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thesunisatangerine · 9 months

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part eleven

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 11.4k

Early Tuesday morning, you opened the door to Alexia who–to your surprise, but not really–had on a pair of training shorts, a plain jersey under an unzipped hoodie, a New Era cap on, her hair left down while a pair of sunglasses completed her look. And just like the other time she came to visit, she had you in her arms the moment she was close enough, pulling you into her for a kiss on your temple and then your lips.

“Hello, you.” You said as you pecked her cheek, smelling the familiar sharpness of sunscreen on her skin. Then you held her at arm’s length so you could look at her better before you asked, “Did you just come from training? I thought you won’t be back until Saturday?”

Alexia chuckled, clearly amused, raising her brows at you for your shameless display at checking her out. But who could blame you, really, with her looking so damn good in a training jersey. She replied, “No, I’m actually–”

She halted, tilting her head to the side to look over you, and then she switched to English when she spoke again, taking her sunglasses off to place them on top of her cap as she grinned, “Hola, chiquita, you ready?”

When you looked over your shoulder you saw Elisa framed by the archway and the open door that led to the backfield, standing in her favourite Alexia jersey and Barça shorts, cheeks tinted red while her forehead shone with sweat, a football between her hands.

“Hi, Alexia!” Elisa’s hand fluttered in an eager wave, her grin a brilliant beam, before she began to take off her sneakers and zoomed right up the stairs, shouting over her shoulders. “I’m ready! Lemme just grab my stuff!”

Ah, now it made sense.

You wondered why Elisa couldn’t sit still last night and even during the day, she practically buzzed with excitement. Initially, you associated the surge in energy from the promise of another day spent with Alexia, but now you understood that whatever the two of them had planned involved football and that was the reason why Elisa’s enthusiasm for today had increased twofold.

As if Alexia was your mirror, you found her reflecting your expression when you turned back to her; she had an appraising gaze fixed on Elisa accompanied by an amused smile, and your heart filled with the urge to kiss her so you did. You kept your arms loose around her neck when you parted so you could look into those eyes you found yourself missing every minute that you were apart.

“When did you guys plan this?” You asked as you toyed with the ends of her hair.

“When we were at the Barça store. Elisa asked me for some tips and I offered to train her for the day.” Alexia hummed, fiddling with the hoops of your jeans. Then the inner corners of her brows quirked up, bashful when she asked, “I hope that’s okay?”

Touched by her thoughtfulness, you traced the line of her brow as you spoke, “More than okay as long as it’s alright with you. And I should be thanking you.”

“It is, don’t worry. I get to spend time with the both of you and play football at the same time. Win-win.” Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone and flashed you a radiant half-smile, and it made your chest and cheeks warm, obviously charmed by her, and the lightness in her eyes made those words all the more earnest to you. So you cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw in gratitude.

Then you whispered, “Thank you.”

Alexia pulled up at a deserted football pitch, the morning still early enough that the dew had not entirely dissipated from the grass when you got out of the car. The sound of the doors closing echoed from the emptiness of the space, Alexia’s call over the roof of the car sounding louder than it actually was.

“Chiquita, I’m gonna need your help unloading the equipment at the back.”

Elisa stuck a thumbs up into the air as an answer.

As you made up your mind that you’d just watch them do their thing, you tinkered with your camera around your neck, following them to the trunk but after Alexia popped it open, the sight both surprised and amused you. When Alexia said equipment, you’d envisioned a bag of balls, several cones, and the like but what you hadn’t considered–when in fact you really should’ve–was Alexia’s disposition for coming prepared, the scene in front of you a testament against your blatant underestimation of her ability. You watched them haul bags upon bags from the trunk–ranging from pop-up goals, agility poles and ladders, rebound boards, and other football paraphernalia–and as you spied the growing pile of things by the side of the car, you snapped a photo before laughter escaped your lips.

Two pairs of eyes darted your way with equal confusion, stopping their busy hands for a moment. You pointed at the pile, “Do you always keep these back here?”

“Why, of course, darling. All the time.” Despite the dryness of her tone, the term of endearment set your cheeks aflame. Then Alexia raised her brows at Elisa, “Elisa, could you please tell your mom to stop being mean and help us?”

“Yeah, Mom, stop laughing at us and come help, please.” Elisa giggled, gladly playing along before she eventually returned back to her task.

You scoffed with no real sting to it, grabbing the water bottle rack and slinging a bag over your shoulder as you whined, “I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.”

