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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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Incorrect Quotes - Part 2

All of these were taken from Pinterest - again, I am not this funny

Special thank you to @sinfully-yoursss for asking for another one!

Max: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch? Y/n: Sometimes I whine like a BIG bitch

Arthur (propping his feet up on a table): So, I heard you like bad boys Y/n: What? No??? Arthur (immediately taking his feet off the table): Oh thank God, that felt terrible

Christian: Where’s Y/n and the child? Toto: Y/n is teaching him how to drive Christian: Y/n never learned to drive??????

*Meanwhile*

Y/n: So there’s two pedals. Sometimes three but you can ignore the left one Kimi: I don’t think…. Y/n: the lines on the road are more like suggestions than anything, like the speed limit Kimi: Are you positive that… Y/n: I’m not sure how to turn on the blinkers. Ready? Kimi: Uhhhhh Y/n (shouting): GO GO GO GO Kimi (screaming) *floors it*

Nurse: I’m sorry sir, we can only allow family to see Miss L/n at this time Christian: bold of you to assume I won’t legally adopt her right now Y/n (sleepy, inside the hospital wing): you tell ‘em dad!

Max: Your honor, my client is ready Judge: And what does the defendant plead? Max (mouthing the words): not guilty Y/n (squinting at Max): hot milky Max (facepalms): take her away

Y/n: Deck the halls with crippling depression Charles: Fa la la la la, la la la la Y/n: ‘Tis the season for emotional suppression Arthur: Fa la la la la, la la la la Max (passing through): what???

Y/n (on the phone): Hey Lance, can Arthur and I borrow $5000? Lance: Why the hell do you need $5000?! Y/n: For an escape room. Lance: What kind of escape room costs 5 grand?? Y/n: Y/n: Jail.

Max (answers phone): hello? Y/n: It’s Y/n Max: What did she do this time Y/n: no, it’s me, Max Max: what did you do this time

Y/n (on the floor): Go on…without me! Lando (crying while kneeling beside her): No! We can get through this together, just like we always do! Y/n: There’s no time! You must defend our honor. Don’t let my death be for nothing! Lando (sobbing): I can’t do this without you! Y/n: Goodbye, old friend….(goes limp) Oscar (whispering to Max): They do realize this is just a dodgeball game, right? Max (aiming at Lando): Oscar, this is war. Show no mercy.

Oscar: One day, someone will think about you for the last time in eternity. You will be forgotten by the world Y/n: not if I eat the Mona Lisa

Yuki: I’m small but knowing Y/n: You don’t be knowing what the top shelf looks like Yuki: Y/n: Yuki: Bitch

Y/n: Go big or go home! Vito (tears in his eyes): I am begging you, Y/n. For once in your life, go home. Just this once. Go. Home. Y/n: I’m gonna go big

Y/n: I will do a lot of thing. But admitting I’m cold to Max after he told me to bring a jacket isn’t one of them

Max: I sleep with a knife beside my bed Carlos: I have a machete under my bed Logan: I have a gun under my pillow Arthur: Weak. Pathetic. All of you Max: And what deadly weapon do you sleep with? Arthur (putting on shades): Y/n

Arthur: I will speak French between your legs Y/n: That is the hottest thing I’ve ever been told Lando: I’m just imagining someone screaming “Bonjour” to a dick Daniel: SACRE BLEAU MADEMOISELLE HON HON HON TITTY CROISSANTS Logan (wheezing): TITTY CROISANTS Max: None of you should ever be having sex

Y/n: Hey do you know anyone who can teach me how to play the trumpet? Alex: Why? Y/n: I wanna wander around the paddock and annoy Esteban Logan: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play it for that Y/n: You have opened my eyes Logan

Max (not looking up from his book): what did he do now? Y/n: HE SMILED Max: At you? Y/n: No, at Oscar and Ollie but HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGEL Max: go away Y/n: shut up, I watched you pine over Charles for months – let me have this Max: carry on

Arthur: I came up with a brilliant idea for a prank Y/n: Ooh, what is it? Arthur: We should kiss. Y/n: …I don’t get it Arthur: Think about it! Imagine Max and Charles come into the garage, only to find us making out, hands all over each other. You can sit in my lap and we’ll really just go to town. Max will be like “WHAAAAAAA” and Charles might even faint! Y/n: Oh, that’s hilarious! We totally should

Esteban: The math problem isn’t so hard, it’s just a simple repetition of- Y/n (frustrated): You’re a simple repetition Esteban: Y/n: Charles: Did Y/n really just hurt Esteban’s feelings Max: I’m so freakin proud

Y/n (googling): snake bite leg what to do Google: elevate and apply pressure Y/n (lifting the snake really high): apologize or else

Y/n: with all due respect Y/n: Y/n: which is none

Toto: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Kimi: Maybe a little tipsy? George: Drunk. Y/n: Wasted. Lewis: Dead.

