the hurt was still there.

That same old invisible bullet lodged somewhere deep, that never fully dislodged, pressing into the places he didn’t like to look at too closely. The kind of wound that never fully closed, never let him forget it was there.

Still—he pushed himself up like he always did.

Didn’t know why. Didn’t know what the hell was pulling him forward, keeping him upright, but he moved. Swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Dug his palms into his knees. Breathed through it.

Got the hell on with it.

He dragged himself to the sink, and planted his hands on the cool porcelain, gripping it hard, like it might hold him up if his legs finally gave out. His reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, lined with years and misery, the past carved deep into every crease, every shadow. He despised himself with every inch of his being. He hated it all.

He brushed his teeth with patience he didn’t have.

Splashed water on his face, cold and biting, shocking his skin like maybe that could shake him loose from the bullet pressing into his ribs.

It didn’t.

Still, he moved.

The morning light hit harder here, slanting golden through the windows, indifferent to the man standing in it. The world had the nerve to keep turning, to keep moving forward.

Joel squinted against the sunrays, his gaze landing on the coffee table.

The bottle sat there, emptied, toppled on its side, amber remnants clinging to the bottom.

And by the bottle—a sandwich. Small. Wrapped neatly with careful hands. He'd evidently bit into it and left the rest to rot overnight.

Joel exhaled, dragging a hand over his jaw.

He didn’t remember drinking. Didn’t remember setting the bottle down. Didn't remember walking to the door. Didn't remember staring out the window, across the street at the big, white house that had gone dark now. Didn't remember breaking down right there, feeling like a fucking failure to the dead and the living. Didn’t remember eating. Didn’t remember closing his eyes, or dreaming, or waking up.

Didn’t remember much of anything. Except for the pain.

But even that felt faded now—like an echo of something sharper, something that had already done its damage and left him to sit in the wreckage.

Still—he moved.

Stepped outside.

Joel blinked against the morning light, the world stretching wide and clear around him, washed in pale blue, moving on without him, uncaring, like it always had, and then—his body betrayed him.

His knees bent before he could stop them, hanging onto the rails, and he sank onto the porch steps, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Winded all of a sudden.

Count to ten, he recalled. Slow. Even. One, two, three.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His ribs ached. His skin felt too tight, like it was trying to hold in something too big, something pressing outward from him.

And still—he counted. Four, five six...

By the time he looked up, the knot in his chest hadn’t loosened, not really, but—they were there, too.

Them. Across the street.

Leela and Maya. Standing in the wide front lawn, bathed in the softness of morning.

Leela had clearly been sidetracked—again—always halfway between duty and distraction. He knew how much she hated these chores. The clothesline stretched out, strung with damp sheets, but the laundry basket at her feet sat untouched, still full of what she’d meant to hang.

She wasn’t folding anymore.

Instead, she was holding up a long, white bedsheet, grinning at Maya's small hands curled into fists of excitement.

Joel watched as Leela ducked behind the sheet, disappearing—Maya’s breath hitched—and then—

Leela reappeared, hands lifting, fingers wiggling. “Boo!”

Maya shrieked, her whole body jolting in surprise before she collapsed onto the grass, giggling so hard she lost her balance, tumbling onto her little butt. Her laughter was bright, high-pitched, breathless, shaking her tiny shoulders.

Leela laughed too, full and warm, head tipping back just slightly.

And Joel just sat there. Breathing in, breathing out. Eight, nine, ten. Barely thinking about it anymore.

Because fuck.

After last night. After the whiskey. After the emptiness. After the memories had clawed their way out of their grave and wrapped around his throat like they wanted to drag him back under—

Here he stopped.

Watching this. Warm. Real. Close enough to touch.

Something that hadn’t been there twenty years ago, but was here now, right in front of him.

And he still didn’t think he deserved it.

But really—maybe he didn’t need to.

He didn’t move. Not right away.

Just sat there, hands braced on his knees, watching. Letting it settle into him, this moment. Something to dig his heels into while he caught up with the world again.

Leela exhaled, dramatic, hands on her hips. “Phew,” she huffed, glancing down at the still-full laundry basket. “Still got to hang these up.”

Maya, fresh off her giggling fit, sat up, rocking forward onto her hands and knees before clambering to her feet. Her dress—soft cotton, faded at the edges, patterned with tiny yellow flowers—was rumpled from rolling in the grass. A few strands of dark curls stuck to her forehead, but she barely noticed, too busy eyeing the basket with newfound purpose.

Joel could see it happen—that little shift.

The way her expression turned serious, brows knitting in focus, her lips parting like she’d just discovered the most important job in the world.

She reached down, fingers barely big enough to grasp the edge of a sheet. She grunted, giving it all she had, but it didn’t budge.

Leela glanced down. “Hm?”

Maya huffed, squared her tiny shoulders, and tried again—both hands this time, using her whole little body to tug at the fabric, little theatrical 'hng!' of hard work escaping her chest.

Still nothing.

“Mama.” She stomped her foot. “Up.”

Leela’s mouth twitched, amusement flickering in her eyes. She crouched beside her daughter, resting her hands on her knees. “Oh, I see. You’re helping me, huh?”

Maya nodded. Firm. Determined. “Gimme, gimme.”

Joel palmed his mouth, hoping the world didn’t take his smile away too soon.

Leela reached into the basket, fingers brushing lightly over Maya’s before gathering up the sheet properly. “Thank you, baby,” she murmured.

Maya beamed. Like the baby girl had just been handed the keys to the kingdom.

She toddled after her mother as Leela walked to the line, big eyes fixed on the way the fabric billowed like a cloud as it caught the light.

Joel exhaled. Sat frozen, watching.

The simple rhythm of it. The way Maya—so small, so certain—kept reaching down, picking up the next thing, both hands now, learning from last time, lurching after her mama with that same eager little voice.

“Mama, up.”

And every time—every single time—Leela patiently answered the same. “Thank you, baby.”

Again, and again. Again, and again.

Joel swallowed. His throat no longer felt tight. His head still ached, still held the despair of last night, of everything before it. But right now, here, with the cool air on his skin, the smell of damp earth in his lungs, the sound of Maya’s tiny voice chirping “Mama, up” over and over—

He could breathe. Really breathe.

And when his feet finally moved, when he finally pushed himself up from the steps and started walking toward them—it wasn’t some grand decision. It wasn’t something he had to force himself to do.

It was simply inevitable.

Leela didn’t hear him approach. Too focused on her daughter, on the task at hand, on the rhythm of their little world.

His fingers moved, apart from his control, found the frayed waistband of her shorts, just there, and hooked in. A gentle tug, a slow pull toward him.

Leela flinched—not much, just a hitch in her shoulders, a half-second's worth of instinct before she recognized him. Still unlearning old habits. Before she softened right against his chest.

And when she laughed, soft and knowing, she reached up without hesitation, fingers brushing along the side of his bristly cheek, a gentle, familiar warmth.

“G'morning,” she whispered.

Joel didn’t care anymore.

Didn’t care about the ghosts still clinging to his ribs. Didn’t care about the way exhaustion stretched him thin, about how last night still loomed in the back of his mind, dark and swollen and waiting to be acknowledged. Didn’t care that he probably looked half a corpse, standing there in yesterday’s clothes, smelling like whiskey and relapse.

He only cared about this. Only this.

The strings of her top tied at the nape of her neck, the curve of her spine beneath his fingertips, her skin warmed at his touch as he leaned in, pressed his open mouth against it, and let himself taste her where he could.

Leela sighed, tilting just slightly, like she always did—like her body always made room for him, even before her mind caught up.

His fingers slid forward, skimming beneath the loose hem of her top, smoothing down, trailing slowly over the smooth plane of her stomach.

A reminder. That she was here. That he was here. They were here. And that some things in this world were still good.

“Mornin',” he murmured into her skin.

Leela blinked, only half-registering the words. Then—

She sniffed and grimaced at him. “Jesus, Joel,” she muttered, nose wrinkling, “did you drink?”

Joel let out a quiet breath, pressing his forehead to the curve of her shoulder.

He shook his head. Not a yes. Not a no, not really. Just not now. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

Leela didn’t push. She only turned, facing him now, studying him like she was flipping through the pages of a book she already knew by heart.

His sunken eyes. The pallid, drawn look of him. His hair, a complete mess. His shirt, wrinkled like he hadn’t even bothered taking it off before collapsing somewhere.

He felt the attention in her stare. Not pity, she just understood. She knew because this had been her for some time, minus the alcohol.

So, all she said was—“Do you want to wash up?” Her voice was quiet. Only there for him. “I’ll make you some coffee and you can sit by the garden. Get some fresh air.”

Relief punched through him, sharp and unexpected. He nodded. Squeezed at her waist. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Leela didn’t look away, still watching him. Seeing if he needed anything else. Not even when he tried to smooth his voice out, tried to make it sound like he was okay.

“I'm alright, darlin’,” he promised—lied. “Had a rough night. Thanks for the sandwich.”

She patted his cheek before her lips curved into a meaningful smile. He really needed her with him, like the air he breathed.

“Maya,” Leela called, her eyes still anchored on his. “Look who's here, baby.”

Maya, busy untangling the last set of laundry from the basket, glanced up at her mother. Then her company.

Her face lit up, her mouth opening wide with a smile. And then she was off like a shot, legs pumping through the grass, a firecracker of squeals and giggles and wild, uncontainable joy.

Joel barely had time to brace himself before she crashed into his legs, clinging to him with all the strength her tiny body could manage.

“Da-da!”

Fuck.

He shut his eyes for half a second. That little voice, that little word, scraping a five-fingered claw so raw inside him, into something that shouldn’t be touched. But when he opened his eyes again, when he looked down and saw her, saw the absolute unsought delight written across Maya's face—

He couldn’t refuse her. He never could.

“Hi, baby girl,” he rasped, hoisting her up with one arm. “C'mere. Gimme a kiss.”

Maya fit perfectly against him, the way she always did, all carved in for herself, her arms impossibly small where they wrapped around his neck. And Jesus, the way she grinned at him—then leaned forward to smack a tiny, wet kiss on his cheek.

“You're breakin' my heart in that dress,” he told her, brushing a thumb over the little yellow flowers. “Did you pick it out?”

Maya gasped and pointed at them for him. “'S-h-f—s’flowers, my f-d-dwess,” she stammered, words tumbling over themselves in the excitement of seeing him.

Joel huffed a laugh, tucking his chin against her head. Christ, how did she get sweeter every goddamn day?

But then she started squirming, leaning right out of his arms, stretching her little fingers toward the clothesline as far as they could go. “Hang!”

Joel caught her before she toppled, laughing despite himself. “Woah, yeah, I know you did.” He glanced at Leela, who was watching them with that quiet, knowing expression. “Biggest little helper in the world.”

Maya nodded. Like it was a fact.

Joel pressed a kiss to her temple, still holding her close. “Listen, sunshine, I gotta hit the shower, okay? 'Cause your mama said I stink, and I can’t have that.”

Maya wrinkled her nose, scrunching up her whole face. He pinched at it.

Leela arched a brow. “Mama's only concerned,” she murmured.

“Mama ain't gotta be, yeah?” Joel shot back. But his voice was softer than before. Not so hollow.

Leela studied him for a second—like she knew that wasn’t true. Knew exactly what had happened last night. Knew exactly what he’d been trying to drown. But she didn’t say anything or call him out. She only did what Leela always did—she helped. Without condition. Without question.

“Now,” Joel cleared his throat, adjusting Maya in his arms, “which one of you pretty ladies is gonna fix me up a nice breakfast?”

Maya clapped her hands, a little burst of glee. “Yay!”

It started with Ellie. Because of course, it did.

That kid had a way of getting under his skin, of digging her nails into the parts of him he didn’t even realize were still soft. Poking. Prodding. Needling. And she’d done just that—smirking, goading, dangling the bait in front of his face like she knew damn well he was gonna take it.

“Well, sourpuss, Leela’s coming,” she'd convincingly said to him as they were returning their horses to the stables after patrol.

Joel had laughed at her face. Scoffed, even. And, what? His Leela? At the Tipsy Bison? At a goddamn party? With all the noise, all the music, all the drunk, sweaty fools two-stepping on the wooden floor? No chance in hell.

Yet, Ellie went on.

“I dunno how Tommy convinced her,” she had said, grinning like she’d already won, shoving her hands into her pockets. “But—yeah. She’ll be here with Maya.”

And that was all it took.

Which was how Joel found himself here. Stood stiff by the bar, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass of beer, the other clenching and unclenching at his side. His leather jacket felt too damn hot under the press of too many bodies, the heat of the string lights, and the music—Christ, the music. That twangy, knee-stomping, boot-scuffing, banjo-heavy bullshit rattling through the rafters—loud enough to set his damn teeth on edge. He'd hated it back then, and he hated it now.

The annual hoedown at the Tipsy Bison.

The world couldn’t give him a break. How in God’s name had he ended up here? How the hell had he let this happen?

This was not his scene. And it sure as hell wasn’t Leela’s. They would've been at home, curled up for dinner, amusing themselves with Maya like she was their favourite show on the television.

All it took was to establish that Leela was going to be there.

Because now, here he was—standing in the corner like a goddamn joke, cleaned up like he had any business being out on a Friday night, his boots polished, his hair combed back, his leather jacket slung over a shirt he actually bothered to button properly. Dressed to the fucking nines, he was.

And for what? To sit in a sea of drunken idiots and wait? Wait for her to walk in, looking like she was some kind of myth, some rare, elusive thing, something too glorious to be real? Wait for every goddamn person in the room to notice?