At that, Alexia only scrunched her nose at you, smiling, before she closed the trunk–all the equipment were out finally!–then the three of you began lugging everything to the empty field, happy to follow their lead. After setting down the things you took where Alexia and Elisa were, you went to the sidelines, unfolding the chairs Alexia brought along. When you turned back to the scene, Elisa was already doing some stretches–as per Alexia’s instructions probably–while Alexia set up and, once done, she joined Elisa to warm up as well. But before she started, she waved you over as she called out, “Come join us!”

The desire to join them wasn’t lost to you but so was the weight of your omission to Alexia about what happened while you were gone–what would you say when you pass out from exertion if you joined them?–so you gave her a dismissive wave, lifting your camera as an excuse. Relief filled you when, with a shrug of her shoulders as if to say it was your loss, Alexia patted Elisa’s back before she pointed to the opposite goal line, taking off in a jog right after, their strides in time with each other. You put your camera over your eye and took a photo of them, but even though you busied your hands with the lever and buttons of your camera, your mind remained occupied with another matter.

The past few days were spent in a state of bliss; the ease by which you and Alexia had slipped back into each other’s lives was more than a surprise to you, pleasant in its own right but it was beginning to dim the longer you kept your story to yourself. It wasn’t a deliberate omission. You just hadn’t found the right time to breach the topic because, after all, how could one easily part with such a fact to a lover when even you dare not step to that precipice and stare into that void? But you knew you at least owe Alexia that much; to enlighten her about what she was truly signing up for.

Today.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to her about it today.

Returning back to yourself, you regarded the scene before you, took photos, and shouted encouragement every now and then. It continued on for a couple more hours: Alexia, who had occupied the role of the trainer, stood a vigilant watch over her novitiate, guiding Elisa with instructions you couldn’t quite hear but the complementing gestures she made gave you a semblance of what they were, as she exclaimed and clapped her hands to compliment and motivate; and Elisa followed with apt diligence, serious and attentive to every line, every move. By the time their feet had stopped disturbing the grass, the sun neared its highest peak, its warmth and the promise of a good day had already invited more than a handful of people to occupy other parts of the field.

After they’d finished cooling down, you watched Elisa run off to the restrooms while Alexia trudged her way over to you, bags of equipment on her which she deposited on another growing pile on the sideline, taking a water bottle in hand. She brushed her hand over the nape of your neck for a second before she dropped to the chair next to you with an audible huff, and you patted her knee in response to her apparent exhaustion while she drank from her bottle, just a little out of breath.

“Damn. Sorry, I forgot to bring the umbrella.” Alexia said as she shielded her eyes to look at you, one eye squinted from the harsh light. She softly grazed a knuckle over your cheek, “Did you put sunblock on?”

You replied in the affirmative as you leaned into her touch, and Alexia nodded in approval before she took her hand away, taking another sip of water. In the silence that followed, you thought, ‘Should I tell her now?’

“Alexia, I–”

Alexia’s lips crinkled around a mouthful of water, raising her brows at you before she jutted her chin forward. Confused, you looked to where she indicated and found Elisa surrounded by a group of kids, some of them taller and looked to be slightly older, who now occupied the once empty space that Elisa and Alexia had just been training on and in a blink of an eye, a small game of football had commenced. Shouts and laughter filled the air as they continued, passing, tackling, shooting; Elisa flew untethered along with her peers, face free from any worries and filled with glee.

The two of you were a fair distance away from the youngsters that they hadn’t noticed nor recognised that Alexia watched over them with a proud–if not a bit sombre–countenance for the sight, probably, to her, was a validation–proof–of how far women had cemented their place in football compared to when she was of their age. These kids, boys and girls alike, now had their own paragons of light to follow, the names and numbers of their guiding stars shining bold on their backs–the names of women… Alexia’s including. You regarded the woman next to you, chest welling up at the soft gaze you saw there aimed towards the children, a thought clear in your mind that you longed to speak, ‘This is the fruit of your labour, what you and the others had fought–and still fighting–for.’

Alexia’s eyes flitted to meet yours as if magnetised by your volition, the colour of them almost green against the backdrop of the field.

“If Elisa was given the chance to play for Barçelona’s youth team, what would you do?”

You blinked as the question caught you off guard. There was no doubt what you would do but the abruptness by which it was brought up made you squint your eyes at her. Why would she bring that up unless she knew something? Unless she was about to do or already had done something? But as you regarded her with a careful eye, you found nothing in her features that betrayed answers to your questions, her face a blank canvas–perhaps a bit too neutral.

“Alexia, did you do something?”

Alexia shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down for good measure before it settled to a smile, then she answered in the negative, “Nothing. It was a question. Purely hypothetical.”

