#how to cope with work pressure

[burningcheese-merchant]

You've mentioned that deep down pepper jack is insecure to en extend.why? Is he scared he'd hurt someone? Does he feel like he's not enough? Drop the angst🙏🙏🙏

Are you referring to that one line in his soulstone description? Haha

Jack has some insecurities he's grappling with internally, yeah :( they have different forms, but ultimately come from the same place: the fear he isn't good enough, like you suggested. There's a more general side to it, plus one more closely related to Burning Spice

🔺 Jack secretly fears/worries that his father does not like him/is disappointed in him. They're quite different from each other in a lot of ways and don't always know how to communicate their thoughts/feelings to each other, so there's a bit of a gap between them in that sense (one that doesn't exist between BS and his sister, which makes it a little worse). He yearns for his father's approval and often goes out of his way to do things that he thinks will earn him that (ex: asking BS to read history books with him, or asking him questions about the past. Jack likes history already, that's a natural-born interest of his, but because his father was once the Herald of Change/History, there's that additional point of "if I show my dad I'm smart like him, and like the same stuff as him, he'll be happy. He'll be proud of me"). It isn't necessary, of course; his fears are entirely unfounded, Burning Spice loves his son dearly, just as he is. He just isn't the best at expressing it sometimes (I imagine BS being. Like. Very emotionally constipated lol. He makes a lot of progress w GC but a brand new hurdle is made with the kids bc he can't necessarily talk to them like he does to her, at least not right away. Children need to be handled/spoken to differently). They'll patch this up eventually but it's a bit difficult and awkward for a lot of Jack's childhood

🐦 Jack naturally holds himself to a very high standard. It's just who he is and has always been. He's not arrogant by any means, but he does expect a lot from himself. Admittedly a little bit of it comes from external forces - his family, his friends, the kingdom - but it's really mostly him. People expect a lot from him (not out of malice ofc, no one is trying to make him feel pressured/insufficient at all), but he expects the most from himself. He needs to always be his best, for everyone else's sake.

I've been drafting little playlists for both kids (I like doing that for characters I like + OCs, it's a way I help myself understand their vibes) and one song I attribute to Pepper Jack is "Surface Pressure" from Encanto. These lines in particular encapsulate his feelings pretty well imo:

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service"

"Under the surface, I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us"

Under the surface, I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this?"

"But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations"

"Who am I if I can't run with the ball?" / "Who am I if I can't carry it all?" / "Who am I if I don't have what it takes?"

Jack is the firstborn. Jack is the son of two gods. Jack IS a god, himself, by virtue of the power he inherited. Jack is the crown prince, expected to one day inherit his mother's throne. Jack is the older brother, meant to be his sister's protector and guide, meant to be a good example for her. Jack is a hero, he wants to be a hero, he's supposed to be a hero; someone who uses his power for good, who serves the public. The strong have a duty to help the weak. He's strong. He has to be. So that duty falls on him. All the time. No matter how heavy it gets. Who is he, otherwise?

... But he's scared he'll fail. There's nothing he fears more than failure. Letting everyone down. Everyone thinks so highly of him... everyone expects so much from him. People count on him for things. So he'll be strong. If he can't, he'll pretend. He'll put on a mask. His feelings matter less than his responsibilities. If both he and Paneer are scared of something, he'll be the one to put on a brave face and hold steady, because being there for her is more important. Others will always be more important than him, and he always has to do a good job for their sake. A self-sacrificing perfectionist. Dangerous combination

[wannabe-minion-of-chaos]

Don't mind me just

Smacks Gregory over the head with burnt out gifted kid syndrome™

[lesbianralzarek]

sometimes when you work in medicine your boss will tell you "bad news, someone from some other place fucked up real bad and now we gotta fix it" and then hand you a task thats completely impossible. and then what? you say "fuck sick and disabled people"??? no. you just threaten to kill yourself and slam another adderall. as is professional workplace behavior

[bizlybebo]

lightspeed taking over a lot of the responsibilities miss G usually took care of when she gets sick and gaining a new appreciation/perspective for all that miss G does and suddenly understanding why she has such a fear of commitment while miss G has so much time to think while she's away from the public eye/hero life and realizing how much lightspeed does mean to her hahaha. ounches a wall

[queer-froggit]

my opinion on The Tortured Poets Department? it doesn't exist to me. i think you're going a bit crazy there, actually. Taylor Swift doesn't have an 11th album--unless you count the Taylor's Version of 1989.

[bread-making-vikings]

.

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[void-tiger]

Maybe it’s the “avoidant” part of my “fearful avoidance,” but. I really just…don’t care if someone I’m attracted to romantically likes someone else, or doesn’t share those feelings. Like, you do you. We’re not dating or owe eachother anything, and it all boils down to autonomy and compatibility, anyway. (And let’s face it, I don’t believe I’ll ever be compatible with anyone in terms of physical intimacy and I’m not able to compromise that without bruising my own boundaries, so.) But also like. I’d just. Turn attraction “off” if I could reach inside my head and flip a switch. Sadly humans aren’t that simple. Absolutely unfair.

Nah. What does get me into the Fearful instead (and struggling with that FA push-pull of “keep away/please don’t leave”): whether or not someone even wants to be my friend. Especially when I also accidentally developed attraction to them.

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[whetstonefires]

The thing is that the most interesting and novel invention of the MCU is a universe where billions of people turned into dust and then were physically reconstituted on the spot five years later, in a world that had just barely adapted to their absence.

That is wild. That is intense! That is a series of pathos-ridden emotionally complex doorstoppers waiting to happen. Half the entire world! All dead! And somehow we coped with that! And now we have to cope with them all being back?

A whole street of empty houses--surely not everyone there became ash. Some of them moved to better places, now opened by the mass mortality. Some of them died afterward. Who will live there now? Even if inheritances are reversed by resurrection, surely leases aren't renewed. What the fuck happens to everyone who remarried?

What happens to the children snapped back to a world where their parents didn't survive, or the reverse?

But they had to then hastily smooth over this utterly batshit sci-fi premise and get the world mostly back to normal working order as rapidly as possible, without too much emphasis on how literally every person in existence has been placed in a mason jar by a narcissist and shaken twice in five years.

So they could get on with more superhero whack-blam business, which is customarily done against a background of Normality.

This is, tragically, the most Comics thing these movies have ever done.

It is beyond satire that they did this immediately before and during a worldwide pandemic that everyone was pressured to smooth over and 'return to normal' about within 2 years if not sooner.

[221beeeeeee]

If Moffat would have put me in the writers’ room…

I’m making John an ER doctor. Probably after Reichenbach.

You’re telling me the combat-trained army doctor isn’t throwing himself into trauma and emergency medicine after losing Sherlock? You’re telling me this man, who treated blast injuries in the field, performed chest tubes in a tent, and sutured wounds under fire, isn’t going to thrive in a place where patients are crashing every hour?

John is devastated. His best friend is gone. His partner. Does he even know what Sherlock was to him?

He copes the only way he knows how. Intubations. Central lines. Running traumas back to back.

He zones out and loses himself in the chaos of the ER. No thinking. No grief. Just the next patient. GSW to the abdomen. RTA rolling in. Code blue in the ICU.

Maybe he takes an attending position at St. Bart’s. Maybe he likes the familiarity of the halls. Maybe he passes the spot where Sherlock fell to his death every day and tells himself it doesn’t matter. Maybe if he saves enough people, he’ll feel something again.

At first, he struggles. The equipment is too much. Too many resources. In the war, he had pressure dressings, ketamine, and luck. Now he has thoracotomies, ECMO, a whole trauma team. It feels excessive. It feels wrong. But he adapts.

Soon, he is the one barking orders. 16-gauge IVs in both arms. 1:1:1 transfusion. Push Epi. Get me a thoracotomy tray. His hands don’t shake. His leg doesn’t hurt. He works fast. He doesn’t go home. He picks up extra shifts. He’s always there.

Sherlock was the genius in the morgue. John is the one keeping people out of it.

Anyways I’m still mourning the bbc Sherlock we could have had.

[thesophistiicate]

the good life essentials: the ultimate guide to getting what you want 💭

for so long i always felt a sense of struggle when it came to my achievements. i could reach my goals but it always felt so hard, and it usually came paired with periods of burn out and malaise. then i found out why: i was often neglecting foundational needs, living in chaos and not taking proper care of myself, and trying to zoom straight to big-picture achievements.

below is my ultimate guide to 'the good life'. the more balance you can achieve in each category, the easier and more pleasurable it becomes to reach your goals. you will still have to stretch yourself and explore beyond your limits... but it should feel relatively nice because you are supported by a nourishing lifestyle.

you deserve a beautiful, healthy, passion-filled life. here's how you get it:

01. your foundation: the essentials

physical health: create nourishing routines for sleep, exercise, and nutrition. your literal energy starts here, so if you’re trying to bring positive energy to your life and achieve success, you need foundational energy.

mental and emotional health: build resilience and develop strategies for coping with pressure and stress. take care of your mental health always, not just when you’re already spinning out.

financial stability: learn to manage your money wisely. budgeting, saving, and debt management are a must.

02. your core: connections + fulfilment

your home: whether you have just a bed, a room, an apartment, or a whole house, create a safe, comforting space to recharge and feel grounded.

strong relationships: surround yourself with supportive and meaningful connections - so much about ourselves is defined by those we are close with so choose wisely.

meaningful work: follow your sense of purpose and find work or projects that bring a sense of fulfilment and satisfaction to your life. remember that it may not always be paid work. if you have no idea, just keep trying things and follow what interests you, while working on the next stage.