Because they would. Of course, they fucking would. Even the straightest of women would be turning their heads for her if they'd seen what he'd seen. Those never-ending legs, that face, that smile—shit, yeah, he was in big trouble.

Because fucking Maria had gotten her hands on Leela, and Maria was up to no good.

He’d tried. Lord knows he’d tried. He had stomped up the stairs at the fifteen-minute mark, knowing damn well this whole thing was taking too long, and had called, “Alright, well—sweetheart, nothing too showy, right? Y’know, these people don’t ‘preciate that as much as—”

“Oh, get the fuck outta here, Smeagol!” Maria had shouted him off.

Now, he was here... all because of her. And she wasn’t even here yet.

Joel exhaled sharply, jaw ticking, eyes darting to the door for the tenth time in five minutes. Nothing. He dragged his fingers along the rim of the bottle, still scowling at the bar like it owed him an apology.

Because the longer he stood here, the clearer it became what was really getting to him.

It wasn’t that Leela was coming.

It wasn’t that she’d let Maria fix her up—touch her pretty face, brush out her hair, maybe even put her in a pretty little dress.

No. It was the eyes. The way they were gonna watch her.

Hell yeah, Joel was jealous man. One of the many sins he had the privilege of bearing. He could get territorial as fuck, no doubt about it. All that sharing and community crap was bullshit. He had what he had, and it was splendid. Perfect, even. It was his because he kept it that way. He wasn't about to flaunt it to everyone in this town, have everyone poking at the green-eyed monster. And now was not the right time to test it, especially with his shocking self-esteem at an all-time low.

Damn it, this was his Leela.

She wasn’t just pretty. She wasn’t just easy on the eyes. She was—God, she just was. Unknowable. Untouchable. Something soft and sharp and utterly fucking stunning—and worst of all? She didn’t even realize it.

But they would. And Joel—fuck, he was pissed. Not at her. Never at her.

At them.

Because they didn’t get to see her the way he did.

Not in the morning, curled up and soft, her voice all husky and groggy. Not when she was tired in the afternoons, tucked into the couch with Maya, absentmindedly stroking her little girl’s hair. Not at night, in the flickering warmth of the fireplace, barefaced and undone, tucked between her blackboards and chalk pieces, humming the rhythm of equations under her breath.

They didn’t get that. They didn’t get her. But that wouldn’t stop them from looking. From trying.

Joel was still scowling at the door when Ellie appeared at his side, grinning like a fox. Before he could say anything—something landed on his head, slumping into his eyes. A ritzy, cowboy hat.

His whole body went rigid.

“Hat-asaur, yeah!” Ellie whooped, slapping the brim.

Joel exhaled sharply. The Lord was really trying him tonight. His hand went up automatically, ready to rip the damn thing off, but—

“Wait, Joel, c’mon!” Ellie slapped his hand away. “You look good, Maya will love it.”

Joel sighed and dragged a hand down his face. Then—begrudgingly, muttered, “Fine.”

Ellie whooped again, nudging him hard enough to make him stumble a step forward.

He grumbled something under his breath, eyes still glued to the damn door. Because any second now—she was gonna walk in. And already, it felt like his ass was on fire.

He flexed his fingers, shifting on his feet, too aware of the way the hat sat a little too low over his eyes, the way his collar felt like it was choking him. He wasn’t nervous, alright? Not nervous. Just—

Shit.

The door opened. At first, it was just a blur of movement, people shuffling in and out, but then—there.

Leela stepped inside. And Joel was simply a man who’d been gone a long time and just found his way home.

Her head was tilted slightly down, eyes lowered in that way of hers, like she wasn’t sure if she clicked in a place like this. Maya was tucked close to her side, her little hand securely fastened within her mother's, but she was already wriggling, already whining, ready to tear herself away and make her own little discoveries around the place.

Little thing was decked out in tiny denim overalls, small curls pulled into two bows, soft white boots barely keeping up as she stomped at the floor, still fighting against Leela’s hold, squealing her frustration, saying, “Mama, go, me go!”

And well—thank you, Maria. Because Jesus Christ. Leela wasn’t wearing anything particularly more catering to her strappy tastes, nothing that showed more skin than usual, but somehow, it was worse—because of course it was.

The soft brown dress unevenly swayed at her calves, the deep plunge of it down to her sternum until it nearly blended into her skin, the measly beaded strings tied around her neck. Her black hair all loose and wild around her waist. Effortless as anything.

And those goddamn embroidered, leathery cowgirl boots. Stopped his goddamn heart. Sexy as hell. All he could think about now was having them over his shoulders, that dress pulled to the seam of those arch legs, lips tasting, moving against that sweet, sweet—

He closed his eyes to collect his scattered wits for a second. Oh, Christ, he was already losing it.

See it didn’t matter that the dress was modest, that she wasn’t trying to draw attention to herself. People were still fucking looking, alright.

Leela hadn’t spotted him yet, her focus on a sniffling Maya as she crouched low, murmuring something in her ear, pressing a warm kiss to her palm, before handing her off to Maria with a soft, “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

She searched the crowd, weaving carefully between bodies, until she looked up and spotted him. No other flicker in her eyes, just recognition, as she didn't waste another second and made her way straight to him.

Joel barely had time to say anything before she reached for his hand, cool fingers slotting through his as she dragged him aside, away from the crowd, away from the noise, into a quiet corner near the stairs.

“Come with me,” she murmured to him.

He could feel the eyes burning through him, the silent stares pressing in from every direction. And for a split second, he had the strongest urge to make it known. To push her against that wall. To kiss her. To stake his claim, loud and clear for the whole damn bar to see.

But before he could do a thing, Leela was stopping.

She was unfolding something. A piece of paper, scrawled with numbers and symbols smoothed out between trembling fingers.

Her eyes darted to his, wide and glowing with something almost feverish.

“I did it,” she said, voice a mere breath and almost shaking. “I solved it, Joel. The Riemann Hypothesis.”

Joel blinked. The who-what now?

“Took me ten whole years,” she whispered, hands trembling slightly as she held up the paper. “And my dad’s entire life. I-it’s a milestone in the field of mathematics. I just solved the biggest unsolved problem out there, Joel. Oh, I—I don’t know what to do—I don’t—Omigod—shit, I can’t breathe—”

“Hey, hey.” Joel reacted before he could think, his hands reaching up, long fingers networking at the back of her head, cupping her face, grounding her to him.

“Daggum, girl, you're incredible,” he murmured, close to her ear, pressing a kiss there. “You make me proud every damn day.”

Leela let out a breath, squeezing her hands to her mouth, eyes bright and almost disbelieving. “Thanks.”

She exhaled again, shaking her head a little, like she was still trying to wrap her mind around it.

A thought hit her. Then—her gaze snapped back to his, sharp and alive. She held his elbows tight.

“Do you know someone we can tell?” she asked, the words tumbling out. “This is really revolutionary, Joel. Would Tommy or Maria know? Someone outside of Wyoming maybe, a professor or a student? Radio them? Or someone who—um, can get this notarized?”

Her words started rushing out, full of hope, full of expectation—but Joel had nothing. He just stood there.

He was a man used to thinking practically, used to reading the world for threats, for weaknesses, for what mattered in the immediate sense of survival.

This was out of his hands, out of his understanding. Leela’s excitement, the breathless urgency in her voice—it’s not something he was used to handling. It’s not something he can fix with his fists, with a gun, with a little death. This was bigger than him, bigger than Jackson, bigger than this world they’re barely holding together.

And that’s the part that was eating at him.

Because she cared about this. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she shook when she pressed that crumpled piece of paper into his hands. This wasn’t just numbers to her. This was ten years of her life. This was her father’s legacy.

And all he could do was stare at it.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say? What could he tell her when there’s no one left to hear it? Anyone worth anything was gone? When there’s no university, no award, no history books to remember her name?

It made him angry in a way he couldn’t explain. At the whole fucking world. At the way it had stolen so much from her already—and now it was going to take this, too.

She saw it in his face before he even spoke. He tried to think, tried to come up with something, but he was taking too long.

And that was the worst part. Because that spark, that glow in her eyes—it was already dying.

She swallowed and managed a faltering smile. Folded the paper back up, like it was nothing. Like it was just another thing she had to let go of.

“So silly,” she mumbled.

Joel wanted to stop her. To tell her it mattered that what she’d done was worth all the awards, golds and notaries in the world. But what would that mean coming from him? What the hell does he know about numbers or legacy? He'd shit all over his own.

So he just watched as she tucked the paper away. That familiar, bitter rage simmered at the back of his throat.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, stroking the back of her head.

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” she said quietly, running a hand through her hair. “I just—I don’t know what I was expecting. World's different now.”

Joel clenched his jaw. She should’ve expected more. She deserved more.

The world was too small now, and she was too big for it.

A moment passed, heavy and quiet, and Joel really tried to work his mouth, distract her, pull her out of her head. He didn't need to.

So softly it barely made a sound—

“I like your hat.”

Joel blinked at her, and felt something in his chest ease, just a little, at the quiet humour in her voice. He exhaled a small laugh, tipping his head slightly, letting the hat slink a little lower, playing along.

“Yeah? Reckon you’ve never been hit on by a real cowboy before,” he drawled, all gravel and honey, emphasizing his accent, thumb hooking into his belt.

Leela let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing her lips. “Never even been to a bar before.”

Joel whistled, low and slow, shaking his head like he’d just laid eyes on the Mona Lisa. “Damn shame for a pretty young thing like you.”

He really was trying, pulling out all the big guns. Laying it on thick, thicker than he had any right to, but goddamn—if she deserved the world, and he couldn’t give her that, at least he could make her smile. At least he could lift that weight off her shoulders, even for a minute.

So he leaned in a little more, let his voice drop to a slow, easy drawl, and let the heat of his gaze do half the work.

“Well, now,” he murmured, watching her just a little too long, letting his gaze drag over her like a slow hand, “lucky for you, darlin’… I got a real nice record of showin’ a lady a good time. My saddle ain’t the only thing gettin’ ridden hard if you said it.”

Leela raised her brows, sceptical but not immune. “...saddle? Oh.”

Joel felt it the moment it landed. The way her breath hitched—not much, just enough. The way her fingers tightened around the folded slip of paper in her hand.

And he wanted to feel it—wanted to feel that tension in her, the kind he swore he could taste in the air between them. It had been a long goddamn time since he felt this—since he wanted something enough to reach for it.

Slow, steady—like breaking a skittish horse. Like testing the waters, making sure she wouldn’t spook. His hand hovered, calloused fingers just inches from her skin, giving her the chance to move, to pull away, to tell him no.

She didn’t. So he took what she gave.

His fingers found her chin, the pad of his thumb barely grazing the plush curve of her bottom lip. He tilted her face up just a fraction—just enough to make her look at him, to catch that moment her lips parted on instinct, like she was already breathless.

Jesus. His control didn’t do much when she blinked up at him like that, lashes and lips fluttering—just asking to be pinned to that wall behind her.

His smirk came easy—lazy, dangerous, wolfish. Yeah, he knew that look. Knew it because he felt the same damn way.

He casually let go, and her eyes followed his hand down to his side.

“See,” he continued, angling his body toward hers, close enough to catch the way her pulse ticked at the base of her throat. “A cowboy’s got a duty, y’know. Gotta show a fine lady what a proper gentleman’s like.”

His fingers dipped under the brim of his hat, tipping it just so—shadowing his eyes, letting his gaze drop, nice and slow, just long enough to let her know exactly where he was looking.

Then, a slow shrug—broad shoulders rolling under his shirt, casual, easy—like he wasn’t laying a goddamn trap.

“Well,” he drawled, voice turning downright sinful, “‘d be mighty honoured to be called yours t’night.”

And there it was. And Joel knew right then and there—he had her. Because she didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t laugh or stop him.

That telltale little pause—like maybe, just maybe, she was picturing it. He knew he was.

Instead, she just stood there, watching him, lips parted like maybe she had something to say—something that got lost somewhere in the space between them.

And for one wild, reckless moment, Joel thought she might just lean in, kiss the crap out of him. But then—she blinked, and the moment was gone.

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You're funny.”

Joel grinned, even though he felt the shift. The retreat. “That so?” he drawled, still not letting up.

“You sound like you walked out of a Western.”

He smirked, tipped his hat lower, and let his voice drop just for her. “Now, sugar, that ain’t no way to talk to the man who’s about to teach you how to have your first bar fight. I quite like a girl with some fire in her belly.”

That got a laugh out of her. A real one. And Joel soaked it in, every damn inch of it.

Leela snorted, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, now,” he teased, nudging her arm, his fingers just barely brushing against the soft skin there. “You’ve been missin’ out, angel, bein’ all locked away in that big house of yours.”

She raised her palm up in surrender. “Excuse me for having more pressing matters.”

Joel let his gaze drift over her, taking his time, dragging over the curve of her dress, the shape of her legs in those maddening boots. And then—he looked her right in the eye.

“Well,” he murmured, deep and sure, “maybe it’s time you stopped thinkin' about it.”

And just like that—the mood swerved again. Leela’s smile flickered, fingers twitching at her side.

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Joel hated that he understood what that felt like. Hated that she deserved so much more than this world could ever give her. But before he could say a thing—

A little body slammed into his leg, nearly knocking him off balance.

Joel let out a breath just in time to feel Maya’s tiny arms latch around his calf, her face tipped up at him, all big eyes and a hopeful little four-teeth grin.

“Pease, pease, da-da,” she whined, hopping in place, her little hands patting at his jeans. “Up!”

Joel exhaled, running a hand down his face. Jesus Christ. Tic-tac-sized cockblocker, he was raising.