Her answer did little to convince you but you answered in truth anyway. “Move here, of course.”

At that, Alexia only hummed but a light twinkled in her eye–one not dissimilar to the one you found in them the night you met–a light that told you she knew something you didn’t. She brushed her thumb over her chin before she tore her gaze away, focusing her attention back to the match in front of her. And before you could question her further, excited screams filled the air and, when Alexia stood right after, you knew she’d been found.

You stood aside as the kids flocked towards Alexia and you captured the scene with a smile while Alexia conversed with the kids, bumping their fists and posing with them when they asked for a photo. You felt a presence beside you and, upon turning your head, saw Elisa with a look of admiration on her face, a mirrored expression among the children there. It went on for a bit and another game of football commenced but now with Alexia in the mix, but half an hour later, you were all packed up with everything back in Alexia’s trunk, and the three of you were off.

On the way back after lunch, Elisa and Alexia chatted, discussing things about football with equal enthusiasm. The sound of their amusement filled the car, and with the day ending on such a high note, you felt compelled not to say anything about what you planned to tell Alexia as you didn’t have the heart to bring it down.

And as you laughed at one of Alexia’s dry jokes, you resigned your promise.

Tomorrow.

You would talk to her about it tomorrow.

Unlike the day before, Alexia came by early–early enough that Elisa was still asleep while you, yourself, only woke up just about half an hour ago–but that was no surprise. It was rare for Alexia to sleep in; the rigorous conditioning her body had borne throughout the years made her circadian rhythm almost permanent, something that you’d teased her about from your time before–something that you teased her about just then.

“I don’t hear you complaining about it.” She muttered against your ear and, though you couldn’t see it for she had her front pressed against your back with her hands gentle on your hips as you made two sets of coffee, you could practically hear the pout in her voice.

“I’m not! It’s actually kinda cute.” You laughed before you added, “You’re cute.”

“I’m really not,” Alexia practically whined, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the feel of her there tickled you, so you tried to angle yourself away but she clung to you as you felt her laugh against your skin.

“Alexia! You’re going to make me spill the coffee!”

When the both of you finally made it to the couch with no drop of coffee spilt, you tucked in by Alexia’s side, her arm over your shoulder as the both of you revelled in each other’s company, sipping at your beverage, you broached the news to her.

“Your brother’s coming here?” She asked with surprise and with both brows raised.

At how she posed the question, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I love the way you made it sound like he’s not the one who owns this house. But yes, later today, probably around evening or earlier, depending on when he’ll finish his meeting in Madrid this morning.”

Alexia blew a puff of air, a bit petulant, as she muttered low–although still deliberately loud enough for you to hear, “It’s kinda easy to forget when he’s never here.”

The both of you broke out laughing. Then a pensive look took over her demeanour, her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair, something that you noticed she did whenever she felt at peace or whenever she was worrying about something. You had a feeling it was the latter with the way her brows were slightly creased in the middle, but the question that left her lips, which was spoken in a soft tongue, confirmed your inkling to be true.

“What’s he like?”

Ah.

Seeing Alexia unsure about herself was a rare occurrence, even more than seeing her vulnerable which was saying a lot. So you laid a hand on the nape of her neck, chest warming when she leaned back to seek more of your touch, and you ran your thumb over the skin just below her ear to keep her at ease.

“He’s… my best friend and the best brother I could ever ask for. He’s funny; likes to tease me a lot, but he’s protective.” At the mention of the word, Alexia’s frown deepened before you could even finish what you wanted to say, “And trust me when I tell you, he’ll definitely like you.”

But your reassurance seemed to have gone out the other ear for the movement of her finger didn’t cease and her eyes remained clouded with something akin to worry. You allowed her another moment more with her thoughts before you booped her nose and watched as her eyes fluttered, the light of her presence returning in them as she regarded you. And so, with light amusement, you said in the hopes that Alexia would finally listen, “Just give him the same attitude you gave me a minute ago, you’ll get along really well.”

At that, Alexia let out a small chuckle and, as it trailed off, the smile that graced her lips lingered; what you said hadn’t fully expelled the doubt from her eyes but the fact it was lessened made you feel better.

Alexia sighed after another lapse in silence. “I just want to make a good impression, you know? And thank him.”

“Thank him for what?”

She shifted so her face was angled more to you and held a gentle finger on your chin to keep you looking into her eyes, soft and earnest.

“For intertwining your fate with mine,” she said, each syllable spoken with the gentlest of air.

Your heart stuttered at her confession, the gravity of it heavier with Alexia’s belief in fate, and words eluded you so you could do nothing but take her hand to reveal her palm, and kissed her there.