03. your growth: personal development

personal growth: invest into self improvement, developing new skills, growing your knowledge and learning as much as possible.

spiritual fulfilment: find purpose, whether through spirituality, self-reflection, or a connection to something bigger.

creativity & self-expression: explore creative outlets and express your true self to find a grounding sense of joy and authenticity.

04. your larger contribution: beyond the self

community & contribution: give back, volunteer, or participate in community initiatives to connect with a greater sense of purpose and life-giving connection.

legacy & impact: define the mark you want to leave on the world, through family, work, or contributions to society. think deeply about what you wish to leave behind and tailor your life to this goal.

05. your enrichment: quality of life enhancers

play & leisure: make time for joy, hobbies, and relaxation for rejuvenation, calm, and passion. if your day to day work isn't your passion, it's so essential to find passion here.

time in nature: regularly connect with the outdoors for grounding and mental clarity.

[agere-guide]

Introduction

What is Age Regression?

Age regression is when someone mentally shifts into a younger state of mind. This can be a voluntary or involuntary experience, and it's often used as a coping mechanism for things like stress, trauma, or mental health struggles. When someone regresses, they may act, think, or feel like a child, toddler, or baby.

It’s non-sexual and should always be SFW.

People might use comfort items like stuffies, pacis, cartoons, or soft blankets.

It helps some people feel safe, comforted, and emotionally secure.

What is Age Dreaming?

Age dreaming (sometimes called age wanting in certain contexts) is when someone daydreams or fantasizes about being a different age, but without actually regressing. It’s more of a creative, fun, or identity-based experience, and isn’t always tied to coping or mental health.

It can be like imagining yourself as a kid, teen, or even a different age entirely.

It’s often more about aesthetic, comfort, or self-expression.

Unlike regression, people in an age dream state usually stay aware of their current age and don’t mentally shift.

Why Might Someone Regress?

1. Mental Health & Coping

To escape overwhelming emotions like anxiety, depression, or stress.

As a way to feel safe during or after trauma or flashbacks.

To manage dissociation or emotional shutdowns.

2. Neurodivergence

Many autistic and ADHD individuals naturally regress when overstimulated, under pressure, or seeking comfort.

Regression can help with emotional regulation or sensory overwhelm.

3. Comfort & Safety

It brings back the warm, safe feeling of being cared for or protected.

Helps with inner healing, especially for unmet childhood needs.

Some regress to recreate a childhood they never had.

4. Inner Child Work

Regression can be part of reconnecting with your inner child.

It allows people to explore past emotions in a safe, nurturing way.

Sometimes encouraged in therapy for healing purposes.

5. Just for Fun!

Some people regress because it’s cozy and fun!

Playing with toys, watching cartoons, or cuddling stuffies brings joy and relaxation—no deep reason needed.

Voluntary vs Involuntary?

Voluntary regression is when someone chooses to enter a younger headspace on purpose.

You decide when, where, and how to regress.

You might use triggers like cartoons, stuffies, or soft music.

It's usually done for comfort, self-care, or fun.

You stay aware of your current age even if you’re acting younger.

Involuntary regression happens without trying or planning it—it just happens, usually in response to emotional or mental triggers.

Can be caused by trauma, stress, overstimulation, or flashbacks.

You might suddenly feel younger, helpless, or confused.

It’s often harder to control or snap out of.

Sometimes people don’t realize they’ve regressed until afterward.

Disclaimers !

Note that age regression/dreaming is ALWAYS 100% NON-KINK/SFW. Age regression is usually used as a coping mechanism; do not make fun of anyone's regression. Respect a regressor's boundaries. SYSTEMS ARE 100% VALID WHEN THEY HAVE LITTLE ALTERS! Terms that are nsfw are such as cgl, ddlg, kink, littlespace (sometimes, unfortunately!) and most abbreviations. Appropriate abbreviations are things like Agere, Agereg, Petre, Agedre, Petdre, Cg (just caregiver, or crgv or a less similar to cgl abbreviation.) SFW meaning safe for work. all age regression is SFW. there is no such thing as NSFW agere; that's just kink invading privacy. Minors & Adults are both capable of age regressing or caregiving. there is not a "right" way to regress other than keeping kink out of the community.

A term for those who's age changes is called a "Age-shifter"! It's a term I came up with, but it works pretty well!

[slut4thebroken]

Teddy Bear

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x step daughter!reader

Summary | Your (step)dad uses you as stress relief.

Warnings | Smut, technically incest ig, praise, innocence kink, corruption, creampie, too many pet names, daddy kink kinda.

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | Idk if corruption + age difference are the right descriptions but I’m so fucking exhausted that I literally can’t figure out anything better lol. Feel free to lmk if y’all think something else would fit more than this.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 14: corruption + age difference

Read this before continuing ❤️

You whined at the feeling of his fingers curling almost violently against your walls, trying to get you warmed up as quickly as possible. Tommy had stormed into your room, startling you awake. He barely said a word as he ripped the covers away and pulled your panties off your body. He didn’t even bother removing your nightie before climbing over you and shoving two fingers inside. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he suddenly leaned down to kiss you, knowing that it always makes you needier. The kiss was messy and sloppy and desperate as he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit and forced a third finger inside you. 

He was starting to focus on spreading his fingers, working you open for his cock rather than actually trying to pleasure you. After only a few minutes, he removed them and opened his pants, not even bothering to undress. You hugged your teddy bear for comfort and whined at the uncomfortable pressure when he pushed his cock against your entrance, struggling to fit. 

“Come on, little one… Let me in.” He whispered, voice low and raspy. He kept pushing until he finally breached your opening, forcing a startled sound of pain from you. “Good girl.” He groaned, not stopping until he was buried completely inside you, forcing your walls to stretch almost painfully wide to accommodate his girth. Without even giving you a moment to adjust, he slowly drew his hips back, then pushed forward again at the same speed, making you whimper. 

“Daddy,” You whined, staring up at him with teary eyes. Your walls were desperately fluttering around his cock, trying to expel the intrusion.  

“You can take it.” He said softly, already starting to speed up. You whimpered and hugged your teddy bear to your chest even tighter. “You can fucking take it.” He gruffed. You could tell that he was only getting more worked up. After barely a few minutes, his pace got even faster until he was quickly bucking into you, ignoring your soft cries and whimpers.  

However, the pain was starting to go away as the pleasure of him fucking you took over. It was still too much, too soon though. But Tommy didn’t seem to care about how you were feeling at all. The fact that you were starting to feel better didn’t change anything in the way he rutted into you desperately, grunting and panting as he focused on his own pleasure. 

“You’re just the perfect little girl for daddy, aren’t you?” He cooed, almost mockingly. “So tight, making the sweetest little sounds, letting me use you however I want… Such a good girl.” You whined and blushed at the praise, hiding the bottom half of your face behind the teddy bear. 

Suddenly leaning up, he grabbed the tops of your thighs, then started snapping his hips into you at breakneck speed. You cried out and squeezed the stuffed animal even tighter, trying to cope with the overwhelming feeling. 

When he just kept pounding you at a brutish pace, you finally whimpered out, “Daddy, please slow down.” 

In response, he adjusted his grip on your thighs and shushed you before fucking you even harder. “You’re my good girl. You can take it.” He gruffed, pounding your already sore pussy without paying any mind to your reactions. “You just lay there and hug your teddy bear, love. I need this.” His breathing was growing heavier from the exertion. 

“It hurts.” You whined. 

“Just a little longer, baby. I’m almost done.” His cheeks were a little flushed as he panted, only focusing on rapidly bucking his hips to bring himself closer to his release. Each time the blunt head of his cock kissed your cervix, you whimpered in discomfort and your face scrunched up a little more from the slight pain. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed, dragging his gaze over your face, admiring your flushed cheeks and teary eyes, before drifting down to your body. “Let daddy see your tits, little one.”

You whined and looked away as your blush darkened, but reluctantly reached for your nightie to pull it up the rest of the way, making him groan at the sight. Your nipples were already pebbling from the cool air and your breasts were moving embarrassingly with each thrust. 

“You are so beautiful, angel.” He said breathily and your blush got even darker. “Such pretty little tits, and such a perfect little cunt… made just for daddy.” You mewled at his words and he let out a breathy laugh. 

“Please..” You whined. 

“Almost there, baby.” He panted quietly, his thrusts becoming even more desperate and frantic. The sight of you just laying under him and taking it was exactly what he needed right now to take his mind off of everything. It reminded him that no matter how stressful things got, he had you to make him feel better. “Ready for my come, sweetheart?” He cooed, voice thick with arousal. 

You nodded with a blush, hugging your teddy bear again, but making sure he could still see your breasts like he wanted. Your soft little whimpers and moans had his balls drawing up tight, preparing for his release. But you quietly whining, “Please, daddy,” was what sent him over the edge.

He slammed into you with a grunt of satisfaction, the force of his hips jerking you up the bed a little bit. You whimpered and buried the bottom half of your face in the stuffed animal, feeling the discomfort and slight pain, but not wanting to interrupt him. He rode out his orgasm, depositing every last drop of his seed deep in your greedy cunt. Even after the pleasure faded, he didn’t move for a while as he caught his breath. 

“Good girl.” He whispered, leaning down over you, making you whimper when his cock shifted inside your sore pussy. He gently grabbed the teddy bear and pulled it away, setting it on the bed beside you, then he captured your lips in a soft kiss, grunting when your walls fluttered around his sensitive cock. You whined when he pulled back, and again when he pulled his cock out, but he ignored it. 