Leela laughed, faint and knowing, shaking her head as Maya demanded his full attention. But Joel couldn't even be mad. Baby girl was looking at him like he'd just walked straight out of heaven.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, already reaching for her. “C’mon up, trouble.”

Maya squealed, her little body kicking excitedly as Joel lifted her into the air, her arms flung out like she was ready to take off. He swung her once, twice, before tucking her close, and she immediately latched onto him, her tiny hands gripping at his collar like she owned him.

Hell. Maybe she did.

She smelled like baby powder and whatever sweet stuff Tommy had probably snuck her earlier, and her little curls were tickling his jaw as she wriggled against him. She was always moving, always vibrating with energy, her whole body alive with it.

Then, suddenly—her wide eyes locked on his hat. Oh, hell. Joel knew that look.

“Gimme, gimme,” she demanded, tiny fingers already reaching.

He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “Gimme?” he echoed, raising a brow. “That how you ask me?”

Maya pushed her lips out—big, dramatic, a whole damn performance. All that, he had no idea where that came from. Then she reached again, ready to rip it off him if she had to. “Gimme.”

Leela sighed beside them. “Maya, you have to say plea—”

“Pease!” Maya cut in quickly, blinking up at him with too much innocence.

Joel shook his head, letting out a low chuckle. “Goddamn, you’re trouble.”

Then, without another word, he took the too-big hat off his head and plopped it right onto hers.

The thing swallowed her whole. She was just this tiny little baby, her grinning cheeks barely visible beneath the brim, only the tips of her fingers peeking out as she held it up with both hands.

Then—with all the theatrics of a seasoned performer—she bent all the way back, her whole body arched beneath the hat, peering at him, flashing him a big, toothy grin.

And when she let out that breathy giggle—sharp, bright, real—Joel felt his chest squeeze. Too damn much.

“You havin’ fun under there?”

Maya nodded so hard the hat nearly flew off, and she had to grab at it, still giggling.

Then, out of habit, he glanced up—toward Leela.

No, she wasn’t really there. Her body was, sure—standing right beside him, arms crossed, eyes aimed at Maya. But she wasn’t watching. She was elsewhere, stuck somewhere in her own head, her fingers twitching like she wanted to grab at something—her pocket, that damn folded-up paper, something to keep herself busy.

Joel’s grip tightened on Maya.

He knew that look, the feeling. The way the body stayed standing but the mind wasn’t anywhere close.

His mouth opened, but before he could get anything out—

“I’ll go get a drink,” Leela muttered.

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was her way of saying—don’t follow me. So, he just let her go with a quiet nod.

But the second she disappeared into the crowd—he moved. His jaw was already tight as he reached for Ellie, snagging her by the arm and pulling her away from whatever dumb thing she was about to get into.

“The fuck... Joel?” she snapped, yanking at his grip.

Joel ignored her. Nodded toward the bar.

“Leela’s out of it,” he muttered, voice low. “Get her with your friends. Make her relax or somethin’.”

Ellie’s brows pulled together, her sharp little gaze flicking toward where Leela had gone. “What, so you’re just pawning her off? Your precious darlin'?”

Joel shot her a don't-test-me-look.

Ellie rolled her eyes. Dramatic as hell, now he knew exactly where Maya was getting it from. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered. “I got it.”

And with that, she disappeared after Leela, not without giving Maya's nose a little affectionate boop.

Joel stayed put, jaw still clenched, a hand on his hips, gaze locked on the door.

A small, warm hand patted his cheek for his attention.

“Da-da,” Maya mumbled. Her tiny fingers gripped his collar again, her cheeks still half-swallowed by his hat, her dark eyes big and certain.

And just like that, his body eased.

Joel sighed through his nose. “Yeah, baby girl. I'm here.”

Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of her tummy.

“C’mon,” he murmured, shifting her higher against his chest. “Let’s get you somethin’ to drink, too. You want to share a beer?”

Maya had been swept away by the time Tommy had caught up to Joel with a bottle and a few guys, practically pried out of Joel’s arms before he could blink. Maria had her now, parading her like a carnival float, making a whole damn show out of her.

And why wouldn’t she? The smallest baby in dirt road Jackson. Hell, Maya was practically town property at this point.

Joel watched, a little amused, as Maria lifted her high, twirling her around like a prize before setting her on her shoulders. Maya squealed, fisting her tiny hands into Maria’s hair, kicking her little boots, having the goddamn time of her life.

“Miller baby’s gonna get spoiled rotten,” Tommy muttered beside him, arms crossed.

That name still rubbed at him wrong. “Already is,” Joel mumbled.

He hummed. “And she’s eatin’ this up, little peacock.”

Joel made a derisive noise in his throat. “Ain’t her fault everyone here treats her like the second comin’.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t blame ‘em. Cute as hell.”

Joel couldn't argue with that. Just watched Maya beam at the attention, watched Maria spin her like she was royalty, watched as people—grown adults—cooed and clapped like she was putting on a Broadway show.

Yeah. This kid had them all wrapped around her little finger.

Joel exhaled, rubbing his jaw, his fingers pressing into the rough scrape of stubble like it might ground him. Tommy stood beside him, his stance easy, but Joel knew his brother too well—there was a thought in the way he was standing.

And then—the nudge. So casual, it almost had him fooled.

“So, back to the point,” Tommy started, quieter now, like he didn’t want the words to carry. “Leela’s big breakthrough. Hypothesis or whatever. Shit, I knew she had it in her.”

Joel ran his tongue over his teeth, nodding, preferring to stay silent rather than give anything away.

Tommy sighed, bracing a hand on his hip, eyes lazily scanning the room before he went on. “Listen, man, there are—people. Some folks I knew way back. When I was with the Fireflies. Dunno if they're still around, but...”

Joel turned his head slowly, his jaw tightening like a steel trap.

Tommy met his gaze, serious now. “Way outside of LA.”

Joel didn’t say anything. Just waited.

“They’re still keepin’ the science goin’,” Tommy said, voice lower now. “Not a lot. Just—pockets of ‘em, doin’ what they can. Research and stuff. Pretty legit. The kinda thing she’d wanna hear.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against the worn leather of his belt.

He didn’t like where this was going. Or the thought of giving her something to hope for, just to rip it out of her hands when it all went to hell. He also didn’t like how much this conversation was starting to matter to him.

Tommy let out another sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“But we keep off the radar,” he said firmly. “No radio, no messages, nothin’ that could get the wrong kinda attention. You know the rules.” He levelled Joel with a look, voice final. “So, I won’t tell her a thing.”

Joel swallowed, his throat tight, something hot and sour curdling in his gut.

It was the right call, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He despised knowing that there were still people out there who gave a shit about knowledge, about discovery, about the old world. Knowing that Leela might’ve had a place there, if things had been different.

He grunted. “Good.”

Tommy exhaled, long and slow, like he’d been holding his breath. “Maria and I were thinking.... it'd be nice if she helped out at the school.”

Joel sniffed a, “What?”

Tommy shrugged, shifting his weight. “Y’know. Teach the kids.”

Joel furrowed his brows, fully turning to face him now. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I mean, she’s sittin’ on all that knowledge,” Tommy said. “And she’s stuck in that damn house all the time.” He lifted a brow. “Might do her some good. Get her mind off…” He waved vaguely, eyes flicking in the direction Leela had gone. “Everything.”

Joel just stared at him.

Tommy shrugged again. “Think about it.”

Joel did. It wasn't the worst idea. But he didn't know if she’d be up for it or even consider stepping into that kind of role. He was about to say as much when—

A burst of murmurs and hoots erupted from the centre of the bar, cutting through the low hum of music. Chairs scraped, people turned, and a few whistles pierced the air.

Both brothers looked toward the noise. Tommy raised a brow. Joel narrowed his eyes.

“What in the...”

And then he saw her.

Leela. Right there in the centre of it all. She was surrounded—by Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and a few others forming a loose, laughing circle around her, dancing along. Encouraging. Egging her on.

She wasn’t two-stepping. This wasn’t a country song anymore. The band had taken a break, and someone had thrown on an old record—something slow, sultry, snappy, the kind of tune that slinked through the air, curling into the bones, pushed you to move.

And she was feeling it.

Joel had never seen her dance like that. Way too much for his heart to handle. Not his Leela, who never strayed too far from the walls, slipping between shadows, never let her guard down, never let herself be seen.

When Soft Cell sang about having the burnin', yearnin' feeling inside on Where Did Our Love Go, he felt that deep. Right now—she was a goddamn sight. Pure, wicked temptation.

Body swaying, hips rolling in slow, leisurely motions. Hands tangled in her own hair, then sliding down her neck—down—over her chest, grazing her ribs, curling over the curve of her waist.

She had no idea what she looked like right now—how that loose dress clung to her body with every billow, shifting and stretching with every movement. How the dim, golden light caught on her skin, illuminating her like some sort of deity.

How nearly every person in this bar had stopped to watch her.

It pissed him off.

And yet—he couldn’t look away.

Joel’s fingers twitched at his sides. Didn’t know whether to stop her or—pull her close.

Drag her against him, press his hands to her waist, and let her roll those hips against him, sink his teeth into her skin, deep enough to leave his mark. Hold her still, just for a moment, just long enough to feel her body fit into his—see if she’d let him.

So soft, willing, entirely elsewhere. Like she wasn’t in Jackson anymore, wasn’t in this old, rough-edged bar, but in some smoky club, where the lights were low, sequins danced off clothes, and the air was sweaty and nobody cared about pasts or promises.

The way her skirts fluttered as she moved, clutched loosely in her fingers, lifting just enough to show the lean muscle of her legs. The way she smiled—full, unguarded, head tossed back, a laugh cruising out, teeth gleaming in the dim light, unrestrained, a sound so full of life it hurt.

He’d seen her smile before. But never like this—wild, free, daredevil. Ellie must’ve really gotten more than three hard drinks in her.

Joel swallowed hard, forcing his feet to stay planted where they were.

Because something about this—about her—about the way her body moved, the way she felt the rhythm like it was something sacred, the way she tilted her head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment like the music sunk under her skin—

Something about it made Joel feel like his skin didn’t quite fit around his bones. Like something was gnawing at him. Feeding into his insatiate hunger. He curled his hands into fists, shoving them into his pockets. Because the way he wanted to touch her right now? Not fucking appropriate.

Tommy doubled up with a hoot. “Oh, hell, man.” He clapped Joel on the shoulder. “That’s a whole different Leela right there!”

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing his jaw to loosen. He knew he should be worried. Should be thinking about why she was drinking that much, why she was like this all of a sudden. Relaxing was different. This was goddamn spinning in outer space.

But she wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t stumbling, wasn’t out of control. She was just—happy. And how the hell was he supposed to take that from her?

Joel shook his head, mouth twitching into something dangerously close to a grin. “Just let her be.”

Tommy shot him a look. “Yeah?”

Joel exhaled, watching as Leela did something almost like a body roll, slow and smooth, skirts flicking as she spun. He dragged a hand over his beard. “Never seen her smile like that.”

And God. He wanted her to keep smiling like that. He wanted to keep her like that. That lightness. That freedom. That untouchable, golden, weightless feeling. She’d been carrying that unspeakable shit in her chest since the day he met her. And now?

Now, she looked free. Like she was burning it all away. Let her, the world owed her that much.

She threw her hair forward, fingers raking through the strands before she whipped it back, shaking it out, arms in the air, eyes half-closed, a small, lazy grin curling at her lips—

Joel was staring. Unblinking. Jesus, just look at her. All of that belonged to him. He really did all right for himself, didn't he?

And he wasn’t the only one watching.

“Holy shit,” Tommy murmured, his amusement barely contained. Joel didn’t have to look at him to know that stupid grin was plastered all over his face. “You lucky old bastard.”

“Shameless jackass.” Joel smacked him upside the head, but hell—he wasn’t gonna argue.

Because Leela was out there, a careless grace, hips swaying, head tilted back just enough for the dim glow to catch on the slope of her throat. She wasn’t dancing with anyone, not really—just herself, the music, the air around her.

And then—she spotted him. Their eyes locked.

Joel watched, not backing down, cocking a brow, casually lifting the rim of his beer to his mouth. Go on, then.

Her lips curled slow, teasing, teeth catching on the edge of a grin as she raised her index finger, a silver ring glinting off it—beckoning him. A clear come-hither look if he'd ever seen one. Dance with me.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. She was being such a goddamn tease tonight.

Where the hell was this girl all along? He was halfway to forgetting himself, forgetting how his boot was planted firm against the bar wall, how he wasn’t the kind of man to drift into the thick of things, but hell if she wasn’t making it too damn tempting. His feet nearly moved on their own.

The little flirt brought the fingernail between her canines, watching him back through dark lashes, still swaying. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing to him, drunk or not.

Then someone grabbed her.

It happened fast—a rough hand curled at her elbow, breaking that moment clean in two. Yanking her back, that playful grin dropped from her face as she stumbled back.

“You wanna fuckin' dance like that, you take it to the fuckin' streets where you belong,” the man sneered, his grip tight, stance aggressive.

Joel didn’t spare another thought, pushing past people, single-minded on one thing, one thing only. Fucking this guy up.

He was already moving, already cutting across the floor before Ellie’s sharp “Hey—!” had fully left her clenched teeth. Before Dina had raised her voice louder or Jesse had shoved his drink onto a nearby table.

Joel got there first.

His fist caught the guy’s collar, violent and hard, hauling him back so fast his boots scraped the floor. The man let out a startled grunt as Joel shoved him, sending him staggering.

“Get the fuck off me!” he barked, regaining his footing and immediately shoving back.

