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spencerreidenjoyer · 3 days

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we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve.

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it.

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly.

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar.

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you.

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp.

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room.

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you.

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end.

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do.

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect.

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch.

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock.

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy.

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person.

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit.

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point.

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend.

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off.

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him.

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big.

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion.

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him.

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them.

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his.

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you.

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer.

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is.

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot.

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought.

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart.

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?”

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one.

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum.

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his.

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame.

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out.

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say.

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.”

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender.

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling.

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take.

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencerreidenjoyer writes

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hellodropbear · 23 hours

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17520 hours.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter (ish)

angst. part of the 'it's time.' series

mapi struggles on the two year anniversary of her best friend's death. Ingrid is right there to help her but she doesn't know how to let her in.

this is a lot more angst than i'm used to posting but i hope you like it.

it was hard to write and partially based on personal experiences so i apologise if it's not very good.

also decided to put it all in one part because i couldn't find a good place to split it!

i hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~

Two years is a long time.

Two years is 104 weeks, two years is 730 days. Two birthdays, two christmases, two easters. Two summers and two winters, two new years and two anniversaries.

Two years is a long time to miss someone. It should be enough time to have moved on.

But when their daughter is in your care, that seems almost impossible.

It was everyday that Mapi thought about her best friend, sometimes looking at her daughter and only seeing his eyes staring right back at her.

The day was one that the Spaniard dreaded, the days becoming quicker and quicker in the lead up, the night before slowing right down as she crawled into bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep.

Isabel was almost two. Still too young to understand that there was anything out of the ordinary in her life, anything that raised any questions. Even if Mapi tried explaining, she was sure that her daughter wouldn’t have the first idea what anything meant.

She wouldn’t understand that Mapi wasn’t supposed to have her even though she gave birth. She wouldn’t understand that her parents had died because her Mami was right there in front of her.

It was just a part of parenthood that Mapi had no idea how to conquer. She knew everything else, having spent hours and hours with her head buried in countless baby books, countless books that discussed grief and sadness in children.

But Isabel wasn’t sad, she wasn’t grieving because she never knew Luis or Isabel.

There were no books about how to tell a kid about her dead parents. It was a taboo topic, of sorts, one that many stand-in parents were reluctant to discuss with their child, hoping that they would just believe that they were their real parents. It was a bridge most people decided to cross when they had to, not at any point earlier than completely necessary.

Mapi didn’t want that, she wanted her daughter to know who Luis was, who Isabel was.

She just didn’t know when or how she should introduce the idea of them.

But the second anniversary of their death left Mapi in a numb state, entirely torn up on the inside as she tried to decide whether she would take her daughter with her on her annual graveyard visit. It was Mapi’s time to chat to Luis alone, no interruptions, no distractions.

Because while Isabel lost her parents, Mapi lost her lifelong best friend.

She lost Luis, who meant everything and more to her. Luis who had moved to Barcelona a few months after her, Luis who watched every single one of her games, the first person to text her after a hard loss or an impressive win.

She still hadn’t got out of the habit of checking her phone after a match, pain settling deep in her chest as her screen remained bare, his notification forever absent.

It wasn’t a question of where she would be on the second anniversary. She knew exactly where she would be sat and exactly how she would feel as she stared at that obnoxiously large gravestone, big bold carvings of his name, his date of birth and date of death.

‘Loving husband, son and friend.’ it read. Not father. ‘A man who lit up the lives of everyone he met.’ It was an understatement, Mapi had thought.

She had spent hours there when Isabel was a newborn, cradling her tiny body in her arms as she sat and silently stared at those few words. Loneliness ate her up, wishing for nothing other than her best friend.

But her daughter had lit up her world as everything else was crumbling down, single handedly keeping the two of them afloat as Mapi grew tired, the sheer weight of her emotions almost drowning them.

Isabel was an infant, too young to know anything was different. She was completely enraptured by her mother, smiling and laughing everyday they spent together in their small and stuffy apartment, completely unaware of the anguish that her mother was going through.

It seemed fitting on the second anniversary of their death, only a couple months before her second birthday that Isabel would finally visit their gravestones.

Even the thought of the graveyard made her feel uncomfortable, Mapi’s skin crawling at the thought of her best friend beneath her, cold and still. Someone she loved, such a warm and constant presence in her life, lying right there in the ground.

It made her feel sick. Sick with anger because he was gone too soon. With grief because she never got to say goodbye. With guilt because she got to have the one thing he had always wanted. But mostly sick with the heartbreaking realisation that he was down there, in the flesh.

Luis was dead.

~~~~~~

It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she stepped out of the car, the cool breeze prickling her skin as she unclipped a groggy Isabel from the back seat.

“Where are we, Mami?”

She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, probably expecting to have woken up in her bed.

Mapi just hugged her, not trusting her voice to not break if she tried to respond.

Despite only visiting twice before, the graveyard was familiar, she knew exactly how to get to Luis’ plot. She walked with purpose, not looking at the grave as she laid down the rug, only facing her best friend’s name once she was sat down.

“This is your Papi, Is.”

Saying it out loud, her daughter in her arms. His daughter in her arms. It felt unusual, it felt uncomfortable. She could feel Isabel looking up at her, the confusion that radiated from the toddler’s body.

She loosened her arms as Isabel wriggled herself free, waddling towards the stone and placing her hand on it.

“Papi?”

She looked back at Mapi, a question in her eyes. She was met with tears slipping down her Mami’s face.

“Mami.”

In an instant, she was back in Mapi’s arms, reaching up and wiping away the tears.

“No sad, Mami. Brave like lion.”

Mapi nodded, a watery chuckle falling from her mouth.

“I’m going to talk to your Papi, Is. Is that ok?”

Isabel nodded, settling herself on the rug with her lion toy as Mapi stood up, walking closer to the stone and placing her hand on his name, crouching down so it was at eye level.

“Meet your daughter, Lu. She has your eyes, you know. She’s funny and smart and entirely the light of my life. I love her so much. More than I ever loved you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. I promise. I promise I’ve tried my best and I hope you’re proud of her. I hope you’re proud of me.”

She bit her lip, unsuccessfully biting back her own tears.

“It’s been two years, Lu. I don’t know how I have made it through two whole years without you, really. It’s been so… hard. I still expect to see you, to hear from you. Sometimes I think I do, only to realise that it’s not possible. Because you’re dead. You weren’t supposed to die, not so soon. You were supposed to watch your daughter grow, I was supposed to be her really cool aunt that she would go to when you argued, to give her that tattoo when you said no. ”

She let out a strangled chuckle, trying to alleviate some of the pain she felt. They had discussed Mapi’s relationship with the child at length, knowing that the centre back would love the child as her own because she was always with Luis, she would always be around the couple as they raised their child. That wouldn’t have changed if she wasn’t biologically Mapi’s.

Back then, Mapi had thought she would have been fine with the situation. She knew the baby wasn’t really hers, she knew that she would still be able to watch the baby grow up, that she would still be able to love her.

It wasn’t a problem that had actually materialised, but they hadn’t expected both Isabel and Luis to die right before she was born.

“Now I have to discipline her, Luis, which is the one thing I didn’t want to have to do. But she’s such a good girl, she is so intelligent. Like you, really. She knows how I feel all the time, she definitely inherited your emotional intelligence. She loves everyone too, just like you. I was never supposed to be a mother, was I? You were always the paternal one out of the two of us, you were the one who deserved a child. But I am the one that got her.”

She swallows roughly, biting her lip.

“Oh Luis, you would have loved her so much.”

Very quickly, she is overcome by her tears, collapsing down into herself in sobs.

It’s all too much, it’s all too hard.

It’s unfair that her best friend left her, that she was left alone to grow up. Growing up was something they had discussed at length when they were younger. Obviously they were never going to be married, they’d never live together.

They had dreamt of adjoining houses, doors that connected their backyards. They were going to grow up together, the two of them. Luis would have his wife and a gaggle of kids, Mapi would have her wife and a pack of cats. They’d have their own families but their lives would be so closely connected because they loved each other in the purest way possible.

A childhood connection, one that grew and grew into adulthood.

One that was supposed to last a lifetime.

It did last a lifetime, it lasted Luis’ lifetime. Just not Mapi’s.

She calmed herself down after a couple minutes, Isabel unsurprisingly noticing her mother’s sadness and crawling into her arms as a source of comfort.

They sat there for hours, an easy silence settling upon the pair. Mapi was deep in thought, Isabel knew it wasn’t the time for play, it wasn’t the time for her mindless babbling.

It had been a couple hours when she heard the footsteps, people approaching silently.

She hadn’t expected to see anyone there, but upon reflection she realised she had been naive - it was the anniversary after all.

“Maria?”

She hadn’t heard Ane’s voice in two years. The last conversation they had was full of empty promises, of visits to Zaragoza that Mapi knew she would not go on. Promises that they would get to know the child that was growing in Mapi’s stomach, promises that they wouldn’t lose touch.

They had lost touch, Mapi unable to visit Luis’ home whenever she returned to her parents. Ane and Mikel were in too much pain to see the child, not sure how they could face it.

“Ane.” She stood up, facing the older woman and allowing herself to be enveloped in her arms.

“It’s so good to see you, Maria.”

Mapi could only nod, her eyes still watery and her face still red. It had been a long morning.

She turned to face Mikel, who was staring straight forward, his eyes only softening as Mapi grabbed his hand and kissed it.

“I have missed you both.” She smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but a real one.

They were Luis’ parents, of course, but they were her pseudo parents whenever she needed them. They were so close, especially when Mapi and Luis were in their teenage years.

“Is this… is that her?”

Ane looked down at the curly headed girl, her eyes softening as she watched her play with her toys.

“Isabel Luisa.” Mapi nodded. “I thought today would be a good day for her to come visit.”

The older woman looked down at the child adoringly, smiling as she looked up at the unfamiliar adults.

It was a bit awkward for a few moments, as Mapi, Mikel and Ane sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Mapi excused herself, moving away to the bathrooms but leaving her belongings by the grave. She knew she wanted to talk to them, that they wanted to talk to her.

She also knew they needed some time alone before they would be able to.

But she did return, sitting down on her rug right beside the older couple.

And Ane spoke, her voice soft, her voice sad.

She told Mapi how grateful she is, how glad she is that she took Isabel in, that she didn’t even question it. How grateful she is that Mapi did everything to make her son happy all throughout his life, from buying him an extra chocolate bar when they were children to carrying his baby for him when he and his wife were unable to do it.

Ane told her that she had given him his one dream, fatherhood. It was just unlucky that he wasn’t alive to live it.

There were tears in her eyes as she told her how grateful Luis would be. How much he loved her. How happy he would be that his daughter ended up with the Spaniard, the person he probably trusted the most in the world.

Mapi nodded her appreciation, sitting with the two adults for a while longer before Isabel grew tired, the sun falling down, the afternoon turning into evening.

She said a tearful goodbye, collecting her things and standing, Mikel standing up as well and walking her to her car.

“She looks just like him.” His words were soft, softer than Mapi had ever heard him. “I have thought about you every day, Maria. You and her. I am so relieved to see you here because I worried so much about you. I worried that you wouldn’t be ok, that you’d not be able to raise her. Not because I doubted you, but because I know how hard it is to lose people.”

Mapi nodded softly, looking up at the man.

“I don’t doubt that you have had a hard time, but I also don’t doubt that you’re a good Mami. A great Mami to this little girl.”

“Thanks, Mikel.”

He nodded, that was all he needed to say.

It was all he needed to say for Mapi to tear up again, picking Isabel up and holding her in his space. He looked at the Spaniard, who nodded, before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Come visit, Maria. When you come home. Bring the little one too.”

Mapi nodded, a smile on her face.

This time, it wasn’t an empty promise.