Esteban: Could you at least try to be nice? Y/n: You’re still breathing. That’s me being nice.

Oscar: Hey do you have a bag I can borrow? Zhou: The only bags I have are the ones under my eyes, and they’re specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence Oscar: Literally all you had to do was say no

Max (at Y/n’s funeral): Can I have a moment alone with her? Arthur: Of course *leaves* Max (leaning over the coffin): Now listen, I know you’re not dead Y/n: no duh

Y/n: Ow! Oscar: You dislocated your shoulder. Want me to pop it back in? Y/n (grimacing): Yeah…okay Oscar: All right, on 3….0, 1 *pops shoulder back in* Y/n: MOTHERFU- WHO THE HELL STARTS AT 0

Yuki: Hey Y/n, did you eat all the powdered donuts? Y/n: …No? Yuki: Then what’s that white powder on your pants Y/n (panicking): cocaine

Y/n: Max, I think you should play the role of my father Max: I don’t want to be your father Y/n: That’s perfect. You already know your lines

Lando: Can I be frank with you guys? Y/n: I don’t know how changing your name is going to help us here, but sure? Charles: Wait, can I still be Charles? Oscar: Shh, let Frank speak.

Lewis: I have a bad feeling about this. Y/n: What do you mean? Lewis: Don’t you ever have that little voice in your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble? Y/n: no Lewis: That explains so much

Y/n: What do you call a fish with no eye (i)? Oscar (not looking up from his book): myxine circifrons Y/n: Y/n: fsh

George: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? Y/n: Figuratively or literally? George: Y/n, honestly, the fact that I have to specify

Mitch: I know you took the last Red Bull Y/n Y/n (internally): play dumb Y/n: Who’s Y/n? Y/n (internally): not that dumb!

Y/n: Big mood Fernando: What does that mean…big mood? Y/n: Uh well, it kind of means like, me too, I guess Fernando: Thanks

*1 week later before a race in the rain*

Oscar: I’m kind of worried about this race guys Fernando: Big mood, Piastri, big mood Oscar: Y/n what did you do?

Charles: What’s worse than a DNF at a home race? Y/n: realizing that dragons can’t blow out their birthday candles Charles: Charles: mate

Y/n: You know what? Underneath it all, you’re actually quite nice Max: Repeat that disgusting slander and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers

Carlos: Now that I have explained the answer to this problem to you for ten minutes, do you understand? Y/n: Yes. Carlos:…Are you lying to me? Y/n: Yes.

Christian: Y/n, it’s your turn to give the pre-race talk Y/n (claps hands): Fuck shit up, hit some barriers, run Charles off the road, don’t die Max (proudly): succinct and informative

Max: The FIA really seems to hate us Charles: Maybe they’re homophobic Max: We’re not a couple Charles Charles: We’re not Y/n: You’re not?

Vito: Why is Y/n in the bathroom on the floor crying? Max: She’s drunk Vito: And? Mitch: She heard that Arthur has a girlfriend Vito:…but she is Arthur’s girlfriend Max: Yeah, we know that

Max (wears lighter skinny jeans and a brighter blue Red Bull polo) Y/n: I see you’re busting out the spring colors

Oscar: How do you two normally get out of these types of messes? Lando: We don’t. Y/n: We just make a bigger mess that cancels out the first one

*Valentines Day*

Arthur (reading Y/n’s texts): Y/n just said she’s going to give me 102 minutes of pleasure tonight Max: Oh wow

*Later watching Cars 2*

Y/n: You look disappointed

Y/n: Chillax! Oscar: that’s not a word Y/n: Sometimes the ones who deny “chillax” are the ones who need to chillax the most

Y/n: You know, water is pretty crazy. It can boil you to death, freeze you to death, drown you, or spin your car out of control, throw you into the barriers and kill you. But you still need it to survive Max: Y/n, I love you, but its 3 AM

Christian: Y/n, a word. Y/n: BALLOON

Max: I have the sharpest memory! Name one time I forgot something Y/n: You left Charles in a Walmart like three weeks ago Max: I did that on purpose, try again

Vito: Y/n isn’t answering her phone Arthur: I’ll call Vito: Max and I have both tried, along with everyone else on the grid. What make you think she’ll answer? *Calls her anyway* Y/n: Hello?