Big mistake—he might as well have tried pushing a brick wall. Joel barely moved a muscle.

That dark, familiar thing flared in his chest, searching for fuel, the way it always did before things got really bad for someone else. It thrived in moments like this. His jaw locked, teeth gritted.

Tommy got between them fast, hands up. “Alright, hey. Back off.”

The man’s lip curled, face twisted. “She’s makin’ a damn scene. Grown men tryna enjoy a drink, and she’s out here—” he waved a hand, scowling, “—doin’ that sleazy shit.”

“She was dancing, motherfucker,” Ellie snapped.

Dina stepped forward, unhesitant. “You got a problem with a girl having some fun?”

The bar crackled with tension.

Joel hadn’t looked away from the bastard. His chest rose slow, calculated, shoulders squared. He could already feel the heat of his pulse through every vein.

And the son of a bitch had the audacity to hold his gaze.

Joel was one word, one breath away from ripping his fucking teeth out of his head.

His fingers curled at his sides, hot with the need to do something, to wipe that smug look clean off the bastard’s face. It was an old, ugly feeling, one he knew too well—one that had kept him alive, carved into his bones like instinct.

“Don’t, Joel.” Tommy’s voice, quiet, firm. A name. “Maya.”

Joel’s breath hitched, like a hand gripping his collar, yanking him back before he could step over the edge.

He flicked his eyes past Tommy—past Maria—toward the far end of the bar. And there she was. His baby girl, small in Maria’s arms, being bounced in a steady rhythm. Distracted enough, but still watching. Big, dark eyes locked onto him, lips parted, fingers idly picking at her mouth like she did when something upset her.

Joel forced himself to breathe a calm breath in.

The man muttered something under his breath, took a step back.

Joel let him go. For now.

When he turned for Leela, she was stock-still, eyes fixed on the ground like she was trying to unsee what just happened. Her breath came shallow, uneven. Her fingers twitched at her sides, curling and uncurling, like they hadn’t quite gotten the message that the danger had passed.

Joel moved toward her without another thought, reaching for her. His hand found her face, a thumb grazing over her cheekbones. “Hey, we're done here.”

She blinked up at him. Swallowed. Lips parted like she meant to answer, but nothing came.

Joel didn’t wait, didn’t want to stand in this damn bar any longer with all these eyes on them and the sticky air pressing in. He guided her out—out of the noise, out of the murmurs, out into the cooler air beyond.

He barely heard the bar door swing shut behind them, noises within muffled by the night. His grip around Leela didn’t loosen until they reached the railings, and even then, he kept a steadying hand at her arm as she lowered herself to sit.

She sagged against the cool wood, breath coming uneven, gaze distant.

Joel inhaled deeply, trying to work the fire out of his blood. It only eased a fraction—just enough to let him think past the need to hit something. But something was still very, very wrong.

Dina, Jesse, and Ellie weren’t far behind. He barely registered them at first, too busy watching Leela.

Then it hit him.

This wasn’t just liquor. He’d seen it before, the unfocused sway, the way her pupils were just a little too blown, the sluggish, too-long blinks like her brain was catching up to reality in slow motion.

Joel had seen this before. Dealt with it before.

This stupid girl was high off her ass.

His breath came out sharp through his nose, and Jesse—fucking kid—must have caught onto his mood, because he held his hands out, cautious.

“Okay, Joel, before you lose your shit—”

Joel’s head snapped up, and the look he gave Jesse could’ve killed him right there. “The hell is wrong with you kids?”

Ellie threw up her hands. “You said to relax her! What else am I supposed to assume?”

Relax her. Joel almost laughed.

Because what kind of idiot was he, thinking they’d understand what he meant? He’d asked them to look out for her, to make sure she wasn’t overwhelmed—not drug her up and leave her swaying like a goddamn candle in the wind.

A headache started curling at the base of his skull.

The door opened again. “All okay out here?” Maria’s voice sliced through. She stepped outside, arms empty—Maya was with Tommy now. One long glance at Leela, and her expression sharpened. “Who got her high?”

Silence.

“I did.”

Dina, sounding less defensive and more resigned, shoulders dropping as she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Look, she was miserable, okay? I didn't want her to cry so... I just helped her out a bit.”

Joel pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, fingers digging in. A few months ago, he might’ve laid into the poor kid. Might’ve let his anger tear out of him in something sharp and punishing, because what the hell were they thinking?

But right now—now, there was Leela.

And she was leaning into him, forehead coming to press against his stomach, fingers loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt. Seeking warmth, steadiness. Him.

His hand found the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, stroking down in slow, absent motions. She was still warm, her breath soft against his stomach.

“Booooo-berries,” she slurred into him. It was the way Maya said it to them with that toothy smile, the one that never failed to get the two of them cracking up every morning.

Joel shook his head. “Christ.”

Maria sighed. “Take her home, Joel. I’ll take care of these three and send Tommy with Maya once you’ve got her sobered up.”

Joel didn't need to be told twice. He just nodded, tightening his hold on Leela, and braced himself for the slow, messy walk home.

Leela had surprisingly good depth perception for someone downright hopped up on drugs.

She’d asked him to dance with her to the music in her head five times, been refused all five times, attempted to spell some long-ass word while balancing on her tippiest toes, yelled that they'd lost Maya at least three times to which he'd assured her three times, and even showed off her ability to wiggle her ears like it was the greatest goddamn achievement in the world.

And well, Joel was having the time of his life.

Because everything about her at this moment was a person frozen in time, immature, stopped somewhere around nineteen, probably the same age her parents had passed. Like the weed had stripped everything else away, dulled out the grief, the hardship, the relentless millstone of responsibility.

Something she probably hadn’t let herself be in a long time. The Leela before Maya came along.

He sighed, steering her toward the house with firm hands at her waist, shuffling her through the door with the patience of a saint. She giggled at something—probably nothing—and the moment she was inside, she made a halfhearted attempt to kick off her pretty boots but ended up dropping onto the bottom step of the staircase with a huff, stretching out like a damn cat, arms over her head, smiling up at him like he’d just given her the world.

He shook his head, fighting the twitch in his lips. “Stay put, darlin’. Gonna get you some water.”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” she teased, stretching the words out, thick and syrupy. Her eyes glittered, mischief curling at the edge of her lips.

Jesus. Joel exhaled hard, rubbing a hand down his jaw as he turned toward the kitchen. He needed a second—just one—to get ahold of himself.

The faucet hummed as he filled a glass, and he let the sound drown out the heat still prickling under his skin. She’s just high. Just loose. That’s all. But damn if she wasn’t making it hard to remember that.

By the time he came back, she’d sprawled out even more, a lazy sprawl that had no right looking as ravishing as it did. Dark hair spilling like seaweed on the steps, one arm bent behind her head, the other resting just below her collarbone—fingers ghosting slow, absent patterns over the bare skin there.

His pulse ticked at his temple. He needed to look anywhere else.

He set the glass of water down, just beside her head, looming over her, leg stretched on a step, and patted her cheek. “Drink up, c'mon now.”

Leela blinked up at him, hazy and warm, and smiled like she was about to do something thoughtless. Oh, then she did.

Her hand lifted, fingers threading into the front of his hair, tugging through the strands before dragging down the rough line of his jaw. He exhaled sharply through his nose, caught between amusement and the low hum of shattering want.

“You're so hot,” she mumbled.

Pretty sure he'd blown a fuse. Now, it would be so easy to let himself sink into it, just let himself fall.

Instead, he huffed. “You’re so high.”

“I know,” she murmured, almost pleased with herself. Then, just as easily as she touched him, she let her hand drop. Then, like she’d been turning it over for a while, she said, “You know, Joel… if we got married, I’d be... Leela Miller.”

Joel froze, then—damn him—grinned his teeth off. He hadn’t ever married before, hadn’t even thought about it past the young, fleeting kind of love that got tangled up in dreams of a life he never really had. He was barely in college when he had Sarah, and after that, everything had been for her. Marriage, romance—it had been so far from his mind it might as well have been another country.

But hearing it now? So late in his life, in this broken, rebuilt world, and from a woman like Leela? It felt—strangely—like a promise. Her, standing there, hair tucked into a veil, teeth gleaming in a smile, a big white dress on a long aisle, walking towards him—it was what it was. A fantasy.

“Mrs. Miller,” he drawled, tasting the words. He shook his head. “No, actually—I like Dr. Miller more. First one in the family.”

Leela sighed like it was some faraway dream. “Dr. Leela, PhD.” She shook her head, biting down a smile. “Can you imagine that? I’d be published, be on planes, lecture students… maybe get tenure.”

He could imagine it, beyond question. Leela, all sharp intellect and sophistication, standing in front of a lecture hall full of wide-eyed students, knocking socks off with her brilliance. He saw her in crisp suits, red-bottoms clacking on marble floors, shaking hands with scholars, debating theories over glasses of wine, running circles around the best of them.

But then her expression shifted, something more distant creeping in. “But I think I’d rather take up my parents’ names. For legacy.”

Joel nodded. Made sense. If she wanted to honour where she came from, if she wanted that, who was he—

“Legacy,” she snorted, cutting through his thoughts. She carelessly patted at her skirt, fishing through her pockets, and pulled out a note—a small, crumpled scrap of paper, worn at the edges. She waved it absently in the air.

The numbers meant nothing to him, but he knew what they meant. The solution to one of the biggest unsolved mathematical problems out there. The kind of thing people used to kill themselves trying to solve. The kind of thing that would have her face and name splashed on headlines, maybe get her one of those Nobel Prizes. And she just held it like it was nothing.

“What’s the point anymore?” she muttered.

Then, before he could blink, she dunked it straight into the glass of water.

Joel lurched forward. “What in—” He snatched at the glass, pulling the soaked paper free. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel,” she dismissed him with a sigh. “There isn’t anyone out there who cares about this anymore. Just… let it go.”

Joel stared at her, then at the dripping remnants of her work. He pressed the ruined paper to his chest as if, somehow, he could will it back into existence, but it was too late. The ink had smudged, the numbers running into each other in unreadable streaks. The thin paper had started to break apart.

His jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Leela didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the house, out past Jackson, past whatever limits she had drawn for herself.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, rubbing at his face. He looked around the small space of the stairwell, the dim light catching the curve of her cheek and the sharp slope of her nose. She looked tired—and not just in the way that meant she needed sleep.

He leaned back on his haunches, resting his arms on his knees, watching her like he was trying to figure out the right words.

“Y’know,” he started, “I used to think that too. That things didn’t matter. That people—ideas… that they could just disappear, and the world would keep going like nothin’ happened.”

Leela blinked at him, somewhat interested. “And?”

“And I was wrong.”

She scoffed, barely there. “What changed?”

Joel tilted his head, brooding. He wanted to say Sarah. But that wasn’t the definitive truth. Losing Sarah had been the reason he stopped believing in things, in himself, in the good of the world. But finding Ellie, loving Maya, falling for Leela, learning to give a shit about anything again—that was what made him realize he was wrong.

So instead, he just said, “I did.”

Leela studied him, still in a daze. Then, she dropped her gaze to the water-stained paper. “It’s not the same, Joel,” she murmured. “No one’s out there waiting for this anymore.”

He shook his head. “That ain’t the point.”

He gestured vaguely at the note, at the numbers that were little more than smudges now. “You put your time and life into this.” He glanced back at her. “You cared. Your people cared.”

She didn’t say anything. Just sat there, shoulders drawn in, staring at her own hands.

Joel sighed, rubbing at his jaw. “Listen, I ain't some goddamn philosopher. I don’t know shit about legacy or what’s supposed to last. Or have one. But I do know—things don’t stop matterin’ just ’cause you’re tired of carryin’ ‘em.”

Leela swallowed, but her throat bobbed like it was hard work.

Joel reached down, nudging the damp paper toward her. “You wanna throw it away? Fine. But don’t tell yourself it never meant nothin’ in the first place. You wisen the fuck up and find somethin' else. Another big idea.”

Leela stared at the ruined note. He could see the war going on in her head, the part of her that wanted to believe him, and the part that had already convinced herself it was all pointless.

And he wasn’t sure if it was because she was thinking about it, or because she was already too far gone.

That being said, Joel barely had time to react when it began. The very first notch on his epitaph.

Leela lifted onto her elbows, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, pulling him down over her until her breath ghosted over his lips—warm, teasing, heady. He could smell the impulse, the weed, the sweetness of her skin, everything that made up this living ideal. And then, just like that, she closed the distance and kissed him.

Slow at first, careful. Like she was figuring it out as she went, learning the way their mouths fit together, the way he tasted, tongue searching for his. And then something shifted—her hands slid up, fisting at the leather over his shoulders, tugging at him, voicing a small, needy sound in the back of her throat that just about undid him.

Joel breathed out sharply, his restraint unravelling like a frayed rope snapping under too much tension. Wrecking him, ruining him, pushing him, making him lose his head.

“Joel,” she murmured a plea.

“Christ, Leela,” he hissed against her lips. “We—”

We what? Can't do this? Are not ready? Need to do this on your big-ass bed so I don't throw my back out? Need to talk this through, and set some boundaries? What was he, an idiot?

She was fucking with him. Just had to be.

But, the joke's on her because he was fucked to begin with.

His closed, shaking fists found her ass, opening only to press into the softness there, mapping the curves and grooves he’d spent too goddamn long depriving himself of.

And then she was pushing his jacket back, fingers clumsy but determined, impatient.

He could tell, she clearly didn’t know what she was doing—not entirely—but she was following instinct, and it was killing him. She had no idea what it did to him, the way she was just handing herself over like this. Like she wanted it just as badly.

