Chapter Text
I breathe the cold Manchester air into my lungs as I do some stretches for my calves. I’m not used to such cold weather. I’ve lived in Lisbon, Portugal, for my whole life before my transfer from Benfica to join Manchester United. It’s an adjustment for me, to say the least. I’ll adjust, though, I’ll have to, because for the next 5 years of my life, I’ve committed my football future to England’s most famous football club. It’ll be a dream to play for United; it’s surreal to come to training at Carrington, Manchester United’s training ground, for my first day at the club. So a bit of cold weather, adjustment time, and not being able to feel my fingers is a price I'm more than willing to pay.
I’m a bit nervous today, though, to be honest. United is a dream; being here is a dream, but moving countries and teams is scary. I have a whole squad of new teammates and new people to greet and break the ice with, and I’ve never been the most confident person. I have social anxiety, and I’m a bit of a loner in my social life. Even back at Benfica, where I felt comfortable with my surroundings, I never really spoke with my teammates or my coaches. I just kept my head down and did my talking on the pitch. I always feel most comfortable with my fiancé, JC, who’s come with me to live in Manchester. He’s my best friend and my love. Being with him is just easy. I feel really lucky to have him. He’s warm, he's kindhearted, and he loves talking about football or just things in general with me. Honestly, I already miss him, and it’s only been an hour since he dropped me off for my first training session with my new teammates. I can’t wait to get home and then help him unpack our belongings for our new home.
He’s a writer, so moving countries wasn’t a massive issue for him, but I do feel guilty. He has friends back in Lisbon, and he’s left them and his life behind for me. This is my dream, but it isn’t JC's. He didn’t sign up for this. I guess that makes my love for him even stronger; he’s given up his life to come with me to be with me. I can’t wait to be married to him. He’s my home, whatever country I’m in. JC is my home now. I have grandparents back in Portugal who raised me after my parents died, but I don’t see them as home anymore. I see JC as that now, and that is so big for me. I love JC and hope to make a family with him someday. But for now, I just need us to settle down in Manchester and get playing football for my new team in my position as left back.
“Hey Silva!”
The voice of my new captain, Beatrice Xhang, calling over to me on the training pitch shakes me from my thoughts, and I move my gaze to the source of her voice. Beatrice is waving me over to her. I better make my introductions; I haven’t really interacted with anyone yet. So I jog over to Beatrice, who wears the same outfit the whole team does: full United training kit training pants, a training hoodie, and some gloves to protect her hands from the cold. It comforts me to see that even a native of this country like Beatrice feels the cold today.
"Hi, nice to meet you.” I reach Beatrice's position on the pitch and offer my hand for her to shake in greeting.
“Likewise Ava.” Beatrice smiles warmly and shakes my gloved hand. It can always be intimidating to meet a captain, but Beatrice seems nice enough on first impression.
I take back my hand, pull down my fleecy hat to cover my ears, and try to break the ice. “It’s freezing, isn’t it? I'm not used to this sort of cold. Back home, it was never frosty like this.”
Beatrice hums and starts stretching as I do the same. “It'll be an adjustment for you, I’m sure. There’s no sugarcoating it. England is cold, but it’s kind of your fault for signing for us in January.”
Hearing a teasing glint in the captain's words, I smile nervously. “I don’t think signing in August would’ve changed how much of a culture shock this weather would be.”
“That’s fair; you’ll get through it, I’m sure, though.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be ready to play in this frozen tundra for every match day,” I chuckle.
Beatrice pinches her freezing nose, then tugs on her fleecy hat to cover her ears from the cold, just like I did. "Well, that’s good to know; we’re going to need you for the second half of the season.” Beatrice looks over to Suzanne, manager of the team, briefly and goes on, "Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you to the team, and if you need anything, let me know, and I’ll try to help even if it’s outside the club.”
I tilt my head and ask, “What do you mean?”
“You know, like, advice on the best restaurants to eat at or help with acclimatising to Manchester in general. If you need anything—anything at all—I'm here.”
I feel touched by my new captain's care and reply, "Oh, okay, that’s really nice of you. Thank you. I have my fiancé to help me, though I think I’ll be okay.”
Beatrice and I start to stretch our thighs, and Beatrice places her palm on my shoulder. "Well, if you do need anything—anything at all—I'm here to help, alright?”
I smile shyly at my sunkissed, freckled captain and nod, "Thanks; I appreciate that. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, and um.” Beatrice moves closer to whisper, “Don’t feel too shy with this lot; they’re harmless.”
I nod and continue to stretch. Beatrice is nice, and she’s being very welcoming. I feel a tiny bit less anxious now about adjusting to my new teammates. I can see myself playing hard for my captain on the pitch, and I hope the rest of the team is as welcoming to me.
—
I shouldn’t feel this way. I should be living my best life. I should be happy with where I am, who I am, the money I make, and the friends I have. But I’m not happy; I’m miserable. I have so much to be happy about. I’m the captain of Manchester United. Manchester Friggin United. That is a dream for millions of people, if not far more. It was my dream. Not now. Now my dream is to get through the day and get home, then close the door and close the world away. But the thing is, when I close the world out, I block it from view. I still feel like this. I feel trapped in my own mind. I feel such pain. It’s an invisible pain, but it’s the realest pain I’ll ever feel. It’s not getting a pair of studs raked down my calf, which is agonising, by the way, but it’s equally as painful because depression isn’t something I can have bandaged up by a doctor. No, it’s far scarier. It’s a dark tunnel with no end in sight. Only lightened by splotches of incandescent light here and there.
When people hear someone say they are depressed, some just attribute the person to just feeling a bit sad sometimes. That’s far too simplistic. Depression isn’t something to be characterised like that. It varies from person to person. I have all sorts of things as a footballer: money, fame, and a comfortable life. But I can practically guarantee that a Buddhist monk who has more or less no earthly possessions is more content in this life than me.
Things don’t make you permanently happy; objects don’t. They certainly don’t make me happy. No, it’s inner peace and acceptance of oneself that could lead to a degree of contentment. I don’t have that. I don’t know how to find it or even begin to attempt to find it. I feel trapped in so many ways. In my own head, in my life. In everything. But I love football. I do love it. So what is it that’ll make me content? What will make me not feel this numb feeling when I get up in the morning to go to training? I want football. I want to keep playing. Because without it, I’d feel so lost. I’d probably not even bother to get out of bed in the morning without it. So here’s my question, which I always ask myself: ‘What do I need to find to feel less numb?’ I want to find out. I don’t want to end everything, so this pain that’s invisible no longer exists. I want to find something that’ll give me hope and give me drive.
At the moment, though, as I drive away from another training session, I just have no clue what that is. I hope I find it before I retire one day. Because if I don't, I’m fairly sure I’ll want the end. I’ll want to not exist anymore. As scared as it makes me, I think without football. Without the thing that helps me get out of bed in the morning, I may just want to crumble and fade away against the sharp end of a rock at the bottom of a cliff.
Notes:
This’ll be a side fic I do. Currently working on finally finishing other fics.
Chapter 2: Training Day
Summary:
Beatrice tries to get through the day. Ava struggles with her anxiety.
Chapter Text
As I walk into Carrington, I just stare into space with a blank expression. Some days are harder than others. Not for any particular reason or anything. I just occasionally feel inwardly tired. Even after plenty of sleep. I feel tired. So very tired. I approach the doors to the training centre. I shake myself. I’ve got to put a brave face on. I’m the captain. My teammates need me to lead them, and the new signing, Ava, needs to be welcomed in with open, warm arms.
I trudge through the double doors and cling tightly to my sports bag. Keep walking, take a right down the hall, then take another left, find the dressing, get changed, and go train. That’s my routine on training days between matches a lot of the time. It’s mind-numbing. ‘But keep up the smile. Keep it up. Put on a brave face to please others’ I tell myself. That way, no one will ask questions like, “Are you alright?” I hate that question. Am I alright? like I’m ever alright. I have a therapist to talk about that stuff with. I don’t want my leadership questioned because of my depression—a depression that's probably obvious to my teammates if they really look at me throughout the day.
I sit down in the dressing room, then slump my shoulders. I look at the floor vacantly. ‘Get it together; you love football; go train for it’ I tell myself, and I muster my energy and obey, then start to get changed.
“Morning.” Ava greets me as I take off my coat.
I return the greeting warmly. It’s forced, but most things are forced for me these days. “Morning.”
Ava sits beside me and starts to take off her big fleecy coat. She looks so out of her element in this weather, and that coat is much too big. But I’ll help her adjust as best I can. Suzanne expects it of me. I want to stay Captain, so I have to live up to Suzanne’s demands.
“Settled in well?” I politely ask the red-nosed Ava, who has her brunette medium-length hair neatly tied up.
"Yeah, me and JC are still unpacking, but we’re adjusting.” Ava replies as she retrieves her trainers and training gear.
“That’s good. If you need a hand, I’ll be happy to help.” I’m really not happy to help, but I offer anyway to be polite. I’ll help Ava in any way I can, but as far as enjoying helping her move boxes into her new home goes, my scale of joy from doing it would be low. I’d much rather be at home reading a book.
“We could actually, if it’s not any trouble.”
I nod and inwardly sigh. I get my phone out of my bag and ping my number to Ava. "Okay, here’s my number. Call me and send me directions to your home, and I’ll come over.”
Ava gets her phone out of her own bag and beams. “Thanks for this; me and JC really appreciate it.”
Seeing others smile because of something I do always lifts me a bit, so I reply nicely. “You’re welcome.”
“And maybe we could have dinner or something to thank you if you’re up for it. JC is such a great cook.” Ava does a chef’s kiss.
“Sure.” I reply absentmindedly as I take off my shirt. “I’m a vegetarian, I should mention, though.”
“That’s no problem at all. I’ll text JC; you’re coming now.”
“Hmm mmm.” I hum back. I never like eating food other people make unless it’s from a restaurant or something like that. It just doesn’t agree with me when someone cooks for me who isn’t a professional. It’s probably down to that one time I went over to the team goalkeeper Mary’s place, and her wife Shannon made the most horridly bitter curry I’ve ever eaten. I slid most of it to the dog when they both weren’t looking, but, jeez, that curry was bad. It’s scarred me for life. I guess I’ll just have to pray Ava’s fiancé is a better cook.
“Do you have a partner? We could have a couple's dinner or..."
"No, I don't, Ava.” I interrupt I don’t interrupt people often; it’s not polite, but I’d rather just get changed and get out on the training pitch right now than go down a rabbit hole of talking about my dating life. Which is nonexistent. I like my own company and my own space. It’s probably been ingrained in me by my parents. They are closed-off people who prefer silence, and naturally, having grown up in such an environment, so am I now.
“Oh okay. Sorry for asking. That was too personal, sorry.” Ava nervously replies and facepalms.
I put my palm on Ava’s arm, now not covered by her coat, to reassure her. “It’s alright; don’t sweat it.”
Ava grimaces and moves her palm away from her face. “I’m not great at talking with new people or talking to people in general, so pre-warning, I might ramble a bit sometimes.”
I remove my hand from Ava's shoulder and get my training shirt. “Relax, you’re fine; it’s honestly not a big deal. I just don’t have a dating life, so I’m a bit on guard when people bring up partners.”
“Why?” Ava's head tilts with a look of innocence in her eyes.
I clear my throat and look away. “Why what?”
“Why don’t you...” Ava stops making me look back. "Sorry, I was being too personal again, wasn’t I?”
I sniff humorously. “Just a tad.”
“Right, sorry, won’t happen again.” Ava scolds herself clearly.
I genuinely smile at Ava’s anxious self. It’s endearing. She seems like a genuine person from the first few interactions I’ve had with her. She’ll settle in fine. “Stop apologising. I hope you’re not anxious like this on match days, or you’ll be eaten alive in this division.”
“I’m not, I promise.” Ava smiles with the edge of her mouth as she takes her shirt off.
I look away respectfully and start to get my trainers from my bag. “We’ll see. I know you’re a talented player, but this league eats young prospects alive if they aren’t up for the fight.” I say this with experience in the matter. I had to get muscular and mentally tough to handle the Premier League. I experienced the full welcome to this league when I was a young prospect at United. I got smashed from pillar to post. But here I am—a captain of a Premier League team—because I got through it. I don’t want to sound big-headed or anything, but Ava would be wise to heed my advice.
“I’ve always had to fight; I’ll be fine.”
Ava’s stubborn words please me to hear. We need a strong left back, not an anxious little flower who’ll get bullied off the ball and expose our defence during every opponent's attack. United is my life. I may not be happy in this life. But United is everything to me, so I want the team to do well. For the fans and for my parents, who are big fans too.