Y/n: Oi, where’s your boyfriend? Max: Who? Y/n: Charles, where is he? Max: He’s not my boyfriend Y/n: Have you told him that?

Fan: Max, what motivates you? Max: My ambition and desire to push forward no matter what Fan: Y/n, what about you? Y/n: An unhealthy mix of spite, pettiness, the thirst for vengeance, and pure, relentless rage. That and a Red Bull in the morning

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mo-aiki · 3 months

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Duke Augustus Swanson of the North

Summary: Your fiance and how he had reacted to your sudden change in behavior. As he looks back on the past, he wonders how long has he seen your smiling face with content and affection.

Warning: obessive behavior, mentions of violence, obvious implications of bullyin, I don't condone it, I just write it

A/N: ART NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE MANHWA SECRET LADY

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

For as long as he could remember, Augustus never liked you.

Not a single bit.

The daughter of a count and a generational promise between his grandfather and yours that didn't suffice. His parents were both dead from a carriage accident, and as such, his grandfather took him in and forced him into this marriage. The first time he had met you, he was enchanted by your looks (even if both of you were 8 years old). Your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes enchanted him, but it soon all came crashing down onto him once your parents left the room, and your true personality was revealed. Even at a young age, he was already being tugged on by young ladies and their families wanting to up their status or rank in noble society, no matter the age. And you were no different in your affections.

Seducing him with sweets.

Yelling at ladies in your way.

"Accidentally" spilling a dark grape juice on a lady's ballgown because he had conversed with her for an hour and found her remotely interesting to talk to.

Trying to talk to him about anything.

Being near him and showing public displays of affection.

Clinging onto a promise, he vowed to break.

He was bored of someone like you. You who were no different than the other ladies who had tried to seduce him. Your mannerisms, your personality, and your ideas, they were all the same to him.

No matter how many times you'd court him, even if it took 5 years to reach, he felt absolutely nothing.

His heart didn't pang, his cheeks and ears didn't flush, his breathing was perfectly normal, and the words out of his mouth cut through like usual.

Nothing would change in your relationship with him. He had planned to break it off and just die alone with no heir or find someone he had mutual interest in.

Nothing will change and he was certain nothing will ever change between the 2 of you.

Until the day you had contracted a deathly high fever.

Augustus was surprised to hear about you 3 days after getting the envelope from your family. He had thought it was you, sending it like you were your father. But his butler forced him to open it.

Dear Young Master Augustus,

I am here to inform you of the cancelation of next Thursday's meeting with my daughter. You see, my daughter has contracted a high fever due to the flu season being prevalent. She is unable to attend the meeting and I would like it if you visit her in order to wish her as speedy recovery. I know that is rather a selfish thing to ask for, but my daughter has been requesting your presence ever since she contracted it. I would like to ask you to please see my daughter and wish for her speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

Count (l/n).

He thought, why not visit. To see you die and his engagement to be break off, would be a euphoric day for him.

He visited you, and was by your side in your room. Pink, frilly and full of girly stuff. He disliked it, but somehow found it cute. You in your lace nightgown, and your face all red but with a cold towel on your head. He had received the news that your fever had been so high, that you had been in a coma now.

He left, because he had nothing else to do there. 'I hope she dies so I can get out of this wretched engagement...' he thought with the coldest stare imaginable.

Your behavior has changed after that fever.

Augustus was not the first one to notice such a change in behavior. Your once smug and arrogant expression, was replaced with a confused and softer one.

It was more bearable.

Everything about you became toned down. Spending time together was less of a pain in the neck, and over time, he started caring about you, little by little.

He started noticing your favorite things, like, for example, your favorite desserts, flowers, places to converse, color, toys, and even down to the accessories you liked to adorn yourself with.

Your cute mannerisms and habits that he can't help but lightly tease at. "Why do you do such things..?" He said, a bit too loud.

"Do what?" You asked, confused.

He wiped away a spot of whipped cream on your cheek and licked it. Watching your face blush in embarrassment was sure worth the move he pulled. Even if he was 13 at the time.

As both of you grew up, he'd soon see how people reacted around you. He sure saw the difference. You turned more beautiful as you matured in age. Your personality grew, and your smile was more bright. He wanted to be the only one to notice these changes and monopolize it for himself, but everyone else around you could now see it. First, your childhood friend. The son of a low ranking Earl. He thought of nothing with him, but he did annoy him. His consistent pestering and hopeless looks made you always include him in your dates.