So, he let her work it off him, let it fall with a soft thump, not caring where it landed, his own hands greedy now, focused and unstoppable—sliding up her ribs, the dip of her waist, down to the soft skin between her thighs. She was supple beneath his touch, melting into every press, every slow drag of his fingers, his own callouses catching into her skin.

Joel wasn’t sure if he was breathing. Didn’t care if he wasn't.

He had to rip himself off her to kneel back on a creaking step to find his pace, unbutton his cuffs one by one and roll back his sleeves to his elbows, like a dedicated man about to knuckle down and give everything.

Because this was how he should’ve had her—how he’d wanted her from the start. All fingers and touch. Desperate. Awed. Like she was something he’d been dying to claim.

“You okay?” he had to pant out, that one last instinct pushing him to ask, but he couldn't stop himself to one more deep kiss into her neck. “Jesus, I can't stop. Fuckin' want everything... you alright, sweetheart?”

No response, but he was met with a quiet, feeble nod when he looked at her. It was all he needed.

“S'okay, I've got you. I'll make it good, real good for you, baby,” he made his promise, feverish.

Now utterly too immersed in her, trailing his lips, beard scratching a little too hard into her skin—on the thin, useless straps of that dress, slipping off her shoulders like they had no right being there in the first place.

He dragged his mouth down, nudging slow, deep, open-mouthed kisses against the inside of her arm, the slope of her shoulder, and the sharp line of her collarbone. He let himself linger, let himself taste—the wet, sweet, hot summer in the flesh, tongue flicking against the hollow of her throat, feeling the way she swallowed.

Fucking dress. Driving him insane, the way it barely covered her, how easy it would be to pull it down, to strip her bare, and—shit, he had to get his head in the game.

He let out a breath, hot and heavy, dragging his lips down lower, between her chest, kissing the bony little space there, hands smoothing over her breasts, squeezing them into his palm, pressing each one with a lingering, rolling, attentive kiss, revelling in the softness there. His teeth grazed the soft flesh, just enough to make her gasp, to feel her fingers tighten where they clutched at his arms. He soothed the spot with his tongue, tasting the salt of her skin, his hands roaming lower, gripping, kneading, pulling her deeper into his mouth.

She arched into him even, like her body was learning how to react, and he groaned, half-mad with want, barely holding himself together. “Oh, baby…”

His fingers found the hem of her dress, gathering it up, slowly pushing it up over the curve of her stomach.

He was like a goddamn kid opening a present on Christmas day.

The muscle there—taut, toned, fucking sexy. Deep stretch marks from pregnancy settled into her skin like the rings of a tree, or his own uncharted map, leading him down, down, to the space between her legs. From there, it was all long limbs and those maddening cowgirl boots—boots he had big plans to enjoy. He clenched his jaw and pressed his mouth against the dip above her navel, lips parting, teeth scraping, biting down just enough to feel the resistance of her skin against his tongue.

Then—his senile little brain caught up all at once, like a heart attack. “Gotta be kiddin' me. Look at you.”

Black. A little faded, like they’d been through too many wash cycles. A tiny white bow stitched into the hem of those soft, ruffled panties. He had half a mind to ask if she liked them—if she’d mind him tearing them off with his teeth. If she wouldn’t, well… he sure as hell wouldn’t.

He nearly felt a spark against his fingertip as he slid his fingers over the bow, over the fabric, his mouth watering, his longest finger pressuring in, feeling her slit through the softness, so warm, a ready little ridge in her body waiting just for him.

Well, fuck, if that wasn't a slice of heaven, he didn't know what was.

His breath hitched, and for a second, a strange dread twisted in his gut—tight and sharp, a visceral reaction to seeing her like this, vulnerable and unharmed in ways that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the way she just laid there.

Because she wasn’t here. Not completely.

Her hands were on him, but barely. Just resting. No urgency, no fire, no need that matched his own. Her fingers curled into his shirt like she didn’t know what to do with them. Like she wasn’t even thinking about what they were doing, like she was just letting herself be taken.

Her eyes—half-lidded, unfocused, watching him but not seeing him. Allowing him, not needing him. He couldn't tell if that was the weed or just her instinct.

And suddenly, all that desperate, consuming heat turned ice-cold in his chest.

No.

Not like this. This wasn’t how he wanted her. This wasn’t how he wanted them. Not when she might not even fucking remember it in the morning.

Joel blew out a sigh, pressing his forehead against her stomach, forcing himself to breathe, to reel himself in, to fight the fucking starvation clawing at him from the inside. His fingers twitched against her ribs, aching to keep going, to give in, to be selfish for once in this goddamn relationship.

But he couldn’t. He knew his own strength, knew how easy it would be to press too hard, take too much. He’d spent too many years being careful. Watching himself. And right now, it wasn’t just himself he needed to be careful of.

And he was in this for the long run.

He leaned back, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, forced his hands to loosen, to let her go.

She glanced at him, sluggish, blinking like she didn’t understand why he’d stopped.

Joel brushed her hair out of her face, his thumb stroking gently over her temple, his touch mindful now, like she might break.

“Hey,” he murmured, rough, still thick with want. Forced himself to smile, small and lopsided, like none of this was pulling him apart at the seams.

“Where’d you go, darlin’? You with me?”

And he hated how desperate it sounded. Because he wanted her here right by him. Wanting this as much as he did. But if she wasn’t, if she wasn’t entirely here, then he wasn’t going to fucking take it.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, half-there, half-somewhere else, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then—slowly, consciously—her fingers lifted, skimming along the stubble of his jaw, then lower, slipping behind her own neck. “It's okay.”

His breath hitched as she undid the thin strap at the back of her neck, her dress loosening, slipping ever so slightly. The curve of her shoulder, more of that smooth, bronze skin—fuck.

Joel closed his fingers around her wrist before it could go further, her pulse jumping beneath his fingertips.

And for a moment, there was only the ragged pull of their breathing, his harsher than hers, his mind a coil of need and restraint, and something dangerously close to guilt.

Without a word, he turned her hand over, brushing his lips to the centre of her palm. The way a man might kiss a cross before prayer.

Leela’s fingers twitched, then curled slightly.

She swallowed, then hesitated. “Did I do something—don't you...” Her voice was quiet, too careful. “Don’t you want to, um...?”

Joel's throat constricted. The words shouldn’t have made him feel like this—shouldn’t have sent something sharp and aching curling deep in his chest. But they did. They scoured against him, somewhere he hadn’t realized was still bleeding.

He exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes for a second, like he could rub out the frustration clawing through his chest. His jaw was tight, his pulse hammering—his whole body still wound too fucking tight from everything that almost happened, from everything he wanted to happen.

Then he dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Jesus, Leela.” His voice was low, rough-edged.

She just watched him, slow-blinking, her head tilting slightly—something indistinct crossing her expression. She looked… lost. Like she wasn’t sure how they got here.

Then, quieter now—“Don’t you want me, Joel?”

Joel inhaled. Exhaled. Fought it. Fought the goddamn instinct to pull her right back in, to let himself take, to let himself lose.

Instead, he pushed a hand through his hair, let out a sharp breath, and muttered, "More than you fucking know."

His voice came out hoarse, almost gutted. Because it was the truth.

He wanted her more than anything. More than he wanted to breathe, more than he could goddamn stand, more than he despised himself. He’d spent too many nights pretending not to, spent too many mornings waking up with her ghosted across his senses, still tangled in his bloodstream, in every part of him. He wanted her in ways he shouldn’t. In ways that scared the living shit out of him.

And she was right there. Warm, soft, half-lost in the haze of the weed, but still her. Still Leela. Still, the only thing he wanted.

But not like this.

He shifted back, forcing space between them—except her warmth was still there, still lingering, still wrapped around him like she hadn’t realized yet that he was trying to let go.

Leela blinked at him again. Slow. Fuzzy. Making sense of this. “Okay.”

She reached behind her, fumbling with the ties of her dress, shoulders shifting as she tried to fix them, needing to close the space between them with something more real.

But before she could—he beat her to it. His hands moved without thinking—secured the knot at her shoulder, fingers brushed against warm skin.

He sighed. “You are so beautiful. And smart. Make me so damn unworthy of you.”

And then—a pause. A moment he shouldn’t have let himself have.

Softly, he pressed his lips to the lune of her shoulderblade, just once. A slow breath against her skin. And then, finally, he pulled the fabric back over her legs, smoothing it into place.

Not because he didn’t want her. Because he refused to take her like this.

It was entirely too heartbreaking, the way she was looking at him now—lost and waiting, her fingers curling into nothing, like she wanted to hold onto something but wasn’t sure if she could.

Leela watched him, unmoving. Something flickering in her eyes, something deeper than the haze, something real trying to surface through the weed.

He cupped the side of her ribs, palm splayed over warm skin, then moved lower, pressing his hand firm against her lower stomach.

Leela inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly, something flickering behind her gaze. A breath hitched in her throat.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw working as he stared at her, his thumb stroking once over the fabric of her dress, over the smooth skin beneath. Trying to make sure she felt it.

Right there. Right where he wanted to be.

“But the truth is, I love you,” he rasped. A promise. A warning. He didn't have to force it out anymore, it was written all over him.

“So, one day, when I'm real deep inside you, Leela, I am all you're gonna think about. Just me, loving all of you.”

Her lashes fluttered. And for the first time in the last few minutes, she really looked at him. Like she was coming back. Like his words had cut through the fog and pulled her back down to him.

Joel’s breathing was ragged now, his self-restraint stretched thin, nearly breaking—but he didn’t move. Didn’t close the last inch between them, didn’t let himself pull her under.

Instead, it was she who moved. Right toward him.

Slowly, carefully, she shuffled forward, and slid down onto the step beside him. The movement was hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if he’d let her. Quietly curled into his side, slipping her arm around his bicep, the warmth of her soaking into him, settling beneath his skin.

Joel let out a slow, shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The muscles in his shoulders eased, just slightly, before he let himself lean into her, pressing his nose into her hair, breathing her in.

Her fingers found his, twisting together, small and warm and so fucking delicate.

Then she lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, barely there—but she ravaged him.

Then, quiet—hesitant—

“You're good for me,” she whispered.

Joel closed his eyes for a second.

It wasn’t a question. Wasn’t a plea. Just a simple, quiet thing, like she’d finally let herself believe it. And maybe that was what ravaged him the most.

Because he wasn’t good. Had never been. He was a man shaped by hard choices, by regret, by suffering, by all the things he’d done just to survive. He was pretty sure the gears in his heart were rusted, black sludge pumped through his veins, merely broken in ways that time hadn’t fixed.

But for her—with her, with Maya—he wanted to be. God, he wanted to be. Maybe he already was. Maybe she saw something in him that he never let himself hope for before he ever did.

His fingers curled tighter around hers, like he could hold onto this moment, keep it from slipping through the cracks. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against her skin, memorizing the feel of her, in the press of his calloused hand against hers.

“You're good f'me, too,” he muttered.

She just leaned in closer, her body soft against his. Yeah, Joel let himself believe it now.

He's good for her.

{ taglist 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @oolongreads -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

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rangerdoubt · 3 months ago

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defeated by my very own emo catboy. there he is

ohhhh nooooo

#oc. leih’to #which wasn’t even supposed to be his name but they wouldn’t let me into the damn server with the one i made up LMAO #and now i’m like. huh. okay. maybe that works #he does give off Second (Less Favourite) Son energy which is saying something #actively learning miqo’te lore and going Huh. What. Okay.#not a good time to be any of my other obligations.

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engenlvr · 7 days ago

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i miss you, i’m sorry | alexia putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x mila crnogorčević (oc)

summary: years ago she messed up the best thing that ever happened to her and now it's back in front of her she won't make that mistake again

tags: angst, fluff, acl's, firstlove!alexia, past relationship, exes that haven’t seen each other in years, orange coloured text means that it is spanish and blue is swiss german. i hate writing games so it will probably be written horribly.

word count: 10k+

it was match day.

an el clásico to be exact. barcelona vs real madrid. champions league quarter final. you’ve been to many of these when you moved to spain from switzerland when you were fourteen.

football was your favourite sport growing up your dad was huge on it he even tried to get you in the sport but it was horrible and you quit immediately. you traded playing the sport to taking pictures of it.

you cousin ana-marie was the whole reason why you were here today, sat next to your friend bella. you were beyond proud of the girl and everything she’s achieved in her career.

today she was going to play in front of a world record crowd for women’s football. thousands of people in one stadium to see the team’s kick a ball around.

when you were offered an invite to see her play you couldn’t decline it wasn’t just a big moment in her career but also yours if you could capture the right moment. there were times where you’d see her play and the stadium barely had any people but today was the stadium was basically full.

the two girls were sat in their barcelona shirts with the name crnogorčević on the back of it. the game was just about to start with just the whistle needing to be blown.

and when it did the twenty two players began to run up and down the pitch. the score was already 3-1 on aggregate but it didn’t stay like that for long with a lovely cross from barcelona’s number four in the seventh minute.

there was something about el clásico no matter what, they were entertaining the rivalry between the two clubs causing that. then came the penalty due to a hand ball which only added to the game. it ended up going in real madrid’s favour with it barely slipping passing pass the goalkeeper fingers.

but it wasn’t till the second half when you got really invested, it wasn’t your cousin getting subbed on the pitch that the game really started to interest you. and a goal from the opposing team, a goal that was a beaut even thought it was hard to say with your barça heart.

but with that goal you knew it was only going to motivate them more and it did. that goal drove the home team to get a few more in their name. but it wasn’t the second or third goal that caught your attention it was the fourth that did.

the way they played was so familiar but you couldn’t place who it was or if your even knew them. the confidence in their movement and passes, their confidence full stop was too similar. the was she bowed to the fans as they all cheered for her. you didn’t have the clearest of views from where you were sat but with that being said whenever you were taking pictures you don’t really pay attention to their face everything was blurred out.

the rest of the game was a blur all your thoughts on the teams number 11 who seemed to be everyone’s favourite and it wasn’t until the final whistle that you snapped out of that trance.