Tommy cupped your cheek and just stared at you for a moment, dragging his gaze over your flushed cheeks and youthful features. “My good girl…” He murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Thank you, little one. Daddy really needed this.” He smiled a little, watching your blush darken. You nodded shyly in response and he finally leaned back up. 

He tucked his cock back in his pants, then pulled your nightie down again and handed you the teddy bear. After pulling up the covers, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, making your whole face turn a little pink. 

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll check on you in a few hours, alright?” You nodded obediently and he couldn’t help but plant one last kiss on your lips before going back to his study. 

[bernardsbendystraws]

Red Eyes

Visit pinned post for navigation.

Dealer!Chris x Reader

CW: MDNI, SMUT, mentions of drugs and substances, angst, p n v, rough sex, and more. This is made for all part of this mini-seris.

This is my work. I do NOT authorize plagiarism or "inspiration" at all.

A/N: snuggle up and take a deep breath while we all escape from reality for a minute <3

With love and big tits, Rose

Word count: 2696

1: pushing me further, pulling me closer

“Yeah? Ya like this, huh?” Chris taunts. Drool falls further down my chin. Each thrust from his cock rutting into me from behind pushes my sweaty face further into the ruffled sheets that reek of smoke. 

It wasn’t right. I wasn’t supposed to have my best friend ramming his dick into my gut, but once the first slip up happened, there was no stopping it. 

“C’mon, ma—aren’t—you—gonna—tell me how–how good it feels?” he rasps inbetween squelching slaps of our bodies slamming together. Everything burns. My stomach drops with a knot, gathering pressure as my legs tense and clench, beginning to shake as my knees threaten to fumble and slide down flat to the mattress. 

Chris keeps me in place, one hand on my hip and the other pulling my shoulder down, dragging my body into his with growing intensity. “I—Chrissss,” I moan out, a cry falling between the words as he hits just the right spot. 

Friends were supposed to know each other. Just not like this. From the pitch of my voice, Chris lets out a dry laugh filled with pride. He knows. The way I even let out any reaction told him everything with silent words. 

My skin heats even further as I feel him lean over me, cradling me to keep me in the same position while my body starts to helplessly squirm. “Rightttt there, that’s right, shit,” his hands move. The one holding my hip curls around my lower stomach, pressing on the spot where he can feel his cock inside of me. “There it is…so deep, huh?” he purrs. 

His voice is so subtle, I don’t even know if he’s talking to me or to himself. All my mind can focus on is how fucking good everything feels. It’s all so hot, so erratic. 

Gasping for air, my hand reaches behind my shoulder, grasping into his hair as his breath pants in the crook of my neck. “Oh–my—god,” The words are interrupted by his plowing hips knocking all the wind out from my chest. 

My high crashed like an overwhelming fire. Every bone and muscle stiffens. The pure blank state of my mind leaves my eyes rolling back, leaning into the heavenly sensations as the slapping skin claps louder and wetter. 

“Fuck, yeah. Cum all over me, oh—cumming, ma. I’m—’m fuckin’ cumming,” he grits between his teeth, hungrily nibbling onto my neck while his cock twitches inside of me. The warm liquid fills me as he slowly paces to a stop, removing himself and tossing to lay on the bed next to me. 

All the euphoria and relief seems to fade into regret as I lower to flatten my body on the mattress. Chris reaches over, grabbing his blunt and lighting it as he wipes sweat off of his forehead. 

Regret fills me as every realization pummels down on me. 

It felt so good, it just didn’t feel like enough. 

“You good, kid?” 

My pout frowns further at the stupid nickname. With a shrug, I lean my body to lay on my back, grabbing his shirt from the pile of messy sheets and tugging it over my head. Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my propped up knees, taking a deep huff of air as I let my head sink into my palms. 

“Hey,” his hand soothes on my back as I feel him lean onto my shoulder. “--talk to me,” he urges. 

Every second of pure bliss from him was a breath of fresh air, it helped me cope. The second everything came crashing down after was hard. And it was only getting harder. 

“I’m still so stressed, fuck.” 

Stress. It was how the deal had come to be in the first place. Chris turned to drugs. He made good money, enough to spoil me and the people he cared about. Seeing how relaxed he was made it so tempting. I wanted the relief that came with his bloodshot eyes pooling into mine in the smoke clouded air. 

The second I had asked, he was livid. Chris was disappointed I’d even thought he’d consider letting me dig myself into the hole of addiction. He was my friend, he cared for me. That night, I learned how much he really cared for me. 

____

[ Two Months Ago ] 

He was flabbergasted. The look of disbelief after analyzing my serious expression told me how angry he was. A deep huff with a shake of his head accompanied his bloodshot eyes. 

“I just wanna try it, Chris. C’mon…” I gesture to the joint in his hand, pleading eyes begging from pure overwhelming emotions. An escape was needed and nothing was doing it anymore. No amount of music made my mind spin any slower, no amount of fresh air made me feel grounded. “You know how stressed I’ve been, I need something—anything. I…I can’t take another minute of feeling like…like this.” 

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose as his eyes squint shut. Lazily holding the joint in his hand, he offers a hand movement to wordlessly call me over closer. He lifts his arm up, letting it drop as soon as I’m pressed up against his side. 

Squeezing his arm around me to pull me tighter, he leans his head onto mine. I feel him place a gentle kiss onto my scalp, a rare gentle affection that makes my eyes start to water. 

“Listen, kid,” my tongue slips between my teeth, pressing along the rough edges hard. The pet name he used for me ever since we met at the dumb party nearly two years ago had stuck better than glue. It was like a thousand screws bolted into fresh, solid wood. And all those screw tops had been stripped. There was no getting them out, it seemed. “I can’t. I…I don’t want you going down with all this shit. You forget I see how bad it fucks people over.” 

An angry puff of air slips from my lips with a scoff. “But you still sell—and you even do it yourself. You’re such a hypocrite, god.” 

The insult spitting from my mouth makes Chris react quickly. He places the skinny joint between his two fingers, using his hands to grip my waist and pull me onto his lap. It wasn’t weird—it wasn’t even unnatural. The amount of stress and torture life had thrown my way recently had left me relying on Chris a lot. Countless nights were spent with me sitting on his bed, watching him roll and seal different blunts and joints and ending in us holding each other close throughout the calm nights. 

“Hey, you only snap at me when somethin’ is really wrong. What’s up?” I relax into him as his fingers start to soothe through my thin pajamas. His chin rests on my shoulder, his hair tickling my neck. 

I try to take a deep breath, failing miserably. It comes out as a hard sigh. “I can’t do this anymore, Chris. I…nothing is ever going good—or even okay. I can never focus on anything anymore. My grades are slipping. I—I still don’t even know what I want to do and I’m running out of time. My parents…they aren’t gonna talk to me. They’ll cut me off. I—I’m on academic probation. If I fail these classes, I….” 

Chris wraps one arm around my lower stomach, the other caging around my chest as he rocks side to side on the bed. “I got you. Y’know I’ll always help you. Just–”

“No, you—you don’t understand. I can’t even sleep anymore. All I do is think. It’s all I ever fuckin’ do anymore.” 

His arms untangle, turning my body to the side, allowing me to face him. One of his hands supports me, resting on the small of my back. The other soothes up and down my leg, squeezing and caressing the exposed skin. 

“I know it’s hard, but there’s other ways to cope. This isn’t how you’re gonna do it—I won’t let you do this to yourself. I care about you. I don’t care about the dumbasses I rip off for money. I mean, none of them are as pretty as ya, sweetheart,” he teases. 

The poor joke paired with his soft smile makes my lips curl into a sympathetic grin. “Thanks, but…I don’t know. I’ve tried most things. They haven’t really helped. And I…um…” The red hue on my cheeks heating all the way up to my ears leaves my eyes widening. I turn away from his intense stare. The confession embarasses me just thinking about it, my teeth sinking into the side of my cheek as I hold my breath. 

“What? Are you constipated or some shit?” 

The shriek of pure horror leaves my lips as I slap on his chest. He laughs, catching my hand and petting it in his hold. “Sorry, sorry,” his lips press gently onto my hand before resting them back into my lap, returning his support to my back and massaging my thigh more intently. “--what is it? Y’know I won’t judge you.”

“Well,” I swallow thickly as my ears begin to buzz from nerves. “I–uh, haven’t, like…been able to finish? I don’t know, it’s–”

My eyes whip to catch his expression for a swift moment. The burning on my cheeks follows down my neck as I see his mischievous grin taunting me. 

“Can’t cum, huh?” 

I’m not sure if it’s in my imagination or not, but I swear the remaining smoke in the air gets even hazier, glazing over his eyes with an unreadable look. Pursing my lips together, I shake my head. 

“Awwwww,” he coos. “--and why’s that, hm? That cute lil vibrator you got not doing it anymore?” 

Groaning, I lean into his chest to curl up with regret. “God. I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Why’d you have to bring that up again? Ugh!” I exclaim. 

“Not my fault you left it out,” he reasons. 

“I didn’t know you were coming!” I yell. 

One quick look at his face and I can already read his thoughts. I roll my eyes before I even hear the words slip from his mouth. 

“What? Jealous I can cum?” he says, insinuating a dirty tone with a whispered voice. 

“Chris. I will literally never hug you again if you don’t shut the fuck up.” 

His lips tighten into a straight line at my threat. I lift my head, raising an eyebrow daringly at him. “Fine. I’ll shut up.” 