He absolutely took in the fact that the boy always looked at him with disdain and envy. And he did as well. His close bond with you, and how close he could get to you without you making a fuss, fumed him.

But once you got older, everyone, and he felt everyone started to take notice of you. Men staring at your maturing body with eyes full of lust, women staring with jealousy, children taking notice of your pretty face, and the consistent flirting from everyone, and he felt like everyone.

Men bumping into you, "supposedly on accident," and striking up a conversation, you looked bored in. Women stealing your attention with the gossip of the nobility and even flirting themselves. Children always begging and crying for attention if you did not provide enough for them. He was sick of it.

The son of a small count was always consistently flirting with you. Asking about your day, favorite color, favorite jewels, hobbies, it was almost as if he had forgotten you had a fiance right next to you.

He couldn't help but say a couple of threats towards him, and when that didn't work, he planned for his carriage to be ran into, paying the driver to run away to another country with 10,000 gold paid for him.

But he wasn't the only one. Many men of lowly rank kept on coming, and he threatened them. If that didn't work, they mysteriously died in the next few days. All evidence of the perpetrator, erased from sight.

He could get rid of all of his enemies, but 2. Her childhood best friend and the war hero turned personal guard.

The son of an Earl was sneaky, cunning, and someone whose death would greatly affect her. She would be broken before he ever got the chance to be with her. And the personal guard. A war hero. Someone who is well versed in strength and is not shaken by mere threats he could ever make.

Nothing ever seemed to work to get rid of them, other than the fact that he was your fiancé. So all he needed to do was shower you with love (which he already did and is currently doing). He gives you gifts of jewels, books and stuff for your hobbies, he always has his hand around your waist when out and about. He is always watching what you do. He listen in on your conversations, whether they be rants, boring or awkward small talk. And most of all, he is always here when he can be.

But he was surprised when you all of the sudden brought up annulment.

You had wanted to annul your engagement with him.

He spent all night after such a ground-breaking announcement, awake and thinking of all the possibilities of why you would ever want to break off your engagement with him. All he could think of were the 2 men who were close to you.

"It's all their faults...I need to marry her soon..." he mumbled as he got up and got a paper, pen and his favorite quill.

A/N: Should I do the other guys? This is connected to my previous post so I hoped you enjoyed it. Sorry it took so long to post another story.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere duke x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere duke #yandere x you

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egcdeath · 1 year

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the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries.

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment.

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors.

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it.

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car.

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next.

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off.

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects.

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer.

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while.

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone.

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out.

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together.

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless.

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible.

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so.

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub.

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub.

“Not really,” you admitted.

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long.

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand.

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life.

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over.

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you.

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest.

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would.

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop.

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together.

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then.

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you.

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you.

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap.

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar.

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you.

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life.

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music.

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all.

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music.

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more.

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage.

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so.

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill.

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small.

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds.

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach.

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character.

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you.

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested.

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item.

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye.

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup.

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation.

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused.

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you.

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard.

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm.

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom.

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back.

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged.

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain.

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you.

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground.

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.”

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years.

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain.

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain.

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house.

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain.

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel.

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off.

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before.

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week.

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before.

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room.

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes.

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly.

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room.

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do.

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life.

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit.

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind.

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to.

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.”

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?”

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding.

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere.

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger.

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless.

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you.

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed.

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever.

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table.

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted.

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?”

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days.

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job.

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after.

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed.

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks.

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him?

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen.

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne.

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way. He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently.

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair.

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate.

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne.

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew.

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world?

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change.

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space.

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower.

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink.

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion.

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud.

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard.

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything.

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find.

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time.

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you.

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #soccer parents au

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delfiore · 8 months

Text

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (4/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: your start at barcelona is rockier than expected. luckily, you have ona there to support you through it.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: we're almost at the end guys final stretch!! this series is ending at part 5

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART V

“I forgot how fucking dreadful press days are.”

You had just returned home from an entire day of cameras shoved in your face and smiling until your cheeks hurt. It didn’t help that you were nervous as hell at a new club and country. To say your battery was spent was an understatement.

“Well then don’t get used to it, 'cause I’d be happy not to do any of the work that got you here,” Toni answered on the video call.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “I wanna stay here for a while. So, no need to worry.”

“Good. You deserve it, Y/N. You’ll do great.”

“Thank you for all that you do, Tones. I don’t thank you enough for putting up with me and my bullshit.”