~~~~~~

She got home to an empty apartment. Quiet, dark. She could have texted Ingrid, the Norwegian likely would have come over in an instant, her warm arms right there for endless comfort.

But she couldn’t bring herself to open her phone, couldn’t bring herself to stand up and walk over to the kitchen table where it was sitting. Instead, she stayed seated, relaxed back on the sofa with tears tracking down her face as she stared blankly at the wall.

It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts. Not when she had a chatty toddler to look after, a loving girlfriend who spent every day trying to make Mapi happy. It worked, because Ingrid did make her happy, happier than she’d ever been.

And Isabel also made her happy, she was the best thing in the Spaniard’s life.

So why did she feel so sad? Why was Luis’ death still so hard for her to process?

Two years felt like too long to still be so upset about it all. She wondered when it would go away. If it would ever go away.

His death was something that Mapi didn’t think she would ever be able to comprehend. She was able to live her life as normal again, plastering a smile to cover up the mess that she was on the inside. But it had taken such a long time to even get to that point, despite her daughter’s positive presence.

Everyone knew how long it had taken. Mapi didn’t think anyone really knew how broken up she still felt about it. A part of her was embarrassed, embarrassed that she still hadn’t gotten over it. Was still yet to move on.

Even as she thought it over, progress seemed so impossible. The thought of moving on like so many people had told her to do made her feel sick, because how was she supposed to move on when he was everything to her?

She didn’t sleep that night, barely able to smile as she fed Isabel and put her to bed. The toddler knew something was wrong, of course, a frown on her face as Mapi put her down for the evening.

Isabel had seen Mapi sad before. Lots of times, really, but her mother usually tried her best to hide it from her. She would push the emotions down and far away as she interacted with her kid but Isabel was so perceptive, so in tune with Mapi’s emotions.

She knew whenever Mapi was sad. It made her feel sad too.

But Isabel never would have known that her mother was sitting in the same spot on the sofa all night, her mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions, resisting any rest that tried to fall upon her.

She wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Ingrid that she wanted to be alone for the day, that her girlfriend shouldn’t come over like she usually did. The Spaniard just didn’t know if it would make it better or worse. She didn’t know how to alleviate herself from some of the pain she felt.

She realised she didn’t know much at all.

Mapi watched as the sun rose outside, the night becoming morning. The new day arriving along with the sounds of birds chirping, the city happily waking up as the clouds had gone away and the sun had finally come out.

Two years and one day.

Her daughter’s whining was audible from her spot in the main room as she woke up. Her daughter’s whining was probably the only thing that would have successfully moved her from her seat.

“Mami!” Isabel frowned at the sight of her mother as her door opened, dark bags beneath her red and puffy eyes.

“Good morning, my girl.”

She smiled weakly, kneeling beside her toddler and raking her hand through her hair as Isabel became more aware of her surroundings.

It was a slow morning; a slow rise from bed and a slow breakfast. The toddler was still in her pyjamas by 10, her hair and teeth remained unbrushed.

It was no surprise that Ingrid was on the other side of the door at 11, Isabel opening the door when she heard the knocks. The Norwegian had a bright smile on her face as she scooped Isabel up into her arms and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Mami, Ingrid.” She pointed over at where Mapi was standing, and it was one glance at the Spaniard that told Ingrid that despite her promise that she’d be alright, her girlfriend was definitely not ok. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly, concern etched deep into her features,

Her steps towards Mapi were tentative, unsure how to approach the situation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Mapi, of course she knew her. She just didn’t know about Mapi’s grief. She had heard from teammates that she hadn’t dealt with the death well, that she had locked herself up in her house for months, over a year. But it was one topic that the Spaniard avoided at all costs, a master of changing the subject whenever it would come up.

Ingrid never felt like it was her place to pry.

But now, seeing her girlfriend so… broken, so depleted, it made her regret not being more insistent in those times. Because maybe if they spoke about it then, she would know how to help.

But in that moment, she had no idea what to do.

“Maria…” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve missed you.”

Mapi didn’t reply, but she could feel Ingrid’s free arm wrapping around her and she immediately clung onto her girlfriend. She was desperate and Ingrid was a lifeline.

“Alright. Isabel, do you want to go play with Bagheera for a minute?”

The child nodded as she was placed back on the floor, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge where the cat was likely waking up from her nap.

Mapi, still clinging onto the Norwegian’s arm, frowned slightly, still not willing herself to make eye contact with Ingrid.

“You’re not ok, Mapi, are you?”

She didn’t nod, she didn’t shake her head. Her mouth remained completely sealed.

But Ingrid knew her well enough to recognise the tears that filled up her eyes, the way her hand trembled against the Norwegian’s skin.

The brunette softened, her worries confirmed; leaving Mapi alone for the entire previous day was probably one of the worst promises she had ever made. She shouldn’t have agreed to it, not when she knew that Mapi would need her.

“Ok. It’s ok. You’ll be ok, Maria. I just want you to sit down for me.”

She led her around to the other side of the kitchen bench, sitting down in a seat right beside her and wrapping her arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders.

The Norwegian could feel herself becoming more and more anxious at Mapi’s almost catatonic state, entirely unequipped and unsure how to deal with it.

It took half an hour of speaking to Mapi with no response for Ingrid to realise that she couldn’t do anything. A heartbreaking realisation of sorts, but one that she needed to have in order to help her.

She knew she should be able to do this herself, she wished that it didn’t have to be so hard. But Alexia had been there before Ingrid, Alexia had been there for Mapi during Isabel’s infancy, right after she lost Luis.

So she sent the Spanish midfielder a quick text, alerting her of the centre back’s state.

She felt guilty as the relief surged through her, Alexia assuring her that she would be there soon.

However, neither the Spaniard nor the Norwegian could see the toddler’s tears, her quiet whimpers of anxiety and upset.

Isabel didn’t like seeing Mapi upset, not at all. She was a happy person, usually, a permanent smile on her face, energetic as she played with the toddler.

But she sat and stroked Bagheera, silent tears streaming down her little face with one thought on her mind. Why was Mami so sad all of a sudden? And why did it make her feel so miserable too?

Alexia arrived in a flurry, her heart dropping at the sight of her friend as she rushed towards her, immediately pulling her into a suffocating hug.

“Maria, Maria. Come on, please. Say something.” Her voice sounded urgent and Ingrid could only watch, worry and confusion clear on her face.

With no response, Alexia leaned back, staring straight into Mapi’s eyes. She could read the centre back like a book and her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Ale.”

She frowned, tilting her head at the blonde in front of her.

“Mapi, breathe. Take a deep breath in.”

Ingrid slipped out of the room as Mapi followed Alexia, breathing in and out slowly until she collapsed into Alexia’s arms, the tears spilling from her eyes easily as she reconnected with reality.

It was her reaction to sadness, Mapi had realised a few months ago. Disconnecting from the world around her, unable to move, speak. She could barely hear anything, see anything until it was right in front of her face.

She couldn’t feel anything either, but that was a more common response, something that she couldn’t be pulled out of so easily.