“Good boy,” I joke, petting his head as he gives me a blank look. Letting out a dry laugh, I trace the design on his shirt on his upper chest. “I guess I just gotta go get railed or some shit but–”

Chris grabs my hand, pulling it upwards into his hair and leaning into my palm. “Nah. Don’t do that, ma. You got me.” 

My heart freezes for a second before filling with fire. It’s the same feeling when the water is so hot it feels cold for a split second. 

The name. He rarely ever called me that, but when he did…it was always out of spite. He knew how much it got to me—he loved watching my face go blank with a cocky smirk. 

After processing the term with a thick swallow and shaky breath, I smack my lips, speechless. 

“What? We—I—”

Chris is quick to lift his eyes to mine. The blue orbs contrast with the red rings around his eyes. Enticing and intimidating, I let my lips fall shut. 

“C’mon, ma,” his hand on the small of my back slowly lift up my shirt, sliding his nimble fingers under the material. I feel his other hand on my thigh begin to knead my flesh more passionately, my thighs starting to stick more from a thin layer of sweat as he pulls the skin upwards in a firm grip. “Y’know I got you, for everything—’m not lettin’ you go get disappointed by some random guy who won’t take of you. Not as good as I could. Think about it,” he purrs. 

Pulsing beats of feverish lust thump against my chest, echoing into my ears. His greedy hands start to feel relief against my hot skin, tickling the hairs on my body delicately with each intent motion. 

“I….Chris, we can’t. We’re friends, I—”

“So? Friends help each other, hm? I’m not lettin’ you run off to random guys who won’t even know how to make you feel good and there’s no way you’re touchin’ a joint either. C’mon, think. Really…think,” he emphasizes. His lips brush against my ear as my throat starts to constrict air. 

____

Temptation is hard to resist when it’s impossible to think clearly. It was also irresistible as soon as he started touching my pussy through my clothes teasingly, acting like he was still only trying to caress my thighs. He was quick to point out how wet I was, but I wasn’t embarrassed—not when I practically lunged to connect our lips. 

Two months ago and the addiction I had succumbed to was for his red eyes looking into mine, silently telling me he was gonna ruin me. 

The first taste had left me reeling for more. Time after time, I couldn’t wait as long. I just needed the mind numbing bliss that came with how he teased me, how he fucked me. Nothing compared to the utter relief that followed his touch. 

Too much time had passed. It wasn’t enough anymore, I chronically needed him to make my thoughts calm and they seemed to do that every single time he let himself take complete and total control over me. The way he pulled that bursting dopamine with each time I screamed out was incomparable to anything else. And he made sure to cuddle me after so I’d be able to sleep. 

“Wanna cuddle? Or ya need more time to cool off?” 

His voice tugs me back to reality. My reminiscent thoughts had passed as we let the sweat dry down and even our breaths. I curl into his side, looking down to see the waistband of his briefs peeking from his gray sweats. 

My hand slides down his stomach, reaching over his groin and cupping his half-hard dick. Chris hisses, his hand combing through my hair gripping at the strands. 

“Fuck, ma…we….we gotta get you to bed…you—ya got that fuckin’ test or whatever—shitttttt,” I ignore his words, not even lingering at the fact my exam was tomorrow. Sleep didn’t give me as much this—as much as him. 

Slipping my hand underneath the gray material, I let my finger trace over his hardening length. “--hmygod, ma. Not enough, huh?” His hips grind upwards as his hand tugs harder in my hair, pulling my head back. My eyes meet his. His lip is turning pale from the pressure of his teeth biting down on it. Hungrily, he pulls the back of my head to meet his lips to mine. 

“Just fuck me, Chris. I don’t wanna think,” I purr, stroking over his cock as he pants. 

His eyes squint at me while he feverishly bites on his lip. “Like it that much, huh?” he teases. 

Giving his cock a firm squeeze, his head whips back into the pillow. The groan that falls from his mouth fills me with pride. His hands on me get tighter. 

Letting out a cocky hum, I start to tease him with actions and words. “I really, really like it, Chris.” 

But, the regret comes from after the high fades every single time. It was repetitive. He’d fuck me. I’d get loads of relief, then he’d hold me. Every part of my body and heart felt nothing but peace in his arms. The second he’d cuddle me is when the heavier stress came in. 

It’s more than just a distraction. The relief had turned into an ache—an ache for him to hold me all night, kissing me as if I were his. 

Stress had already consumed me in other areas of my life. No room was left for compromising thoughts of our ‘deal.’ 

I liked it. 

I really, really liked it. 

I didn’t want to love it. 

[purplereina11]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 14 Other Parts

Wordcount: 9.5k

Final 3k comes with a warning ⚠️🔞

The training ground felt quieter not empty, just… less vibrant. The internationals, including Alexia, had all left for camp. Their absence left a noticeable gap in the energy of the place, and in your chest too, though you didn’t show it.

You arrived at campus early, Teddy tugging on his lead beside you, happily sniffing at patches of grass outside the facility while you sipped your coffee. It was a comfort, having him there a little piece of normal, you greeted the security staff, a few physios, and the handful of players who were still around.

Ellie jogged up beside you, breath visible in the cool morning air, Jonny bounding behind her. “Teddy pulled you here again?” she teased, grinning.

You gave a small smile. “He’s the boss.”

Inside the training building, it was a slower morning. No buzz of media, no chaos of full-team sessions. Just five of you left, including a couple of the younger players.

You went through your session, focusing on touch work and small drills, pushing through the quiet with an intense kind of purpose. If nothing else, football gave you structure something to hold onto.

Afterwards, in the gym, you and Ellie stretched out next to each other.

"You okay?" she asked eventually, softly.

You didn’t answer right away, letting the silence sit for a second, then you nodded. "I think so. It’s easier when I’m busy."

Ellie offered you a bottle of water and nudged your knee gently with hers. “You’ve been a machine since the moment you landed here.”

“I don’t know what else to be.”

“Human?” she suggested, and you chuckled.

You glanced toward your phone on the bench, resisting the urge to check it wondering if Alexia had landed safely, if she’d sent a message, a big part of you missed her already, missed her grounding presence.

⚽️

Later, you sat in the lounge area of the campus, boots undone, watching Teddy nap beside you. The others were scattered, some in treatment, some lifting weights but you had a moment to yourself and that’s when your phone buzzed.

Alexia: Landed. Already miss you, Coco.

You smiled small, tired, but real.

You: Same. Just me, Ellie, and the dogs running Barça now.

Alexia: Then it’s in very good hands.

You stared at the message for a second, then typed out another one.

You: Come back soon.

A few seconds later, the typing dots appeared.

Alexia: I’ll come home.

Your phone began ringing you have expected it to be Alexia but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart did a little skip.

Sarina Wiegman

You sat up straighter, quickly brushing stray hair behind your ear before answering.

"Hello?"

“Hi, it’s Sarina,” she said, warm but straight to the point in the way only she could be. “How are you doing?”

You hesitated for a moment, not expecting such a simple question from her. “I’m… coping. Football’s helping.”

“I watched your debut,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “I was really impressed, not just with your performance, but your control, your form, your leadership. I wanted to call you personally.”

You felt your chest tighten slightly, like it suddenly became harder to breathe in a good way.

“There’s been an injury in camp,” she continued, “and we’d like to bring you in. I know it’s short notice and there’s no guarantee of minutes against Spain, but… we want you with us again.”

You blinked, absorbing her words. “Of course,” you said quietly, then stronger. “Yeah, absolutely. Thank you, Sarina.”

There was a pause on the line. “I know it’s been a hard time. We’re not bringing you in to add pressure, I just want you back in the fold on the run up to the Euros. We believe in you. Take it at your pace.”

That nearly undid you. “I’ll pack my things,” you replied, throat tightening as you tried to keep it together.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Travel details will be sent shortly. Safe journey.”

When the call ended, you just sat there for a second. Ellie wandered into the lounge with a banana in her hand, already chewing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she mumbled.

You shook your head, a smile forming slowly. “Sarina just called. I’m going to camp. Replacing an injury.”

Ellie blinked, then grinned wide. “You serious?”

You nodded.“No promises of minutes,” you added, still trying to process it all. “But she just… wants me there.”

Ellie tossed the banana on the counter and flung her arms around you, almost knocking you off balance. “You deserve this,” she said into your hair. “And I swear if you play against Spain and Alexia tries to mark you, I’ll be in the stands with popcorn.”

You laughed through the sudden burn in your eyes.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, it didn’t feel like you were just surviving anymore. You were still in it. You were still wanted and for now that was enough.

⚽️

The chill of English air clung to your coat as you stepped out of the car at St George’s Park, everything felt familiar yet foreign the long drive through the grounds, the crispness of the Midlands air, the low buzz of staff going about their routines. But this time, it was different. You weren’t just back at the national setup. You were walking in with grief stitched into your chest.

You barely had time to take it in before you heard it the unmistakable voice of Georgia Stanway.

“Oi! Look who finally decided to come home.”

You turned just in time for her to barrel into you, arms locking tight around your shoulders. She held on longer than usual, and you let her, burying your face into her hoodie for a second as you felt your lungs squeeze.

“I missed you,” she muttered, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry, mate.”

“Thanks, G,” you said thickly, pulling back with a watery smile. “Missed you too.”

From there, it was a chain reaction. One after another, the Lionesses made their way over. Leah was next, gentle and grounded as ever, her hug firm and steady. Lucy gave you a cheeky grin and a soft squeeze to the back of your neck, “Took long enough for you to get called back, superstar.”

Millie gave you a tight hug and a joking “We’ve been bored without you,” but you could see the compassion in her eyes.

Keira didn’t say much, just wrapped you in her arms and whispered, “Glad you’re here.”