“You can thank me by becoming top scorer this season?”

You grinned, “We’ll see.”

There was a different expectation of being a Barcelona player. You were presumed to integrate yourself into a team of champions and help prolong the club’s success.

These were high expectations, and with them came intensive physical and technical training. You had to adapt to a new style of play, new players with different sets of skills, not to mention having to settle into a whole new footballing culture. But you were where you are because you never backed down from a challenge, and this one was no exception.

It certainly helped that there were people you have played with at the club—Lucy, Keira, and, of course, Ona.

You felt her eyes on you as you finished a sprint on the training ground, slightly self-conscious as you were already sloppy and perspiring just from the warmup.

“Need some water, Y/L/N? You’re not already sweating, are you?” Lucy teased as she jogged past with a ball at her feet.

You pointed at the glaring sun. “Just gotta get used to the weather.”

“Well, ya better get used to it fast ‘cause I’m not gonna wait for you to catch up,” the English defender said before nutmegging you with a cackle.

“Oh, you’re fucking on!”

The laughter caught Ona’s attention. She looked over and saw you and Lucy fighting the ball off each other, your giggles rolling like a child’s yet your movements were fluid and expertly as if you were on the pitch. She couldn’t help but smile as her eyes followed your form, energized and youthful, your skin glistening under the sun.

The ball rolled to her, and she stopped it when the sole of her feet, before passing it back to you. Your giggles died down as you took the ball in your hands and tossed it over to Lucy.

“Hey,” you said with a lingering beam.

“Hi,” she returned your smile.

She lingered, watching the smile never leave your face as you jogged—practically bounced—over to Coach. You were much happier here, it was apparent. How could you not, when there is sunshine all year round in Barcelona? She could only hope she wasn’t the one to rain on your parade.

During a physical training drill involving two people, you were paired with her. Something about similar height and body weight, but she could only think about the way you were panting from the heat, and how you chugged your water like a parched man in the middle of the desert.

“Ready?” She smirked, handing the elastic band to you.

You huffed with a grin and put the band around your waist. “Don’t hold back.”

“Not planning on it.”

Somewhere along the session, Ona had forgotten all about her worries. Something had changed in you, or maybe she had never known the real you at all; the playful and charismatic part of you that you weren’t using to charm her, but it was just the way you were with people. It made her rue not cherishing you as you were before, and letting you slip through her fingers.

You were sprawled out on the grass like a starfish, heaving from the strenuous session. Several of your teammates were also on the ground, some sitting, some lying down as you were, so you didn’t feel too bad about being absolutely destroyed.

“You getting up anytime soon, partner?” A figure blocked the beaming rays of the sun, a short relief from the heat.

“Keep gloating,” you groaned and stood up, pulling your shirt up to wipe the sweat from your face. You knew your plan was working when you spotted her looking at your abdomen, your skin glowing and contoured in the light.

Hardly hiding your smirk, you grabbed a bottle of water, feeling a strange tightness in your thigh just as the session was brought to an end.

“Everyone, gather around,” Mapi waved her hands. “We’re hosting a little party to celebrate a new season at ours. Saturday night, 7 o’clock, BYOB, and a potluck vibe. Whatever you can bring, okay?”

“As long as there won’t be another fire like last time, we’re all good,” said Rolfö with a smirk.

“That was one time, okay? And it wasn’t even that bad,” Mapi protested.

“It almost burned your pretty little face off,” Pina teased.

“Hey, you alright?” You heard Ona whisper next to you. She must have noticed the way you were grimacing and grabbing at the back of your leg.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just feeling a little tight right here.” It was the spot in which your hamstring was injured a couple of years ago.

“Okay, let’s go to the physio,” Ona offered you her arm.

“Oh, it’s okay. I can find my way there.”

Ona hesitated. She suddenly realized how this must have looked for her; either an overly concerned and attentive teammate or an appropriately concerned and attentive lover.

“Do you . . . not want me to come with you?” She asked, her voice quiet and almost inaudible over Mapi frantically defending herself.

“Well, I . . . I don’t want to bother you.”

“It won’t be a bother,” she was astonished to know you thought you could ever bother her. “Promise.”

You nodded and walked with her to the physio quarters. All the while, Ona was walking a step behind you just in case you needed her assistance. When you arrived, a couple of the physios greeted you heartily in Catalan, and Ona was quick to jump in and translate when you looked at her for help.

“We’ve got a feeling this might happen, given her history with that hamstring injury. Tell her to lie down, I’ll have a look.”