She hated it, more than anything. Because when she was pulled from her state of disconnect, she felt nothing but terror, an overwhelming sadness that came rushing back as soon as that trap door opened.

It was like her body was trying to protect her from feeling, the emotions just too much. It would just shut down until she was numb, not really registering that at some point she just had to feel it because there was no way of getting away from those emotions.

Alexia had seen it all before and she was usually the one to grab Mapi, to shake her out of her headspace and bring her back to reality.

It was terrifying for her too, especially the first time she witnessed it.

“Ale.”

Mapi’s sobs had been reduced to quiet whimpers into Alexia’s shoulder after a while, her mind throwing itself through all her thoughts, all her emotions. Luis was gone, Luis had been gone for two years. She has his daughter, her Isabel who she loves so much. Ingrid was here but now she is not, where has Ingrid gone? Alexia, right in front of her, fear visible in the midfielder’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

Luis was gone, Isabel was hers. Ingrid was gone, Alexia was here.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

Her four people.

She felt her breath hitch, Alexia’s arms tightening around her.

She felt the tears dripping down from her eyes, saturating the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the wet fabric now uncomfortable to rest her face on.

She could hear Alexia’s breathing, the sound of her heart racing.

Feel Alexia’s arms around her, the floor beneath her feet and the chair that she was sitting on.

Taste the salty tears. Tears of grief, fear, confusion.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

“Ale, where is Isabel?”

~~~~~~

Ingrid slipped out of the room easily, not needed as Alexia dealt with Mapi’s overwhelming emotions.

Mapi’s cries were audible from the main room she found herself in, wincing as she walked towards Isabel who was still stroking Bagheera, her movements fluid and repetitive, a consistent cycle that easily could have rubbed a groove into the cat’s black fur.

The Norwegian couldn’t see the tears that had stained the little girl's face, still spilling from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away.

But her shoulders shook unnaturally, a shuddering inhale that had Ingrid picking up her pace and sitting down right beside Isabel and pulling her into her arms as soon as she noticed how upset she was.

Silently, she placed a thoughtful kiss on the crown of her head, her heart breaking at the silent tears, at Isabel's defeated demeanour.

No toddler should know how to cry silently.

"What's wrong, Is?"

At her words, Isabel promptly spun around in Ingrid's arms, collapsing into her and crying audibly, her entire body weight relying on the Norwegian to be held.

"Mami sad, Ingrid. I'm sad too!"

Her voice was broken and Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sound of it.

It wasn’t hard to leave, understanding that Isabel needed to get out of the apartment, that she needed to be away from the inconsolable Mapi who could still be heard crying in the kitchen.

So she left, slipping out the front door and carrying Isabel down to the street, holding her tight as she cried, walking over to the park.

By the time they reached their familiar bench, her cries had weakened, only releasing quiet puffs of air every few moments as she relished in the comfort of Ingrid’s arms.

The Norwegian sat down, loosening her grip on the toddler and manoeuvring her so that they were looking right at each other. Ingrid’s frown was light and her hands were soft as she reached out and wiped the tears away from Isabel’s wet cheeks, cupping her face when she was done.

Words failed the defender as she looked at the toddler, her uncanny resemblance to Mapi heightened in her upset state.

She matched her mother perfectly, Ingrid thought, trying to avoid that voice in the back of her head that she would never be enough. Their smiles were identical and their laughs sounded the same. They both carried the same exasperated sigh, the confused frown and those doe eyes that were impossible to say no to. But they carried the same tears, the same cries.

Mapi’s emotions were often reflected in her daughter, whether it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Isabel was smart - emotionally intelligent. It was like she always knew exactly how her Mami was feeling, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand why, to understand what those feelings were.

This was one of those times when she had no idea what this sadness meant. She could clearly feel the sadness, feel her mother was sad. But she wasn’t even two yet, how could she possibly be expected to process those emotions like someone years older?

Ingrid wasn’t bad with kids either. There were heaps of children in her family; cousins, nieces, nephews. She’d been there throughout all of their childhoods, able to comfort them and soothe them enough until their parents came back.

But Isabel’s sadness was completely new territory, there was no waiting for Mapi to arrive because Ingrid knew she wouldn’t. It was up to her to calm down the child but for the first time, she was completely stumped.

She didn’t know what she could say to calm her down. She didn’t know how Isabel felt, she was too young to be able to express her emotions, to talk through what she was feeling.

But this wasn’t a tantrum or a small cry over a minor convenience. This was a meltdown, caused by her overwhelming emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Ingrid…”

She spoke quietly, leaning into the comfort of the Norwegian’s hands on her face.

Ingrid nodded, encouraging the child to continue.

“Why my Papi a rock?”

The Norwegian’s face softened, her heart sinking as she tried to subtly release an exhale that she had been holding in.

Unsure what she was going to say, she opened her mouth. But Isabel was too quick, raising her voice another time.

“Why Mami sad at rock?”

“Is…”

The child looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, pure innocence reflected in her eyes, her features.

“Isabel. Your Papi, he’s not a rock. Your Papi was a person, a very good person.”

The child frowned, confusion etched deep into her features. Ingrid thought she seemed entirely too concerned for a not quite two year old.

“He died before you were born though, Is. Mami is sad today because she misses him. She misses your Papi.”

She doubted Isabel would even understand what she was trying to say. She didn’t know when children were supposed to understand the concept of death, the concept of life.

Definitely not before the age of two.

So Ingrid decided to try to move away from the topic, her new goal just to bring a smile back onto Isabel’s face. It was the least she could do, really.

“But it’s ok, Is, because you have Mami and you have me and you have Alexia and you have Leila and Patri and Pina! You love all of those people don’t you?”

Isabel nodded easily, a smile creeping onto her face.

“I love them so much. Especially Mami. And you, Ingrid!”

Ingrid chuckled, her laughs a superficial cover of the anxieties and concern she felt. Because Isabel was right here calming down in her arms, but she had no idea of the state of Mapi, she had no idea how long this happiness would last.

“And everyone I just mentioned loves you too. And your Papi, he loves you as well but he loves you from somewhere else. You have people everywhere loving you!”

Ingrid beamed, trying to make the conversation feel more lighthearted. It was a successful attempt, apparently, because Isabel replicated her smile and turned herself around, sitting back down in Ingrid’s lap and leaning into her chest.

“I love you Ingrid.”

The Norwegian could only smile sadly, planting a thoughtful kiss on Isabel’s head.

~~~~~~

Mapi’s head was a mess, Alexia had realised. Her emotions all over the place, her priorities set in a weird and confusing line.

The tears had eventually ran out and she was clearly exhausted, her head in Alexia’s lap as the blonde spoke softly. The familiar Spanish was a comfort to Mapi’s ears, the words meaningful, flooded with emotion.

“You need to worry about what is important right now,” Alexia had murmured, her hands combing through Mapi’s hair. It was reminiscent of how the centre back calmed her own daughter, soft hands and quiet words.

It was reminiscent of how Mapi’s own mother used to soothe her, nostalgic and comforting.

“Luis is important, of course he is. But he’s gone, Maria. If you’re going to worry about anything it has to be yourself, it has to be Isabel. You have to think about Ingrid, how to prioritise your relationship on top of everything else.”

Alexia shook her head at that, sighing almost silently.

“Ingrid will try not to let you focus on her, but you have to try. You have to show her how much you love her like I know you do. That she’s your person.”

Mapi looked up at Alexia, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned.

“She… she doesn’t know that?”

“She does know that, of course she does. But sometimes you need to put her first. Sometimes she needs you the most. Sometimes, she needs you more than Isabel does. She wants to know all of you, Mapi, even this part. She wants to understand your grief, to know what to do when you are having a hard time. She wants me to look after Isabel while she comforts you because she loves you. You are her person, just like she is yours.”

Mapi frowned again, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill up her eyes. Because Ingrid was everything to her, of course she was. She was the person that Mapi loved more than anyone, the first person she had ever really and truly fallen in love with. But Alexia was right. More often than not, her attention was pulled away from Ingrid, Isabel making an appearance. Maybe she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She could have been bored or overexcited or maybe she just couldn’t sleep.

Because Isabel was her baby girl, her last connection to Luis; her last connection to her person before Ingrid.

It was somewhat painful for Mapi to consider how these small things would have hurt the Norwegian, how they would have all built up over time, building Ingrid’s thick skin, the impenetrable strength and sometimes superficial happiness that the Spaniard wished to break down.

“What do I do, Ale?”

Her voice broke and Alexia pulled her upwards, straight into a hug.

“You talk to her.”

Mapi nodded, falling back down to her lying position on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day overcoming her despite it only being 12pm.

Alexia could tell the exact moment she fell asleep, her breathing evening out and her body finally relaxing.

The midfielder had expected something like this to happen today. She knew that Luis’ death was a date engraved in her friend’s mind, one that could never pass without any upset, any thought.

It was only the second anniversary so of course it would bring up all of the emotions that were left and ignored two years ago, Mapi’s grief pushed away by the little baby Isabel. The same thing had happened a year ago and the midfielder knew it would happen again in another year.

Only she hoped she wouldn’t be needed in a years time, similar to how she had hoped that she wasn’t required this year.

She had been somewhat surprised and just a little bit disappointed when she received Ingrid’s text, having hoped that Mapi finally would have spoken to her girlfriend about it, that Ingrid would have expected it and known exactly what she needed to do. It was abundantly clear, however, that it was not the case.

Ingrid’s terrified and bewildered facial expression was one piece of evidence, but so was Mapi’s silence, her heavy breathing and her complete refusal to speak while the Norwegian was in the room.