You could feel it in the way they spoke to you their words carefully chosen, their energy warm but cautious. You appreciated that, you didn’t want a big scene, just their presence, their support and they gave it.

Even Sarina when you finally saw her, gave your shoulder a light squeeze, a flicker of softness breaking through her otherwise composed expression. “Welcome back,” she said. “Just take it day by day.”

As you set your bag down in your room later, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. This place, this team they weren’t just teammates, they were your people and today, that mattered more than ever.

Your heart warmed the moment you saw Alexia’s name flash across your screen returning your call quicker than you’d even expected. You stepped out of your room into the corridor for some quiet, and pressed the phone to your ear.

“¿Hola?” Her voice came through with a note of urgency, just enough to make you smile.

“Guess where I am,” you said, your voice playful.

There was a beat of silence, and then her hopeful smirk practically echoed down the line. “I’m hoping… naked in bed, because that’s an image.”

You burst out laughing, head tilting back against the wall. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

“You called me,” she replied lightly. “Don’t act surprised.”

You took a breath and softened. “No. I’m at St George’s Park.”

There was a pause not long, but long enough for you to imagine the wheels turning in her head. “England camp?”

“Yeah. Sarina called this morning. Someone got injured. No guarantees of minutes, but… she said she was impressed with my debut for Barca so wanted me back in the fold before the euro’s.”

Alexia’s voice lowered, tender. “Coco… that’s amazing.”

You nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Feels weird, coming back under all this, but it’s good. The girls have been unreal.”

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly. “And I’m glad they called you. You deserve this not just for how you play, but for getting up and showing up.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a little. “Thanks, Ale.”

“I wish I could hug you right now.”

“Me too.”

“Although,” she added, teasing, “if you were actually naked in bed that would have been a better start to the conversation.”

You chuckled again. “I’ll save that image for your next FaceTime.”

She groaned dramatically. “Don’t tease me” but then she sobered, her voice gentler again. “Go show them what you’re made of. I’ll be watching.”

“I know.”

“I’m free for that FaceTime now by the way”

You smirked, eyes narrowing slightly at the way Alexia’s tone shifted all honey and heat wrapped up in playfulness. “Oh, are you now?” you leaned back against the wall again, glancing down the empty hallway to make sure no one was coming. “I thought La Reina was busy with national team responsibilities.”

“I am,” she replied, and you could hear her grin through the phone. “But I figured I could take a short… strategic break.”

“Strategic?” you repeated, laughing softly. “That what we’re calling it now?”

“You’re the one who dangled the idea of a FaceTime from bed, Coco. I’m just following through.”

You chuckled under your breath, already biting your lip as you shook your head. “And here I thought you were worried something was wrong.”

“I was!” she protested. “But now that I know you’re okay and looking incredible in an England hoodie, I can shift my priorities accordingly.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You're impossible.”

“And yet,” she said, voice low and warm, “you called me first.”

“Because you’re my person.”

There was silence on the line for a moment the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket. “Still up for that FaceTime, by the way. I’d like to see you… even if you’re not in bed.”

You glanced back toward your room, a smile curling slowly on your lips. “Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she murmured, before hanging up.

And sure enough, when you opened the app two minutes later, there she was already smiling, eyes soft and tired and full of something that made your chest ache. Not La Reina. Not the captain. Just… her.

“You’re too cute coco”

You tried to hide the blush rising on your cheeks, but it was hopeless especially with the way Alexia was looking at you through the screen, that lazy, fond smile lighting up her whole face. “Don’t start,” you warned, lips twitching as you bit back a grin.

“What?” she said innocently, propping her chin in her hand, elbow resting somewhere out of view. “I can’t call my girlfriend cute now?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said. You said you’re cute. Like it was a discovery.”

Alexia laughed, soft and genuine. “Fine, then. Still cute.”

You shook your head. “You’re dangerous when you’re in a good mood.”

She leaned a little closer to the camera. “No. I’m dangerous when I’m in love.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you swore your heart skipped at least two. You blinked, then let out a quiet breath. “That a confession, Putellas?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe I just miss you already.”

You smiled, gaze softening. “I miss you too.”

“And you’ll crush it in camp,” she added, more serious now. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, but if you do get minutes against Spain…”

You grinned. “I’ll try not to nutmeg you.”

Alexia laughed, full and unfiltered. “Try. You won’t succeed.”

“We’ll see.”

There was a pause, just the two of you, quiet and wrapped in each other’s presence even from miles apart. Then Alexia whispered, “You really are cute, you know.”

This time, you let yourself blush. “Shut up” you laughed as she made herself laugh laying back on her bed going out of view, “It wasn’t that funny”

⚽️

The media room at St. George’s Park was buzzing. Cameras clicked into place, journalists leaned forward with recorders at the ready, and the hum of anticipation filled the space. You sat between Sarina and Leah, strategically placed by your captain and manager to protect you. you were trying to look calm even though your heart was beating a little faster than usual. It wasn’t your first time in front of press, but it was your first time back in an England camp since you were dropped due to no minutes and since everything had changed.

Sarina opened with some expected remarks. “We’re obviously disappointed to have had an injury in the squad, but we’re very pleased to welcome Y/N back into camp. She’s had a brilliant start at Barcelona and shown resilience and professionalism in very difficult circumstances.”

You nodded politely, eyes flicking to the front row where a few familiar media faces watched with interest. Leah leaned toward her mic. “It’s been really good to have her back. You’ve all seen what she can do on the pitch, but the way she’s carried herself personally? Honestly, it’s inspiring, she's made of strong stuff our Y/N and she's proving it that every day with what she's doing on and off the pitch”

You tried not to visibly swallow, that meant more than she probably knew then came the questions directed at you.

A journalist in the second row raised his hand. “Y/N, first of all our condolences on your loss. It’s incredible to see you here. Can I ask what it’s meant to you personally, being called back into the England fold?”

You took a breath, “Yeah, it means a lot. After everything, football’s been one of the few constants I’ve had, it's given me that outlet to leave whats happening away from football outside of the lines and just focus on whats going on between them. Being back here… it’s a little overwhelming, but in a good way. I’m grateful to Sarina, to the staff, to the girls. It’s felt like coming home, in a way and the support has been incredible.”

The next question came quickly. “There’s a lot of attention on your move to Barcelona and your debut certainly didn’t go unnoticed. How are you adjusting to life over there?”

You smiled slightly. “It’s been a whirlwind, but it’s an incredible club. The players, the staff, the fans… they’ve made it really easy to settle in. I’ve had support from some amazing people and players, which has helped, especially with everything going on off the pitch.”

Leah gave your knee a subtle nudge under the table giving silent support, without drawing focus. Another reporter raised a hand. “Sarina, could we see Y/N on the pitch against Spain?”

Sarina smiled. “We’re not making any decisions public yet, but she’s ready, and that’s all I’ll say. All the players are available”

There was a ripple of laughter, and the tone lightened for a moment, another question came from the back. “Y/N, there were rumours you had offers from clubs in England too. Was it a difficult decision to go to Spain?”

You nodded, thoughtful. “Of course. There’s a lot of quality in the WSL, and England’s home, but sometimes a decision isn’t just about football. It was the right move for me on every level and I don’t regret it.”

“Y/N, obviously Spain's squad is full of world-class talent, many of whom you’re now teammates with. Have you had much contact with them away from the pitch? And, if I may ask, what kind of captain has Alexia Putellas been for you personally, especially during your recent grief?”

You sat forward a little, heart picking up just slightly. You were well-practised with this sidestepping the personal while still answering the question. Alexia wasn’t just a captain to you, but very few people knew that. Not publicly. Not even all your England teammates.

You gave a small smile and kept your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve had a good amount of contact with some of the squad. A few of them have reached out since leaving for camp, checking in. It’s a special environment, there’s a real sense of unity at the club, and I’ve felt that straight away.” You glance across the room, keeping your tone light but sincere. “As for Alexia… she’s the kind of captain who leads by example. She doesn’t have to say a lot to make you feel supported, she's a steading presence around the club for sure. Whether it’s on the pitch or around training she makes sure you know you’re part of the team, that you’re seen.” You pause for a beat, the emotion threatening to edge too close. “And with what I’ve been going through personally… all of the girls, at Barça, here with England, and the girls from Bayern, have been incredible. So yeah, I’m really grateful for that.” You clear your throat as your voice wobbled, "It's been the hardest time in my life and" You nodded just the once, "I've needed all the support they've offered.”

Leah nodded beside you like she felt the weight of it. Sarina gave you a reassuring look she knew how careful your answer had been especially regarding Alexia. Another journalist started to raise a hand for the next question, but the echo of your words still hung warmly in the room.

You didn’t say “Alexia stayed with me every night for a week.”

You didn’t say “She held me while I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

You didn’t say “I’m in love with her.”

⚽️

Boots laced tight, shoulders squared, you stepped out of the England dressing room to bring up the rear of the line, the hum of the tunnel hit you immediately, camera crews shifting, match officials checking watches, and the thud-thud of adrenaline in your chest syncing with the bass of the stadium.

You saw her the second you lifted your head from sorting your jacket, Alexia was at the back of the Spanish line. Hands behind her back, shoulders held in that effortless calm she always carried, but her eyes, her eyes were already on you your feet hesitated, just for a beat.

She didn’t smile, she didn’t have to. The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, but her gaze stayed steady. The weight of shared things passed silently between you in that moment, grief, growth, quiet nights spent holding each other together.