You grimaced as the physio felt your thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh, your soft groans stirring a hidden part in Ona. There was a time when she was the one to dig her digits into your thighs. She knew you liked it when did because you would always make your pleasure known.

“He said you’ll be okay, Y/N. Just have to remember to stretch thoroughly before and after physical exercise.”

You sighed and pouted, as you rested your chin on your folded arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just came to a new club, I don’t want this to slow me down,” you blew air out of your mouth. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down.”

“You won’t, Y/N,” Ona took a stool and sat in front of you. “I know any club would be happy to have you at 70%, much less at your full capacity.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Is this your attempt at making me feel better after everything?”

Ona stuttered, gawking at your comment. Your grin never faltered, and you tilted your head, taunting her.

“I guess I deserved that,” she chuckled quietly, feeling warmth creep up her cheeks.

“I’m just kidding, Ona. I wanna get past it, really,” your eyes softened. “It was causing unnecessary stress and . . . I don’t wanna feel like that anymore.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“No, please. Don’t apologize anymore. I know you’re sorry.”

“Okay, sorry,” she cringed as soon as it came out. “Okay.”

“I want us to start over. As friends.” You said, extending a hand towards her, dangling it in front of her face. “After all, I feel like we should at least be friendly if we’re playing on the same team now, right?”

She wanted nothing more than to scream in your face and tell her how much she wanted you, how much she wanted to wake up in the morning and find you in the bed next to her, to make you coffee and hold you and kiss you and tell everyone on the team about it because she would be so proud to be yours, to tell you that there hasn’t been a day since she left Manchester that she didn’t wish she could go back and tell you how she really felt.

Instead, she nodded and took your hand. “Yeah, okay.”

It wasn’t just her decision anymore, it never was. And yet, she decided anyway and had to live with it.

As the season rolled on, you found yourself slipping sometimes. You would think about Ona and the time you spent together, but you also cherished what you had now. You were teammates, but you were also friends. You supported and helped each other during training and matches, just as good teammates should. Maybe it was easier that way, but you yearned to be close to her again.

Keira insisted that the best thing you could do was to go on dates and go on dates you did. You went on so many dates in the span of a month that all the faces seemed to have blurred together. A couple of them became one-night stands, but none turned out to be anything meaningful, not when you only had one person in the back of your mind, hard as you tried not to act on them.

They reminded you of Leena, how shitty you handled the situation by basically fleeing the country. You had called her a few times, and left a few messages, wanting to talk and apologize, but none of them were answered. You tried her Instagram, but she had blocked you on there too. You didn’t blame her, and maybe reaching out now was only giving you the closure you needed to move on, but you wanted to do it because you believed Leena deserved an apology for everything she’s done for you.

So you texted Gio, letting him know what happened. He wasn’t pleased when you told him, not exactly liking that you had disrespected his friend, but agreed to pass a message along.

“Hello, Coach. Tough loss today. What do you think was the main factor in Barça’s defeat today?” “Well, it’s never fun to go through a loss, and we all have a lot of work to do. I can’t comment as to why we’ve lost—I’d have to watch it back—but we simply were not the better team today.” “What do you think of Y/N Y/L/N’s performance? There were several chances that she’s missed today, and she hasn’t made an impression at the club quite yet. Have you had any reassessments about this signing at all?” “To evaluate a player’s performance this early is simply unfair. Some players hit the ground running right away, but some don’t. It doesn’t mean they are doomed. Y/N has shown time and time again that she is a world-class player, and I have full faith that she will become an integral part of our squad.”

Barcelona hadn’t won in five games. It was starting to worry the board. You knew it was a team sport, and that if you lost, it meant multiple people were doing something wrong. But you started all five of those games, and you missed a lot of chances and passes. It made you think it was your fault somehow.

You turned off the press conference you were watching of Jonatan’s. Even though he didn’t show it, you knew he was stressed, trying to find a fault in the system. You wished you knew the answer, but you didn’t, because you were trying your best and it still didn’t seem to be good enough.

“Alright, girls.” Alexia clapped her hands together as she stood in the middle of the dressing room. “We lost. Big deal. Feel the sting, and let it pass over you. If you don’t, we might as well just give up on the title now. We can’t do that. We’re champions. The reason why we are is that we are strong enough to get back up, time and time again. That’s what makes us champions.”

Your eyes darted toward Ona sitting across the dressing room with her head in her hands. There were two goals out of the four the team conceded that came from the right flank, where Ona was covering. The moment those goals hit the net, you had the urge to yell, but seeing the way her shoulders sagged as she dejectedly looked away absolved you of any anger you felt.