Then after another brief pause, Alexia asked, “Does he know about us?”

“I think so. I haven’t told him anything directly but I think he’s put two and two together.” You pushed the memory of how your heart monitor betrayed you back from the forefront of your mind, but your cheeks heated up anyway. As you massaged the spot between Alexia’s brows with your thumb in the hopes of soothing her frown away, you added, “Please, don’t worry about it too much. He’s Derek; as long as I’m happy, he’s happy.”

“And are you? Happy?” The vulnerability that you found in her eyes made you ache, not unpleasant, just a sense of fullness that longed to break free. You pressed a kiss on her temple, then to the corner of her lips.

“More than I could ever put into words. You make me so happy, Alexia. You really do.”

Later that day, just around late afternoon after spending most of the day training–you, of course, only a spectator–the three of you found yourselves walking along the beach after a late lunch. It was a bit further on when, as you conversed with each other, an exclamation made you stop and look over your shoulders.

“Oh, my god.”

Standing a few paces behind you was a young man, tall in frame, cheeks still round with traces of his youth, the stubble along his jaw and chin a direct contrast, making it known to you that he’d probably just recently entered his early twenties. The first thing you noted was the camera that dangled from his neck–you recognised the model, vintage–and you barely schooled your features from showing your surprise; he was a photographer not only for leisure but if he was, well, that was one expensive camera for a hobbyist.

Habit made you step aside–you’d been out in public with Alexia a handful of times now to know how this would go–but as you did, the young man’s eyes followed you, intent, and that confounded you.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” His brown eyes flitted between you, Alexia, then Elisa, his small smile apologetic as the paleness of his cheeks turned rosy.

Alexia waved a careless hand in the air as she spoke in English, “No, you’re okay.”

“How can we help you?” You asked, smiling at him politely.

The man stepped forward as he patted the pouch of his shirt, then he dug his hands into his jean pockets, then you watched him procure a marker, his hands shaking as he handed it to you.

“I can’t believe it’s you. I wish I had your book with me but I don’t–I, I’m sorry, can I get a photo and your signature?”

You couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on your face even if you had the time to try. Your eyes drifted to Alexia, and the question that was clear in your mind that you knew Alexia could probably read on your face. What was happening?

The action of yourself nodding preceded the intention and you watched, still in a state of confusion, as the man handed his phone over to Alexia so she could take a photo of you both. As you posed and looked at Alexia behind the camera, you found a familiar light in her eyes and from the slight upturn of her brows, you knew Alexia was more than slightly amused at the role reversal. When Alexia began to count down, you smiled at the person taking the photo more than for the image itself, and once done, she handed the lad his phone back.

You signed the back of a used plane ticket–the only paper of decent quality, as per his words, that he could find on his person that could house your signature–and after handing it back to him, you said, smiling, “I’m sorry if I looked more than a little confused. This doesn’t happen often, I only ever get asked for photos at events, and it’s usually the other way around!”

“No, please, don’t be sorry. I–I just truly admire your photojournalistic work,” he stuttered as he tucked the plane ticket in his shirt pocket. “I read your book about your most recent conflict coverage and that photoset… It chilled me to the bone the first time I saw it. I’m sorry you had to see that in person.”

Images tore their way out from the shadows of your mind, their teeth bare and gnashing: vacant eyes from where souls were ripped away, crooked fingers accusatory, and the stench–

You shut your eyes as a malignant chill crept over you, crawling under your skin that left your muscles weak, and even beneath the Barcelona summer sun, you trembled. And the memories flooded back: Elisa with her mother, the shots, and now the scars on your body burnt anew. You took a deep breath and took careful note of where you were: there was a baby crying a few paces away, a large wave just arrived home to the shore, there was a call of a seagull overhead, someone with coffee walked past you, and… there was the familiar warmth and weight of Alexia’s hand on your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, the man was looking at you with concern and regret while, when you turned your head to the side, Alexia and Elisa were obviously distressed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

You held a hand up before the man could hurt himself. “It’s alright. They come back to me sometimes without being reminded so you don’t need to apologise. And thank you for your concern.”

More than willing to change the topic, you jutted your chin at his camera, “Are you a photojournalist, too?”

“That’s the plan. I’m only working freelance at the moment and I’m not really sure which branch to pursue. I can hear conflict photojournalism calling to me, though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. In his answer, you sensed a ‘but’ so you asked as much.