She was disappointed, really. She felt guilt overcome her as she watched Ingrid slip out of the room, a look of pure defeat written all over her face as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to help Mapi.

Mapi who was an emotional wreck, who needed support and who just needed to let everything out for once.

Mapi, who needed her girlfriend’s comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it, couldn’t bring herself to ask for it.

Alexia knew that the Norwegian would have given it to her without a second thought.

It was all she could think about as Ingrid walked back through the door, Isabel’s hand tight in hers as her eyes scanned the room and landed on the sleeping Mapi in Alexia’s lap.

Isabel inspected her quietly, satisfied with her sleeping body on the sofa. She was with Alexia and Alexia made people happy. She was sure Mapi would be happy now, so she scampered out of the lounge and into the laundry where she knew Bagheera would be waiting.

Ingrid was less convinced, sitting beside Alexia with concern written all over her face.

“She’ll be alright.” Alexia whispered her words softly, an attempt to make the Norwegian feel better. She didn’t expect Ingrid’s eyes to fill up with tears, her head falling into her hands.

“Why doesn’t she talk to me about any of this?”

Her voice sounded defeated, frustrated. Her watery eyes looked back up towards Alexia and the midfielder could easily see the anguish in her eyes.

“She’s bad at talking about it, embarrassed by it. She doesn’t like to feel all these emotions so she just pushes them away. But they come back every now and again and she has no idea how to deal with it. I try telling her that it’s normal, she shouldn’t feel embarrassed but she doesn’t listen. It makes her feel weak, she said. You saw her earlier too, she just shuts down. I think it’s because she just doesn’t know what else she can do so she turns into a robot of sorts, on autopilot to get things done. And then someone will come and see straight through her and it’s like she breaks.”

Alexia’s eyes were watering, her hand coming to rest on Mapi’s head.

“But she loves you so much, Ingrid. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone before. I know she wants to talk to you about all this, she wishes she could just let it all out. We’ve discussed it before, what she could say, how she could say it. She’ll call me the next day and say she chickened out, she couldn’t bring herself to go through it all. It’s mentally exhausting, I think. She used to be so confident in herself, she didn’t care about anything but her happiness and the happiness of the people around her. She was the person who would cheer everyone else up, make us smile and laugh. She’s still that person, that’s the one that we see everyday. But she never learnt how to grieve or how to let other people cheer her up and this is what happened because of it.”

Ingrid was quiet for a few moments, her eyes focussed on Mapi’s sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, her golden brown hair falling over her face, completely covering her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Why didn’t you help her?”

She knew it wasn’t Alexia’s fault; she knew that the midfielder beside her would have done whatever she thought was right. But part of the Norwegian thought that if she had learned what to do with her emotions two years ago when Luis died, everything would be easier now. Everything would be easier for everyone.

“She just wouldn’t let us. I regret it every day, Ingrid. ”

~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Alexia left, leaving Ingrid with a sleeping Mapi and taking the almost two year old back to her house with her.

They didn’t want Isabel to be able to understand what was going on, they didn’t want her to feel those sad emotions when she was entirely incapable of understanding why she suddenly felt so sad.

So it was Ingrid’s face that Mapi woke up to, the familiar green piercing straight through her, a sad expression all over her face.

“Ingrid.”

Her voice was hoarse, her words scratchy and her eyes swollen. It had been a difficult few hours and she felt entirely incapable of having the conversation that she knew Ingrid wanted to have.

“I don’t know how… how do I even start?”

But it seemed she was wrong as Ingrid shook her head, her arms wrapping the Spaniard up in a tight hug as she sat up from her horizontal position.

“No, you don’t need to. Not right now. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally and I don’t want to talk now. I want you to be ok, I want to make you feel ok.”

Mapi didn’t know it, but the Norwegian’s words were exactly what she needed. Ingrid was exactly what she needed.

Her emotional perception, the unique ability she had to be so aware of how everyone felt at any given time. It was one of her qualities that Mapi loved the most, one of the things that was so intriguing, so alluring about the defender.

“What can I do to make you feel ok?”

Mapi smiled weakly, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It wasn’t just sadness this time, but gratitude, love. Because Ingrid was perfect even when the centre back knew she had been the opposite of that. And despite all of Mapi’s own personal flaws, Ingrid still loved her.

And if everything else fell apart, Mapi knew that her love would be more than enough.

“You being here makes me feel ok.”

Ingrid smiled into the embrace, only releasing the hug when Mapi’s grip on her loosened.

“Isabel is at Alexia’s and she will be there all night. She shouldn’t be in this environment when you are so upset, not when she’s so young. So it’s just you and me, whatever you want to do.”

Mapi nodded easily, somewhat relieved that her daughter was away from all this.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

The evening was a slow one, relaxed and quiet in the calm apartment. They weaved around each other in the kitchen as they cooked with a practised ease, dinner cooked and plated up seamlessly.

Conversation as they ate was minimal, the Spaniard clearly distracted and the Norwegian happy to focus on her own food.

“I… I need to talk to you, Ingrid. Not right now, but soon. Maybe tomorrow. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in a way that makes sense. It’s… hard for me, hard to talk about… it.”

The Norwegian’s attention was captured at the sound of Mapi’s voice, instantly nodding with a comforting smile on her face.

“I know it’s hard. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to tell me anything.”

But the Spaniard disagreed, shaking her head quickly.

“It’s not pressure, I want you to know everything.”

Ingrid’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned.

“But why? Why do you want to go through it all again with yet another person if you don’t have to?”

It was Mapi’s turn to frown, her head shaking as she let out a quiet exhale.

“I haven’t ever gone through everything with anyone. Alexia knows a lot, sure. I know she’s told you what she knows. I want you to know everything. Because I love you more than anything and for you to love me like that you have to know everything, you have to see all my faults, everything that I’m ashamed of.”

Ingrid stopped the tears from forming before they had a chance to materialise in her eyes, but Mapi could tell she was stopping herself from crying by the way her eyes blinked away the invisible tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was incredibly soft, her Spanish lilt calming, comforting.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change the way I love you. I couldn’t love you any more than I do and there’s nothing that will ever make me love you any less. I wish you would understand that sadness and grief isn’t a weakness or a fault, it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s natural yet it takes a completely different path in every single person. You’re not different, Maria. You’re not weak. The opposite of weak, really. I love you for who you are, because you are funny, you’re kind, you’re caring. You look after people and you’re an incredible mother. I love you because you are strong, one of the strongest people I have ever met. The love I have for you is not… despite anything, there’s nothing that I would change because you’re perfect. So sure, tell me everything because I will listen but it will not change a single thing. Don’t tell me that I can’t love you before I know because I do, so much.”

“Thank you.” Mapi sniffled, her voice thready as she nodded at Ingrid, her eyes dropping back down to her plate in front of her.