It’s a source of pride for my parents that I play for United. Of course, it is for me too. Bringing home trophies every season is a privilege to attempt to do. I’ve lifted numerous trophies, and it’s always a good feeling when I do.
It’s fleeting, though, if I’m honest. I lift the big shiny silver thing and have a good night with the team, then the next day I feel a bit empty. Success, like winning trophies, is supposed to make me happy. But it's only fleeting happiness, like most things in my life.
“I’ll see you out there, Beatrice.” Ava suddenly adds, and I look back at her. That was quick. She’s gotten changed from her normal clothes in double-quick time. Being eager to get on the training pitch is a good thing. I have a suspicion she’ll live up to the hype of her big-money move from Benfica. Just a suspicion. I could be wrong.
—-
Five minutes into a training match, 11 vs. 11, as it’ll be in my first United game on Sunday versus Fulham at Craven Cottage in London, and I think I've handled myself fairly well for my blue-bibbed team. Beatrice is on the other team, wearing red bibs. Some of the tackles I’ve seen her do in the heart of the midfield have been crunching, to put it lightly. I knew Beatrice was a domineering midfield presence for United. This is quite more than I expected, though. She’s not holding back. It’s training, and she’s treating it like a matchday.
I need to be ready if she comes over to my area of the pitch. I want to prove my words to my new captain. I’m not an anxiety-laden player. I can fight with the best of them on the pitch.
“Lilith! To me!” Beatrice yells from the centre circle to her team's centre back with authority. I’ve talked briefly with Lilith; she’s a bit stern, so Beatrice shouting at her like that shows me Beatrice is no shrinking violet. She demands the ball from her teammates, no matter who they are. Most captains are demanding. My previous one at Benfica was. They have to be. To command respect from their team, they've got to be a confident leader on the field. Beatrice clearly is.
I stay in my position on the left of the defence as Beatrice sprays a cross-field pass to Camila, the opposing team's right winger. Camila’s pacy and skilled. I’ve already had a few duels with her. She got past me once. But for the most part, I’ve defended her well. It's time to defend against her again as she jogs over to me with the ball at her feet again.
Off the pitch, Camila seems very bubbly. I think she’s the joker of the group. I have heard Beatrice likes to play a practical joke now and again. It surprises me, to be honest. Beatrice seems a bit gloomy.
Camila does some stepovers, then tries to sprint past me. Nope, I slid the ball away. The ball goes out for a throw-in. I’m a capable defender. I know I am. I feel physically ready for this league. I know I can handle the challenge. I look over to the captain for a smile in approval, or maybe a thumbs up. Beatrice doesn’t look my way. She’s busy giving orders to her teammates.
“Chanel! Stop hiding! Make yourself available for a pass! That sort of attitude is why the coach isn’t playing you!”
“Fuck off! I’m doing my best!” The brunette Chanel, in a long-sleeved training jumper standing on the left wing, shouts back.
Camila picks up the ball to throw back into play, and I spot Beatrice snigger. “If this is your best, you won’t be here much longer!”
My fellow players laugh. But I don't. Beatrice won’t suffer fools. She has Suzanne’s trust. I have to perform and not be on the receiving end of her criticism. ‘Focus’ I tell myself as Camila throws the ball back in play to Yasmine, the right back of the red-bibbed team. I haven’t spoken with Yasmine yet. She seems rather shy. A bit like me, I guess. But that doesn’t matter right now; I have to defend my side of the pitch from her.
“One two Yas!” Camila shouts, and I go to mark Yasmine to stop her from receiving the ball back from Camila.
I step on Yasmine’s foot as I intercept the ball. “Arghh!” Yasmine yells in agony, then dives to the floor. That’s a bit of an overreaction. But I go to check on her nonetheless.
“You alright?”
“What do you think?” Yasmine gives me a dirty look as I kneel down next to her while she holds her foot.
A couple of physiotherapists rush to my and Yasmine’s positions and start to assess her injury. I leave them to it. I rub my freezing nose with my gloved hand to get it warm.
“That was a heavy tackle.” Beatrice’s voice makes me jump, and I quickly turn to her.
“What?” I ask dumbly, having not heard Beatrice clearly.
Beatrice grins. “The tackle. It was a bit aggressive.”
“Oh.” I chuckle. “Not really; I just stepped on her foot. She’ll be fine.”
The look in Beatrice’s eyes gives me a swell of confidence. I’ve impressed her with my dedication to training. It’s a really good feeling. I always like to have my peers respect me. I’ve just got to carry this over to match day now.
“Hey Bea, while Neymar’s rolling on the ground, can I ask you something?” Liltih’s familiar voice breaks me from my feeling of pride.
“What Lilith?” Beatrice turns away from me, and I watch on with interest.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?” The tall Lilith, with barely any coverings on from the cold like gloves or a snood, asks confidently.
Beatrice is gay. I didn’t know that. Of course, I didn’t know that. It’s none of my business. “You’re gay?” Oh, for fuck sake, why did I just say that? Sometimes I just say what I’m thinking by accident, and I can’t help it.
Beatrice looks at me in annoyance. “You got an issue with that?”
“No! Fuck! Of course not!” I panic and raise my hands placatingly.
Beatrice regards me for a second, then nods, hopefully satisfied that I have no issue with her being a lesbian. Of course, I don’t have an issue with that.
Beatrice looks back at Lilith. "Ahem, Lilith, I'm really flattered, but I...”
"Oh, go on; we’ve known each other for years now. Let me take you out. No pressure, just a meal or something.” Lilith interrupts with hope in her voice.
I start to tie my shoelaces after I spot that they are undone and look up to see Beatrice deep in thought. “I’ll think about it.”
Lilith smirks. “So that’s not a no?”
“It’s a I’ll think about it.” Beatrice laughs.
"Well, let me know, and I’ll get us some reservations at Duretti’s.” Lilith jogs back to her position at centre back.
I get up and try to apologise to Beatrice. “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have.”
Beatrice puts her palm on my shoulder, and my heart lessens its beating as she isn’t upset. “There you go, apologising again. It’s fine, Ava, breathe.”
I follow Beatrice’s advice and take a deep, shuddering breath.
“Better?”
I nod hurriedly. “Yeah, I'm good.”
Beatrice pats my shoulder, then replies, “Alright, good. Now get back in position. We’ve got a big game on Sunday to prepare for.”
I nod, getting my mind back on football. “Right. Of course, thanks, Bea.”
Beatrice raises a brow. “Only friends call me Bea.”
I panic but catch myself as Beatrice offers me her hand to shake. “What’s this for?”
“I guess we’re friends now then.” Beatrice smiles and looks suggestively at her hand.
I shake the hand, feeling lighter, and smile back. Beatrice has been nothing but welcoming to me. She also seems to understand my anxiety. I could use a friend in the squad who gets my struggle. Beatrice could be the friend I need to get used to the club and Manchester in general.
Chapter 3: Helping Out
Summary:
Beatrice helps Ava settle into her new home more.
Notes:
I say this is a side fic then do 3 chaps In two days 😂
Anyway this’ll be slow burn.
Chapter Text
My back is killing me. What great preparation for the game on Sunday. I just had to offer Ava help in unpacking her mountain of boxes across her home. Ava should’ve just paid someone to do this. I’ve lifted multiple boxes upstairs that must’ve had bricks inside of them; they were so bloody heavy. I stumble down the stairs, holding my lower back, then spot the couch. I could drool at the sight of it. ‘Must sit on couch, must collapse’ my mind begs, and dutifully I obey by trudging to the leather couch, then collapsing on it unceremoniously.
“Are you okay over there, Beatrix?” I hear JC’s voice. That's the fourth time he’s called me Beatrix. It was kind of funny the first time, as he compared my name to one of his writing inspirations for his work, the children’s author Beatrix Potter. Now it’s just pissing me off.
I go to curse back at him. I bite my tongue. I can’t be bothered to have a confrontation right now. I’m here to help Ava. So I just reply, “I’m fine.”
"Babe, don’t call her Beatrix anymore; it’s not her name.” I feel Ava sit next to me on the couch, and I flash her a thankful smile.
Ava puts her hand through her brunette hair and nods with knowing eyes. She’s a bit anxious and shy at training. But at her home, she’s far more at ease. It’s giving me whiplash. Ava’s the complete opposite in her space with her fiancé. She’s in her natural element with the man she loves. I’m slightly envious. Ava just switches off her anxious self when she comes home. I wish I could switch off my depression when I’m at home.
"So, um, are you going to go out with Lilith?”
Ava’s intrusive question makes me puff out my cheeks and bury my face again in the nice fabric of the couch. “No.”
“Why not?”
I groan and look up to see Ava’s Benfica-branded shirt as I do. Ava loves Benfica. Leaving that club must’ve been hard. As well as leaving her home country. So I move my tired eyes up to Ava’s innocently curious eyes and answer. “I told you I don’t date.”
“I’m sorry, I won’t ask about your personal business again. I can’t seem to help myself, can I?" Ava grimaces.
I did say me and Ava were friends now back at training today. I guess that means I should try to have a conversation with her or open up about my life a bit more, I guess. So I get up, sit up straight on Ava’s couch, and blow some hair out of my eyes before answering. “I’m just not a dating person; I prefer my own company, as I said earlier.”
Ava’s grimace goes, and she smiles widely before she swivels on the couch. She then crosses her ripped jeans-covered legs and faces me. “But you said you’d think about it, and Lilith seems, um...” Ava clearly forces a smile. “Nice.”
I grin. “You don’t like Lilith, do you?”
Ava scratches the back of her neck. “She’s not my kind of person, but you know her well; you must be friendly if she wanted to ask you out.”
I fold my arms and squint my eyes at the TV showing some nature documentary JC must’ve been watching. I do know Lilith well. She’s my friend, and I have a lot of respect for her. She’s a very committed player and has always been a reliable presence behind me in defence on the pitch. Off the pitch, Lilith is a bit stiff sometimes, but so am I; that wouldn’t be a deterrent to dating her. If I were to date someone, it would probably be someone like her. She’s not overly chatty, and I like that. Maybe Lilith would suit me. Maybe she could give me a reason to smile.
“We are friends; I do have a lot of respect for her, and I’ve known her for a while now.”
“So why not go out with her?”
I twiddle my thumbs and furrow my brow. “I told you I prefer my own company.”
“I get that, but can I say something blunt?” Ava asks.
“Go on.” I allow her to say what she’s thinking. I’m her captain; she wouldn’t be stupid and insult me or something.
Ava gulps at my defensive gaze. “You seem a bit sad. Maybe being alone isn’t making you happy. I can speak from experience; being alone can suck.”
"Yeah, and so can being in a relationship.” I scoff. But I do hear Ava. She’s known me for two days and can already see how unhappy I am.
Ava bounces on the couch. God, this really is giving me whiplash. Ava’s gone from a bumbling mess to an excitable bunny rabbit. It's a lot. It’s refreshing, though, I guess. I’m always so miserable and gray. It’s nice to be near someone who’s excitable. Ava’s certainly going to be a different type of friend. A less snarky, gloomy one.
I think I’ll relent on Lilith. I might as well. What have I got to lose? It’s not like my life will be irreversibly changed if I go on one date with her, and if it is, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I need it to change because right now my life clearly isn’t making me happy.
"Okay, I’ll go on a date with her. Are you happy now?”
“muito feliz.” Ava switches languages, then bounces off the couch, clearly happy to help me. Thats nice. Ava wants to help someone she’s only known for a short while. It shows Ava clearly has a lot of empathy for others.
I watch her go and see her stroll on her bare feet back to the muscular JC, who, for some reason, has his sleeves rolled up. The guy hasn’t been lifting anything. He’s just been watching TV while me and Ava got to work on the house. My first impressions of Ava’s fiancé aren’t positive. He’s a bit lazy. Meh, being Ava’s friend doesn’t mean I have to be friendly with her husband.
—-
After some progress was made on making my new home look more like a home, JC served us dinner. Me and JC don’t really do the whole eating food to the table thing, so we’re eating JC’s delicious vegetable lasagne on the couch. Beatrice looks a bit confused at doing such a thing, I see as I sit with my hip touching JC's, so I ask over to Beatrice. “You’re not used to eating like this, are you?” I chuckle as Beatrice looks uncomfortable balancing her plate on her lap while she eats with poise.
"Uh, what gave me away?”
I move my hand around, indicating to all of Beatrice, “Everything.”
Beatrice puffs out her cheeks. “I think I’ll head off. To be honest, I’m tired; it’s been a long day.”