“that game was amazing, i mean all the goals was beautiful” hanna blabbed in excitement over the game as the two of you made your way down to the pitch now that everyone was gone “i mean you have to show me all your photos”

looking at the girl “you always see my photos before anyone else” if there was one thing that the spanish girl loved about you was that you knew someone on the team meaning that you could get her tickets.

the two of you met about three years ago and have been best friends since and it wasn’t until a year in your friendship that she realised that you knew ana-marie but that you were actually family.

“ana! i’m so proud of you” pulling the girl into a hug and not letting her go till she started to pull away to hug hanna.

“you were amazing” the spanish girl complimented completely in awe at the swiss girl’s performance today.

the three girl continued to chat about the match that happened, from the goals to saves that happened. you listed nodding every now and then to the teams number 10 caught your eyes.

“jenni?” eyes full of confusion as you walked to the dark haired girl “what are you doing here? you know when we met and you were all secretive about your job i didn’t know it was because you were a footballer” she pulled you into a hug completely shocked that the girl she thought about a lot after they last saw each other months ago.

“what am i doing here? i could ask you the same thing. i can’t believe your here” her eyes looked at you “you know ana she’s my cousin and she asked me to come see her play. i’m also a sports photographer and it was worth coming i mean it was beautiful to think so many people came to watch you play. but i don’t blame them”

“are you flirting with me?” she joked remembering how you where when the two of you met on holiday “your family is looking at us well more me but still”

you looked back at your cousin and friend who glanced at the two of you “i think she just shocked that i know another footballer i mean she was shocked when i told her that ana was my cousin like she screamed cause she she loves this team”

“and you? do you love this team”

“i guess i do i’ve lived here since i was fifteen and been to may of these games and my shirt” spinning around to show her the your name ( ana-maria’s name ) on the back “love everything about this club, in fact i know everything about it”

“well since you love this club so much out of the kindness of my heart i’ll give you my shirt” pulling the fabric off her body and handing it to you “and the team we’re going out tonight to celebrate the win you should come”

“i don’t want to intrude” shaking your head no “you won’t i promise i want you there and the team will love you”

jenni heard her name being called “look i got to go but please come”

“hanna how do u feel about going to a party tonight”

so that’s how the two of your found yourselves in the club full of professional footballers “not to sound like i’m using you or anything but i love the fact that you know footballers especially barça ones. but how do you know jenni” the dark haired spaniard asked while dragging you to the bar to get shots number, well she didn’t know.

“err, we met on holiday”

her head shot around “you slept with her” the words jumbled up in your throat trying to come up with lie but nothing worked and you knew that she could see right through you so you stopped “no, okay so maybe i did, but it was months ago and a total coincidence that i met her today. i didn’t even know she played for barça”

“well i’m happy that you know them cause girl this place has been booked out for months”

the swiss girl humed in agreement before picking up the shot and downing it clearly needing it after her best friend integration.

the footballers were scatters all around across the club. you have yet to see everyone on the team, only really talked to ana-maria, ingrid, mapi and of course jenni.

“i don’t blame you, she’s really hot”

“thank you, hanna. i’m gonna steal her for a dance” pulling you alonge with her before you could say by to the girl.

“you’re a hard girl to find” she whispered in your ear from behind, the way she spoke with such confidence in everything that she does.

“well i’ve been on the dance floor or at the bar”

your body up against hers, the way her hand run up your bare back due to your backless crop top you wore. the touch that caused goosebumps to appear. maybe it was the alcohol that enhanced all that you felt but you didn’t care, both of you didn’t.

“you look beautiful, your top with that small skirt of yours i love it” her fingers grazing the price of clothing as she named them “it reminds me of that night in kos. you at that club in that tight red dress that compliments you so well” pushing you hair to the side “i still think about that night, how good you were for me all night” her lips meeting your neck peppering kisses on it.

you finally looked away from the girl and looked at the table in front of you. your movements halted as you saw her, you saw alexia after all these years. after ten years you saw her and she was looking directly back at you. those eyes you used to wake up next to, those hazel eyes you loved looking at.

after ten years and she still had the same effect on you as if the two of you still knew one another. god you hated that she did, you hated that she looked more beautiful since the last time you saw her.

looking at her and you suddenly were a teenage girl and in love with girl and the two of you were in her room kissing each other every chance you had.

“i’m sorry, i’ve got to go” running out the club ignoring the calls not only from jenni but from hanna and your cousin as well.

you didn’t remember how you got there but there you were at beach the two of you used to always go to. looking at the rock which had the initials of the two of you and drawings that the two of you have put.

you felt a figure sit beside you, not even having to look as that scent was so familiar. the midfielder sat down beside you and the seconds she did you got up to walk away.

her hand grabbing your wrist to stop you from fleeing.

“no ale—alexia no. you don’t get to come here and touch me like nothing happened. you were horrible to me i stuck with you through everything the highs and the lows but then you took out all your anger on me and i tried to stay but it wasn’t just that. you never showed up. i was there at every important event of yours but you never came to mine even if i told you weeks in advance there was always something to stop you from coming but that night was it. i just couldn’t do it no more”

seeing her just brought everything up again, everything that you thought you had healed all those years ago but it didn’t, it still hurt.

“i don’t blame you” her voice sweeter than ever it still sounded like pure heaven to you but how couldn’t it. it was the voice that told you that she loved you and that she was gonna marry you and so much more. you couldn’t stand that fact that it still did “i would of done the same thing, walking out on me. i was a horrible girlfriend not just after he died but before as well. my need to just be the best ruined what we had and after years of having you by my side i was so used to having you there and i took it for granted and i thought you’d stay, no matter what but i pushed you too far but losing you made me see everything that i done and how wrong i done you. the trophies mean nothing if your not by my side”

her eyes were on you but yours were focusing on the waves and the sound it made it helped you slow the tears falling down your face “seeing you with jenni, my best friend. how close she was to you, her body up against your whispering in your ear and kissing you. i don’t ever want to see that. i used to be the one to do that to you and i want to make things right. there hasn’t been a day no a second where i haven’t thought about you and i’m going to make it right cause losing you made me realise how much i love you and need you in my life”

her words caused you to look at her for the first time since the club. you had a chance to really look at her alexia had changed her hair now blonde it complimented her but you miss her brown hair.

you often thought about what would of happened if you told the girl straight up how you felt whether you’d be at the match for her instead of ana-marie. whether you’d be there after every win and lost. whether you’d still go her family’s house chatting with her mum or going out with alba to gossip or if you’d still be with her.

“alexia i— i don’t think that can happen” her eyes looking a bit sad at your words “no mila i will make us us again i’m not gonna give up on this on us”

standing up from where the two of your were sat, slowly moving away till you were by the right of her to say your last words to her “i’m glad you got everything you ever wanted” walking away but not before glancing back at her one more time.

those words hurt her more knowing you thought that she couldn’t fix this or that you didn’t want her to try at all but she had changed losing you changed her for the better “not everything” she whispered sadly looking directly at you. she let you slip away once but she wouldn’t let it happen again.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

october 2009

it was your first day at school in spain obviously you were beyond nervous, how could you not be in a place where the language wasn’t you first and only understood basic phrases.

if it wasn’t bad enough that you were the new kid you had to be the new kid who joined midway through the the term. everyone already had their established friendship groups and you would be there all alone.

your dad who was a football coach moved us here as being the coach of barça was something he couldn’t turn down, so that’s how you found yourself in barcelona. ever since finding out that you were moving you tried to learn spainsh and catalan but it was harder than you thought.

the halls were crowded with friends walking around making their way for lunch, while you walked in the complete opposite direction. lessons weren’t necessarily bad but you felt like the odd one out everyone speaking rapid spanish while you could only latch on to maybe a few words if lucky. having the teacher speak to the class and then you, which wasn’t to hurt you or make you feel separate but it did.

you had found a secluded space, the football stands. despite not being that good at the sport you felt comfort there. your dad often took you with him when he practiced. though you had never been here, every stand felt familiar and brought you comfort.

everywhere you went you had a camera always ready to capture a moment whether it was a person or scenery, taking pictures was what you were meant to do. your love for sports photography began with all the training sessions your day would take you to. when you were younger you would always complain about how boring it was but then your mum had the idea to give you a camera. and to their surprise the pictures you took were great, great enough to even be used for promo.

a brunette walked on to the pitch with a ball in her hands before going to do some football drills. the girl obviously didn’t notice you seeing as she continued to move effortlessly with the ball.

you could tell she was popular as every time someone walked pass they wave to her or have a conversation with her.

it was beautiful.

a scene worth capturing. she looked beautiful and confident in each stride. so you picked up your film camera and took multiple pictures of the girl who moved gracefully on the pitch.

she was perfected each stride except for the last which went straight for you and totally would of hit you if you hadn’t of ducked “i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there” she apologised profusely while running over to you. the language of that spoke from her lips confused you for a moment completely forgetting that you weren’t in switzerland anymore but spain “it’s okay” you face full of confusion as you didn’t know if you had said the words right.

and she continued apologising well that’s what you thought she was saying as you were completely lost and your face displayed it.

“your the new student aren’t you” finally switching to english which calmed your nerves completely “yeah, i’m sorry i’m trying to learn catalan but i’m not that good yet”

reaching for the ball behind you, grabbing it and handing it to her. you could finally look at the girl, hazel eyes which complimented her brown hair so well. “so why are you here and not eating lunch”

“i don’t really know anyone here. actually you’re the first person to really put in an effort to talk to me” shrugging your shoulders

“well you know me now”

the words spoken with a smile “alexia” putting her hand out for you to shake.

“mila”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

fate.

that’s what alexia liked to call it whenever the two of you seemed to bump into each other. at the coffee shop, in the middle of the streets, your weekly food shop and more.

obviously she was happy about seeing you but after you hadn’t seen her for ten years it was weird seeing her this often.

you slammed the door shut as you entered your flat which hanna was currently in “mila what happened for you to slamming that poor door?”

glaring at the girl with her comment “ugh i hate her why can’t she just leave me alone”

“who”

“i mean everyday i bump into her and she’ll be all happy acting as if nothing happened. asking me how my day was”

“again i don’t know who your talking about”

“it’s just why do i have to see her practically everyday—“

the spaniard grabbed your shoulders shaking them to stop you from talking “mila who? who are you talking about?”

“alexia” the words coming out slow “okay alexia who alexia jones, alexia smith. mila who’s alexia? i don’t know everything”

“alexia from the bar”

a look of realisation appeared on her face “alexia putellas!” you nodded “you know alexia what did you sleep with her or something how do you know her? why is it you who knows all the barça player and i don’t” whispering the last bit to herself.

“i kinda know her”

“yeah i’ve got that but how?”

“well i kinda used to date her” hanna’s face filled with shock cause if she was in your position she’d be telling everyone she knew “i know i should of told you but the break up was so messy we were so messy in the last few month’s. when we first met it was perfect like i was so in love and it only grew as our careers did. i’d go to her games and she’d go to my events everything was perfect. then her dad died and everything went down hill she’d start arguments over anything i did that showed that i cared. she missed my events and then i just left, couldn’t even tell her to her face or else i wouldn’t go through with it so i left her a silly letter, i left her when she needed me most”

“you used to date alexia putellas, the the caption of fc barcelona” completely ignoring everything but the first sentence

“yes hanna” slight annoyed at her for being up her name again “okay just making sure we’re talking about the same person here”

dropping yourself on the sofa and grabbing a pillow of yours to squeeze. at first hanna was going to make a joke about the two of you but she saw the way you looked over you bumbing into the captain and how much it really effected you in more ways than you wished.

“you want my opinion” looking at you and waiting for a sigh but you stayed still staring at the view form your window “okay well i’m gonna give you it anyway. well it’s clear that she still means something to you wether you want it to or not but you still love her and miss her and what the two of you had. well i don’t know alexia personally but i think if she really didn’t care about you and didn’t feel sorry she wouldn’t talk to you each time she bumps into you. i think you leaving really showed her how wrong her actions were and i think the reason she didn’t reach out is to respect your boundaries even if it hurt her.”

“all i’m saying is that it won’t hurt to at least talk things out so that the both of you can move on” pulling your head to her chests “just think about it okay”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

february 2010

you learnt very quickly that alexia practically bleed blaugrana. you figured that out practically the first day you met.

at your old school when people found out who your dad was they would always ask for favours. like to meet the players and get stuff signed for them. so they never really wanted to be your friend.

so when you heard that you were gonna move to barcelona you made the choice to go by your mums last name instead of your dads.

though you didn’t want your mind to go there it did. you thought somehow she found a picture of you online and that’s why she started talking to you. but as the days went on she never asked for anything infact when she saw your face when she talked about the club she’d stop.

slowly you realised that maybe she was friends with you solely cause of you and not for your dad. that she actually liked you for you. most of your friends were ones from your childhood other than that you didn’t make any.

normally you wouldn’t use your dads connections for your own personal use. but it was alexia you were talking about, your alexia and seeing the smile that would come on her face would be so worth it.

alexia was gutted that she couldn’t get tickets to that game barcelona vs real madrid seeing as the game was a day after her birthday.