It was exactly what she needed to hear.

~~~~~~

“Mami!”

Despite Ingrid’s protests in the kitchen, Isabel bounded into their bedroom, bouncing up onto the bed right beside a sleeping Mapi.

“Isabel! I said not to wake her up!”

Ingrid frowned from her spot at the bedroom door, her forehead creasing further at Isabel’s defiant expression. The toddler turned back towards Mapi, shaking her shoulder rapidly.

“Mami! Mami!”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, releasing a loud sigh and shaking her head as the Spaniard rolled over, groaning as she opened her eyes.

The past few days had been rough and Ingrid was sure Mapi hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep each day. The Norwegian was awoken constantly by the sound of her cries or her restless movements in the bed, but had stopped asking if she was ok after seeing the guilt on Mapi’s face at waking her up.

It was an obvious question anyway, Mapi clearly was not ok.

She had been distant, often unfocused. The Norwegian had to take over the parenting ropes and she hadn’t left the Spaniard’s apartment, helping with cooking and cleaning and the other mundane housework that Mapi just didn’t have the energy to do.

She would say a few words over meals, and quiet murmurs of gratitude throughout the day. Ingrid didn’t know how rapidly her notes app was filling up, full of dot points about how and what she would say to Ingrid. When she could bring up that conversation that she was so desperate yet so hesitant to have.

“Morning Is.” The Spaniard rolled over, opening her arms up for the toddler as she fell into them, snuggling easily into her mother.

“Mornin’ Mami!”

Mapi smiled, looking over at Ingrid in the doorway and motioning for her to come and join them on the bed. Naturally, the Norwegian moved towards them, sitting up beside Mapi and resting her head on the centre back’s shoulder.

“We were awake very early this morning, weren’t we Is?’

She rolled her eyes as the child nodded and Mapi bit back a laugh, squeezing Isabel softly.

“You should have woken me.” Mapi smiled, planting a kiss on the side of Ingrid’s head, ignoring her scoff.

“Ingrid said don’t wake you up, Mami!” Isabel interjected again, looking up at her mother. “But I missed you!”

Mapi could only chuckle, planting a kiss on her child’s head. “I missed you too, my Is!”

It was a slow day, but one full of quiet laughter and happiness. The small family of three spent the late morning hours in bed, before getting up and heading down to the park and tiring the toddler out. She was exhausted by the time they got back, passing out on the sofa as Ingrid took off her shoes and Mapi scrubbed the mud out of her jacket.

The girl had been put to bed by the time Mapi had returned from the laundry, Ingrid sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand.

“What do you want to watch?”

She had heard Mapi walking towards the lounge room, apparently. The Spaniard didn’t enter immediately, instead steadying herself on the doorframe and taking a deep breath.

The time had come, she realised. She couldn’t justify pushing this conversation away any longer, pretending that she wasn’t thinking about it when truthfully it was at the top of her mind at all times.

She knew it wasn’t an easy conversation to have and she knew that it was going to be hard to bring it up. But that difficulty won’t ever go away, no matter how long she leaves it. If anything it will get harder over time because time gives her fears and anxieties an opportunity to grow, an opportunity to overcome her.

And she was completely adamant that that would not happen. She would not be overcome by those terrors ever again.

She realised she had paused in the doorway for too long when Ingrid turned around, a small frown settling on her face.

“Are you ok?”

Mapi nodded, forcing a stressed smile onto her face and finally taking those steps inside, sitting herself on the sofa beside Ingrid and taking the remote from her hands.

“Yes. No, but.. Yeah.”

“Talk to me.”

And she did. She started at the beginning, all the way back when she was a small child and meeting Luis for the first time. She told Ingrid how they had been glued to each other’s sides forever, how they grew up and nothing ever changed. How grateful she was when Luis followed her to Barcelona, moving into his own apartment just a five minute walk away.

The Spaniard reminisced on times where they would eat dinner on the floor of his unfinished apartment, takeaway boxes empty but the room still full of happiness and laughter. She showed Ingrid her tattoo, the little girl and boy on the playground that she had gotten to match with Luis.

It was his first and only tattoo and he had only trusted Mapi to give it to him. She knew she had to get one the same and it was something they had treasured. A secret of sorts, a little thing that almost nobody knew about.

The centre back explained how he had always been a paternal person, all the way back when they were those little kids on the playground. He would look out for everyone, act all big and strong to protect his friends even when he felt equally as terrified. He was the person that everyone went to as they got a bit older, his emotional nature and calm demeanour always popular among their peers.

She told Ingrid that she always felt so lucky that even though he was so popular, she was still his best friend. She was always his number one and that only ever changed when Isabel came along.

Isabel who was just as lovely as her boyfriend, another person that Mapi learned to love.

Another person who proved time and time again that she was a mother.

So she lamented on the heartbreak that the young couple experienced when they realised they couldn’t have a child, that parenthood seemed almost impossible.

She explained her entire thought process to the Norwegian, how she debated with herself whether it was worth it to miss so much football during what could have been her peak years. Whether she would ever feel comfortable around a child that was half of her DNA, a child that she carried for nine months but technically didn’t belong to her.

But Luis’ happiness was always the most important thing and when he rang her up for the 10th night in a row in tears, her decision was made for her.

She told Ingrid how long it took to convince the couple to let her carry their child, having to go through the same arguments that she had with herself only weeks earlier, having to come up with rebuttals to their incredibly valid points.

But it had only taken an emotional monologue from the Spaniard to convince them, all three of them sat in tears as they finally agreed to it.

She talked her through the IVF process, every high and every low that she experienced. How easy the pregnancy was at the beginning, the only symptom her small bump and minor cravings.

But she had Luis and she had Isabel at that point, both of them so incredibly grateful that they practically waited on the centre back’s hand and foot. It annoyed her, really, so she had kicked them out of her apartment, told them to only come over if she called them.

For the most part, they respected that, only visiting once a week unless Mapi called them for the company.

She admitted how much she regretted that deal, how she wished that she made them sit with her all day every day.

Maybe then they wouldn’t have been in the car that day, maybe they would have been safe and sound in Mapi’s apartment.

She couldn’t have known that their trip to Madrid would be fatal, there was no way of being able to foresee that and to stop them from going.

Tears started to slip down her cheeks as she recalled what they told her over the phone, how both Isabel and Luis had been killed on impact. A drunk driver, it was, a drunk driver who was miraculously left unscathed.

She talked Ingrid through her thoughts that followed the phone call, after she had sobbed and screamed. Once the tears had finally ceased and an unsettling silence fell upon her apartment.

She felt lost, she felt alone. She wanted to call Luis because he was the person that made her feel better in these times, he was her company when it felt like her entire world was falling apart.

But of course she couldn’t call Luis. She should have called someone else, her mother, her brother. Alexia, even. But that would be replacing her best friend, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Not so soon after he had died. Not when the wound was so fresh, not before she even got the chance to process it.

She admitted to her girlfriend that she still hadn’t really processed it, that it was still a work in progress. His death was one she would never understand, she didn’t think she ever would fully process the idea that he was gone.

Ingrid let tears spill from her eyes as Mapi remembered how lonely she was for the next few weeks, how she realised that now she had this child that she was just supposed to be able to raise. How she felt entirely unprepared, unfit to be a mother, unequipped to be able to raise a child to a standard that Luis would be happy with.

How she doubted herself even before Isabel was born.

When she gave birth it got so much harder, everything seemed so impossible and she couldn’t think about anything else other than that little life in her arms.

She had fallen in love with the baby immediately, guilt overcoming her at her selfish gratitude that Isabel was a living reminder of Luis, she was someone that Mapi would always have. A living being that literally carried her father around with her.

She told Ingrid how she saw his eyes as soon as they opened, the tape over her shattered heart doing little to protect it when it was forcefully thrown back on the ground at the reminder of everything she had lost.

But as she spent more and more time with Isabel, as she watched the little girl grow up she could feel her heart building itself back together, little pieces at a time supergluing themselves together, creating an indestructible structure.

Isabel had been the reason her heart was being fixed, the reason that she felt like she could finally breathe again, finally reunited with the organ that pumped the blood around her body, the organ that made her feel alive.

She smiled through the tears as she recalled how alive she felt when Isabel took her first steps, when her first words tumbled right out of her mouth. As the child laughed, as she played with the cat. As she grew up into a child, something for Mapi to love, to be so incredibly proud of.

Because Luis was gone and that was something that Mapi would never be ok with.

But he left her the greatest gift of all time, like he knew that his best friend wouldn’t be ok without him.

And similar to everything else he had done for Mapi through their lives, this gift, his daughter, had made sure that the blood never stopped pumping, that every single fragment of her shattered heart was still there, ready and waiting for its turn to be glued back into place.

Isabel had done a good job of orchestrating the reconstruction, even if she had no idea what she was doing.

“But then you came along, Ingrid, and you fixed my heart too.”

~~~~~~

alright this was very long

i've proofread a couple times and kinda hate this but it's as good as it will get :)

please let me know what you think! send me anything else you would like to see as well.

and i apologise for this taking so long, i have been very busy with uni (as usual) but on top of that i had surgery on my knee almost a week ago so am very tired and in a fair amount of pain at the minute

have a good day

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #woso fanfics #woso #barca femeni #mapi leon x ingrid engen #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #fcb femeni #alexia putellas

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daisyofwaterdeep · 3 days

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i have a NSFW Gale/Reader thought

hear me out on this one:

You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.

Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.

Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.

You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.

You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.

"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"

You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"

It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.

"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."

He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.

"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."

Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.

Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"

You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.

"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."

You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."

He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.

He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.

You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.

"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"

It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.

He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."

You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.

He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.

You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.

"You alright?"

You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.

"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."

But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.

"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"

You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.

"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."

So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.

This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.

It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.

Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.

"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."

You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.

"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."

He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.

Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.

"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"

You tell him it is.

"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"

He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.

And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.

You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.

He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.

His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.

He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.

You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.

So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.

The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.

It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.

"Gods, I'm--"

Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.

You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.

Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.

"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."

You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.

"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."

You happily oblige.

#(arrow pointing at gales tummy) full of milk #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE IMAGINE I WASNT EXPECTING IT TO BECOME ITS OWN LITTLE FICLET!!!!! OOPS!!!!#daisy dabbles #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #breastfeeding

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marvelstars · 2 days

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I was thinking about the worst part when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin´s relationship issues wasn´t the tragic end in ROTS but those seeds planted at the start of their story where Obi-Wan resented Qui-Gon´s attention for Anakin while he felt the boy wasn´t much to look at and a future issue for his master with the Council in the long run which made Obi-Wan worried for his master reputation and how this would be affected while he could care less about Anakin´s well being or his pov or even his feelings on the matter.

The worst part is that Anakin didn´t just listen to Obi-Wan´s words, he could feel all of this from Obi-Wan as sensible as he was with the force and he could deal with Obi-Wan seeing him as a problem as long as Qui-Gon was alive and seemed to genuinely care for him even if nobody else at the Jedi Temple seemed to care but when Qui-Gon died he should have felt very lonely with a new guardian grieving his master who saw him more like a promise to his master legacy than a person.

Imagine all those times 9 year old Anakin missed his Mom or cried himself to sleep thinking about her, wondering if she was alright while other padawans teased him about his former slave status, his lack of formal education or his difficulty understanding concepts they have been told since they were babies, while not having any close relationship for the mere fact he didn´t grow up with them and his master more or less agreed with them even if he didn´t openly said it.

Anakin didn´t even have someone to have his back while he was growing up at the temple, because from their perspective those were issues he had to get over, no need for someone to support him emotinally or simply showed him some empathy, those were the same issues Obi-Wan had with Anakin since the moment they meet and while Anakin certainly did his best to grow into his potential, stydying hard and doing well on his studies, he was hardly recognized by his master, when his efforts were seen as arrogance instead of efforts to get the approval of his master and his peers.