My smile fades. Maybe we should’ve eaten at the table. Beatrice clearly doesn’t like it. “Already? What about dessert? You haven’t tried JC’s homemade ice cream yet.” I place my knife and fork down and nudge JC’s arm with my elbow to assist. He’s been very nervous around Beatrice so far. He’s like me. He's never great at meeting new people, either. We’re each other’s safe space. I feel sort of at ease around Beatrice now, but JC, I can tell, is a bit intimidated by Beatrice. She’s my first friend I’ve made here, though I want to get to know her more, or at least just have a nice, relaxed conversation with her about what life is like in the city.
JC looks to me with pleading eyes to let Beatrice leave, but I scrunch my nose. JC can never refuse my nose scrunches. He sags his shoulders in defeat. “Please don’t go yet; my ice cream really is good.”
Beatrice flicks her eyes between JC and me briefly, then puts her plate on the table in front of her. "Alright, I’ll have some, but I really should be off; it’s getting late.”
"Babe, we’re officially ready for dessert, chop chop,” I tell JC with a teasing smile.
"Yes, mi amor.” JC quickly pecks at my lips, eye rolls, then gets up and goes to the kitchen. I put my plate down on the table in front of me. "So, um, Bea, thanks for today; you were such a great help. JC’s got a bad back, so he can’t be lifting heavy boxes too often.”
Beatrice yawns deeply and is still wearing her training gear from this morning. I won’t keep her long; she’ll need the rest for Sunday’s match after such strenuous work. “I wish you’d told me. I wouldn’t have been giving him the stink eye all evening in that case for not helping us.”
I smirk and reply, “Sorry if he’s been a bit nervous; he’s like me; we’re not great with new people.”
Beatrice quirks an eyebrow and shifts her weight to face me on the couch. “You seem fine with me now. You were far more nervous back at Carrington.”
I put a strand of her behind my ear shyly. "Yeah, it must be a bit strange to see me less of a nervous wreck like this after the last few days.”
"Hmm, it is. You seem completely different at home, but then again, everyone is like that. I suppose we’re all different people when we’re in our comfort zones.” Beatrice looks away thoughtfully. “Not me, though.” She adds barely audibly. But I hear her nonetheless.
I don’t like seeing my new captain, my new friend, so melancholy, so I ask gently, “What do you mean?” Beatrice doesn’t answer; she just stares into space, lost in her thoughts, so I shuffle over on the couch and place my palm on her shoulder. “Bea?”
Beatrice shakes herself and gives me a confused look. “Mmm?”
“I asked, what did you mean when you said you weren’t different in your comfort zone?” I reply and ask.
Beatrice bites her lip. Her eyes still look a million miles away. “It’s nothing, Ava.”
I hear JC start to walk back to us with our dessert. I don’t think Beatrice will talk as freely with him around. So I accept Bea’s privacy on the subject and change the topic to something Beatrice opened up about with me earlier: "So, um, Lilith, you’re going to go on that date with her. That’s exciting.”
“What’s this now?” JC returns with the ice cream and awkwardly hands me and Beatrice our bowls while holding his own bowl in his other hand.
Beatrice clears her throat and looks at the ice cream. “Can I have a spoon, please?”
“Oh right! Shit! Sorry!” JC panics and jogs back to the kitchen. He can be such a doofus sometimes, but he’s my doofus. He quickly comes back and gives everyone their spoons.
“So the date, are you excited?” I ask as I take my first mouthful of ice cream,
Beatrice shrugs as she takes her own first mouthful. “I need a change in my life, so I guess I am slightly excited, yeah.”
“Ooft slightly excited, I’m sure Lilith will be thrilled by your enthusiasm.” I chuckle nervously, and Beatrice smiles. She has a nice smile; it’s a shame she doesn’t seem to smile often, and not some fake smile that I’ve seen her make that doesn't reach her eyes.
“So you’re gay?” JC asks
Beatrice regards him like she did me earlier today when I blurted out the same question like an idiot: “I am yes.”
“That’s cool.” JC hums as he takes a bite of ice cream next to me,
Beatrice gives JC a look for a moment but visibly controls herself. She seems good at doing that. Controlling her emotions outwardly towards people to please them or to not cause an issue if it’s away from the pitch,
“I’ll just see how it goes with Lil. I haven’t had a date in a few years now, but I don’t think it’ll feel like that. We'll just be two friends having a meal together. No pressure.”
“Maybe it could become friends with benefits, perhaps.” I wiggle my brow but inwardly cringe at my words. I’m really not good at this. I didn’t really have a lot of friends back in Portugal, so I’m not exactly used to small talk with anyone but JC if it’s not about football with my coaches or fellow players.
“Uh.” Beatrice laughs nervously. "Yeah, maybe.”
I snort in laughter and give up trying to continue such an awkward topic: "God, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to do small talk if it’s not about football.”
Beatrice palms my arm and laughs more confidently. “I’m the same; honestly, perhaps in the future we can avoid topics like my dating life.”
I nod quickly and giggle. "Sounds like a plan.”
“This is good, by the way.” Beatrice adds after finishing another spoonful of ice cream.
"Thanks, I try.” JC replies with pride.
“JC’s great with making food, but not so great at small talk, just like me.”
“Hmm.” Beatrice hums with a polite smile. I can tell she’s maybe just polite in general with me. That's okay, though. For now, it's early days. Hopefully, she'll feel more at ease around me as a friend in the coming time, and likewise for me with her.
Chapter 4: The Debut
Summary:
Ava plays her debut match. Beatrice does something that scares her.
Chapter Text
Standing in position as my first match reaches the 65th minute, I cough against my gloved hand. The air is thick with coldness, and it’s starting to snow. I can’t feel my legs that are exposed to the conditions under the thin fabric of my shorts, and my chest feels like it’s just been doused with cold water. I’m playing well, though. I’ve kept the left side of the pitch secure, and we have a clean sheet.
It’s nil-nil, but we look good on the attack, which I'm contributing to quite well, I think with my lung-busting runs beyond Chanel on the left wing, Fulham has a good right back, though, and she’s defending like a rugged warrior. She’s extremely muscular, and some of the tackles I’ve gotten from her have been very aggressive. I don’t mind the fight. I crave it on the football pitch; it’s outside the pitch where I struggle. On it, I feel free and unburdened.
Beatrice passes me the ball, and I’m faced with the right back again, whose name is Cortez. I did some pregame analysis on her with the coaches, so I did expect something like this from her. I look for an option, but I don’t see any, so I pass back to Beatrice in the middle of the park.
“Chanel! Make a bloody run!” Beatrice shouts angrily, and I see Chanel’s basically hiding near the sideline. I’m surprised Suzanne picked Chanel after the training sessions I’ve had with her; she’s not a very combative player, to say the least.
“Bea! back to me!” I shout as I see Chanel begin to react and drag the right-back's attention away from me.
Beatrice passes the ball to me, and I start to make a forward run. I look up to see if Dora, our monster of a striker who ragdolls defenders for fun with her strong arms, is waiting for an inswinging cross to head in. She’s marked by a few centre backs, but I cross the ball with venom and trust she’s got the beating of them this time. She misses the ball, and the centre back heads it away.
“Mine!” Beatrice yells to Yasmine as she goes to head the ball back into the box. “Ooft!” The opposing team left-back basically headbutted Beatrice as she went for the header.
“ei! referência! Isso é uma falta!” I exclaim as I rush over to my stricken captain, now holding her head. The ref gives me a confused look. ‘Oh, right, English, Ava', I’m still getting used to the referee not speaking my native tongue, like in Portugal. He blows his whistle anyway, so it’s not an issue. I’m good at English, but it’s just natural to speak my own language when I’m not thinking in the heat of a match.
I ignore my annoyance at myself, then kneel to check on Beatrice. “You okay?”
Beatrice doubles over and spits out some blood. My heart races in concern; her nose looks broken, and blood is drooping out of her in a worryingly thick stream of crimson.
I quickly begin to frantically wave over to the team of doctors to come on. “Hey! The captain needs attention!” I place my palm on Bea’s back as she starts to pinch her nose.
“Stupid idiot headbutted me. Tell me the ref booked her at least.” Beatrice croaks as her hand soaks in blood.
I look over and see the ref has in fact booked the defender. "Yeah, he has. That was a ridiculous challenge; she was never going to win that.”
The doctors arrive, and I step aside for them to work on my new friend. Beatrice tilts her head upward, and I immediately wince. The blood is really flowing now. That's going to leave a mark for a while. If it were me, I wouldn’t be taking such pain so calmly as Beatrice. She’s clearly tough as nails. She’s starting to get my respect more and more by the days I know her. She’s an authoritative and dedicated leader on the park, and off it, she’s a nice, well-spoken person. I hope she’ll be alright. It pains me to see her face drenched in blood like this, like a knife cutting across my skin.
The doctors seem to stem the flow of blood and bring Beatrice to her feet. “I think she’s broken her nose, Suzanne; she won’t be able to continue." I hear one of the doctors, who I remember is called Jillian, say into her headpiece to the coach on the bench.
“What!? I’m fine! I can play!” Beatrice winces as she shouts in annoyance as Jillian keeps pressure on her nose.
I should calm Beatrice down; she needs to go off. I know she’s dedicated, but she needs to take care of herself and listen to Jillian. So I quickly walk beside Jillian and Beatrice as they walk off the pitch. “Bea, listen to the doctor; you’re in no fit state to play right now.”
Beatrice gives me a bit of a dirty look through her bloodied face. I give her a stubborn one. I don’t break eye contact. I’m good at this sort of thing with JC; when he’s sick, he can be stubborn too. Beatrice breaks eye contact and relents. “Go win the game, Silva.”
I grin, pleased that Beatrice respects me enough to heed my words, and then I pat her shoulder. “Don't worry, we’ll get the points. Just let the doctors take care of you.”
“Yes mother.” Beatrice groans and muffles through the cotton buds Jillian is holding against her nose.
“Good Bea.” I quickly cringe at my choice of words, then I run back to action on the pitch to immediately pick up the ball for the resulting free kick from the challenge on Beatrice. I was the set piece taker at Benfica, and Suzanne has given me the responsibility here too. It’s probably a big reason why she signed me. I don’t mean to brag, but I'm a very good dead ball specialist. I scored so many free kicks at Benfica that I lost count.
I inhale as I place the ball on the snow-laden grass. I exhale as I get up and take a few steps back. The referee sets up the wall to be five yards back, and I begin to go through my usual routine. ‘Picture the flight path and get a good connection on the shot,’ I tell myself. I then start to trail the path over the defensive wall of the white jersey-wearing Fulham team players to the goal with my eyes, imagining how to hit the ball.
I see the player who hurt Beatrice. She looks fine, unharmed from the collision. Her stupid red hair has not an ounce of blood on it, nor does her perfectly white stupid shirt. I bite my cheek and inwardly growl. This one’s for my friend. I take a step forward. As always, when I step up to take a free kick, time seems to slow around me. It’s just me, the defensive wall of a few players, the keeper waiting in the goal, and the net that I want to see bulge after the ball rifles into the top corner. My foot connects well with the ball. I watch it spin through the bitingly cold air and through my breath, which I can see before me. It spins and spins towards the top corner. The keeper dives. She misses it. Goal! I scored on my debut!
I wheel away as the away fans in Craven Cottage go wild. I love it when I score. I celebrate with no inhibitions and no anxiety. I roar and punch the air towards my new red wall of fans, and I kiss the badge. “Vamos!” I let my teammates hug me.
“Get in, Ava!” I hear Lilith and give her a high-five as she approaches me. She’s not wearing gloves. There’s being tough and being silly. Her fingers must be so cold.
I high-five more of my teams and quickly give Yasmine, Camila, and Chanel brief hugs. There’s no better way to get my teammates to respect me as a player than to contribute like that.
“Come on, let’s finish this off!” I clap the team in encouragement as we jog back to recommence the game. I never speak like that in normal circumstances. I'm a quiet person, but when I’m on the pitch, the adrenaline gives me such a rush that I don’t feel my anxiety. It’s why I love this beautiful game; it’s an escape, a place where I can be more confident, even if it is just for 90 minutes once or twice a week.
—
I dab at my nose after the match in the team dressing room. Luckily, my nose isn’t broken, but it certainly feels that way right now. It’s swelling and pulsing, and it’s hard to breathe through it.
"Hey, Bea, are you alright?” Lilith asks in worry as she walks towards me post-match with shivering fingers and her red United jersey covered in mud.
"Yeah, I’m good. Jillian stopped the bleeding; it’s not broken, luckily.” I smile at Lilith as she sits beside me.