You gave a tiny nod, letting your fingers twitch against your thigh, just enough for her to notice. She did, her fingers brushed her wrist like she was adjusting her imaginary bracelet, but you both knew what it was acknowledging your signal, like a soft I see you too.

Keira turned slightly ahead of you. “Alright?” she murmured, eyeing the way your eyes lingered.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, dragging your eyes forward. “Just focused.”

Alexia finally looked away, fixing her gaze on the pitch ahead, putting on the professional mask again, but that invisible tether between you both was still there tight as ever.

You were doing your best to stay composed, eyes forward, jaw set but Georgia turned in front of you, catching the subtle exchange.

With her usual smirk and just enough sass to make you blink in warning, she looked between you and Alexia before muttering under her breath, “No flirting at work please.”

Your eyes snapped to her, mouth parting in disbelief as you tried not to laugh. “I wasn’t—” you started, instantly defensive.

Georgia arched an eyebrow. “Mate, you were practically having a silent romance novel in the tunnel. I'm just trying to keep professionalism alive.”

You nudged her with your elbow. “You’re impossible.”

She just grinned wider, clearly proud of herself. "Not to mention she looks like she's mentally undressing you right now" Georgia muttered, barely keeping the laughter out of her voice.

You huffed a short laugh, tugging lightly at your collars as if trying to hide the heat crawling up your neck. “I haven’t even put out in weeks, it’s not fair.”

Georgia coughed out a laugh, then caught herself, straightening with mock seriousness. “Tragic. Truly tragic.”

You nudged her side with your elbow. “I've had other things on my mind.”

Georgia hummed, "I'm still judging, no reason you shouldn't be hoping on that every chance you get" Georgia leaned even closer this time, voice hushed. “You know she’s listening to every word of this, right?”

You blinked, glancing sideways sure enough, Alexia was standing very still, trying very hard to look forward but her ears visibly pink, her jaw tightening like she was fighting a smirk. "With your accent doubt she's caught a word"

Georgia grinned, triumphant. “Girl is thirsty, babe. Put her out of her misery.”

You snorted, hand coming up to your face to scratch it in an attempt to hide your smile when Leah looked down the line. “You are not helping.” You muttered to Georgia

“Oh, I’m not here to help,” Georgia said, casually rocking on her heels. “I’m here for the show.”

Alexia hadn’t heard, or at least didn’t react, she was focused, totally poised, but as you walk beside her on the way onto the pitch, just for a second, her hand brushed yours ever so slightly a finger coming out to run along yours, barely noticeable but definitely deliberate and Georgia was definitely going to bring it up again later because she of course saw.

⚽️

You were already exhausted as the second half was ticking on legs burning, lungs aching but you dug deep again, surging forward down the right. The space opened up and you shifted into top gear, brushing past the defender like she wasn’t even there. It was one of those runs that made the crowd rise, the kind that made your blood roar.

You felt something clip your ankle not a stray leg or a mistimed tackle, but deliberate. Your body pitched forward and you hit the turf hard, grass and dirt scraping your palms and knees. The whistle didn’t even matter in that moment your instinct had already kicked in.

You popped right back up, fury simmering just beneath your skin, and turned sharply toward the sideline. Montse Tomé stood there, just barely back in her technical area, arms folded as if she hadn’t just tripped you in front of thousands.

You were up in an instant, white-hot rage burning through the fatigue, “Are you fucking kidding me?” you shouted, storming toward the sideline, fists clenched. “You think you can get away with that shit?! You’re not even on the pitch!” The England bench saw it unfolding a second too late, coaches, subs, physios they scrambled to intercept you as you charged.

“She fucking tripped me!” you yelled, pointing violently toward Montse as Georgia and Lucy grabbed at your arms. “What kind of coach does that?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! No need your fucking winning already!”

“Y/N!” came Sarina’s sharp voice, cutting through the chaos, but you didn’t stop.

“Touch me again and I swear I’ll put you on your arse!” you bellowed, fury twisting your face as Alex Greenwood threw herself between you and the Spanish manager, arms braced against your chest, grounding you. “She’s a fucking coward! That’s a red card!”

Montse stood still, smug, unmoved, as the fourth official frantically tried to settle things down. “Get her out of here!” one of the England coaches shouted, as a stream of Spanish came from their bench added to the madness.

“You think just because you're the coach you get to put hands on a player?” you kept going, even as you were dragged back a few steps. “You messed with the wrong fucking one today!”

The referee arrived just as the England staff managed to start pulling you away, her whistle blowing sharp and short red card up for Montse.

The crowd erupted in boos and gasps, the cameras catching every second. You were still fuming, chest heaving, heart hammering against your ribs as Sarina stepped into your line of sight.

“Breathe,” she said calmly, her hand on your shoulder. “I saw it. The ref saw it. Everyone saw it, but you need to let us handle it now.”

Your jaw was clenched tight, the red mist only just beginning to lift. You gave a single, curt nod, your entire body trembling with leftover adrenaline. Alexia stood in the centre of the pitch, unmoving her eyes hadn’t left you once.

You stormed into the huddle in-front of the English bench like a storm cloud breaking open, boots thudding against the grass. Leah had one eye on the ref and one on you, raising both hands in a silent plea for calm as you approached.

You just shook your head, jaw clenched. “I’m fucking fuming,” you spat, the heat still radiating off you like a furnace. “She tripped me. Like what the actual—”

“I know,” Lucy said, firm but gentle, stepping slightly in front of you as a buffer. “We all saw it.”

“Ref gave her the red,” Georgia added, eyes darting toward where Montse was being ushered down the tunnel by security. “Let it go now. We’ve got twenty minutes left. We need you.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, like you were trying to swallow fire. “She’s a fucking disgrace.”

“She is,” Leah agreed quietly. “And the world just saw it. Now put that energy into the game.”

Your hands were still trembling at your sides, but the way the girls stood around you close, protective helped anchor you back into the moment.

Across the pitch, Alexia was still watching, not with fear, bot with judgment, with something closer to awe, like she'd never seen someone defend themselves like that before. Like maybe she hadn’t realised just how much fire lived inside you.

Back in the huddle, Sarina had her hands on her hips, looking between you all. “We play smarter now,” she said. “They’ve lost their head coach, you don’t lose yours. You’ve got fifteen, maybe twenty minutes left. Win it.”

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt and nodded. “Let’s fucking go.”

⚽️

You walked slowly, clapping toward the England supporters who had travelled, their voices unwavering even in defeat, some of them still sang your name. A few banners with your number were held high. It stung, the loss, especially in a game like that close, messy, personal.

You felt a hand press lightly to your back, Leah didn’t say anything, just kept pace beside you, clapping too.

“To be fair,” Georgia murmured from your other side, “you looked like a menace the whole game. Nearly broke the sound barrier down that wing.”

You huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Didn’t matter, though, did it.”

“It will,” she said simply.

You were always good at hiding your feelings under humour or silence, but this loss, after everything burned deeper, your first international game your mum wasn’t there for and you lost.

The post-match chaos slowly gave way to small pockets of quiet. Players swapped shirts, fans waved from the stands, cameras hovered but you barely noticed any of it. You’d caught Alexia’s eyes across the pitch again, and without really thinking, your feet took you toward her.

She met you halfway, her ponytail slightly frayed, sweat still glistening at her temples, but her expression was warm.

She stepped forward as you stopped, not enough to draw attention from anyone else, but enough that your feet touched.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft beneath the ambient noise of the stadium.

“Hey,” you echoed, your voice still hoarse from the shouting, from the frustration, from everything.

Her eyes searched yours for a moment not scanning for answers, but checking in, grounding you. “You alright?” she asked.

You nodded with a soft sigh. “Tired, frustrated, but I’m alright.”

She gave a small smile and lifted her hand gently. Her thumb brushed something off your cheek, dirt, sweat, maybe a tiny smear of black from your under-eye but the touch lingered for a second too long. To anyone watching, it was a simple gesture, but to those paying attention, it was more, the softness in her touch, the way her eyes didn’t leave yours, the intimate silence shared between you amidst the noise.

From the sidelines, a few whispers started journalists noting the quiet exchange, a few teammates casting looks that said are we seeing what we think we’re seeing?

“You were incredible,” she said under her breath, just for you.

You shook your head, eyes fixed ahead. “Didn’t win.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, and when you glanced sideways, her eyes were soft. “I’m proud of you.”

You swallowed, feeling something twist in your chest. “I’ll take that, capitana.”

Alexia smiled faintly, brushing her fingers against yours before the moment passed.

Georgia gave a low whistle from behind you, not loud enough for the media to catch, but definitely enough to be heard. Alexia smirked faintly at that and leaned just a little closer, dropping her hand.

“You’ve got people talking,” you murmured, eyes still locked with hers.

“They’ve been talking since you got here,” she replied just as softly. “Let them.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not subtle anymore, are we?”

Alexia tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m tired of hiding things that make me happy.”

The weight of those words settled into your chest. You couldn’t find your voice right away so instead, you just smiled, nudged her foot with yours, and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t get sent off.”

She laughed quietly. “You’re lucky I didn’t punch Montse myself.”

You and Alexia lingered just a little longer than necessary at the centre of the pitch, half-heartedly kicking at the grass beneath your boots, hands brushing occasionally but never quite holding. The crowd had thinned, cameras moved on to their next target, but the pull between you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“You always this flirty after a win?” you teased, nudging her with your elbow.

Alexia smirked, slow and smug. “Only when the person I’m flirting with plays like that. Shame the ref couldn’t give you a goal for pure rage and speed.”

“Montse’s lucky I didn’t go full WWE,” you muttered.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “You were about five seconds from doing it.”