He casted his eyes down for a moment before he regarded you again, gaze wary. “But… I’m scared I won’t be able to handle seeing those things in person. And I’m scared of being hurt, of being killed. Just like what you saw and what… what happened to you. I don’t know if I could survive it.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see and feel the weight of Alexia’s stare–a burning question that branded you–and you clenched your fist as guilt flooded your veins. Foolish! You should’ve told her yesterday. She deserved more than hearing about it like this. But no matter what was done was done–the moment had passed–and the only thing you could do now was to tell her after this.

Despite your inner turmoil, you focused on the man, and smiled at him softly for you understood what he was going through, the same place you once stood before you answered the call of that very wind.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a difficult choice to make. The camera cannot shield you from the danger and the violence and, well, death, but it can bear witness, and can show the world what’s happening. You have your whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to jump in just yet. And if you hear that call again a bit later and find yourself ready, then, why not?”

At that, the young man’s demeanour brightened. Then his brows scrunched up, now seemingly worried, his question spoken with a light, enquiring air, “You mentioned in your book that this was the closest you’d ever come to dying, do you think you’ll ever get back into conflict photography?”

With the uncouth way it was posed, the question made you flinch with its directness. You had half a mind to reprimand but you recognised this–the journalistic instinct to question, to uncover, even if certain situations shouldn’t warrant such intrusions–so you let it pass because as was the case for every learned skill, interviewing demanded the same amount of practice to develop. He was young, he still had so much to learn and time, as was the case for everything, would be his teacher.

A shuffling sound drew your attention to Elisa who was standing close to Alexia, clutching your lover’s hand with both of hers in a firm grip, her wide eyes fixed on you upon hearing what the man said, a sombre question reflected in her eyes, ‘Are you going to leave me, too?’

Although the call was very much there–the need to be the echo chamber for those who’d lost their voice still strong in your soul–you found yourself now tethered: to love and responsibility, so you shook your head, more so for Elisa’s sake than the man’s.

“It’s selfish, I know, but I have so much more to lose now. But, as I said, the call will always be there and I can’t control what the future brings, so who knows, really?” You shrugged, smiling at the man.

Satisfied, the man retreated but not before you gave him a business card for you and Derek’s firm; with a little bit of guidance and experience, he had potential to do good–although you did warn him that a spot for him wasn’t guaranteed, but he still accepted it gratefully. Once the man finally left, Elisa approached you, her shirt bunched up at the hem from the firm grip of her fists, eyes wide as she gazed up at you.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

You cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb under a glassy eye–Elisa was upset.“I’m alright, honey. How are you feeling?”

Elisa’s chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek, and when she spoke, her words were whispered in haste. “Are you going to leave? Please, don’t, I don’t want you to get hurt again, I don’t want you to die. I–”

Oh, Elisa.

Immediately you took her into your arms in the hopes that you could ease her distress and when she clutched at your shirt as her tears soaked through the fabric, your heart began to ache and your eyes burnt as well.

“I’m not leaving, ladybug. I’m not. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.”

The ride to the house was a silent affair; even the short walk that led up to Alexia’s car was suffused with silence. After getting in the car and putting her seatbelt on Elisa immediately dozed off–from the emotional toll on top of the physical strain she’d endured during the day–and it was relieving. Alexia on the other hand…

Ever since she’d heard the words from Ben–the photojournalist–she completely receded and everything she did, seemed to you, were performed on autopilot; her every movement mechanical, stiff. Her face remained stoic: her brows formed a flat line, the light in her eyes so ineffably dim made it known to you she was somewhere far away; the way that her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles told you which plane Alexia had found herself in–a hellscape.

It hurt seeing Alexia like this and you felt like you had to say something but you bit your tongue and instead, you placed a gentle hand on her right knee and applied just enough pressure to hopefully pull her back from her thoughts. It seemed to work for when she glanced at you, her mask of passivity cracked with the way her gaze softened, her lips now pressed into a thin line, almost quivering. The moment only lasted seconds but it left a profound mark in your heart, made all the more indelible when Alexia took your hand in hers–even with the heat from Barcelona’s summer evening, you felt her palm cold as ice–and intertwined your fingers in a firm grip while the other remained to steer the car until you reached the house.

By the time you arrived, the last vestiges of the sun tinged the skies in its sombre purple and pink, the tangerine glow from within the house a stark contrast to the growing darkness. When Alexia parked the car, the front door opened and more of that warm light spilled out and a shadow stretched long in its wake, and at the end of it, the familiar, large frame of Derek.