Imagine that level of loneliness that your only company during your development years were the droids who helped you remember home and your Mom while at the same time feeling guilty for not feeling welcome at the temple because you were free and feed while your mother and friends were slaves and often lacked food and no one in the area could even begin to understand how Anakin felt and why except "Palpatine" but instead of helping Anakin he used this to manipulate him, get his trust and later make him fall to madness and the darkside.

The Sith Lord master understood better than anybody else at the Jedi temple that Anakin needed a father figure, not a master or a cold envoirment because that was familiar to him, that gave him emotional strenght and stability and more importantly, that make Anakin trust them and give his loyalty, no wonder he decided leaving Anakin to train as a Jedi in such circunstances were proper eteps towards becoming his sith apprentice and that irony probably didn´t escape him or Vader once he fell to the darkside but I don´t think Obi-Wan quite got that understanding until later when he saw Luke grow up with the Lars family but certainly not in the first few years post ROTS, he probably just reflected on where did he go wrong with Anakin.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth sidious #Qui-Gon Jinn #Shmi Skywalker

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vevobly · 2 days

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Being Natalie Scatorccio Girlfriend Headcanons (Pre-Crash) [Part 1]

A/N: This is technically my first headcanons post. But I ended up posting Jackie's first then Misty's, so yeah! Heads up for sensitive topics such as addiction, smoking, and implied/referenced terrible home.

Since Nat comes from a rough home life and doesn't exactly have the best reputation at school, your relationship is probably being kept on the down low. It's not because Nat might be ashamed of you or anything like that; she just doesn't want to drag you down with her. She already gets a lot of unwanted attention and judgment from others. She doesn't want more—especially if it affects you too.

She isn't big on public displays of affection. But you CAN catch her giving you these small, meaningful gestures! A light touch on the arm, a passing glance, or, if you smoke, she'll quietly give you a cigarette when no one's looking.

Nat doesn't open up easily. But with you? As cheesy as it might be, it's different. You're one of the very few people she can be vulnerable with when life decides to shit on her. She doesn't tell you everything, but it's fine. You understand, and you aren't going to push her to do so (unless something warrants it).

She'll call you up late at night just to talk about whatever. Sometimes she crashes at your place to avoid the bullshit she deals with at home, sleeping more soundly in your bed than anywhere else. When you bring that up, she'll either respond with something witty or sappy. And you? You'll like whatever she chooses to tell you instead of the other.

Dating Nat means late night drives in her beat up car with no clear destination! She loves going where the road takes you two, and you're always down to ride shotgun with her.

With this in mind, you two occasionally sneak off to places that are abandoned. Why? For privacy and peace, of course! Oh, and because those locations usually have great views. You can bet your ass that Nat has taken you to loads of romantic places (though she would argue that they're plain) already, talking about how shitty Wiskayok is and how you guys could escape it one day together. Neither of you are sure of anything, but it is nice to dream about, right?

Nat is VERY loyal to you. She might not say it, but she shows it by defending you in her own subtle (some of the yellowjackets would disagree with that—I think you already know who) way when people at school talk behind your back.

Of course, being Nat's girlfriend grants you the special privilege of seeing a side of her that others don't. Which is her being surprisingly sweet when it's just the two of you. She’ll let you pick the music when she's driving (even if she grumbles about your taste) and surprise you with small gifts like mixtapes or a pack of your favorite candy.

Nat's not the most affectionate, but when she is, she turns into this huge sap. Point that one out and she'll deny it vehemently. Either rolling her eyes or crossing her arms to her chest before insisting you're the one being a massive sap. Touché, you'll tell her, and then she'll start laughing; saying you're her sap.

Being together with Nat means you've got to deal with rumors about her at school from time to time. You hate it but what can you do? People will talk whatever about her whenever. While it certainly made you pissed that people do that to her, you've learned to just ignore what they say about her. You know her. You know Nat. And she is way different from how people see her. While she appreciates you defending her, she doesn't need you to. She's not a charit

When things get bad, she'll seek you out. Sometimes she'll show up at your door in the middle of the night, simply saying "I needed to see you." and you'll let her stay. Your place is always welcome for her.

Believe it or not, you're the first person Natalie tells about her frustations (usually the team or her dad). Annnnd, even though she might try to brush off her feelings; you know how to read her and help her without pushing too hard. Still, it makes her feel like a damn--

You know about her addiction. And while you always make sure she's okay, that just isn't enough. So you give her space, let her know that you will be there for her no matter what (but will you though? your relationship is just a faulty boat that's been leaking from the very start. No matter how many times you try to bail the water out, it will sink. It was just destined to). You'll always love her. You'll always love Natalie.

When she's spiraling, you'll be the one to bring her back. Nothing big has to be done, neither of you guys could care about those. Just a quiet word, a reassuring look, or being there is enough. She loves you, she really does. But how the fuck do you love her? She's a mess, and being with her brings you absolutely nothing. why. Why. WHy. WHY. WHY DO YOU LOVE HER OF AL--

If you smoke: Nat loves sharing cigarettes with you. It's almost like a ritual. You or Natalie light one up, pass it back and forth with each other while talking. You'll both sneak out sometimes during school breaks, find a secluded spot to talk and smoke freely there from everyone else.

If you don't smoke: it'll still happen. The difference is that Nat will just be the only one smoking while you'll just watch her take a drag maybe and talk with her. It's a bummer you don't smoke but Nat will take whatever company you can give her whenever.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you

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nekohime19 · 1 day

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AITA for punching my girlfriend in the face?

(Part two of the previous post!! Let's go! Love writing funny looney toons style things like that. It's still Wukong POV.)

I didn't expect to get that much answers 😅. Anyway, thanks for the wisdom.

For those who didn’t see my last post (AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with) : I have a girlfriend (Venom) who cheated on me with another guy (Six). So out of pettiness I went to see Six. I learned he wasn't aware of my existence and was getting played too. We bonded, got wasted and kinda slept together.

Here are my answers to all your comments :

LaZen :

NTA, thought you definitely need to break up with her like yesterday, cheating is not cool and poor six who was the side dish :c its going to be awkward but six and you need to talk with a nice breakfast about what you two want to do now, revenge? Just a one night thing? Or get to know each other, wich i think is going to be the latter since both of you were getting along, the guy just got to town, maybe show him around as friends?

OP response :

Yeah, I think it's due time I confront Venom, even if I really don't want to. Idk, guess she's been with me for a long time so it's somehow scary to move on. I honestly don't know what I want with Six. I've never been interested in guys before? And maybe he only got pulled by the mood? Anyway, you're right, we do need to talk. Idk if I can make breakfast but, hey, burned egg aren't THAT bad.

Lagt :

Anyway not the asshole, maybe a stupid move but at that point why even bother coming back together if you two were already broke up? Like it feels like she couldn't decide

NTA

OP response :

😬 You're really calling me out with that one. Venom and I do have a pretty weird way to settle things. Guess I just got used to the constant breaking up and getting back together.

Sakurabloom_26 :

NTA, OP it doesn’t matter the reason, she cheated on you and played Six for a fool by making him her AP.

It wasn’t ok that you slept with her AP before breaking up with her (especially since the two of you were drunk), but considering you both were played for fools, I can’t blame you for shooting your shot.

As for what to do, wait for Six to wake up and decide on how the two of you are going to catch Venom in the act and then dump her.

Regarding Six, I’d take it slow, offer to be his friend and if you think there’s a genuine connection there, ask him out on a date (something simple like a coffee date, or a picnic), but be sure to assure him that if he doesn’t feel the same way that you still want to be friends (you both sound like you just need someone to genuinely be there for each other, so awkward emotions shouldn’t mean that your friendship has to end 😌)

Best of luck to you OP, I’m rooting for you 😊

OP response :

Yeaaah, wine really got into our heads and maybe we shouldn't have slept together. Honestly, being friends with Six doesn't sound bad. I’ve never been interested in guys before so it's pretty new. The thing is I don't know if I felt like that because of the mood or because of genuine feelings? Taking it slow might be better, especially since we're both kinda still with Venom at the moment?? Thanks!

Mystsong :

NTA, you were cheated on by Venom and Six had no clue what is or was going on. Not sure it was a good idea for you and Six to sleep together but you were also both impaired by alcohol so you both weren't thinking at the time. I'd definitely stay away from Venom and take things slow and steady with Six and see if there's something there. Also please be careful with Venom I've heard of some ex boyfriends/ex girlfriends doing some crazy things when they get mad at their exes or to keep control of their exes...and she sounds dangerous to do that. Also getting advice from some friends and family like your successor, Bud, might also be a good idea especially if you want to get proof of what Venom is up to and has been doing. Hope this helps you out. (Hugs sent)

OP response :

The things alcohol makes you do. Talking it out with Six might be for the best, idk if he'll want to see me again though? Guess I'll just have to ask. Maybe we can just be friends for now until we figure it out. Venom can be intense, yeah. I wouldn't put it past her to pull some shit like that. I don't want to involve Bud in this mess though, he's not really aware of me and Venom and he has enough problems because of me. (Hugs received)

Sag3mint :

Honestly wondering what Venom's reaction will be. Anger probably. 🤔

But once she realises that the reason why you and Six met is because of her, oh boy...... 🤭 That's gonna be massive blow to her ego.

OP response :

Oh boy, she's not gonna be happy that her bf and her side bf are getting it on together. This is gonna be a nuke field to travel through.

Halfdeadhalfpaniced :

Oh she’s definitely not going to take it well but technically none of this would have happened and you two would never have met if she didn’t cheat first. Honestly OP? He’s probably not the only one she’s ever cheated on you with and might not even be the only other person she’s currently seeing.