You remembered the nights you spent consoling her over losses that could have gone either way. She blamed herself for every defeat she had suffered, finding every fault that she had contributed to, and today was no different.

“Hey,” you knelt in front of her.

She looked up at you, and you knew she had been crying from how red her face was.

You offered her a sad smile. “Look around you. There’s something worse than being sad, and that’s being alone and sad. You’re not alone.”

Placing a firm hand on her knee, you rubbed her skin softly. She laughed quietly, and you remembered how it was to kiss her. It was so long ago, but the traces of it still haunted you before you closed your eyes at night. It wouldn’t be good for either of you now. Plus, everyone was here.

“Did you just quote Ted Lasso at me?”

“Yeah, but he ain’t wrong.”

Looking around the room at the sullen faces of your teammates, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that they were all here, united by the same emotions. But you still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling in your stomach that you might have been the problem. The moment you came to the club, Barcelona went on its worst streak in years? Was it the inevitability of a club’s success running its course, or that you had come in and fucked it all up? You knew the answer, of course, and you hated the anxiety that followed.

But you were Y/N Y/L/N, and you never backed down from a challenge, and it wouldn’t be fun if there were none.

It felt like everything you were doing, it was all wrong. Jonatan had sent you in to utilize your dribbling, but you felt like every time you tried, the opposition would mercilessly cut you off. You felt helpless, seeing the way your teammates attempted to hide how annoyed they were you had lost possession again, this time from a quick pass to the flank from Aitana. You were subbed off halfway through the second half to make way for Salma, who managed to salvage a point with an equalizer later in the game.

You sat on the bench, watching your teammates fight on, feeling dejected and trying not to cry before you could get to the dressing room. Patri, who had also been subbed off, put her arm on your shoulder and rubbed it soothingly.

Whilst you were coming off, you heard boos coming from the stands, from Barça fans, calling you names, telling you to go back where you came from. You bit your lip, and kept your head down, so people wouldn’t see your tears and make fun of them too.

You excused yourself at the final whistle to find a bathroom you could hide in. Why was it so hard for you to receive those passes? You had never had trouble with passing before.

Looking in the mirror, you saw a face looking back with pity. But it wasn’t you, not really. It was the insecure child you were years ago, the one whose ambitions were driven by fear of abandonment. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her bottom lip jutting out and quivering, her chest rose and fell like she awaited the world to close in on her and swallow her whole.

Your breathing picked up, and you started pacing back and forth, breathing heavily out of your mouth. Your hands shook as you mumbled to yourself to get your shit together. The breaths you drew grew faster and shallower until you sunk to your knees on the cold tiles and wept. You didn’t know how long you were there. It could have been minutes, or hours until two arms wrapped around you tightly.

You looked up, panicked, but it was just Ona. Still, you stood up and walked away from her attempting to hide your tear-stained face, but she insisted, pulling you into her.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She said, over and over. “Look at me.”

So you looked. You were so tired of fighting, you just wanted to go home. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, hard at first trying to get you to stop being stubborn, but then they softened, seeing you fall apart like this.

“This feels oddly familiar, doesn’t it?” She said.

You sniffled, and let out a tearful laugh before launching yourself into her arms. She stood there holding you while you cried until you were too tired to continue.

Winter could have come and gone in Barcelona and you would have never noticed. Still, the Catalans were big on Christmas, at least the ones you knew were. Everyone had been talking about their holiday plans, much of it involved big dinners surrounded by family and/or drinking until you passed out, but you thought about the vacation you would be taking somewhere warm. Mexico perhaps, the Maldives, or back to good ol’ Ibiza.

So when Ona invited you to come back to Vilassar de Mar to spend Christmas with her and her family, you had an important decision to make. You knew how it looked, but things were far from how they appeared between you. After that game away, you had found it easier to confide in Ona about things; little things, big things, it didn’t matter, Ona was always there to listen. In return, you lent her your ears and maybe a shoulder to lean on. You had almost become something like friends.

Ona’s childhood home was no grand castle, but it was warm and loving. Her parents and brother greeted you like you were family right from the moment you stepped through the door, taking your suitcase and jacket from you. Her father, claiming to be a big fan of yours, asked for your autograph and you could only happily indulge him.

“Please, our home is yours,” her mother said, leading you inside.

“Told you they could be a lot,” Ona murmured with a grin.

“What do you mean? I’m being treated like royalty! I’m not complaining,” you smirked and she rolled her eyes.