“alexia i have one more gift for you” pulling out the bag for behind you “mila i told you that you didn’t need to get me anything, you being here is enough” seeing as you already got her too much stuff in her eyes from new football boots which she instited that you took back and the only present she truly accepted was the necklace you bought for her.

your face could barely keep your emotions in as you were smiling so much “i know but you’ll love it i swear”

“open it please” pushing the bag more towards her. you watched as she hesitantly opened the bag and her face filled with excitement as she read what was on the paper.

“no you didn’t” she repeated before throwing herself your arms causing you to fall backwards on the floor “mila, i love you. best birthday present ever” she said while placing kisses on your cheeks which caused them to heat up.

her parents watched as the two of you hugged on the floor while her sister picked the piece of paper and showed her parent which only made their smile widen.

you were exactly what alexia needed. sure she had others friends that they thought were good enough for alexia but seeing you with her only made them realise that what they saw before was nothing like what the two of you had.

“but these were sold out how could you possibly get them and the first row” pulling away to look at you through her tear filled eyes before hugging you again “i have my ways and we even get to go on the pitch afterwards and talk to the players” you were meant to keep that last bit in but you couldn’t help it. seeing alexia happy makes you happy

“what did i do to deserve you”

what you didn’t know was the you buying the tickets was the best thing to ever happen to the two of you. after the game which barcelona won of course alexia’s words. you didn’t just get tickets for the two of you you also got tickets for her mum, dad and sister.

the lot of you made your way down the pitch. the clothes you wore which were simply a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and alexia said you should of worn the barcelona top she got you seeing as everyone but you wore one.

dragging her hand as you went on to the pitch and to your dad which she was yet to know was your dad “dad” shouting as you ran and hugged him “hi, i see you we’re finally brave enough to tell her who your dad is” whispering in your ear.

“ale, come here pls” telling the girl who stood confused next to her parents. she was really confused about her her mila knew the head coach of barcelona. “ale i’d like you to meet my dad”

“it’s nice to finally meet you alexia” bring the girl into a hug where she stood still in shock

“your dad. he’s your dad. the head coach of barcelona is your dad” pointing between the two of you “i’m sorry i should of told you but at my last school people only wanted to be friend with me cause of it and i just didn’t want that. i wanted to be sure that you were friend with me cause of me not cause of my day”

she stood still for a second her face emotionless, no tell of what she was feeling “no i get it, i’m glad that you trust me” pulling you into a hug. before you dragged her to meet the players.

safe to say that she need a minute after meeting the players. she pulled you into the bathroom, you immediately sat on the sink as you watched the girl just pace back and fourth thinking about the event that happened in the previous hour.

“mila” finally breaking the silence “i can’t believe that just happened. i always thought about how i would act if i met the players but i didn’t really think it would happen”

she stoped pacing and moved between the the gap of your legs. alexia knew that what she felt for you was stronger than her other friendships. She knew she loved you even at the start of your friendship. whether she meant it in the way she loved her friends or more she just knew that she did.

everyone your age had boyfriends, alexia claimed she doesn’t have one as she didn’t see the appeal. you on the other hand, had boys ask you out which you always declined. that was something that annoyed alexia but she’d never tell you why not that she knew why she hated it. you hadn’t been in a relationship since your boyfriend back in switzerland.

she loved you. your hair, your eyes the way you’d smiled or how you generally were intrigue in the silly stories she tell you. maybe it was the little to no distance between the two of you or the high from meeting her football idols that made her do it. but she did

alexia’s hand went to your cheek which you leaned into. her eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

her lips were suddenly placed on yours moving but it was your turn to stand still in shock. when you didn’t reciprocate she moved away “mila, i’m sorry that was a mistake. i hope i haven’t ruined this—” placing your lips on hers showing her that you felt the same. your hand wrapped around her neck pulling you closer, wanting to feel more of her on you. the two of you seemed to forget that this was a bathroom as the two of you were lost in each other.

kissing your ex never felt like this, like you were on cloud nine.

“best birthday present ever” alexia spoke between kisses and went to deepen the last when a knock stopped it from happening. causing the two of you to laugh.

“we should go” you murmured kissing her and dragging her out of the bathroom.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

unblock alexiaputellas

unblocked

unblocking was first thing you done since your talk with hanna. you told yourself that you were doing it to finally move on but part of you done it to i guess see her but at the some time not. watch her life from afar.

the second you pressed that button you saw ten years worth of memories that you could of been part of. her first cap for her country, days out with her family, winning the league and the one that hurt most her signing for barcelona. the one you promised to be there for.

milacc

hey

the notification on alexia’s screen caused her to drop her home phone in the changing room once she saw it. gaining looks form all her teammates especially once they saw her face.

alexiaputellas

milacc

we need to talk

i know you have a team meet up tomorrow can I meet you there???

if not we can find a better date

alexiaputellas

no that fine

i’m sure all my teammates will be fine with you coming

milacc

perfect see you tomorrow

alexiaputellas

wait

how do you know about tomorrow?

milacc

ana-maria told me

alexiaputellas

how do you know ana

milacc

she’s my cousin

alexiaputellas

she’s the ana you said you always missed

makes sense now she’s exactly how you said she was

milacc

yeah

anyway i’ve got to go work is calling

bye

alexiaputellas

bye

see you tomorrow

when you texted her yesterday the meet up it was meant to be at a cafe, but once that heard how many people were coming they said the party was too big.

so you got a text from ana-maria saying that it was being held a alexia place. arriving at her place didn’t really setting in till you went inside.

hesitantly you knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on your feet. when the door finally opened it revealed alexia.

“hi” putting her into a small hug a hug in which she missed more than words could describe. she would of held on a little longer if you hadn’t pulled away when something fluffy ran towards you.

“nala, my baby. oh how i’ve missed you”

picking up her dog which couldn’t contain her excitement in your arms and kissing you’re face. now you’ve known nala since alexia first got her. she claimed that she got it for her but she also knew how much you loved dogs.

when nala was little she spent most of her time with you so she got very close to you and you would also joke saying that you were nala’s favorite ( you were ) even though alexia would never admit it.

obviously it wouldn’t be that bad seeing as you’d have ana-maria here with you so if you needed a break you’d could just go to her.

once fully being inside her place you muttered a quick hi to the other girls and giving jenni a small hug before sitting down and the only seat that was left was next to alexia.

once all the greeting and introductions were done you took a sip of the coffee that alexia got for you and it was exactly how you liked.

she remembered after all these years.

“so mila how do you know ana-maria?”

the two swiss girls looked at each other “she’s my cousin” they all looked between them and only then saw the similarities between the two.

you liked the girls they genuinely seemed like nice girls and you got on with everyone. alexia smiled while she watched you talk to her friends and imagined that this was the everyday norm. she imagined that you were her girlfriend and this was normal.

made her want this back even more.

while talking to the girls you had a proper look at her place. you noticed things that the others wouldn’t like the candle holder, the swiss book that’s you loved, flower pot and many more.

after years she still had your things littered around her place as if it was ours. alexia knew that it was wrong but she didn’t have you in her life and this was the best she would get.

jana came back through the bathroom door with a video camera in her hands and a sneaky smile “you’ll never guess what i found?”

alexia looked over at jana and what she was holding and launched herself at jana to grab it but failed “this has old video of alexia”

“jana no” giving the girl a serious look but that did nothing seeing as the girl started to play the video on the tv.

it was video that you instead on taking documenting you and Jaume’s journey to her games. it was a tradition every game you’d vlog your journey.

the clip was half played and you were stood in the stands cheering as alexia’s father recorded the two of you. alexia scored and instead of celebrating with her teammates she ran over to you and kissed you, a type of kiss that makes you lose train of thought.

your eyes stared at the video, frozen in place. you hadn’t seen this video since the two of you broke up.

the next clip cut to after the match where he was recording the two of you whispering sweet nothings to eachother sneaking in a kiss every now and then. so stuck in your own world you didn’t notice the camera turning from you to him saying ‘if alexia doesn’t marry this girl, i won’t believe in love. they’re made for each other”

then the screen went black.

you were stuck in your seat, you have never seen this clip before. did he really think that? that the two of you were made for each other. cause if he did he’d be shocked at how the two of you were now.

“what?” you questioned as jana looked at the you and the the scene repeatedly “the two of you look a like”

the realisation finally settling in for her and just as she was about to ask more questions the door opening stopped her. but what came next answered her question anyway.

“alexia you forgot your phone at my place” a voice called taking the phone from her bag, finally looking up to see you.

“mila”

then her sister shouted in joy before running over to you and wrapping her arms around you, completely forgetting about why she originally came here.

obviously you thought about the possibility of bumping in to her family but somehow it never did.

you loved alba with all your heart and missed her at lot more than you’d like to admit. the two of you got on so well it annoyed alexia seeing as her sister would always steal you from her. but it wasn’t just her you missed it was her family in general especially her mum. her food, her hugs, talks and so much more.

“i missed you so much. why didn’t you call or text i missed you so much but that put aside does this mean that you guys have sorted this out seeing as well in the same room together. oh i can’t wait to talk to mum, she’s misses you so much”

you tried to intervene to stop her from basically telling everyone what you didn’t want them to know but it was to late.

“alba, we’re not back together”

the joy slipped from her face sadness now replacing it. thought the two of you were speaking catalan most of girl’s definitely understood everything.

jenni looked at you, the scene from the club making sense. you walking out once you saw alexia “wait you and alexia were a thing?”

“she’s the alexia that broke your heart” ana on the other hand heard everything when the two of you broke up and let’s just say she didn’t want to be face to face with the girl.

“yeah erm we used to date when we were younger back at school and ana don’t start anything please” seeing the glare that was sent to alexia.

things started to click them for mapi “wait she’s the girl” whispering quietly to her best friends which she only nodded a yes to.

now mapi knew everything from the way the two of you met to how you guys broke up. she was the only one who knew why alexia would reject every girl that came her way, why she was extra quite and sad on your birthday.

grabbing the younger putellas sister and pulling her into the spare bedroom “i’m so sorry, i spoke without thinking. i was just so happy that i saw you two together i just assumed. i’m sorry”

“i’m not mad at you okay. i know you didn’t mean to say all that” smiling at the girl weekly.

sitting down to the bed that seemed to be alexia’s. you thought that your stuff outside her room was a lot but in here there was so much more, even some pictures of the two of you.

“she still loves you, you know” stinging next to you “she knows she messed up, trust me”

you finally looked at alba “you know i was the who found this place. we were looking for places for when barça finally signed her and i fell in love with this place the second i saw it” a small tear falling from your eye’s

“i thought that i could do this, be around her. but i can’t, i don’t know how to anymore”

alba pulled you back into the hug holding just like you held her when she first got her heart broken all those years ago.

and the two of you stayed there for a while, as you didn’t want to let go. her hugs always made you feel comfortable and you needed that right now.

finally re-entering the room with your makeup touched up. the room was a little tense with all that has been uncovered.

“so i slept with the both of you” were the words that finally broke silence. both yours and alexia eye’s widened.

you looked at jenni “oh please tell me your joking” she slowly shook her head no. everyone was quiet expect for alba who found the whole funny minus the part where they were talking about her sisters sex life.

“well at least tell me i was better” telling a joke trying to lighten the situation but jenni couldn’t tell that it was a joke and answered truthfully tilting her head towards you.

“jenni i was joking you didn’t have to answer that i was just trying to lighten the mood”

alexia didn’t think it was as funny mumbling some words in catalan “what” the words slightly harsh.

“it’s just that i taught you like everything” looking at you as if her words were factual “you taught me everything. no alexia who was the who was a virgin when we met not me, you. also i wasn’t the sex crazed one you were”

“no i remember it otherwise but what do i know plus i have proof” her words to the rest of the girls sounded like nonsense and to you as well till it all clicked “omg don’t tell me you still have that, ale. tell me that you deleted it”

the two of you seemed to forget that it want just the both of you and the rest of the team was there as well and well most of them understood everything.

“i forgot, okay”

alba who was currently sat in your lap finally spoke up making a joke as usual “well don’t tell me it was a sex tape?” laughing seeming as it was something that you as well as her sister would never do something like that.

but with the both of you stilling and looking around away awkwardly not meeting her eyes “your joking right”

“it was accidental” was the only excuse you could come up with. but it wasn’t a lie you only put the camera there so you could film her reaction but then one thing led to another.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

june 2010

from that day forward the two of you where inseparable always at each others house. you were always at ale’s games with her dad no matter what. you were there when she made her debut, there when she scored her first goal, there when she won games and there when she lost.

you and alexia were in the best place you’ve ever been. always staying at her place and kissing when ever the two of you were left alone. you didn’t know when you guys changed from best friends to girlfriend??? but the day after that game things changed since then.

you didn’t know what the two of you were but you loved it. the lovesick girls layed on alexia’s bed, with her head in your lap and you stroking her hair.

it was moments like these that you lived for the simplicity of them as all the two girl could think about was each other.

now since then your spainsh and catalan had improved immensely due to alexia who helped you every day with it. the truth was that alexia loved hearing you speak her language it made her love you even more.

“you know no matter what you the most important thing in my life” the brunette girl confessed.

“more important than football” jokingly already knowing that she’d choose football as it was such an important part of her life.

twisting her body to look at you directly at you “yeah, you come first no matter what” you’re face softening at her words that made you love her more if possible.

“really”

“yeah really”

moving up to kiss you, which slowly started to get more heated as she started to pull your shirt over your head and you doing the same to her.

the kiss getting more eager before alba walked in screaming in schock at what the two of you were doing, before covering her eyes. the two of you jumping away from each other and rushing to get your tops on so you were decent.