Things feel different now with Lilith after our first date on Friday. I’ve only ever really viewed her as a friend. Now I feel something fluttering in my chest as she worries over me with her brown, caring eyes. She is very pretty, of course. I’d have to be blind not to see that. I just never really saw her in a different light before our date. It was nice and calm, and she made me laugh. I don’t laugh much, but when I do—when it's a real laugh, not a forced thing—it does make me feel good. Maybe I’ll go on another date with her if she’s willing.
Lilith trails her fingers around my nose and winces, “Ouch, that’s nasty.”
I watch her worry and fuss, and I smile gently in response. I still taste the metallic taste of blood. But I feel calmer now. It’s nice to be worried about. I’m not really used to it. This could be something to distract me from my daily depressive struggles. Lilith could be. I can't remember the last time I kissed someone or was held by someone who wasn’t my parents. I gulp at the idea of sex. I’m out of practice in the area. Lilith certainly isn’t. I know that for a fact. She’s always mentioned her causal hookups during the years I’ve known her.
She’s confident I respect her, and she’d probably be great at sex and intimacy in general. Yes, I think I’ll ask her out on a second date. I need something to drag me out of my daily negative thoughts.
"Hey, um, would you like to go out again sometime, my treat?”
Lilith stops fussing over my nose and smiles. The light of the dressing room makes her skin shine. Her cheekbones are so defined. She really is stunning. She’s been a good friend; maybe she can be more now. "Yes, Bea, I’d love that.”
She looks at my lips, and I gulp. Shit, I’ve forgotten how to kiss. It’s been so long. I would like to kiss Lilith, but what if I’m crap at it now after years of not doing it with anyone? Well, there’s only one way to see if I’m a terrible kisser now, I guess.
“Can I kiss you? Is that alright with your nose?” Lilith bites her lip.
My eyes get lost in the motion of Lilith’s teeth dragging against her lip. I tilt my head. ‘I can do this; it’s just a kiss that’s not scary.' I egg myself on. But my thoughts fall on deaf ears. Yes, it is scary for me. I don’t do it regularly at all. My palms begin to sweat, my breathing hitches, and my body inflames; everything’s on fire. I feel so shaky, and it’s got nothing to do with a potential concussion from my head clash during the match.
“It’s fine.” I whisper and move slowly, oh, so slowly, to Lilith’s lips. Almost there. My bloodied and bruised nose brushes Lilith's, and my lips touch Lilith’s freezing ones. I close my eyes and press my lips to Lilith’s. Okay, what now? Tongue? No tongue? Or just be tender. God, I’m nervous. I feel so sweaty, and it’s definitely not hot in here. It's a nerve-wracking moment.
I gently caress Lilith’s lips, feeling her upper lip under her nose touch my lips. It’s soft, but it’s cold due to Lilith being out in the snow. I’ve always found kissing such a vulnerable thing to do. Even when I was used to it with my first girlfriend, Nicole, it was such a vulnerable thing to do with her for me.
Lilith places her palm on my cheek. I shiver at the contact. She really does need to wear gloves in this frosty weather. Her fingers might snap off one of these days if she’s not careful in such extreme temperatures.
I feel Lilith’s teeth bite my lower lip. My throat gets constricted. A lump in the throat is probably the best way to describe this feeling I feel right now. It’s our first kiss, and Lilith seems very eager. Is it too much for me this early on? I don’t know, honestly. Take it slow and see where this leads. No pressure. I moan against my will and get more and more comfortable.
“Ouch.” My nose pulsed as I brushed it against Lilith’s again, and I pulled away.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I am." I smile with a slight blush. My heart is still racing. The pain was worth it. I finally kissed someone again. It was nice. It’s making me feel an adrenaline spike. I want more. Ava’s push was what I needed. I’ll see where this leads. It could be what I need.
Chapter 5: Time Flies
Summary:
Ava gets more and more settled thanks to Beatrice and Beatrice takes a step in her relationship with Lilith.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Weeks flow by, games come and go, and I start to feel more and more at home at my new club. Mainly thanks to Beatrice, she’s quickly becoming the main person I gravitate towards during training. She’s my captain, but more importantly, for me, she’s quickly becoming a really supportive friend. She’s taken me out into the city to see the best restaurants and get the best views. JC comes now and then, but he really doesn’t like being around Beatrice. She still intimidates him. That’s fine. I was never particularly fond of JC’s friends back in Portugal.
JC not feeling comfortable with Beatrice doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with her. I like her, and she seems to like me. Something that’s driven home for me as Beatrice again decides to work on an exercise bike next to me in the gym when plenty are available with teammates she’s known for years now.
“Morning.” I greet her as she takes off her training jacket to be in a simple fitted United-branded tight t-shirt like me.
Bea’s nose looks almost healed now. If I’m honest, I haven’t liked seeing her bothered by it since my debut game. It was such a heavy blow, and there was so much blood. Hopefully, that won’t happen again. Although I know Beatrice is a fighter on the pitch, being like that leaves its mark. I've seen that firsthand with the players I’ve come to know over my short career with similar styles of play to Beatrice.
“Morning.” Beatrice smiles; it’s a genuine one, and I’m fairly sure it’s to do with Lilith. I’m happy Beatrice went for it. She’s definitely been happier since she started dating Lilith, and knowing I played a part in that is a nice feeling. I helped a new friend take a leap, and it seems to be paying off for her.
“You seem happy this morning, Bea—any gossip to report?” I smirk as I work out on my exercise bike with a view outside the window of a snow-laden Carrington.
Beatrice sniffs humorously, then shakes her head softly as she gets on her bike. “No, nothing, Ava. Can’t I just be happy for once in the morning?”
I smile I really feel more comfortable talking with Beatrice about personal things than before, and I hope the feeling is mutual. I still don’t know a lot about Beatrice beyond her personality and her dating life. I’d like for her to get to know me better, and vice versa. I won’t push right now, though, because I’m sensing Beatrice is especially chipper this morning, as evidenced by her satisfied smile on her lips as she starts to peddle her bike, and I’d like to know why.
“Did you and Lilith finally?” I move my hand suggestively as I peddle beside Beatrice.
Beatrice looks away awkwardly. I get it. Talking about her sex life is awkward; she doesn’t have to tell me. I just knew after she mentioned the fact that she hasn’t been with anyone for a long time recently that she's been nervous about doing it again.
“You know what? Forget what I said that lets...”
"No, we haven’t yet.” Beatrice interrupts me as she keeps looking away with a pained expression.
I nod with understanding, “Oh, well. That’s fine; you don’t have to do it. You know, right? It’s not like a contract because you are dating—that you must have sex.” I chuckle lightly with a bit of shyness myself while talking about a subject like this so openly, but Bea’s my friend now, and it’s been on her mind a lot, so I’d like to be someone she can feel comfortable talking with about this sort of stuff as her friend.
"Yeah, I know.” Beatrice looks at the window grimacingly.
“Just go at your speed. There’s no pressure or requirement to do it.”
Beatrice hums and places her hands on the handlebars of her bike. I’ll drop such a heavy, awkward subject now. I like talking football, mostly with Beatrice, and we both find comfort in that I’m learning. It’s just easy to discuss it. We both love it. It’s our job and our obsession.
“So did you see City lose last night? We’ve got a chance to go ahead of them now.”
“Just focus on us, Ava; don't think about other teams; we can only control what we do. In my experience, that’s what gets you through a title race.” Beatrice replies with her captain face on.
“I know. I’ve been in and won title races before, you know.” I smirk Bea’s way as I peddle.
“No offence, but at Benfica, from what I’ve read about your time there, you were in like one real title race, and you still ended up finishing ten points clear; that won’t be the case here.”
“Maybe not, but I know more about winning titles than you do; you don't need to worry about my mentality.” I stick out my tongue and tease her.
Beatrice eye rolls, and I see Lilith with her hair tied in a ponytail walking into the gym, immediately heading our way. Lilith and I have started to get along more recently, after she started dating Beatrice. It could be down to Beatrice having a word with her, but I like to think it’s because I’ve started to gain her respect as a player and a person. I’m committed and determined, traits I know she shares and appreciates as a fellow professional.
I watch Lilith’s lips curve upwards as she takes a swig of water from her water bottle. She seems to be just as happy as Beatrice. I hope she won’t pressure Beatrice too much in the physical dynamic of their relationship. Bea's extremely nervous about it. I can’t really give advice on that sort of thing; I’ve never been with a woman and likely never will now that I’m marrying JC. Did I have opportunities to experiment back in my younger years? Not really, and to be honest, I never wanted to. Beatrice says it’s softer and more sensual. I’ll take her word for it. I chuckle at my own thoughts as Lilith reaches Beatrice.
“Hey.” Lilith gives Beatrice a quick peck on the cheek, and Beatrice goes a bit red.
“Hi.” Beatrice keeps on peddling, but I see her foot almost fall off the machine after Lilith’s kiss.
“Morning Lilith.” I give a shy little wave to Lilith, who has her muscular arms on display as she’s rolled up her grey United training shirt sleeves. I suspect it’s for Bea’s eyes that little detail. I’ve heard Lilith has been a bit of a player in the past. But she and Beatrice are friends; it’s totally different than just a normal fling for her, I presume, or I hope.
Beatrice doesn’t deserve that sort of drama; she’s a good person who I respect as a friend, and she deserves to be treated with respect by any partner she has.
“Morning.” Lilith briefly smiles at me, then moves her attention back to Beatrice and rubs her back as she peddles. “So how’d therapy go this week?”
My ears prick up at this. I didn’t know Beatrice went to therapy. It does add up, though, to be fair. I can see behind her eyes that she’s carrying a lot of stress from her captaincy, but beyond that, it’s clear that Beatrice is deeply sad under the surface. When she smiles most of the time before Lilith or even after she’s started dating Lilith, they aren’t real smiles. They’re fake, and a lot of the words she says when she thinks people aren’t listening give her depressive state of mind away. I’m glad she’s talking about her feelings with a professional. Doing that can be really good for someone. Letting out the demons is far better than holding them in. That way, she can face them like the brave person I’ve seen she undoubtedly is over the period of time I've been at the club.
"Ahem, yes, it went well.” Beatrice replies, then kisses Lilith on the lips gently. That’s a placation; I can see it. It’s strange; I feel like I see beneath a lot of Bea’s words when others don’t seem to. I see when she’s lying to please me or others. I’ve only known her for a very short time, but I already see her. See her real face—the face she hides from view so others won’t see—that could potentially undermine her captaincy with the team. She puts a brave face on, but I see it. I see her. I probably should’ve easily seen she might’ve been going to therapy; it wouldn’t have been my place to ask, though, even if I did. That’s private and a sensitive thing to disclose to anyone, especially with a new person in her life.
“Great.” Lilith smiles warmly at Beatrice, then looks at me suggestively. “Do you mind, Ava, if it’s not too much trouble?”
My cheeks burn, and I look between Lilith and Beatrice anxiously. "Oh, okay." I get off my bike, then walk away. Of course, Lilith and Beatrice would like to work out together. I don’t really feel comfortable near anyone else yet, though. So it kind of sucks that I can’t work out near Beatrice.
I look for a free exercise bike and then just work out by myself. It’s okay; I don’t mind being alone. I can think about the upcoming games and stuff, I guess, in my silent little corner.
—-
Back at my home, laying on my couch after a long day at Carrington, preparing for the next match at Stamford Bridge, home of Chelsea FC I rub my hand across Lilith’s back as I move my lips over hers. She wants more. I know Lilith. I know when she wants something, and I want it too. I’m just, I don’t know, really bloody petrified. It’s such an intimate and vulnerable thing to do with someone. Even with a girlfriend. I’ve had it before, and I’ve enjoyed it before, but doing it with a new person, even if it’s with Lilith, someone I’ve known for so long, is scary. When I did it for the first time with Nicole, I felt so exposed—so naked.
To let anyone see my full self, my naked self, or touch me in areas where most of the time no one goes near but me has always made me feel shaky. It’s so stupid. On the football pitch, I know I’m brave and strong. I can almost break my nose and brush it off. But when I'm in this situation, I’m scared. Okay, maybe scared isn’t the right word; more like nervous. I’m not scared of Lilith, or I wouldn’t be willing to do this as I am. It’s just such an exposed thing to do.
Lilith probably does not feel like this, and by the hand moving down my sweatpants, I know she’s certainly not shy about what she wants. Maybe I should just let her take care of me. Yeah. She’s had far more experience recently; just let her have command, and over time, if things keep going well, I can take more of a front seat with things. That’s what I did with Nicole. I got more and more confident until I was the one who mostly pleased her, rather than the other way around. That was why I broke up with her in the end, actually. I smirk against Lilith's lips in memory. She had become such a pillow princess that it felt like she never went down on me anymore. Lilith won’t be like that; I’m fairly confident.