Her mother led you and Ona to her childhood bedroom, a small room littered with posters and trophies sitting on a shelf at the foot of her bed.

Just then, her mother gasped quietly as if remembering something, and spoke to Ona in Spanish. She stuttered for a few seconds, then turned to you. “My mom’s saying you could take this room and I’ll sleep in Joan’s. He’ll take the couch if that’s—”

“Oh, no, no, please. I feel bad enough that you guys are hosting me, I can’t just kick your brother out of his room.” You shook your head quickly. “I could sleep here if that’s okay.”

Ona nodded gingerly and relayed the message to her mother, who was fully understanding and left you both to unpack.

The door clicked shut, and you looked over to Ona, who had lifted the corner of her mouth looking back at you.

Aitana came to visit on the 23rd, claiming it was always a treat to hang at the Batlles because she always leaves well-fed. You could attest to that, as the dinners they served you were mouth-watering, and you found yourself thinking about the next one the moment you opened your eyes in the morning.

You had helped Ona’s mom with juicing some lemonade to bring out to everyone relaxing in the backyard or—in Ona and Aitana’s case—passing a football around. Quickly setting the lemonade down on the table—much to Mrs. Batlle’s dismay—you sprinted towards the girls and took the ball from Ona’s feet.

She stuck her tongue out at you and walked towards the table, taking a glass of lemonade for herself.

“Would it be so hard to admit to what you’re both denying yourself?”

You chuckled quietly at Aitana’s words. “It feels more like deprivation than denial.”

“Ona loves you, Y/N.” She said, watching Ona on the other side of the yard conversing with her brother.

“Did she tell you that?”

“I’ve known the girl ever since we were 15,” she shrugged. “And yes, she cried to me last year about you.”

You chuckled. “Well, the feeling is definitely mutual.”

“But . . . ?”

You glanced at her and sent a wordless smile, plopping your sunglasses back on before joining the Batlles for their daily lemonade. Aitana watched you to the table, picking up on Ona quickly handing you a glass, and brushing hair out of your eyes as you drank. Idiots, she thought, the both of them.

Looking back, there was not a single moment during your time in Vilassar de Mar that you weren’t holding your breath every time you were in the same room as Ona. It made you seek out her mom, and hang with her more than you did with Ona. You were also able to pick up some more Spanish, as it was the only way you could effectively communicate with her. You didn’t want to toot your own horn, but her mom did call you an aprendiz rápida, a fast learner.

“Your parents have outdone themselves once again,” you said, leaning against the window. “I wish I grew up with the stuff you guys eat here. Christmas would be so much more fun.”

“Did you like the caga tío too?” Ona grinned and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Best thing ever. It poops nougat!” You said excitedly and shook your head.

As your laughter died down, you could hear slurred singing and laughing outside the window somewhere down the street.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy,” you said, a ghost of a smile remaining on your lips.

Ona looked out the window, smiling too. “It’s why I always go home whenever I feel down. If I can’t go home, I’ll bring my family to me.” She was sitting next to you now, her arms folded and propped on her thighs. “You’re always welcome to visit. I’m sure they love you more than they love me now.”

“Well, I’d be surprised if they could resist my charm,” you grinned and pushed her shoulder. “I envy you, Ona. Your family’s fantastic.”

“You’ve never told me about your family before,” she said.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” you shrugged. “Mom and Dad never really cared about me anyway. The only good thing they did for me was sign me up for football and let me leave home to go to my youth club.

They used to go to my games because they were obligated to. The moment I turned 18, they never felt the need. Sometimes I just want to win a game, then look into the stands and see them wearing my shirt, cheering me on, be proud of me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Ona offered, bumping her knee against your own.

“Don’t be. If they’re not, you shouldn’t be,” you smiled sadly.

Your gaze shifted to her face, seeing the way she studied you, just like that day in the tunnel. Ona was an observer, and it was apparent whenever she was. It was why she was so good at the game; she absorbed like a sponge and repeated what she learned like it was nothing.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your own, and you smiled, watching her nuzzle into her arm, yet leaning in ever so gently.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

“Is this wise?” You raised an eyebrow at her, grinning.

“No,” her voice came out as barely a whisper, “but I know it’s not wrong.”

She was right. It shouldn’t be wrong to feel the way you did. From the beginning, it’s always been her.

You were depriving yourself of the one missing piece in your life, but you were afraid of getting hurt again. But you wanted to be loved so badly, and you didn’t want anyone else.

#ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle angst #one batlle #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #aitana bonmati #lucy bronze #woso imagines

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