OP response :

It hurts to think about that, I hope she didn't… But I can't be certain.

Littleguy-dot-io :

nta.. you seemed to be doing yall a favor. venom. seems kinda like a bitch??? like bro.... pick a struggle. anyways sorry she did that to yall both but break with her

OP response :

At this point, Yeaaah, both Six and I really need to break up with her.

Furornocturna :

Okay, a LOT to unpack here, but I’ll try my best to give you some advice you desperately need.

Overall consensus? ESH.

Let me elaborate before you dismiss me outright.

Venom clearly sucks the worst here for cheating and stringing you and Six along.

You weren’t wrong for wanting revenge (I would too) and you weren’t wrong to tell Six about the situation (probably should have done it sober tho), but the two of you cheating on her back with each other… while admittedly a little hilarious as an outsider hearing this story secondhand, that doesn’t do either of you favors here. Not only did you sink to her level, but now the situation is messier than before that you now have to deal with when she finds out (which she will). You are going to have to confront Venom to end things with her, OP. Because that’s what you need to do.

From the looks of it, she checked out of the relationship three months ago, and the love there on your end was gone after you found out she was cheating, plus was likely already heading in that direction with the other background you gave on how things have been. And Six doesn’t deserve to be the side piece to her either.

First and foremost, you and Six both need to break things off with Venom (and deal with the fallout that comes with, as I have little doubt she’ll take the news well) before you proceed with anything else with whatever it is you want to do with each other. Which, despite the rather unorthodox circumstances, it appears that you two really hit it off.

But if this is something you want to pursue, platonically, romantically, or whatever else, you need to sort out yourself. You mentioned questioning your sexuality at the end of your post, so you’ll want to figure things out there before jumping headlong into another relationship. More than that, if you really like Six in any form, the last thing you want to do here is make him think he’s just a rebound. He was also hurt by Venom too. And make sure Six isn’t just rebounding on you either. You both really need to communicate on your wants, needs, feelings, etc, and how you want to proceed.

I hope things work out for you and Six. It really sucked that this happened (Venom cheating on you two, not you two finding each other), and I hope you both can recover from this and come out happier.

ALSO

Since you mentioned Venom causing city-wide damage in the past and how she’s caused issues with your successor, I worry both Bud and the city might also become casualties if Venom decides to retaliate against you and Six for breaking up with her/finding out her cheating. Don’t let them get caught up in the crossfire of this.

Make your next moves carefully, and you’ll get through this with the least amount of hassle.

Hope this helps!

OP response :

Honestly, I do feel kinda bad for sleeping with Six because of Venom. Even if I'm really angry and some petty part of me thinks she deserves it, I didn't intend for things to turn out like that. Things with Six just… spiraled, the alcohol didn't make it better. Not the first time wine makes me do stupid things. But, somehow, I don't regret it?? I definitely need to confront Venom and I sure as hell don't intend to keep dating her after this. Things will be messy and, you're right, I do need to watch out for her reaction and make sure things don't get out of control. I don't know how things will go with Six. Tbh, I don't know what I'm feeling for sure either, everything is kind of a mess right now? But right, talk, we need to talk.

Sorry if I made a mistake on you guys names, 😅.

And sooo, I have an update 👀

AITA for punching my girlfriend in the face?

After that night with Six I got up and tried to make breakfast. You know, something nice to set a nice mood. Problem is idk how to cook (I usually eat hair, it's a mystic monkey thing) sooo my attempt failed miserably and I ended up with a black goo that was supposed to be eggs.

I just settled for fruits. Like Six should like fruits, no ?? He's a monkey. So I prepared a nice basket and waited.

I was kinda nervous.

Which was very unlike me. I'm not a nervous guy. But I never did hook-ups before, not with a guy, and not with my girlfriend's secret side boyfriend much less. It was a messed up situation tbh and I felt guilty for what I did (somehow it kinda felt I cheated on Venom??), angry at Venom and also excited to see Six again.

Six woke up after a few minutes, he looked ruffled and very much like he spent the night having fun in the sheet (I'm proud of that tbh). He froze when he saw me. Dear in the headlight froze and we stared at each other for a long minute before I managed to awkwardly gesture towards the basket.

Six sat down and nibbled on some mangoes. Our conversation kinda went like this :

Me : “so, last night was… ?”

Six : “... A lot.”

Me : “Yeah… Huh, what do you wanna do?”

Six : “Don't know… Guess I'm just gonna keep my distance a bit.”

Me : “From Venom?”

Six : “Yeah…”

Me : “How about we confront her together?”

Honestly I said that because I didn't really want to confront Venom alone. She could be intense at times and, well, it was perhaps better to do it with everyone directly involved present.

But before Six could reply, Bud barged in.

Now, I'm not the best at keeping track of time but I usually know when Bud is coming. But with the whole situation it just slipped by me. The three of us froze and Bud's mouth fell open… For context, the marks of what we did last night were still very visible so it wasn't hard for Bud to connect the dots.

Now, Bud knows I'm with someone but I never told him of Venom. The main reason is because Venom is more on the “bad guy team” and doesn't think that kindly of Bud. Moreover, Bud has been the cause of a lot of arguments between Venom and I and I didn't want him to be involved with an angry Venom. I just didn't want things to get complicated and thought it was simpler to separate my love life from my mentor life. Maybe I was also a bit scared of how Bud was gonna react to me dating a “bad guy”.

Maybe that's why Bud's first reaction was to be excited and rush to Six, rambling about how he's finally able to meet my partner. I'm not blaming Bud for thinking this but Gods above it was so awkward.

If I said that Six wasn't my boyfriend, then Bud was going to think I'm cheating on my true partner (Venom)... Which is kinda the truth?? Somehow???

I honestly didn't know what to do and, at this point, I was feeling a lot of different emotions. I didn't want Bud's image of me to be tarnished but I didn't want to lie to him either about the situation. Six, who looked quite overwhelmed as well, didn't outrightly reject Bud's claim but clearly didn't agree with it either. He just… excused himself and took the opportunity to leave. Which I can understand. Dealing with Bud isn't his responsibility and he just learned he was a side piece yesterday, he probably needed some time to cool off and think clearly about what happened.

He smiled at me before leaving so I assumed that he's not that upset with me.

Gods that smile.

I avoided Bud's questions after this and put the subject to rest. Neither confirming or denying anything. I just told him we'd talk about it later. It's not like I didn’t want to confide in Bud, but I didn't want to drag him into this mess, he has enough already on his plate.

So now, fast-forward to three days after that incident. I took a lot of tests on the internet to know if I'm actually bi ?? I questioned a lot about myself, my own sexuality, and what I wanted to do with Six and Venom.

Six and I decided to meet again and clarify things. Mainly about what we wanted to do with Venom and how we should confront her. He came to my mountain and we sat down around some fruits, trying to figure out this whole mess and how we should go about it now. Honestly, both of us agreed we should break up for good with Venom. But we weren't sure if we should tell her about our lil “fun in the sheet”. Venom can have an explosive temper at times (she did destroy half of the city) so we didn't want to anger her more than necessary. I know I may be TA for wanting to keep my “kinda cheating” with Six a secret but at this point I just wanted to be done with Venom and not give her any more reasons to put the city or Bud in danger. It was a moment where both of us were emotionally vulnerable, and waisted. It wasn't wise, especially given the context, but I did insist that I didn't regret it. I really felt like we had a connection that night. However, before Six could reply, I saw Venom stomping down this way with an enraged look.

We both panicked. The marks of our night together were still somewhat visible and both of us didn't want to aggravate Venom more than she already was. In hindsight, maybe it was kind of a stupid move and would seem even more suspicious to Venom, but I pushed Six in the nearest cabinet. He looked livid so I just told him it wasn't the right moment yet and that I'd deal with her for now. I quickly applied some glamors to hide any marks and waited for Venom to arrive (for context, glamors is kind of like magic make-up).

She was furious. She paced and accused me of cheating on her. I pried a little for information and it turns out she overheard Bud talk about my male partner and, yeah, things spiraled down from there.

So my soon-to-be ex was ransacking the house in search of my supposed side piece and I was just nervously standing in front of the cabinet with Six inside. She approached the cabinet and was ready to throw hands. In a moment of sheer panic and instinctual reaction to years of fighting demons, I punched her in the face, not enough to truly do some damage (I can pack a mean punch) but enough to knock her out.

So now Venom is passed out on the floor and I'm feeling very guilty and Six is still inside the cabinet, I'm typing this with the speed of light.

Should I just tie her up???

So AITA??

AND WHAT DO I DO????

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #shadowpeach fanfic #sun wukong #six eared macaque #lmk shadowpeach #AITA shadowpeach

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 days

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Kingdom Fall - Three

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be.

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, mentions of SA, Mentions of Murder,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: baddaboom shes posting another one look at me go i havent posted this much in YEARS its so strange being back. As Lisa Rowe once said ‘its good to be home!’

~*~

You awake the next morning feeling peaceful and well-rested, a welcome ache between your legs that reminds you of the night prior.

You reach across the bed, a smile finding your lips when you feel the warm body of the man beside you.

Peeling your eyes open, you push yourself into a seated position and look at him with nothing but softness in your gaze.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his voice thick with sleep.

You lean forward and place a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Good morning to you,” you reply softly.

You roll onto your side and lightly trace over the muscles covering his chest, content to spend this time with him.

As if hearing your thoughts, the Gods decide to shatter your peace.