“Is this alright?” Lilith murmurs against my lips as her fingers touch my clit for the first time, making me shiver.
I nod. "Mmm, hmm, just take it slow if that’s alright. I’m a bit out of practice.”
Lilith grins at me with swollen lips and dishevelled hair. I gulp. My depressive thoughts haven’t been as prevalent recently because of how much I’ve been thinking about doing this with Lilith. That is a very good thing. Once this nervousness dies down, though, once I get comfortable being with her, I’ll see what being in a relationship with her is like. Dating is one thing; being in a full-blown relationship is another. I have my own way of living, and letting her into that world on a regular basis is not something I’ll decide on doing after a few weeks of dating.
I feel the first touch of Lilith’s fingertips against my folds. My heart races, my throat feels tight, and I shiver once again under Lilith’s touch. She rubs her fingers against me and my folds. Folds that are wet, like really wet, I didn’t realise just how wet until Lilith’s fingers touched me.
Lilith watches me react to her touch above me with analytical eyes as I bite my lip. It’s like I’m some sort of show for her eyes to see and enjoy the effect she has on me, and by god, she does have an effect on me like this. Her teasing eyes looking down at me, her own biting of her lip, and her muscular back against my palm through the fabric of her shirt. It all affects me. I feel so warm in my core. I don’t feel nervous as time goes by and Lilith keeps rubbing.
I gasp for breath as Lilith finally feels that I’m ready for some fingers to be put inside of me. She's, as expected, very good with her fingers. She stops admiring her effect on me and then dives down to capture my lips in a more aggressive way. I reciprocate and stroke her lips with my own as she increases the pace of her fingers.
I put my tongue into her warm mouth. I feel her breath hit my lips from her nose as we hurriedly kiss, and I gasp and gasp into her mouth. Our tongues fight for control; it’s like I’m on the football pitch again and I’m fighting an opponent for possession. Will I win? I don’t particularly care if I do in this circumstance. My nerves stream away, and my heart only pounds in arousal rather than nervousness.
“Ah.” I gasp again as Lilith moves her fingers deeper into me. I’m out of practice, but shit, Lilith isn’t. I move my fingers into her hair and start to get lost in her. I was scared. I was nervous, but movement by movement—by upward thrust—by upward thrust, I don’t feel that anymore. I’m not fully on show for Lilith’s eyes to see. But I feel less worried now. I feel more open and calm in her embrace. This is certainly a nice distraction from my depressive thoughts now that I'm enjoying it. Being pleased like this, I forgot how nice it can be. The fear made me forget that. I don't forget it now; I remember. I feel it, as I feel so many orgasmic feelings in Lilith's arms.
Notes:
I might release another version of this in 3rd person writing when I’m done but atm I’m enjoying this style it’s fresh.
Ps where’s our fresh season of Warrior Nun Netflix. Lmao
Chapter 6: The Bleeding White Rose
Summary:
Ava feels ostracised from Beatrice while she also deals with JC’s homesickness.
Chapter Text
It’s been a month now at my new club, and I’m getting more and more fed up. Lilith keeps coming over and interrupting when I’m talking with Beatrice in training or in general around the club. It feels like I’m being sidelined when she appears. She’s confident I’m not. When in a big group, her natural self just swallows a group interaction with such ease. Beatrice is my friend, and I really like spending time with her. She’s a good listener, and I try to be for her too. But I think Lilith is more Bea’s type of person to be around. So as the games and time fly by, I’m beginning to go into my shell like I did at Benfica. It was nice to have a new friend to have someone to feel comfortable around, but Lilith is all over Beatrice now, so I don’t have her as much anymore.
To top it off, JC is getting a bit restless at home. I worried he might at some point. He loves Portugal; he loves the food, his friends, and being able to go into the city and know where he’s going. He has none of that here. He doesn’t have the same food or any friends here. He’s like me in a sense, but multiplied. He's lonely; he feels cut off from everything he knows. So am I. But at least I have social interaction at United with all my teammates, despite me only really enjoying Bea’s company. He has no one but me. We love each other deeply, but we can’t be the only people we spend time with, or it’ll drive us both mad.
So here I am pregame at Villa Park, home of Aston Villa, in the team dressing room, looking at my phone and contemplating letting him go home for a few weeks before coming back to me. I could be selfish, like I want to be, and say no to his recent request, or I could be considerate and let him go just to feel a bit less shocked by living in a new country.
We’re each other's safe space, though, and without him, I won’t feel safe anymore. I won’t feel warm at night when I go to sleep by his side. It would be like someone ripping away my comfy duvet, then opening all the windows and letting the cold air freeze me until I’m a lonely block of ice.
I tap my passcode to unlock my phone, then bring up a picture of me with him smiling happily in his arms in the Lisbon sunshine. I sigh shudderingly and close my eyes to stop the tears from flowing out of me. I’m being needy, but that’s our thing; we’re needy with each other. I don’t want him to go. He’s my home, and without my home, I’ll be lost and alone in a foreign country.
"Hey, are you alright?”
I hear Bea’s soft voice above me and open my tearful eyes. She’s kitted out in the club's away kit, ready for the game, like me. Unlike me, she’s fully focused and ready to get the points for the team to extend our lead at the top of the table to 4 points over Manchester City, our local rivals.
“Not really, no.” I look away from Beatrice and back to my phone. I can’t decide this second. I’ll discuss this more with JC when I’m home and we’re together again, where I feel safest and most loved.
Beatrice sits beside me as my teammates are all in varying stages of getting changed. I spot Lilith struggling with her shirt and notice for the first time that she’s wearing gloves, probably Bea's doing.
I feel a little shoulder bump from Beatrice but don’t look up from my phone from stroking my thumb over me with JC.
“What’s wrong?”
I sigh. “JC’s homesick; he’s asked to go back to Lisbon for a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Beatrice places her palm on my thigh, touching the fabric of my United shorts and my pale skin, and I look at her with tears begging to break free from my eyes.
“I haven’t spent weeks away from him for years, and it’ll be in a foreign country this time. I’ll be so alone.” I clench my jaw in annoyance at myself for being so weak. It would only be for a few weeks. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Beatrice strokes her thumb over my thigh and shakes her head. "No, you won’t be. I’m here. You’re my friend, and I’ll be here for you if you want me to be.”
I smile, but it’s a forced thing. Beatrice isn’t my fiancé; she isn’t the person I feel so attached to. "Thanks, but I know you’re busy with Lilith. I won’t be a burden on you.”
Beatrice moves her thumb to my eye and gently cleans some of my tears. Her thumb isn’t covered by gloves; it’s her sun-kissed thumb on my skin. It’s gentle, just like her eyes. “You’re not a burden; you’re my friend. I know I’m not JC, but I can check in on you while he’s gone to keep you company.”
I look into Bea’s soft eyes as she moves her thumb away, then sigh, calming myself. Beatrice really is nice. I’m glad she’s my friend. I just wish, even if it’s selfish, that Lilith wasn’t always near her now; it’s felt like I've lost something I only just gained. A friend—a person to gravitate towards during the scary first month of being at my new club.
“But what about Lilith…”
“She doesn’t own me.” Beatrice interrupts me, creasing her freckled nose as she does.
I smile again, but it’s not forced this time. Maybe me and Beatrice can spend some more time together and have more conversations, but without Lilith appearing every time. “O…Okay.” I place my hand on top of hers and squeeze.
Beatrice turns her hand over and grips my hand. She gets my anxiety, and I get her depression. It’s becoming increasingly clear that we understand each other and have empathy for both of our individual struggles. I have friends back in Portugal, but not friends who understand my struggle like Beatrice seems to.
Bea’s hand is calloused and strong against my own. It’s warm, and I squeeze it for dear life. I’m happy she’s my captain, my friend, and my teammate.
It’s almost time to go out for the match I see by the clock beyond Bea’s gentle gaze, so I shake myself, then take back my hand. “Nothing's decided yet anyway; I’ve still got to give JC my go-ahead before he leaves.”
I look away, then wipe my eyes and control my emotions. But I feel Bea’s hand on my shoulder. "Well, if he does go, I’ll be here for you during the weeks he’s gone.”
I nod with a thankful smile, and Beatrice pats my shoulder before getting up and walking away. That helped me a lot. I’m still very nervous about JC going, but my heart feels less heavy knowing Beatrice will be here for me. I won’t be alone.
—
In the middle of the park, as the clock hits 30 minutes, I marshal my teammates with focus in my eyes as snow falls down on me. We’re two-nil down, and both goals have been created on Ava’s side of the pitch. I thought my words might help her sadness at JC going back to Portugal for a while, but her mind is clearly not on this match, and my team is suffering because of it.
Aston Villa's right winger, Crimson, in a claret and blue jersey, bombs down Ava’s side of the pitch as a cross-field pass is sprayed her way. I know from experience that Crimson’s a dirty player; sometimes I’ve even seen her grin and take pleasure in injuring opponents. I’ve lost count of the number of times Crimson’s been sent off during her career.
I spot Ava preparing to intercept the ball mid-air. Her hair has become dishevelled and muddied. She’s really had a tough game, but despite her struggle, despite her sadness, and despite her mind being elsewhere, she’s really given her all and put her body on the line for the team. Unfortunately, it’s led to her getting bloodied and more or less beaten by Crimson.
Ava jumps to attempt to head the ball. My breath of cold air clouds my vision, but I see through the thick air that Crimson is going for the same ball. No. I can see what’s going to happen here. I’m powerless—powerless to help my friend when she needs me.
Ava heads the ball, but Crimson, leading with her elbow, smashes Ava’s head sickeningly.
“Ava!” I shout helplessly as Ava crumbles to the ground and then rests motionless on the snowy grass. Normally, in this situation, I’d go to the referee and scream for Crimson to be sent off. Not this time. It feels different. My heart twists in my chest. It hurts. Ava’s probably my best friend now. I have other friends who I’ve known for years, but I just seem to feel comfortable with Ava in a way I’ve never been with them.
I sprint to Ava, then slide on the frosty grass to reach Ava’s side. “Ava! Ava! Are you alright!?” I turn Ava over. There’s a gash on her forehead, and blood trickles down into her closed eyelids. “A..Ava?” I pat her cheek, which is probably not the correct thing to do in this situation, but my fear for my friend outweighs logic and outweighs my normally clear-headed mind.
There's a scuffle behind me and shouting between my teammates, the ref, and Crimson. I don’t care. Nothing else matters to me right now other than the pain in my chest. I’ve seen Ava be more withdrawn recently with Lilith around, and to be honest with myself, I haven’t enjoyed seeing it. Lilith’s great; she’s a great kisser; I've had sex with her multiple times now, and I’m glad we’re together. She's making me feel pleasure that I didn't feel before I started dating her. But I really liked me and Ava talking calmly and quietly away from the group sometimes, and Lilith's got in the way of that. None of that matters right now. Only Ava does. She’s bleeding; she’s unconscious, and her body has sagged to the floor limply.
“Medics!” I shout to the touchline for help, and the team of doctors, including Jillian, start to sprint over to me, with medical supplies in each of their hands.
Ava groans, suddenly drawing my eye. “Fique JC, não vá.”
Ava wearily goes to get up and blinks her eyes as blood blinds her. “Shhh, stay down. The medics are almost here.” I soothe and rub Ava’s shivering arm.
Ava really loves her fiancé; it’s sweet how much she doesn’t want JC to leave her, even for a few weeks. I personally don’t like the guy, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s Ava’s whole world, and that world is being selfish and wants to leave her alone when she needs his support as she continues to adjust to a new country. He’s a lucky man, and if I were him, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere she wasn’t.
“Where’s JC? Is he here? Where am I?” Ava mumbles and pats her lips as she lays back on the cold grass.
“Just stay still.” I palm Ava’s cheek, then stand aside for the medics.
“Is she alright?” Lilith asks behind me in concern and places her palm on my shoulder. I don’t reply; I just look at Ava with her blood staining the white snow-laden ground. It feels like Ava and the ground form one bleeding white rose. It’s so visceral and crushing for me to see. A woman who’s so pure and kindhearted—stained by her own blood—is in clear agony for more than just the physical pain she’s feeling. JC has caused her worry and distracted her today; he caused her emotional pain by wanting to leave her for a few weeks. This is his fault.
“Bea?”
“Bea?”
I hear Lilith’s voice, but my eyes stay fixed on Ava. On the bleeding white rose—on my friend, on my best friend. Ava’s my best friend now; she’s important to me, and she’s in pain. But all I can do is stand here, looking on helplessly as she bleeds in the snow.