“I still might. Depends if she looks at me wrong on the way to the tunnel.”

Alexia gave a quiet laugh and stepped a little closer, her voice dropping. “Maybe don’t get suspended just yet. We’ve only just started this thing.”

You blinked, and your mouth parted to respond but footsteps approached fast behind you. “Oi, save it for later, yeah?” Georgia’s voice interrupted as she strolled over, sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, eyes twinkling with mischief. Keira was beside her, less chaotic but just as curious, arms folded loosely over her chest.

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t have one moment.”

Georgia ignored you. “Just came to say you did good. And also” She turned to Alexia, smirking. “please stop undressing our girl with your eyes in front of everyone.”

Alexia laughed under her breath, but didn’t step back. Keira squinted between you both, her brow creasing slightly. Then she tilted her head. “Wait.”You tried to keep your face neutral, but Georgia was already grinning. Keira pointed between you two like she was solving a murder mystery. “No way. No, hang on. This—this isn’t just flirty banter, is it?”

Georgia folded her arms smugly. “Took you long enough.”

Keira looked at you. “Are you—? Are you dating?”

You opened your mouth. Alexia beat you to it. “You’ve not been telling people?,” she said smoothly, tugging gently at the hem of your England top, eyes twinkling. “Impressive, i’ve been telling anyone who will listen about you.”

You flushed and Keira blinked, jaw dropping just a little. “Oh my God,” Keira said. “You’re dating Alexia?!”

Georgia patted her shoulder like she’d just cracked a world-class code. “Congratulations, detective.”

Alexia winked at you, you smiled sheepishly, cheeks warm. Keira laughed, still a little stunned. “Well damn.”

Georgia gave you a gentle nudge. “You two better not break up. I’ve invested feelings.”

You groaned as they both wandered off, already gossiping. Alexia reached for your hand briefly and squeezed it. “Still want to keep it quiet?”

You looked after Georgia and Keira. “Honestly?” you said. “I wasn’t trying to keep it quiet, i just, wasn’t telling people and now i don’t think i have a choice anymore”

Alexia smiled, eyes soft. “Good.”

⚽️

The sun was long gone, the buzz of the stadium replaced by the stillness of Alexia���s home her scent already curling into your clothes, your dog asleep near the edge of the sofa where you sat, wearing an old hoodie she’d tossed to you as you came in complaining you were cold.

“I won’t be long,” Alexia had said, pressing a kiss to your lips before disappearing upstairs, the sound of the water soon echoing softly through the quiet home.

You sat there, legs curled beneath you, picking absently at the edge of your sleeve. The match was still rattling in your chest, the sprint, the fury, the sharp twist of your ankle when Montse sent you flying. But more than anything, it was the moments after the final whistle that had stuck, her touch, her eyes, her voice softened with worry even when she smiled.

And then Georgia’s voice popped into your head. Put her out her misery, girl is thirsty.

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes, but the sound of the shower hadn’t stopped just yet. You headed up stairs and found the door was still slightly ajar that casual way Alexia always left it when she wasn’t expecting company… and yet maybe, just maybe, she was.

You hesitated, biting your lip and padded softly into the bathroom which was steamed up, the mirror fogged, and the glass door of the shower slightly misted over. Through the blur, you saw the silhouette of Alexia’s back to the door, head tilted beneath the stream, hair dark and wet down her back.

You swallowed as you undressed yourself and opened the door stepping inside as Alexia looked over her shoulder, closing it behind you.

Her mouth twitched. “You alright?”

You nodded, letting the warm mist kiss your skin. “I just remembered something Georgia said…”

“Oh?” Alexia turned, droplets rolling down the curves of her body, steam rising between you.

You reached for her gently, fingertips trailing the edge of her jaw. “We were gossiping” Alexia just smiled as her hands slid over your hips, “I then realised it was sometime since i saw you naked”

Alexia laughed, breath catching slightly as your palm found her hip. “So that’s why you’re here”

“Well,” you smiled, stepping closer into the heat, “you did say you weren’t going to be long. So i thought maybe we could save time and shower together, i’ll wash your back if you wash mine”

Her eyes darkened but there was so much softness there too, all the weight of the match, the loss, the months of hidden moments, aching hearts and missed chance

“Come here,” she murmured, your arms coming around her neck, and in the mist there was nothing but the sound of running water and quiet laughter between kisses.

The steam curled around you both, softening every edge. Alexia’s touch was gentle at first fingertips tracing the curve of your back, your waist, the hollow at the base of your neck. You leaned into her, noses brushing, mouths meeting in a kiss that deepened quickly, all slow heat and weeks of held-back want slipping free.

The water cascaded over you as she pressed you gently against the cool tiles, your hands gripping her hips, hers tangled in your damp hair. The mix of warmth from the water, from her body, from the look in her eyes made your knees feel unsteady, your heart pounding against your chest.

“Still want to help me finish my shower? I have another idea” she whispered against your lips. You laughed softly, but it melted into a sharp breath as her mouth moved lower, along your throat, across your collarbone. Words gave way to touches, to the quiet stutter of breath, to fingers curling and the wet slide of skin on skin. There was nothing hurried only knowing, tender pressure and unspoken understanding, like you’d both been waiting for exactly this kind of peace.

Her teeth grazed your hip on her way to your thighs, you would come undone the moment you looked down at her on her knees in-front of you so you didn’t look. Your head went back as her hand caressed your leg, “Open your legs” she mumbled,

Your hands found their way to her hair, guiding her as she explored you with a hunger that made your knees wobble. Each touch of her tongue sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, making you gasp for air. You felt her smile against your skin, the warmth of it spreading through your core like molten lava. The scent of her soap mingled with the heady aroma of arousal, creating a potent perfume that attached to your senses.

The water glided over both of you, tracing the lines of her shoulders and back as she moved closer, her breasts pressing against your thighs. You could feel her heart beating, matching the tempo of your own pulse. The warmth of her breath on your most intimate parts sent shivers through your body, making you quiver with anticipation. Her teeth grazed your inner thigh, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out too loudly.

Her hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as her mouth worked its magic. The sensation of her tongue swirling around your clit was exquisite, a dance of pleasure that made you want to arch into her touch. You felt yourself growing wetter, the heat between your legs a testament to the fire she was building inside you.

Her eyes looked up at you, a silent question in their depths. You nodded, the only answer she needed. She slid a finger inside you, the sensation of her digit joining the warmth of the water made you moan. You could feel yourself stretching around her, welcoming the intrusion, eager for more, a rhythm that had your hips bucking. Your hand tightened in her hair, guiding her, urging her to go deeper, faster, harder.

The water streamed down her face, mixing with the slickness of your desire. Her eyes never left yours as she pleasured you, the intensity of her gaze as powerful as her touch. You felt your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that grew with each stroke of her tongue, each pulse of her finger. Your breaths grew ragged, your body tightening as you approached the edge.

The tiles grew slippery underfoot, but she remained steadfast, her grip on your hip unyielding. Her mouth was a warm, wet heaven, her tongue painting patterns that no artist could replicate. You could feel the muscles in your thighs quivering as you approached the peak of ecstasy. The water continued to cascade over the two of you, a gentle caress that seemed to amplify each sensation.

Her finger curled inside you, finding that perfect spot, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You gripped her hair tighter, pulling her closer as you whispered, “Oh, god, yes, right there,” your voice echoing slightly off the tiles. She responded with a hum of approval, the vibrations adding a new layer to the symphony of sensations. Her teeth grazed your clit, and you moaned, the sound music to Alexia’s ears.

The moment your climax hit, it was like a dam had broken. Your legs gave out, but she was there, supporting you, her mouth never leaving your sensitive flesh. You convulsed with pleasure, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you like the waves of a stormy sea. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched you fall apart, her tongue still working you through the aftershocks.

As your breathing began to even out, she stood, her body pressing against yours as the water continued to rain down. You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss, tasting yourself on her lips. Her hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your skin as if it was the first time she’d ever felt it. The heat between you was unbearable, the shower doing little to cool the fire she had stoked.

Your kiss grew more urgent, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in a silent symphony of need. You reached for the soap, your hands shaking slightly, and began to lather it over her neck, shoulders, arms. The feel of the bubbles popping against your fingertips was a stark contrast to the slickness of her skin. She moaned into your mouth as your soapy hands slid over her back, the scent of the soap mixing with the scent of your shared arousal.

With a gentle push, you turned her around, her back now towards you. Your hands roamed over her, soaping her up, each touch leaving trails of bubbles that only served to make her skin more tantalising. Her breath hitched as you reached around to cup her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples in a rhythm that made her hips push back against you.

You couldn’t resist the urge to kiss down her spine, feeling her shiver as your lips traced the path of her vertebrae. You kissed lower, reaching the base of her spine, your tongue teasing the sensitive spot that made her legs tremble. 

Her legs parted willingly, you took a moment to breathe her in, the scent of her arousal mixing with the sweetness of the soap. With a gentle touch, you traced the line of her thigh, feeling the muscles tense in anticipation. You kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of her skin, moving closer to the apex of her legs. She whispered your name, her voice a shiver of need that sent a thrill through you.

With a smirk, you slid a hand between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for you. You slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, her head dropping forward as you began to move in time with the pulsating beat of your heart.

Her hand reached behind her, finding your neck, and she pulled you back up closer, your bodies melding together in a dance of passion. You felt her tighten around your finger, and you knew she was close. You added another, curling them up to hit that perfect spot, making her legs quiver. The sound of her moans grew louder, echoing in the shower, mixing with the water’s patter.