While Elisa immediately jumped out of the car to greet her uncle, Alexia’s hands remained on the wheel despite the lack of engine, now gripping for a different reason, her eyes trained on the imposing figure of your brother. To be fair, who wouldn’t? With the top of his head nearly grazing the doorframe and the width of his shoulders, just by looking at his stature alone, most wouldn’t even consider the words ‘soft’ and ‘sentimental’ to describe him. So the reflection of anxiety in her eyes was not new to you, but this was different because this was Alexia.

You placed a hand over one of hers on the wheel, coaxing her attention by squeezing her hand. “Alexia?”

She looked at you, blinked. Then a strained, “Yeah?”

“You’re going to be fine.”

Alexia looked at Derek again before she whispered through her teeth, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Hey,” you brushed your thumb over her cheek before you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Alexia’s eyes flicked back to you. Then you took her hand, pressed your lips on the back of it. “Alexia, breathe. You can do this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

True to your words, the moment Alexia gathered the courage to walk up the porch, Derek’s face broke into a grin that thawed the ever-present ice in his demeanour, enveloping Alexia in a hug. Despite Alexia’s tall frame, she looked almost like a child next to Derek, needing to crane her neck to look up when it was usually the other way around with you, as they chatted.

Then Derek finally took note of Alexia’s demeanour now that she was past Derek’s defences, and he voiced with concern, “Are you okay, Alexia? You look a bit pale. Do you need to stay over?”

The reminder almost made Alexia a ghostly apparition by how much more her colour drained out from her. She pressed her lips in a thin line, dug her hands into her short pockets, while the muscles in her back coiled so much that you could see the planes of her muscles through her jersey. She replied tersely, “I’m alright and no, I’d rather not disturb you.”

At what she said, you knew what you needed to do. You went to Derek and said in a voice enough for only him to hear.

“Derek, could you help Elisa start packing her things? I need to do something.”

“Okay.” A question was clear in his eyes but like the many times he did before, he didn’t press you for any information, only nodded, squeezed your shoulder, before he went back inside but not before he enveloped Alexia in a farewell hug and told her to get some rest. Then you walked back to where Alexia stood, still as tense as you left her, and you pulled at her arm gently, coaxing her towards her car–to the passenger seat.

“Alexia, give me your keys.”

Alexia looked at you, still pale but her eyes now held confusion, and maybe a hint of defiance, in them. “Why?”

“I’m not about to let you drive home by yourself like this.”

“No. I’m well capable of–”

You fixed her with a stern eye. “Give me your keys. Now.”

Alexia regarded you with a wary eye but she sighed, finally relenting, and dropped her keys in your open palm. She sat in the passenger seat, an elbow up against the window and chin propped up on her knuckles, quiet apart from the occasional direction to the way to her apartment. The silence was heavy, but you found yourself not entirely too bothered by it for it gave you a chance to gather your own thoughts–to try and find the words to explain–but you couldn’t help but take furtive glances at Alexia, who was looking more and more dejected by the minute as the streetlights casted shadows on her face and made her demeanour excessively morose, the sheen in her eyes prominent in darkness.

You arrived and Alexia let you in, dropping her keys in a little dish on a cabinet by the door, the air still and silent apart from the clink of metal against porcelain and the soft breath of clothes rustling as the two of you padded into Alexia’s apartment. Briefly, you allowed your eyes to explore the space but as you entered the living room, your palms began to sweat as the nerves began to set in.

Alexia was hiding behind her stoicism again, sitting on the couch seeming as calm as ever, fixing you with a look that betrayed the placidness of her demeanour. You sat too, opting for the space by Alexia’s side as opposed to the lone loveseat as you knew that the nature of what you were about to reveal required the lost distance between your bodies; for her sake and yours.

For a long moment, you couldn’t speak; you opened your mouth a number of times but you stopped short for fear that the words would fail you. Alexia waited patiently and only when she took your hand in the space between hers did you find the courage to begin, placing your other hand over hers; she was with you, you were with her.

And so, you told her.

From the night you left, when you were about to tell her what you were going to get yourself into, to your arrival and the conflict you needed to cover. About being caught in the middle of fire, about the nature by which you met Elisa. And then, finally, you told her about what happened to you: the shots, the hospital, and your recovery. You watched, as this enfolded, the way Alexia became increasingly tense, she’d taken your hand in a grip at one point, and you felt the warmth in her hand dissipate into cold sweat, could feel the way she trembled. By the end of it, Alexia looked paler than you’d ever seen her before, wide eyes red and glassy; fragile in all sense of the word.

The silence that followed was like a fog, heavy and suffocating, and the words that bounced against the walls made the fog even thicker that your chest began to ache.

“When were you planning to tell me?” Came the even question.