Chapter 7: Stirrings
Summary:
Beatrice stays with Ava by her bedside after her head blow.
Chapter Text
After going to the hospital in Birmingham post-match to check in on Ava, I’ve ended up not leaving her side and not especially wanting to leave her. She’ll be okay, but it’s better to be safe than sorry with head injuries, so she’s going to be monitored overnight before being taken home tomorrow or maybe the next day; that’s unclear right now. What is clear is that I won’t be leaving her alone, not for a second, even if it means I have to sleep in this uncomfortable chair beside her bed. We lost the game two-to-one. I feel battered and bruised myself, and I didn’t get a chance to shower post-match because of my worry for Ava. None of that matters; nothing matters other than sitting here in my tracksuit with my dishevelled hair while I hold Ava’s hand.
She hated the idea of being alone when JC could potentially go home for a few weeks. She won’t be alone. I’ll be here if he decides to be selfish and leaves his fiancé, who loves him and needs him to stay with her right now.
I called him to come be with Ava, and he said it’s late and it’s over an hour drive to get to Birmingham, and the roads are icy. I almost snapped at him for that. If I had someone’s heart like Ava's, I would walk through the coldest of conditions, slip on the ice, and fall down, but keep trudging on to reach her. Even if it meant I had to endure pain, I would still come for her. The cold would bite me, slither under my skin, and freeze me, but I’d accept it. I’d keep pushing to reach a person who loves me unconditionally.
I guess Ava loves JC more than he loves her, because I know for a fact she wouldn’t rest until she was at his bedside if he were in the hospital. She’s stubborn, brave, and a good, dedicated person to those she cares about. She should receive that back, but it’s not my place to say or think that.
“JC?”
I look away from my thoughts and see Ava resting her heavily bandaged head on the hospital pillow below her. She looks at me with blinking eyes. Disappointment. She wants this to be JC holding her hand, not me, not her friend. “Sorry, I called him, but he says the roads are too icy to come.”
Ava, in a hospital gown, wearily looks at me with a pained look in her eyes, “Oh.” She looks to the ceiling and frowns. “I get it. It’s late, and he might get into an accident if he comes.”
"Mmm, driving at night in the ice probably isn’t wise; you're right, he’ll be here tomorrow.” I smile.
Normally, in a setting like this, I’d be desperate to leave and get back home. I’d be eager to return to my haven. I’m not. I want to be in this cold hospital with Ava to make sure she’s not alone. I know what being alone in your thoughts is like with no one near to distract you from that. It’s both nice and bad. It’s calm and filled with strife. My mind goes to dark places when it’s just me and no one else, like most days at my big, empty home. It’s lonely; it feels like I’m fighting an invisible foe who, unlike on the football pitch, I can’t tackle or hurt.
“Thanks for staying, Bea; it means a lot. I hate hospitals.” Ava looks away from the ceiling and smiles at me.
“Your welcome.” I squeeze her hand and smile gently back.
“You can go back to the hotel if you want; you need rest too.”
“No, I’m staying.” I put my other hand on top of Ava’s and furrow my brow stubbornly.
Ava nods weakly, clearly unable to muster the energy to fight me on the subject. “What was the result?”
“We lost.” I smirk and add teasingly. “You totally sucked today; you cost us two goals, you idiot.”
Ava sniffs her gentle, soft-looking nose humorously. "Yeah, sorry about that. You can blame JC for distracting me.”
"Oh, I do; don’t worry about that.” I chuckle.
Ava’s eyes go more serious. “Why don’t you like him?”
I go a bit red under Ava’s gaze and shrug. “He's just not my cup of tea, I guess.”
“The feeling's mutual, to be honest. You intimidate him a tiny bit.” Ava squints her eyes and uses her free hand to almost press her thumb to her index finger.
“And you?” I respond with seriousness. “Do I intimidate you?”
Ava creases her brow, or I think she does; her bandage is covering most of her forehead. "No, of course you don't. You're the only friend I’ve really made since coming to England.”
I sigh. “But Lilith does. That’s why you’ve been a bit withdrawn with me recently.”
“Can you blame me? You know about my anxiety, and she’s so confident and loud, and you obviously prefer her as a person to me.”
“I’m sorry?” I double-take.
Ava eye rolls “Of course you prefer her, Bea; she’s your girlfriend, and you’ve known her for years. I’m just little old me.”
I shake my head and feel an annoyance at Ava calling herself little old me. “Don’t say that about yourself; you're my best friend; she’s my girlfriend, sure, but if I’m honest, I kind of prefer it when we are just alone and she isn’t jumping in on us.”
Ava softens. “I’m your best friend?”
“You are.” I squeeze Ava’s hand and look at her stubbornly. “I know it’s only been a short time, but I don’t know. I just feel like we understand each other without having to say much. Even when we’re just talking football, I feel like you get me like no one else does. Do you know what I mean?”
Ava emotionally nods against her pillow. "Yeah, I do. None of my friends back home understand my anxiety like you do.”
I hum. “I know maybe I don’t talk with you a lot about how I’m feeling or anything, but...”
“I see you.” Ava interrupts softly, and I gulp. “I see when you lie or when you say something and don’t mean it. I see when you smile, but your eyes don’t.”
I feel my cheeks burn, and my heart pumps in my chest a tad bit faster. Why do I feel clammy? I remember Ava bleeding in the snow. Her crimson blood dropped against the white, pillowy ground. She was like a white petal, with blood dripping down from it. I hated seeing it. It was so raw and so painful for me to see her like that. I utterly hated it. My chest hurt so much. “Y..Yeah exactly.” I mumble out. Ava sees me, and I see her. I’ve never had a friend like that before.
Ava scrunches her nose. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit withdrawn. I won’t be again because..I…I think you’re my best friend too.” Ava chuckles. "Well, other than JC, of course he’s my boo.”
“Your boo?” I tease.
“Shut up.” Ava groans and lets my hand go. I immediately miss the contact. I miss the touch. It’s strange. I don’t hold Lilith’s hand or anything; I’ve never been one to hold hands with someone. I like my individuality, but I miss Ava’s hand as soon as she moves it away.
I shake off the absence my hand feels now and remember JC. "So, um, do you think you’ll say yes to letting JC go home for a while?”
Ava bites her cheek. “Probably yes. He needs time to adjust.”
I scoff. “Going back to Lisbon won’t help him adjust; he should be here with you. You’re his fiancé, and you need him. He’s just being selfish; if I were him, I wouldn’t be anywhere you weren’t.”
Ava’s eyes catch mine, and she stares at me for a moment with an unreadable gaze. I don’t really like to stare into anyone’s eyes; it makes me uncomfortable, but I stare into these ones. Time stops, and it feels like I've been looking into Ava’s pupils for years. The clock ticks above me, the room is silent, and I just stare into Ava’s eyes, filled with kindness and an excitable inner child who only comes out when she’s in her comfort zone with JC.
Ava finally blinks. "Well, um, it would be selfish of me to make him stay. It’s a two-way street with me and him. I want him to be happy, so if he needs to go home to feel acclimatised to England, I’ll let him do that.”
I hug myself and rest my back against the chair I'm sitting in, feeling a bit tingly from looking into Ava’s eyes like that. I mumble out, "Sure.”
"Ahem, anyway, I think after we’re settled, we’ll probably spend every summer back in Portugal; to be honest, that’ll help with homesickness for us.”
"Mmm, hmm, I’m sure it will.” I look out the window at the night air outside and watch the snow fall gently from the heavens. It’s a quiet night, but my chest and my mind feel anything but quiet, and I’m not exactly sure why.
—
Opening my eyes, I see the sun beaming down at me through the hospital room window. It’s calming. I see the sky isn’t as completely white as it has been recently.
There's pain in my head from the gash and the general trauma of receiving such a heavy blow, but it’s not unmanageable. I’ve experienced head knocks during my career. I’d rather not have, but I have, so I’m not completely unused to this throbbing feeling in my head.
“Mi amor.” I hear JC’s voice, and I feel even calmer. He’s here, and I quickly feel his lips kiss my bandaged forehead.
“Mi amor.” I smile gently up at him as he places his palm on my cheek and looks down at me with concern in his eyes. I feel safe again.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here last night.” JC moves his lips away from her head but sits on my bed beside me.
I see his messy hair and his hastily put-on Sporting Lisbon shirt. It makes me smile more widely. That’s how I met him; he was a rival fan when I was playing versus Sporting for Benfica, and I was getting some stick from the Sporting fans as I walked down the tunnel for halftime. He defended me. He stuck up for a player who didn’t play for his team because he saw I was a person, not just a football player. He was in a crowd of thousands, but I didn’t forget that little act of kindness. So the next time I played Sporting, I tried to spot him in the crowd. I did. I thanked him, and the rest is history.
I feel my heart warm from remembering that now. “It’s okay; it was too risky on the roads last night.”
JC gently kisses my lips, and I move my hand onto the hand of his that’s resting on my cheek. “I saw what happened on TV. I hated seeing you like that.”
I chuckle "Well, I’d be concerned if you didn’t hate it.”
JC then rests beside me, kissing my neck and cheeks as he does. I squirm against the touch, but my smile gives away just how much I love it.
JC then hugs me, “I won’t go home if you don’t want me to. I’m sorry if I distracted you during the match.”
I tilt my head against his and hold his arm. “No, you need to go. I understand. it’ll only be a few weeks. You need it, and I want you to be happy.”
“I’m happy when I’m with you.” He kisses my cheek, and I moan slightly.
“You haven’t been recently, though, have you? You miss home.”
JC sighs, rolls onto his back, and places his arm around my shoulder. “You know I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy being here with you.”
“But you’re lonely; you miss your friends and your family.”
“You are my family dummy.” JC chuckles.
I puff my cheeks. “You know what I mean? You miss your parents and your sisters.”
“Parents yes, sisters no.”
I bite my lip, suppressing my smile at Remembering JC’s older sisters, they’re very loud and a bit kooky; one of them, Isabella, has an obsession with cats. She has so many—too many. One day, I’m sure she’ll become an old, crazy cat lady who dresses her little cat children in fancy dresses. The other sister, Alice, has her own obsession, but I try to forget hers. Going to her apartment was like stepping into some sort of shrine to Fifty Shades of Grey; the least thought or said about that, the better.
“You need to be home. I hate it, but you need it.” I add after a while of silence.
“We’ll talk more about this when we get home; just rest for now.” JC kisses my head again.
“Oh. You’re here.”
Bea’s voice above us makes me look to the end of my bed. She hasn't had any sleep. She didn't need to do that. I see in her hands two cups of coffee. She didn't need to do that either, but she has. I’m her best friend; it’s strange to think and know that now. It’s been a month, but sometimes when you feel comfortable around someone, time doesn’t matter.
“Hello.” JC stiffens.
Beatrice looks at me and lifts up one of the cups of coffee she holds. “I got you, Capucinno, your favourite.”
“Thanks gimme.” I motion with both my hands and giddily wait to feel a soothing heat down my throat, which I desperately need in this cold hospital. Me and Beatrice know a lot of these small details about each other now after we’ve spent a lot of lunches in each other’s company until Lilith came along and started barging her way into our time together.
Beatrice walks to my bed, and I move back up against my pillow behind me and take my coffee with hungry eyes. “Mmm.” I breathe in the calming aroma of the coffee. I needed this. I love my morning coffee; it helps my nerves and calms me in general. JC has calmed me, but there’s nothing better than a coffee just to make everything feel warm and cosy, especially in such a cold, hollow place like this.
“You look tired, Beatrice. You should go. I’ve got Ava now.” JC says with a bit of an unprovoked needle.
Beatrice gives JC a bit of a sneering look. I can see she’s eager to bite back, but as always, when she’s not on the football pitch, she controls herself. She has such control over her emotions. Sometimes she has too much control. Bar the depressive side of herself, that is. That side is on display a lot. Maybe she needs to let loose a bit more; maybe we both do; maybe we could help each other in that sense.
Chapter 8: The White Rose
Summary:
JC leaves the country and Beatrice comes to Ava’s to keep her company in his absence.
Chapter Text
After a bit more conversation on the subject of JC needing to go back home, we both ultimately agreed it was right for him to go. He won’t be gone for long; it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. I want him here with me, and I don’t want to be alone in this big house, but he needs this, and I love him, so in the end, I want what’s best for him and for us.
In the long run, stopping him from leaving me would be the wrong choice. To be honest, if I could, I’d go home too for a few weeks, but that’s not on the cards at the moment. At least one of us can be home and not feel so homesick. It’s still going to suck not having him here in the home I’m sitting in now all by myself after the club doctors advised I rest after losing consciousness and losing a lot of blood.