You leaned back, watching her face contort with pleasure, the droplets of water running down her cheeks like tears of joy. Her eyes met yours, a silent plea for more, and you gave it to her, your hand moving faster, your mouth finding hers in a kiss that was just as desperate. Her orgasm hit her like a storm, her body convulsing, her hand smacking the tiles in front of her to steady herself. You held her up, your arm wrapped around her waist, feeling the aftershocks of her climax ripple through her body and onto your fingers.

When she was finished, she turned in your arms, her legs unsteady but her eyes alight with satisfaction. She kissed you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with a new urgency. The soap was forgotten, the water growing colder, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the heat between you, the connection that had only grown stronger with every shared touch.

You reached for the shampoo, the bubbles sliding down your arms as you poured it over her hair, watching the suds cascade over her shoulders. As you began to massage her scalp, she let out a contented sigh, her eyes closing as she leaned into your touch.

The tension in the air had shifted, the urgency of earlier replaced by a tender intimacy that was just as potent. You washed her hair with care, the scent of the shampoo mixing with the scent of your love. Her hands found yours, her fingers weaving through the bubbles, and for a moment, you just stood there, holding each other, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion.

The water grew colder, the steam dissipating, but the warmth between you remained. You rinsed her hair, the water running over your hands in a clear stream, taking the last of the soap with it. She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with yours, and you knew that even as the water grew cold, the fire between you was still burning bright.

Turning her around, you kissed her neck, your teeth grazing the soft skin beneath her ear. She shivered, her head tilting back to give you better access, a silent invitation for more. Your hands roamed over her body, feeling the curves and angles that you had come to know so well.

Her hand slipped between your thighs, her touch feather-light as she found your clit again, now swollen and begging for attention. You gasped, your body tightening around her, the sensation of her touch sending sparks through your veins. She began to stroke you, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours, watching as you succumbed to pleasure once more.

The cold water was forgotten as the heat grew between you, your bodies moving in a silent dance of need. Your hips rocked against her hand, your breaths mingling in the space between your mouths. You could feel the tension building, the anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach, threatening to unravel at any moment.

Her other hand slid around your waist, her fingers digging into your hip as she held you against the tiles. You wrapped your leg around her, your movements growing more desperate. Her strokes grew faster, more insistent, and you could feel yourself racing towards the edge again.

You reached up to tug at her arm, pulling her closer, your mouth finding hers in a kiss that was as desperate as it was gentle. Your teeth nipped at her lower lip, and she responded with a groan, her hand moving faster, her fingers pressing harder. The sound of the shower was a white noise backdrop to your shared moans.

The orgasm crashed over you, a tidal wave that left you gasping for breath. You clung to her, your body spasming with pleasure as she held you upright. She kissed you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth as if she could taste your release. You felt the warmth of her hand on your cheek, wiping away the stray droplets of water that clung to your skin.

When the tremors finally subsided, you leaned into her, your forehead against hers. The water grew colder still, but you didn’t move, didn’t want to break the spell that had been cast in this small, steamy chamber. Her hand remained between your legs, the gentle pressure of her fingers keeping you on edge, the aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through you.

With a final kiss, you pulled back, you turned off the faucet, the sudden silence deafening in comparison to the cocoon of sound you’d been in. Reaching for a towel, you stepped out, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth you’d been basking in. She followed, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent promise that this was only the beginning.

The bathroom floor was cold underfoot, but the warmth of the towel wrapped around you was a comfort. You dried her off, taking your time, each stroke a gentle caress that spoke volumes. She did the same to you, her touch lingering on your skin, as if memorising every inch.

She wrapped her arms around you, her body warm and welcoming, and together you stepped out into the hallway, the steam from the shower the only evidence of the heat that had just passed.

“On the bed” she murmured into your ear as she came up behind you holding her hips, “Loose this too” she tugged at the towel wrapped around you, it pooled at your feet as you turned to her.

You wanted to be the one in control however “Lie down” you tilted your head as you unfolded the towel from around her, “Don’t make me tell you again” Alexia smirked, “You’re infuriating.”

Alexia moved around you perched on the edge of the bed and leaned back on her hands, taking you all in, “You’re so sexy” You took a moment to appreciate the art that was her, she reached up, her hand tracing your jaw, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fervour of moments before.

“I’ll put clothes on if you don’t lie down”

Alexia couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she pulled her self up to rest her head on the pillow, the bed was cold but you didn’t care, the warmth of her body was more than enough.

Her legs parted for you, an invitation that made your pulse quicken. You knelt between her thighs, your eyes devouring the sight before you. She was wet, not just from the shower, but from desire. The scent of your combined arousal was intoxicating. You leaned in, your breath hot against her skin, and kissed her inner thigh, feeling her shiver.

Her hips arched as you kissed closer to her centre, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. You felt the warmth of her, the slickness of her arousal, and you couldn’t wait to taste her. Your tongue flicked out, a soft touch that made her moan. You explored her with gentle strokes, the sound of her pleasure music to your ears. Her hands found yours, lacing her fingers with yours, her grip tightening as you found her clit, swollen and eager for attention.

You took your time, savouring each gasp and tremor that passed through her body. Your tongue danced around the sensitive bud, teasing it before finally giving it the attention it craved. She bucked her hips, pushing herself closer to your mouth, her breathing ragged. You got comfy between her legs because you planned on being here for a while, giving her all the pleasure you felt you should have been all these weeks.

You took her in, exploring every fold, every curve, with a hunger that surprised even you. Your tongue, flicking and teasing until she was whimpering, her hips bucking against your face. You felt the tension in her thighs, the tightness of her grip on your hand, and knew she was close. With a deep, satisfied groan, you sucked her clit into your mouth, your tongue flicking it rapidly. Her body arched, her hand tightening in your hair, and she came, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave the first of many you had planned for her.

⚽️

You were tangled in the sheets, legs brushing, skin still warm from the shower, hair damp and curling against your temples. The bedroom was quiet, low-lit by the soft city haze filtering through the curtains. Alexia lay on her side, her hand tracing slow, thoughtless patterns on your stomach.

“Wasn’t planning on doing that tonight,” she murmured, a lazy smile curling on her lips.

You turned your head on the pillow to look at her. “What, showering?”

She gave you a soft look, then rolled her eyes with a grin. “No, tonta. You joining me in it and the events following.”

You smirked, reaching to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You looked like you needed company and motivation.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be that motivating,” she teased, lifting herself up slightly to kiss your bare shoulder. “You always surprise me.”

You exhaled slowly, letting the comfort of the moment sink in. “Is that good or bad?”

Alexia’s eyes met yours, serious now. “It’s good. You make everything feel… I don’t know. Lighter. Easier.”

You watched her hand rest just over your ribs, thumb pressing gently into your side, grounding herself in you. “Even now?” you asked quietly.

“Especially now.” She paused. “You’ve been through something I can’t imagine, and you still found your way back to the pitch, to me. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t either,” you admitted, voice softer than before. “I think I’m just moving. If I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”

She nodded slowly, brushing her nose against yours. “Then I’ll keep walking next to you, until you’re ready to stop.”

You smiled faintly, heart tugging at how sincere she sounded. “You’re too good to me.”

“No,” she said, firm. “I’m exactly what you deserve.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable it felt heavy with safety. You traced her forearm with your fingers. “You ever think about the future? Not just with football.”

Alexia’s lips twitched into a playful smile. “What, like kids, a dog and a villa by the sea?”

“I meant like... this. Us. If there’s an ‘us’.”

She leaned closer, kissed the corner of your mouth. “There is. And I think about it all the time.” You swallowed, the weight of her words settling somewhere warm in your chest. “I told you and I meant it, I could marry you,” she whispered suddenly, the tease in her voice not quite covering the truth behind it. “If you keep motivating me like that… I’d marry you tomorrow.”

You laughed softly, but your heart was doing things it hadn’t done in a long time. “You better be careful with promises like that.”

Alexia pulled you in, burying her face into your neck, her voice muffled but certain. “Coco,” she murmured, “I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep.”

You lay there wrapped in her arms, the world quiet for once your grief softened, not gone, but lighter knowing that if nothing else, she wasn’t going anywhere. She shifted slightly beneath you, and you lowered your head just enough to meet her eyes. “What?” you asked softly, noticing how she was looking at you.

She blinked, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No, don’t do that. You’ve got something written all over your face.”

Alexia gave a quiet laugh, almost shy, which was rare for her. “I was just thinking... how stupid it is that I’ve wanted to say something for a while and haven’t just said it without making it a joke.”

You straightened a little, propped yourself up on your elbow, watching her closely now. “Say it then.”

She hesitated not because she was unsure of what she felt, but because she wanted to say it right and then, in true Alexia fashion, she just told you the truth. “I love you.”

You blinked. The room didn’t shift, the sky didn’t fall, but your whole chest tightened all at once, like everything inside you had been waiting to hear those words and finally, finally could exhale.

She sat up a bit, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I think I knew for a while, but I didn’t want to say it too soon or scare you or make it… I don’t know, a bigger thing when everything else in your life has already been so heavy.”

You were quiet. Not because you didn’t know what to say but because you felt it too. “I love you too,” you said, voice small but firm. “You haven’t scared me off, Alexia. You’ve kept me standing, I wouldn't of gotten through everything with out you”

She let out a breath, like she’d been holding it forever, and pulled you into her arms without a word, kissing your temple, your forehead, then your lips soft, slow, and full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

You nodded against her, closing your eyes. “I know.” you smiled, "Not when I can make you come like that" Alexia threw her head back laughing.