“Yesterday, but I changed my mind. I should’ve just told you.”

Another pause, her demeanour remained the same. And then, “How bad was it?”

You considered lying; considered telling her that it wasn’t that bad to appease her, to protect her from that knowledge but there was a plea that shone in her eyes that stopped you. So, with a shaky breath, you whispered, “I… they said that my heart stopped. Twice.”

Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alexia whispered.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“You nearly died!” Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She must’ve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking.

“There was no other way I’d take it! What if I’d lost you and I didn’t even know?” Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. “No, I did lose you, didn’t I? Your heart stopped! Your heart–”

Alexia’s knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexia’s head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.

Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters who’d only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like this–prone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bear–and knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery… Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes you’d made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.

Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. “And I wasn’t even there for you. Fuck, I wasn’t even there. I–”

“You cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I won’t let you.” You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, “And you think you weren’t there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.”

It was the truth that Alexia needed–that you needed her–to hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.

“You were there, Alexia, always. You just didn’t know it.”

You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, and–

“Is that…?”

Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. “Yes.”

“You kept it…” You whispered as emotions caught in your throat.

“Of course, I did. It…” Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. “It makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.”

At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. “I know the feeling.”

A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, “Ale, come here. Let me dry your hair.”

That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.

Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and… something else that you couldn’t quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.

You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexia’s breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.

It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexia’s arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.

“Can I confess something?” Alexia whispered, voice raw.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath.

“I waited for you.” A pause. “Until I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped you’d come back.”

“Thank you for waiting.” You murmured.

“Thank you for coming back.” Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“I’m here, Alexia. I’m right here with you.” You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, “If I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.”

Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyone–well, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexia’s offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away.

(You ignored Derek’s smirk; you spied him over Alexia’s shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)

And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexia’s company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexia’s celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.

When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips.

It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexia’s figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.

And that, to you, was everything.

You took the call immediately after you saw Alexia’s name on your screen.

“Alexia, what did you do?”

It was currently late October, over two months since the last time you’d seen her in person, but the both of you–and occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practice–remained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for her–although they still very much did–now only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia.

But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now.

Alexia’s chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. “Is this about Elisa’s trial?”

“Please, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. “I didn’t do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisa’s name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.”

And as her word sank in–as you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfully–you let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, babe… I just had to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, “So, what happened?”

“Well, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisa’s eligibility for a trial to get into Barça’s youth team.”

“And how did Elisa take it?”

“She’s unusually calm about all of it and that’s exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.” You sighed, “I’m worried she believes she didn’t get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.”

A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexia’s face. “Do you mind if I talk to her?”

“No, not at all. I think that’s a good idea. Hold on.”

You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisa’s bedroom, then knocked on her door.

“Ladybug, Alexia is on the phone.”

A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out.

“Alexia?”

You tucked a strand behind her ear. “Yes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.”

Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready.

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank you”

“She just needed a little pep talk.” Alexia smiled at you, soft, “And anytime, my love.”

Two months later, Elisa’s club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa… Elisa passed the trial.

Elisa was going to Barcelona.

‘Come over when you’re done for the day?’

The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, ‘I’m coming up.’

Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his place–insisted even, so you wouldn’t get stressed out, which was sweet of him–and you accepted, but you promised you’d find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasn’t able to be with you. Well… until now.

Now faced with Alexia’s apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadn’t seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?

You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour.

You moaned at the heat of Alexia’s tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexia’s arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire.

To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.

Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.

“Wait–I’m sorry, I know we’re taking it slow but I just missed you so much and I–”

You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didn’t fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clear–an action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she made–obscene in every sense of the word–and the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexia’s ever-present composure slipping.

It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexia’s name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips.

Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach.

Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you.

There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands… there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beauty–her character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotions–lust, desire, wonder, amity–but a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth.

You loved Alexia.

Oh, how you loved her so.

With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you.

She was beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after you’d helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the taste–finally, again–of her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look… these were the things that–in their divine simplicity–endeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.

As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful.

Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.

Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.

“What is it, darling?” She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, “My body… it–I’m not like how you remembered.”

“Darling, your body will always be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off, “And I’m worried you’re not, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.“I’m ready when you are.”

Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerability–that thinly veiled fear–you’d seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?

“Alexia…”

You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, “Please, let me see you. I want to… I want you.”

There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded.

Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, “Thank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.”

You nodded again and then, Alexia’s lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain.

Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes.

Your lips parted at the sight of Alexia’s lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexia’s hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.

Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology.

And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.

“Are you ready? Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Alexia whispered on your lips.