This is so strange for me. I’m on my couch in my snuggly pyjamas, all alone, with no fiancé, no JC, no warmth, and no love. I've become so clingy to JC, and I love that I have. I already miss him, and it’s been just a single day. One day feels like a lifetime. I lived alone before JC after leaving my grandparents home, and it wasn’t enjoyable. I need someone to come home to. Being alone is cold, hollow, and, oh, so empty.
I hear a knock at my door, and it briefly drags me away from my loneliness. Hopefully, it’s Beatrice. She promised she’d come to see me, and knowing Beatrice, she would never break a promise to a friend. I open the door, and there she is, shivering in the snow, hugging herself as the cold bites.
"Hey, can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
I bite my lip and block the path to my home. “Is Lilith nearby?”
Bea’s teeth chatter. “Not that I’m aware of—no. Now, can I please come in?”
I preen and raise my chin. No, Lilith, just me and my friend. I like the sound of it. No more empty home, no more wallowing in, no JC. “Come on, I’ll put the kettle on.”
I step aside, and Beatrice rubs her arms before she comes into my nice, warm, heated home away from the snow. “Perfect.”
A deep, contented sigh passes through my lips as I shut the cold outside world away. My home isn’t empty anymore; it has a bit of warmth back in it, figuratively speaking—a bit of company—my new best friend’s company.
Beatrice takes off her coat and neatly places it on a coat hook. She’s got a nice striped jumper underneath and denim jeans. I’ve never been to her home, but I can imagine her reading one of her favourite books in this sort of comfortable clothing on a soft chair beside a window in complete silence.
She likes her own company, but I know deep down she doesn't really want that anymore. She wants someone to talk with so she does not get stuck in her own thoughts. Her own darkness, if you will. I go to the kitchen to make our coffee. I'm glad to be that someone today for her, and I'm glad to be distracted from my own thoughts of missing JC. “No sugar, right?”
“You don’t need to ask; you know what I like.” Beatrice replies with lightness as she places her shoes on a shoe rack.
I smile shyly and put a loose strand of her behind my ear as I put the kettle on. I’m really happy to have some time alone with Beatrice again. That’s the only positive about JC's being gone, I guess. There’s no awkwardness in the air between my friend and my fiancé. It’s just me and Beatrice, and no one else to make things tense—no one at all.
“So how are things with no JC around?” Beatrice asks behind me as I get the mugs and coffee mate.
“I miss him, but it’s for the best; he was going stir crazy here.”
Beatrice sniggers. “Stir crazy being with the woman he loves? That’s a new one.”
I frown, then spin to Beatrice, who now sits on the end of the couch beside the window. “Bea, please don’t speak like that about JC. It’s natural for him to feel homesick; wouldn’t you if you had to leave England like we left Portugal?”
Beatrice folds her arms, then rests her back on the couch. “I get that, but it won’t be that long until the summer comes around. He could’ve waited until then rather than leave you this early into life here.”
I go to retort, but it’s just nice to have someone other than JC who cares about me so much like this. So I don't. I just pour some milk into our mugs and smile at another person in my life who genuinely cares. “Well. I have you here right now, and it’ll only be a few weeks before he’s back.”
Beatrice hums as I turn and walk to her with mugs in hand. “You do, and I’ll be here as much as you’d like.”
That caring comment, as well as the hot coffee, warms me. Beatrice being here often will make the days not feel so lonely. "Thanks; I appreciate that a lot. It’s so quiet without him; I don’t know how you survive living alone.”
Beatrice reaches over and takes her mug as I reach her with eager eyes to get the warmth offered by hot coffee. “Thanks.” She then takes a sip as I sit beside her, crossing my legs on my couch. “And honestly, it’s easy. I like my own space. I have my routine and my books. It’s my haven, like JC is yours, I guess.”
I wiggle a bit on the couch, still a bit giddy at not being alone anymore. “That's nice, I guess.”
“It is.” Beatrice puts her mug on her lap, keeping both her palms on her mug.
“Can you see Lilith being part of that haven one day?” I ask as I sip my coffee.
Beatrice scrunches her freckle-laden nose. "I, uh, I think it’s way too early to be thinking about that. We’re nowhere near being that serious right now.”
“But would you see yourself living with someone one day?” I don't like the idea of someone as kind and caring as Beatrice living by herself forever.
“Maybe. It would have to be the right person, though.” Beatrice shrugs.
“And Lilith? That makes it sound like she’s not the right person.”
Beatrice smirks. “It’s funny how you’ve finally got me alone again and you want to talk about Lilith.”
I place my coffee on the table below me and snort, “I want to talk about you, and Lilith is unfortunately part of that conversation.”
"Well, at the moment, it’s more physical than emotional with her, so we’re a long way from her being something serious.”
I nod in understanding and look into Bea’s eyes, fully engaged in our calm conversation. It’s always calm with me and Beatrice. It’s easy to see how Beatrice can be so calm sometimes as she lives alone in the silence, but being alone has led to Bea’s clear sadness, or maybe it has always been there. Either way, being by herself won’t push her sad thoughts away; it only traps her in a cage of quiet, a cage of her own making that’s hurting her more than helping. I think she needs someone, if not Lilith, then someone else to spend her days with to hold her hand and fight the demons away.
I look at my lap and twiddle my thumbs. “I just don’t want you to be lonely, Bea. I really care about you, and knowing your home all by yourself when you're not at training or matches doesn’t feel right.”
I wait for Beatrice to respond. She doesn’t. I hear and feel her scoot closer to me, so I raise my head to find she’s closer, and she’s smiling gently at me. “I’m not lonely right now. I have Lilith come over now and then, and I have you, Ava.”
I place my hand on her thigh and confirm her words, “You do.”
Beatrice puts her hand on top of mine, and our knees touch. Her eyes look at me—eyes that carry so much buried darkness—and now look a bit less melancholy, and I feel lighter seeing them that way. JC’s gone, but Beatrice's being here for me makes me feel less heavy. I want Beatrice to feel less emotionally heavy because of me too.
—
Blood drips onto the snow-covered grassy ground from the petal of a beautiful white rose. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. I watch every drop of dark crimson blood fall, and my heart twists and burns as I see each one—each drop—hit the ground. The white rose symbolises purity, grace, and love, but the addition of blood into the mix, as my mind sees it now, also symbolises sacrifice. Why sacrifice? Why do I see this? Why is my mind making me see something that represents Ava in the snow as a sacrifice? Could it be a sacrifice of her precious, warm blood for the team at Villa Park? It could be that it could be. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I see this white rose that bleeds. So often since Ava’s injury. I want it to stop. I hate it. It’s like I’m back there on that pitch all over again. It plagues my thoughts and my dreams. I’ve been painting the image since the day it happened. In essence, I am painting Ava. Maybe I’m the blood and Ava is the rose; maybe it symbolises how much I want it, so I’m the one who bleeds for Ava’s kindness and purity of heart. It scares me. Ava scares me.
Why does my best friend scare me so much? No one has scared me before like this. No one. Not my parents or my girlfriend's, like Nicole and now Lilith. No one. I replay the image of Ava in pain over and over—Ava bleeding her precious blood—and I feel such fear. I want to be the one who bleeds for her. I want to be the one who’s making the sacrifice of my lifeblood instead of hers. I can’t want that, though. I can’t. We’re friends; she has a fiancé. A fiancé she loves so much. A fiancé she misses so much she can barely stand to be without him for just a few weeks. Shake it off. I tell myself as my eyes open, and I find I’m still at Ava’s home on Ava’s leather couch. Shake it off. Don’t think like this; don’t make myself have more pain when my life is already consumed with so much mental pain. But my mind, as always, doesn’t care what I want. As I turn my sleepy gaze to my left, I find Ava with crossed legs and transfixed eyes on the TV, still watching the boring rom-com movie we were watching before I must’ve drifted off, feeling so calm and content in her presence.
I look at her. In snuggly pyjamas, I look at her in a headbandage still with stitches underneath holding her blood in that fell so readily to the snowy ground and feel the pain I want to avoid, like the bitingly cold conditions outside Ava’s warm home. She’s so beautiful. Her eyes are filled with so much emotion. Her nose looks so soft and pale. Her little smile as she watches the movie in comfort and contentment with me here by her side instead of being alone. Her everything is so perfect, I’m beginning to see her beauty and crave it. I crave having it for myself. I want to pluck the white rose from the ground, cover it with protection and warmth, then bring it home with me to plant it in a pot, nurture, and love it. I want my fingers to brush her white petals and see no blood. I just want to feel her soft touch on my fingers. I want her. Damn it. I can’t want that. I can’t want her. I can’t want someone who I know would help push my darkness away and defend me from the invisible demons. But I do. God, I do.
This isn’t fair. It’s not. I don’t need this. I don’t need this want that’ll lead to pain. Why must I suffer this desire? Why must I want something I can never have? It’s probably not real. Yes. This feeling I’m feeling more readily by the second isn’t real; it’s an illusion. It’s not real. It’s not real. Bury it. Destroy it, so I won’t add to my pain.
I look down to see a blanket over me. Keeping me warm, and I see I can't destroy this no matter how hard I try. It’s in me now. This craving, this need to protect Ava with body and soul—she’s the light in my tunnel of darkness that isn’t just splotches of light like I only had before I met her. She’s the beaming sun that blows the tunnel to pieces and leaves me naked and vulnerable to her view. She hears me shuffle on her couch and turns her soft gaze to me, and I know I’m royally fucked. I can’t help but stare and not blink at her eyes—her beauty, her perfection. I want Ava. I want a person who has a fiancé whom she has a fierce love for. I want someone who isn’t gay. Just bloody great.
Chapter 9: Shifting
Summary:
Beatrice tries to push down her feelings. If only for a moment. JC has some bad news for Ava.
Chapter Text
Hand over my mouth, deep in thought, as I look into my back garden, which’s adorned with flowers I’ve planted and hedges I’ve cut, as I wear my comfortable pyjamas, I spot a Robin fly by. How free must it be to be that Robin? Flying through the air without much in its tiny little head. How I wish to be that Robin. Free of these human emotions. But then again, I don't really want that, because if I were a Robin with its brown back, white belly, and red-breasted chest, face, and cheeks, I wouldn’t have so many things that so many people would kill to have. A career as a footballer, a purpose as a captain, and a growing feeling of devotion to a beautifully kind woman.
I don’t know how I’m going to solve this feeling of devotion I have for Ava now. It’ll never happen for me with her. Never. So I suppose I’ll just maintain being her friend. That's enough. It’s not everything I want now, but it’s enough. I’m just glad I have this feeling. I didn’t think I could have such a feeling for anyone. I do, though, and that is a rare thing I won’t take for granted.
I feel a pair of arms snake themselves around my stomach. It’s Lilith. At least I have some physical comfort, I guess, with someone I like. But I've known Lilith for years and have never felt the feelings I’m feeling for Ava after a month and a half of knowing Ava with Lilith. It’s strange. I’ve known Lilith for so long. I respect her and appreciate her as a friend and a teammate, but someone new—someone so new—has come into my world and already has more of my affection than Lilith ever will.
It’s understanding its connection with Ava. It’s deeper than years; it just feels right. When something feels so right, it just does. You can’t force anything else to be. Even if what feels so right will cause you pain, that’s that. It can never be, though. It can never be.
I shake myself as Lilith kisses my neck with a feathery, soft touch, like the delicate touch of the feathers of the robin I saw outside. My mother would say something like get a grip if she knew of my pining for Ava now. I will pine, though; no one can stop me. Not her. Not anyone. Is it fair on Lilith for me to be pining over Ava while I’m with her?
Obviously it’s not, but then again, Lilith isn’t pressuring me for anything serious right now. I sigh as Lilith nips at my ear. I don’t know. Am I a terrible person for thinking of just using Lilith for physical touch and affection because it makes me feel a distraction from my dark thoughts and thoughts of Ava? Probably.
“Morning.” Lilith growls against my ear. I can’t help but grin in response.
It’s not a trivial thing to feel comfortable with Lilith like this now. Far from trivial, it’s vulnerable; it’s exposing; and it’s arousal-inducing. She’s in my haven, my home, kissing and biting me, making me shiver. That is far from trivial for me.
“Morning.” I groan, then turn around and capture Lilith’s lips with my own. Morning breath. It’s not great, but right now I need something to distract me from these thoughts I’m having.
I push Lilith by her hips in her own pjyamas—a shirt and a small shorts that reveal her long legs to the couch—then push her down to its cotton fabric and immediately move my thigh into her centre that’s covered by the fabric of her shorts. I swirl my tongue against hers and fight it with gusto in her mouth. I’m more confident now. Like I anticipated, I would be after a while with Lilith. I take the driver's seat just as much as she does.