There’s a harsh knock on the door that has ice shooting through your veins.

James’ eyes dart from you to the front door, and then he’s pushing to his feet.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, tugging on his trousers and heading toward the door. He picks up his tunic along the way, but doesn’t bother fully buttoning it.

You slowly rise to your feet and tug on your white slip, eyes darting around the room for your sword, only for you to realize that it’s currently in the kitchen, leaning against the wall.

If you move quickly enough, you can grab it now and hide behind the wall before he gets the door open.

With quick feet, you do exactly that, following silently after James and grabbing your sword, then pressing your back against the wall, out of sight.

He pulls the door open, brows frown together.

“I’m looking for a woman. Has she come by here?” A man asks. He wears the garb of a knight, though not one of this kingdom.

James doesn’t know much about you, but he knows that he never wants to put you in danger. And if the man standing before him means to harm you, he won’t let that happen.

“No, I apologize,” James says easily, going to close the door only for the blond on the other end to stop it with his foot.

His eyes are trained on the daggers on the table. More importantly, the gems decorating the hilt.

James follows his gaze, but by the time the pieces click in his mind, it’s too late. The stranger is forcing his way into James’ little house.

“You have seen her. Where is she?” He demands, unsheathing his sword and aiming it at the brunet.

James raises his hands in surrender, taking slow steps back.

“I know not who you speak of,” he insists, though he feels increasingly nervous.

“The woman of which those daggers belong. Where is she? I will not ask again.”

James stumbles over the uneven floors as the blond swipes his sword, falling to the floor as the blade bites into his bicep.

“Then I suppose you will have to kill me,” He says simply, though his heart is in his chest.

“No!” You exclaim, darting out from behind the wall and sliding between the men, sword raised right as the blond swings his down.

The two swords clash and the brunet behind you winces at such proximity to death.

The blond’s eyes widen at the sight of you standing before him in nothing more than your nightdress.

“Princess?” He asks, withdrawing his sword immediately.

“You will fall back,” you command, rising to your full height and glaring at him.

His brows pull together, and he looks at the man on the ground in confusion.

“This man has lied about your whereabouts. He knows you are here, he cannot be trusted.”

“You will stand down. A life for a life, this man saved me. I owe him a debt.”

Steve glares at you and you match the look, not backing down.

“I could order it,” you remind him, “though we are not on my land, you are sworn to obey me.”

He grinds his teeth together but slowly takes a step back, huffing out a breath of disbelief.

“Go check to make sure you weren’t followed. Secure the area,” you order, turning your back to him to signal the end of the conversation.

You reach for James’ hand and help him to his feet, watching as he and Steve face off for a long moment. You turn to the blond and quirk your brow at him, waiting for him to obey your orders.

Finally, he turns on his heel and marches outside, mumbling profanities the entire time.

You turn back to the brunet and inspect the wound on his arm, a frown on your face at the idea of him being hurt because of you.

“Princess?” He asks, a little stunned at the fact that you didn’t tell him you’re royalty.

You sigh and lead him by the hand to the bathroom to clean and dress his wound.

“It's not deep. It should heal fairly quickly,” you murmur, cleaning the wound on his arm and avoiding his eyes as you prepare to tell him the complete truth.

“I’m Princess (Y/n) of Aresia. The third Eldest of Queen Cathana.”

His brows pull together at your words.

“Cathana the Cruel?” He asks, to which you nod.

“Mother has many names, that being one of her most famous. It was given to her many years ago after she slaughtered the family of a man who raped my youngest sister.” You slowly bring your eyes to his. “I do not think her to be cruel for what she did. I think she was merciful, and those people were lucky that my older sister and I were not permitted to seek justice.”

He nods, entranced by the passion and fire in your eyes.

“Your King,” you sneer his title, “stormed out Kingdom. Set fire to the Palace, to the village. His aim is to take what never was meant to be his. And so I ran. I fled the city under order of the Queen. All my sisters did. We were to flee in different directions. I know not if any of them have survived. Steve... the man at the door... he is sworn to me. He has sacrificed many things to serve the royal guard, to serve me. One of the only men to ever be trusted by the royal family.”

As you explain it, it all makes so much more sense.

He should’ve known, really. Given your clothes and your weapons and the way you carry yourself. It should’ve been obvious to him.

“I have spent the days learning the lands, reading the maps. My sisters have fled across the continent, but I intend to reclaim what is mine. I would like to find them along the way, but I know not for how long I will be safe here.”

James shakes his head, reaching for you once you’ve finished tying the fabric around the wound on his arm.

“I would never do anything to put you in danger, that you must know,” he says, his voice borderline desperate.

A small smile tugs at your cheeks and you nod, reaching up to hold his face gently in your hands.

“I know that, James. But it is not you who I fear. Not anymore. Now that Steve is here, it is only a matter of time before your King realizes at least one of the Princesses is alive. I would not be surprised if he had his men searching the forests and the villages for me as we speak. I have enjoyed our time together, but I cannot stay any longer.”

His hands come up to cover yours on his face.

“Then I will go with you.”

You chuckle weakly and shake your head.

“My path surely leads to battle. You are not a warrior, James. I cannot put you in that sort of danger.”

He shakes his head, “I can learn. Have Steve teach me. I will swear an oath to you if I must, but I will not let you walk into battle without me by your side. I will follow you if I must, but I... I've only just found you, (Y/n). I will not lose you so soon.”

Your heart is warmed by his words and you sigh softly.

“I suppose it would be helpful to have another warrior alongside us on our journey. And you know the lands better than myself and Steve. But if you are to join us, you must obey my commands.”

A small smirk finds his lips and he kisses the inside of your wrist.

“I think last night is a good demonstration of how good I am at following orders.”

Heat blazes in your core at the memory and you shake your head at him.

“Right. I will go find Steve and inform him that he will be training you,” you whisper, pulling out of his grip and heading toward the door.

You tug on your dress on the way, a million thoughts swarming through your head as you make your way toward the blond soldier scouting the perimeter of the farm.

“Steve,” You call, jogging over to him when he stops walking.

“Yes, Princess?”

You step in front of him, looking up into his blue eyes.

“That is not how I wanted our reunion to go,” you murmur, reaching for his hand and holding it tightly in yours.

“And how were you expecting it to go?” He questions, a single eyebrow raised.

You look up at him then lunge into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly.

He stumbles back a step then falls onto his back in the grass, arms wrapping around your protectively, always protecting you.

“You’re alive,” you whisper, holding onto him as if he’ll disappear in an instant. He chuckles softly and maneuvers the two of you into a seated position, pulling you onto his lap and holding you against his chest.

“I made you a promise, Princess,” he reminds you gently, rocking you side to side.

You slowly pull away and look into his eyes, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

“Have you heard anything of my sisters? My mother? Do you know if there are any survivors?”

He sighs heavily, smoothing your hair away from your face with one hand.

“I know that several of your sisters have survived, and your mother is being kept alive within the Palace. I know not how many members of the guard have survived, but I know they are scattered throughout the tunnels beneath Aresia and the surrounding forests.”

A weight lifts from your chest and you hug him tightly again.

“Then there is hope,” you whisper.

He chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “So long as you are alive, Princess, hope will remain alive with you.”

You walk the perimeter of the farm with Steve, discussing all that you have learned and what you have planned so far, and he shares with you the information he was able to gather.

There’s a gathering of warriors not far from James’ farm. Steve had spent some time with them while hiding from the Lornillian guards.

You turn to the blond when you approach the small house, holding his hands tenderly between your own.

“James has offered to come with us. To fight alongside us. I have agreed.”

Steve blinks at you then laughs as if you told the funniest joke in the world.

“What use have we for a farm boy? I doubt he can even wield a sword.”

You smile up at him, “which is why you shall instruct him.”

Suddenly the situation is not so funny to Steve.

“Me?”

You nod, “yes, you.”

“But-”

“We will need every sword we have, Steve. He is strong, and he is willing to fight. He has... protected me... been kind to me. I will not order you to do it, but I will let you know that it would mean a great deal to me if you would.”

He watches you for a long moment with those endless blue eyes before huffing a sigh.

“I almost wish you had ordered it,” he murmurs, opening the door to the house and motioning for you to go inside.

You nod gratefully and enter, smiling warmly at James.

He looks between you and Steve for a long moment before dropping his eyes to his hands, suddenly not so sure of himself.

It’s obvious that there’s a history between the two of you, and anyone can tell how much you mean to the blond by the way he looks at you.

How can James ever hope to compare to this warrior? Someone so strong and so brave. Willing to fight for you and die for you.

“We will begin your training tomorrow. We will use wooden staffs... branches or anything of the sort. You must learn to wield a sword and take a hit. Once you do, we will begin combat.”

Steve turns to you after speaking, his eyebrows pulled together, “when do you want to make for the tunnels? Meet with your people?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment, trying to contemplate the timeframe before you.

The longer you wait, the stronger their army will be. But it could also grant you a stronger army in the process. Give your people more time to gather themselves, gather supplies.

The Lornillian army may have the upper hand of the Palace, but you and your people know the grounds, and that is something that will be key to reclaiming what is rightfully yours.

“We will remain for one more moon cycle. Then we will leave.” You turn to James again, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You do not have to join us. You have a duty here,” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

He nods, a small smile on his face.

“I now have a duty to you, as well, Princess.”

Steve watches the exchange, his stomach flipping with unease.

He does not like the way the farm boy looks at you.

No one should be looking at you like that. No one but him.

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