You inched away so you could cup Alexia’s face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. “I’m ready. I trust you, Alexia.”

She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, “Thank you.”

Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you still–would you sicken her? You probably would, wouldn’t you? You–

A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexia’s face contorting. A part of you screamed, ‘Look how you’ve appalled her!’, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexia’s lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torso–one on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breast–and her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desire–albeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her face–a mixture of relief, regret, and agony.

Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breasts–her warmth–offered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexia’s body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexia’s hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.

Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.

“You’re here and you’re mine.” She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didn’t–or couldn’t–believe that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive.

“I’m with you and I’m yours, Alexia.” You whispered with conviction. “Take me.”

As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexia’s wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.

And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lost–and found again.

She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.

You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes… Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.

The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, ‘Come here’, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexia’s name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for she–without so much as losing the pace of her fingers–moved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.

She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, “You look so beautiful like this… feel so good. Love the way you’re so wet for me.”

“Ale… Alexia…” You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away.

“That’s it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

The heat of it all–Alexia’s words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on you–finally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chest–a state of grace–that called to the woman before you.

And so, you didn’t stop the words.

You sighed against her ear, “I love you.”

Alexia tensed but she didn’t stop until you’d finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.

And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.

“Do you mean it? Truly?” Alexia asked softly.

You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. “I do.”

Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. “Say it again. Please.”

You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Alexia.”

Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.

Then you parted, but Alexia’s forehead remained against yours.

And with tears in her eyes, she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#to the anon/s in my inbox who’s been so sweet–thank you for your kind messages and words of motivation #i very much appreciate you and im sorry for my lateness but i hope that this makes up for it.#happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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sunsetsandsunshine · 2 months

Note

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive.

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food.

Which he fed all to Raph by the way.

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'.

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring.

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell.

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth.

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning.

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time!

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies.

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow.

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right.

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation.

…The situation he created in the first place.

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy.

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did.

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

��I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!”

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.”

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired.

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!”

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook.

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged.

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.”

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?”

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled.

“And…why are those bad things?”

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant.

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.”

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?”

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?”

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…”

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin.

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline.

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?”

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...”

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?”

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.”

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.”

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.”

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.”

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful.

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly.

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled.

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck.

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed.

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!”

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.”

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!”

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed.

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!”

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?”

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...”

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?”

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.”

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.”

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

#Rottmnt tickle #Rottmnt tickle fic #Rottmnt tickle fanfiction #Lee!Mikey #Ler!Leo #MWYAHSHSHHSAN #This is actually so silly I love this 💞💗💗#I hope you guys enjoyed the angst 🤪#ADHDERS AND PPL WITH ADHD TENDENCIES UNITE 🙌🏾💕🩷💓💘💝💗‼️‼️‼️#Adhd is a bitch 🖤…#Leo can be an asshole at times but he doesn’t mean to I swear 😭💔#My boy just copes with jokes but he has a hard time understanding that not EVERYONE copes like that #So when Mikey snapped at him and started breaking down he was like: “😁 -> 😄 -> 😀 -> 😐 -> 🫢”#I HATTTEEE forgetting to brush my teeth 😟…it’s so damn nasty man #AND NOT BEING ABLE TO DRAW LIKE YOU USED TO⁉️⁉️⁉️ GRAUGHHHH REAL SHIT #I care about these two sm omfg #I need more content with these tWO LOOK AT THEM 🥹💙🧡!!!#“Tell ur thoughts to shut up 😒” msndhjsjss peak sibling comment #Also I changed my writing style a TEEEEENSY weensy bit if you haven’t guessed #For a while…I haven’t like the **’s I put at the noises that characters made when they laughed :/#Soooo I tried just doing it in italics and AHHUUGHFHS 😖💖💗💘💝🩷💓💞💕#IT LOOKS SM BETTER #I just wanted the laughing to seem more natural #Your just being you guys 🫶🏾#DON’T BE SO HARD ON YOURSELF PLEASEEEE #Eat some snacks!!! Drink some water/juice!!! Exercise!!!#Your allowed to feel the way you do so just take it easy ☺️👍🏾#I’M RUNNING OUTTA TAGS BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE BEHIND THE STAGE WORKS ON HOW I MADE THIS I CAN ALWAYS YAP TO YOU ABT IT 😈🤌🏾#I don’t think I implied this very well but Leo feels the same way Mikey feels…so that’s why he was so PERSISTENT on making sure Mikey’s alr #But Leo take his own advice challenge GO 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ Maybe a pt. 2 🫢??? Idk yet lolololololol

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