“the two of you” her finger pointing between both of you “you and alexia. mila and you” still in shock at the scene in front of her which was you hiding your blushed face in her pink pillow and ale glaring at her sister.

yes there was a you and alexia but at the same time there wasn’t as the two of you weren’t exclusive.

“yes alba me and mila. now please leave!”

“oh i’m so telling mum and dad”

“alba!!!”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

the girls finally left alexia’s home, leaving you alone with her. something that you dreaded being alone with her, something that use to be so normal and comforting for the both of you. but now it was the opposite unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

none of you have said a word for about twenty minutes, just looking at the wall looking at all the things that used to be yours.

“mila” your hands moving up to tell her to stop which she did.

“i don’t even know why i asked to talk to you.” laughing slightly at the situation “i can’t even be in the same room as you anymore without feeling uncomfortable”

alexia eyes filled with hurt as that was never something that she wanted to make you feel.

“hanna said i should listen to your side of this so i can move on. cause she says it’s killing me now.”

killing you

those words rang through her head.

she looked up at you “okay” her words very weak and sad

“i was a shit girlfriend, i remind myself of it everyday. alba reminds me as well and if she doesn’t someone else in my family says how badly i messed it up with you. you were— no you are my everything and i hate the fact i lost site of that. that being the best clouded what mattered most to me. you.”

tears started to fill your eyes even though you really didn’t what them to.

“before he died, and i’m not saying this is an excuse but i was under so much pressure and i just wanted to make him proud before he died. but in doing so i treated you so bad and im so ashamed of it and i deserve every bad thing that comes my way and more”

“he would of been proud of you no matter what alexia. he was so proud to call you his daughter”

tears finally fell from her eyes hearing you say that, cause if you said it it must of been true. on top of that you always knew what her dad thought, the two of you always got alone so well and that was one of the reasons alexia loved you.

twiddling your hand in your lap “why didn’t you ever try to reach out”

“i wanted to respect your boundaries even if it hurt me not to and i really wanted to but if you wanted to talk to me you would of and you clearly didn’t”

“i love you enough to leave you alone if that’s what you want”

and it was. at least that’s what you thought you wanted. and any time you thought otherwise you remembered exactly why you left all those years ago. but that wasn’t really her and you knew that but what’s gonna stop her from acting like that towards you again. so you said that even if you didn’t truly mean it.

“yeah that’s what i want”

the words not sounding convincing to any of you but neither of you said a thing. you got up and went home free of any thoughts of alexia and she only ended up having more thoughts of you even though every bone of her body tried not to.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

everything slowly went downhill with the more goals she scored and games she played, the more she changed. while alexia career was growing so was your as you stated to post your photos online as it got recognition.

at the start she was happy at every achievement you had seeing just how happy it made you. whenever you had an exhibition and if she was free she was there and if she couldn’t her family we always be there no matter what.

slowly she would start missing them even if she had a day off and it was fine at the seeing as she had a packed schedule and was probably tired but after the fifth time it just became annoying her family would ask you where she was a you would have to come up with some stupid excuse seeing as you didn’t even know why.

then her dad died which expectedly changed her seeing how close she was to him. his death hurt you as over the years the two of you created a bond going to alexia games together. you kept it together until she was out, but instead of crying as everyone else did she took it out on you.

“ale, it okay to cry. it’s a natural thing to do you don’t need to hide that from me”

“god mila! why can’t you just leave me alone twenty four seven your on my case. i can never have a moment to myself. your always there even when i’m out your texting me every second trying to see how i am”

the words coming out of her mouth with no look of regret in her eyes or an attempt to apologise to you. “sorry, i’ll just go for a walk” your words said small and barley to be heard if it wasn’t for her being right next to you.

you tried to play this off as a one time thing but it wasn’t. it happened every day and a you put up with it until it was all to much.

you had to leave.

so while she was with her family one night you packed all your things leaving behind all the photos that you put up of the two of you, the decorations that you found and put up to fill the rooms and make it feel like home.

only leaving behind a letter.

alexia came home late that night going straight to the bed and stopping agh the door seeing as you weren’t laying in it, her eyes roaming the room to look for a sign of you only to see the wardrobe empty of your clothes. she rushed through their place searching every room for a sign of you but each one she saw less with each piece of your stuff being gone but a letter addressed to her.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

it was late when you got the call. the ringing jolting you awake from your sleep. at first you were annoyed, who would call you at this hour but then you saw the contact name.

my albs 💞

she hadn’t called you since you broke up with alexia, so it must be important right? her words sounded all jumbled up due to your tiredness and the only words you got was.

“alexia, she’s hurt. please come”

and how couldn’t you, not when alba sounded like that, so you got on the next flight to england. your bags had clothes that didn’t even match due to how you just chucked your clothes in there.

when you got to the hospital, you saw both alba and eli standing outside of a room. the second alba saw you she ran into your arms holding you tight making sure you wouldn’t leave. the second you pulled away you immediately pulled eli into a hug from the first time in over ten years. that hug only made you realise just how much you missed her.

“what happened?”

“she’s done her acl” you paused when you heard that, obviously you knew how bad an acl was, ana knew a few people who did theirs and she would talk to you about how severe it could be. how it was something no footballer wanted to do in their career.

alba looked at you with guilt all over her face “i know that you said you wanted her to leave you alone, but she doesn’t want the surgery and we can’t convince her. she’s saying she deserves it and i don’t know why she would think that. but i know she’ll listen to you and do it if she asks you”

glancing through the glass at alexia who was sleeping and well she looked peaceful. she looks the same as she did when she was younger and you two would sleep at each other.

looking defeated “fine, i’ll do it. but only cause you asked”

opening the door and you were just about to enter when a hand grabbed your wrist “thank you mila” eli spoke softly really appreciating what you were doing even though she knew it wasn’t easy for you.

sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, gently grabbing her hand and whispering her name sounding hesitant which you were. you said you never wanted to see her again and here you are sat beside her going to convince her to get the surgery just to leave again.

after saying her name a few times her eyes started to open, blinking a few times to make sure she was really seeing her and it wasn’t the drugs she was on.

her voice was weak, barely to be heard “mila”

“yeah i’m here alexia, im here”

hearing these words she finally broke down, tears rolling down her cheeks as she collapsed in your lap.

“do the surgery ale, please” she immediately shook her head no “alexia please just do the surgery. you need to get it done okay”

“i can’t mila, i can’t. i deserve it okay i deserve this acl for every bad thing that i’ve done in my life” finally looking up at you “for everything i’ve done to you, this is my karma and im okay with that”

“alexia just do the surgery please. i’ll never be able to live with myself if you didn’t do it cause of me ale. so don’t do it for yourself do it for me please?”

she nodded weakly she could never say no to you even when you were teenagers. she held on to you tighter than even scared you were gonna disappear if she ever let go. but after a while the drugs did get the best of her making her fall into a sleep.

outside the room alexia’s family were met with some of her teammates who came to see how she was doing.

mapi was the first to speak up about what everyone was thinking “so she’s the girl alexia still in love with. also how’d you get her here cause last i heard she wanted nothing to do with ale”

“she doesn’t. i begged her to come because i knew she was the only one who could convince her”

their gaze fell on to the two of you. your hand stroking alexia’s hair as she rested in your lap. to alba and eli they just saw the teenage version on you guys, as they’d always catch you two like that. and to her teammates it looked like two girls who are still very much in love.

gently you picked up alexa’s arm trying your hardest not to wake her up. once free you glanced at her seeing her stir around for a bit then finally settling again.

alba and eli looked at you with a little hope in their eyes “so, did you get her to do it?”

nodding yes “she thinks she deserves it because of what happened between the us.”

“thank you, mila. i know this isn’t ideal so thank you for convincing her to do it” eli hugged you tightly to show her thanks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

dear alexia my love,

i’m sorry.

i tried to stay strong and stick with you but i couldn’t. each day i leave the house and i dread coming back knowing that the second i walk through that door your going to complain about something that i’ve done or that i annoy you to much and care about you to much. i’m sorry that i make you feel that way all i wanted to do was try and give you some sort of comfort in this hard time.

i don’t think in knew that i was gay when we first met but i knew that you were going to be an important part of my life. i think that i’ve loved you since that day.

i miss when we’d actually go out for dinner or even go to your parents so i could see your family who i’ve grown to love over the years. i miss when i’d got to your games and it would be care free seeing you balance me and football.

losing your dad was the hardest thing you’ll ever go through and i miss him to i haven’t show you as i try to stay strong for you but i miss him and i feel guilty saying that seeing as he’s your dad and he was only ever i guess my girlfriends dad. but i miss our weekly drives to your games where we’d laugh about anything and he’d teach me some more phrases in catalan as i’m still not completely fluent and in return i’d teach him some swiss german and even though his pronunciation wasn’t the best his heart was in a good place and he put in an effort.

in a time where you need me the most and need the ones you love most around you, well i think i’m one of them at least and i know deciding to leave you now of all times is cruel but i can’t go on like this.

i wish i could stay strong and make it through this rough patch but we weren’t good even before he died you’d miss my exhibitions you said you were going to and wouldn’t even tell me why and i’d have to lie to your family as to why you weren’t there but i can’t do this anymore i’m so sad in our relationship. i really did try to push through but every day i do something wrong in your eyes and i just let you shout at me.

that not healthy.

so goodbye ale i wish you the best in your life and i’ll love you forever. i really wish we could be better but maybe we’re just not meant for each other and that okay. in another lifetime we got married and had kids, you’ll get every award for club and country ( i still think you can do it in this one ) and i’ll be right by you’re side. but it’s just a dream, a what if.

i’ll never regret meeting you.

love from

your mila or just mila now i guess

and for the first time in weeks alexia cried.

she cried for you at first but slowly it was for her dad and then for her actions towards you. she saw it now and in the time where she needed you most to hold her and tell her it was alright you weren’t there and it was all her fault and she knew it was.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

not that any of you guys saw it but alexia tearing her acl had one good thing come out of it and that was you talking to her again.

at first it was checking up on her, seeing how she was even making some food for her on her worst day.

you were the only person she let see that side of her.

being in her life again made it all worth it in her eyes. you actually smiled at her again instead of groaning in annoyance whenever you saw her.

the world finally saw alexia in love in her documentary. they saw the genuine smile that you brought to her face. they saw a side of alexia they’d never seen before, her being in love.

it showed you two just doing little things nothing that would indicate that you were together, but enough to know that she cared about you deeply.

the fans fought it made sense alexia ‘dating’ the coaches daughter of the men’s teams. it made sense to them why he’d always had a closer relationship with alexia, how he sent her a birthday wish or even how she’d be seen at the men’s game more than the others.

you’re dad never talked about her not after the first time where you burst out crying.

one episode stood out to her fans specifically it was an evening at eli’s place the two of you sat next to each other your head resting on hey shoulder. alexia whispering some joke about her sister in your ear which made you hit her saying that it was rude. then there was a clip of you dancing with one of her nieces while she looked at you like a lovesick fool.

it was late at night when she said she wanted to take you somewhere.

“is the blindfold really necessary” you laughed while alexia hand guided you making sure you didn’t trip or fall. which was no help as you still managed to do so.

“yes now shush”

you finally came to a stop “okay perfect”

she gently pulled the blindfold off and place was too familiar. it was where you first met her.

looking at the pitch and seeing just how much has changed since you’ve last been here “how’d you ever get us in here”

“i said i’d come one day and talk to the team” you both knew how much she hated public speaking but if this worked it be worth it.

“so any reason you took us here of all places. we both know how much you hated school” and she did the only positive about going was that she got to see you.

and then she said it.

“i did it on purpose” you looked at her completely confused about what she was talking about “i kicked the ball at you on purpose”

“i saw you sat up there and you looked so cute and i just wanted to talk to you and the first thing that came to my mind was to do that cause then i’d have to come up and apologise”

you busted out in laughter at the confession and her rosey cheeks “i know” causing her face to be full of embarrassment.

“what”

“i’m not dumb okay. i saw how controlled you were on the pitch you wouldn’t make a silly mistake like that if it wasn’t on purpose. i just never said anything cause i knew you would be embarrassed”

her gaze was now anywhere but you. all these years you knew and you never said a word till ten years later. if alba found this out she’d be dying of laughter at how awkward her sister can be at times.

scratching the side of her neck “i thought i was was slick about it but i guess not”

“i found it cute” making her checks go ever darker “but i’m still confused as to why we’re here”

“yes i nearly forgot” talking a deep breath in to calm her nerves “give me another chance”

your eyes widened. sure you thought about alexia like that again since the two of you started talking but what if that happened again.

“i know that our story hasn’t been the easiest but your the love of my life okay. being without you all those years was torture and seeing you with my family only makes me want to be with you more. but i don’t want to rush you, i wanted to show you that i’ve changed and that i’ll never treat you like how i did before”

“so mila crnogorčević please be my girl again”

option one ) you could say yes and do what you honestly wanted to do since talking to her again. you were still very much if not more in love with her than ever. it would end with the two of you would get married and have kids or breaking up again but then at least you’d know it wasn’t meant to be.

option two ) say no and keep your heart safe from what you felt all those years ago.

you were torn you wanted to say yes but at the same time you didn’t.

but the truth was that you missed her. you missed when she’d grab your hand when she could tell you were nervous. you missed waking up from her kissing your back. you missed when she’d run straight for you after a match. you ever missed her annoying you over the littlest thing.

you just missed her.

“mila—” she didn’t even get to finish the sentence before your lips placed themselves on her’s exactly like her’s did in the bathroom in camp nou all those years ago.

“so i’m gonna take that as a yes” speaking between kisses not wanting to stop at all “yes alexia now shut up and kiss me”

and she did without a second thought.

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