My mind isn’t filled with anything now other than a burning in my core and a wetness in my core too. I kiss her hungrily. I palm her cheek and rub my other palm on her arm as I feel two strong hands pull me into Lilith’s body, making me gasp as she bites my lower lip. “Ah.” I begin to put my fingers down Lilith’s shorts and find her wetness. I rub her and stop swaying into her while I continue to kiss her. Don’t think; just enjoy this. Enjoy being with a friend.
“Bea.” A voice gasps into my mouth sensually. It’s not Lilith’s voice I hear. It’s Ava’s. Is Lilith speaking right now into my mouth? Is anyone speaking at all, or am I just imagining it? I test the theory and suck on Lilith’s tongue to make her unable to speak as I curve my damp fingers into her core.
“Mi Amor.” A whisper echoes, and I know for sure it’s definitely not Lilith’s voice. The voice in my head is Ava's. I frown against Lilith’s lips as I release her tongue. Not now. Don't disrespect Lilith like this by imagining that this is Ava that I'm kissing and fingering. Not now.
I move away from Lilith’s lips, then travel downward on the couch. I basically rip off her shorts and toss them aside. No seconds are wasted as I dive to her clit and flick my tongue hurriedly and desperately. Be quiet. I plead with my brain to be, and for once it seems to listen.
“Yes.” Lilith moans and puts her fingers through my hair that’s dishevelled from sleep as I begin to suck on her clit. “You’re feisty this morning.” Lilith laughs, and I laugh against her soaking folds. Okay, this is good. I’m feeling lighter and more aware of Lilith now, and less so of the desire for this to be Ava. I straddle Lilith’s hips, grip them tight, and then just focus on her scent—her pleasure—her clit.
I feel Lilith move about above me and frown at the interruption. She’s taken her shirt off. She’s now fully on display for my eyes to see. Her hair is down, and her eyes are dark and lustful, as I please her. Her breasts are plump and ready for my lips after I’ve made her release with my tongue.
'Keep sucking Keep licking and flicking, and keep tasting Lilith.' I scream inwardly to myself, then I move my hand to her breast and squeeze tightly, making her gasp and smile with a mischievous smile. She really is hot like this, with her brown eyes looking down at me with desire. I look away from them momentarily, brush my nose into Lilith’s clit, and bury my face more or less completely into her.
“Oh Bea.”
I gulp and look up again. My eyes widen. Ava. Her eyes look at me teasingly. Her medium hair, not Lilith’s long hair, falls down to her bare shoulders. Her breasts are there for the sucking, and her pale chest rises and falls instead of Lilith’s. I can't do this anymore; it’s hurting me to imagine being with Ava like this, and it’s not fair on Lilith. I don’t stop my movements, though. I’m not about to stop having sex with Lilith and tell her I’m in love with another woman, then dump her. That would be cruel and heartless, like it would be cruel and heartless of me to act on these feelings when Ava has a fiancé, whom I know she loves with all her heart, if Ava were attracted to women.
—-
Laying back on mine and JC’s bed at home under my soft duvet, I ruffle my hair, then stretch my arms and legs. JC will be back next week, and I’m so excited to have him home. It’s only been 8 days, but it’s felt like 80.
Bea’s been here, and I’m so thankful for that. She comes over every chance she can while I recover, and we just watch a movie or have dinner together. It’s been just me and her. I've loved it. But I’m eager to see my JC now. Just one more week, and this time away from him will be done. Hopefully he won’t need to go home again until the summer, when we’re getting married back in Lisbon. I’m looking forward to that too. My grandmother helped me pick out a lacy white dress. I can’t wait to wear that dress down the aisle before tying the knot. At long last,.
I already have bridesmaids in mind; all of them were with me during my academy days at Benfica. I've known them all longer than Beatrice. So is it mad that I want Beatrice to be my maid of honour now after such a short time, despite knowing my friends back home for years? Maybe it really isn’t mad because none of those friends I have back home get me like Beatrice does.
I want that sort of person with me on a day like my wedding day. I want her close. I want her to calm my pre-wedding jitters. I want her—I want my best friend—on a day I won’t forget.
There’s a sudden buzz from my side table, and I groan. I see it’s JC, and my heart skips a bit. I’ve talked with him a lot over FaceTime. I put it on that now so I can see his face, which I miss having with me every time I wake up.
“Hey!” I exclaim and shuffle my back onto the headboard of my bed with a goofy smile.
JC isn’t smiling, and the look in his eyes is one I know well. Guilt. I notice he’s shaved his hair. I immediately don’t like it. His hair suited him; it was curly on top and thin at the sides. Now it’s just nothing. It’s his choice, though. I’m not the hairstyle police. That’s not pressing right now. What’s pressing is that he isn’t speaking; he’s just smiling nervously with what looks like a boardroom behind him.
“Hi.” JC finally speaks.
I slump my shoulders, and my excitable smile fades. “What’s wrong?”
“Please don’t be mad.”
I gulp I gulp deeply, like I’ve just drunk a whole bottle of water. Dread. I feel it. I hate it. I have a feeling I know exactly why JC doesn’t want me to be mad. “Why would I be mad? What’s up? I can’t wait to see you next week.” I say the words and ask the questions, but I know. I know deep in my bones.
JC sighs “I have to stay for another two weeks.”
I knew it would be something like that. My heart drops nonetheless. I full-on frown and bite my lip. “Why? We agreed you could go home, then come back after 2 weeks.”
JC appears to rest his back against a white pillar, and I see he’s in a smart suit. A grey blazer and a buttoned smart shirt with a purple tie. “It’s work, mi amor; my editor wanted me to consult on some other works for her.”
I sag my body back on my pillow and puff my cheeks. “That’s…” I want to get angry. I want to be annoyed. I can’t be, though. It’s for work. It’s unbelievably frustrating, but I get it. So I sigh with my palm on my face and groan long and loudly. “Urghhh, just great.”
“I know I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” JC replies apologetically.
“So by the time you get back, it would’ve been a month since you left.” I bemoan.
"Mmm, it sucks. I miss you. But you have…” JC clenches his jaw. “You have Beatrice to keep you company.”
I hate JC not liking Beatrice. It was okay at first, but it’s getting on my nerves more and more. I don’t like some of JC’s friends, sure. Not to this degree, though. It’s become bitter between them both, and I don’t understand why. So I ask JC this time instead of Beatrice, who gave me the “He’s not my cup of tea.” comment.
“I don’t understand you two. I get you're intimidated by her; she’s...”
“I’m not intimidated; don’t be so ridiculous.” JC bites back with venom that he never uses towards me, and I flinch a bit. He never interrupts me like that. I feel scolded like a child. If anyone should be scolded right now, it’s JC for staying away longer than we agreed upon.
I bite my cheek in annoyance and spit back. “Then why can’t you just get along with her? For me. She’s my friend, and it hurts me that you and her are so icy towards each other. You're my two favourite people, and you can’t even be in the same room.”
JC looks away from the screen and puts his hand over his head, which has no hair now. “I just don’t like her, okay? She’s just…she’s just.” JC sniggers. “She’s not your usual type of friend.”
I squint my eyes at my phone—at JC. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s not like you and me; she’s confrontational; she’s defensive. That’s not us.”
I have a thought about what JC is trying to say but isn’t, and it annoys me. No. It more than annoys me. It inflames my body with anger. “Say what you want to say; stop dancing around this. Why don’t you like her, really?”
JC looks at someone I don’t see and motions to have a moment with his finger. “I told you why; now I’ve got to go. I love you. Bye.”
“I love..” JC hangs up before I finish replying. We never leave things like that when ending a call, when I go to training, or whenever we leave each other. It doesn’t feel good. I hate it. I want to call him back. But I don’t. I stop myself. I leave it and toss my phone aside to calm myself down.
Chapter 10: Only Ava’s
Summary:
Ava is finally ready to return to the football pitch.
Chapter Text
Ready for action after weeks on the sidelines I sit down in the team dressing room at Old Trafford and tie my hair back tightly. I’m looking forward to being in one of my happy places other than JC again. I’ve missed football. I’ve missed the adrenaline and the thrill of the fight. I need it, I crave it, and I’m delighted to finally have it again.
“Ready?” Beatrice asks beside me.
“Hell yeah, let’s do this.” I turn and smile at my friend, who has her hair tied up in a bun and has a long red-sleeved shirt underneath her United jersey with the addition of gloves. It’s still cold. It’s still biting my skin when I go outside. But like Beatrice, I’m ready to get out on the pitch and play for my team. Play for this title. I go to get up, also ready for the distraction from being upset at JC at the moment due to him being so dismissive of Beatrice being my friend. His comment with such sniggering venom has stuck in my mind since he said it. ”She’s not your usual type of friend.”
I don’t want to think about what he meant by that, really. I really don’t. JC isn’t like that. He’s kind, and he's the man I want to marry. But I am, and it’ll only be erased from my mind when I speak and see JC again rather than text him. I’m sure I’m just overthinking his words. Surely I must be. He can’t have been implying what I think he was. He can’t.
“Oh wait!” Beatrice grabs my arm as I fully get to my feet, making me look down at her in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“You forgot your gloves.” Beatrice quickly retrieves my gloves and hands them to me.
I smile at her care for my warmth during the match. “Thanks.”
“Oh! And your head guard!” Beatrice fusses and moves to get the head protection I’ll need to wear for a while after my concussive injury from my changing area.
“I really don’t want to wear that silly thing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You need it, so don’t be stubborn and put your thingamajig on.” Beatrice waves the stupid, ugly black head guard in my face.
I smirk. “Thingamajig?”
Beatrice places the thing on my head with a teasing smile. "Hmm, mmm, and I love how it looks on you. It’s definitely going to be in fashion soon.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
Bea’s eyes lose their teasing tint. They go serious as Beatrice palms my arm. "No, I'm not. I hate that you got hurt. I was so powerless when you went down and...I’ve never felt so scared, Ava. You really scared me.”
Everything in me softens. My anger at JC grows. How could he not like Beatrice? She’s not confrontational or defensive, like he said. She’s my support system at my new club. She worries over me and comes over to my home every day when he’s gone to make sure I don’t feel lonely. She’s just a really good person who I respect and cherish having in my life now. He better change his attitude towards her soon.
I place my palm on Bea’s shoulder and gently say to her, “I’m sorry I scared you.”
I feel Bea’s grip on my arm strengthen. “Please be careful today. Promise you won’t go in for too many headers or tackles.”
“You know I can’t promise that. We need to win the game. I have to give it my all, and you of all people should get that.”
Beatrice inhales deeply. "Right, yeah, of course; just be sensible at least, please.”
I sway a bit on the spot and feel giddiness at her fussing. There's really nothing better than being doted on by someone who cares. So I kiss her cheek quickly and say, "Yes, mother.”
—-
Ava walks away from me, as my heart literally just entered my throat in response to her lips on my cheek. I’ve imagined her lips on me. I dreamt of it so much recently. The actual feeling of her gentle lips touching my cheek, even for a brief moment, sends a shudder down my spine. Is there a match today? Am I playing in it? I have no idea anymore because nothing else matters now other than brushing my fingers against my cheek. The cheek Ava just kissed.
I didn’t think being kissed by anyone could electrify my body like this. I don’t think I’ve felt like this since my first kiss when I was a teenager. My need for Ava instantly grows. It’s unbearable but bearable at the same time. My desire for Ava is a blessing and a curse. It’s distracting me from my dark thoughts. It’s plaguing my mind. Ava is.
“So that’s why we broke up, is it?” Lilith moves to stand beside me while I watch Ava leave the dressing room. I didn’t tell her about my feelings for Ava when I said it was best we split up. It must be obvious to anyone who looks at me when I’m with Ava that I’m in love with her. Maybe JC sees that too. Maybe he sees my eyes; he sees my love for his soon-to-be bride and wants me gone. He needn't worry. Ava’s heart belongs to him. Not to me. Not ever with me. I want the white rose. I want Ava. I want to call her my white rose. Show her the paintings I’ve painted recently of the flower and tell her they’re all for her. I can't, though. I can't, because she’ll never love me that way. Not when JC exists.
I take a breath, click my neck, and stiffly reply to Lilith to maybe cover up what’s plainly true. "No, it’s not Lil; that’s ridiculous. Ava’s getting married, and she’s straight; I broke up with you because I’m...”
“In love with her.” Lilith interrupts and says words I know to be true, and now she does too.
I choose to deny it anyway and turn to Lilith with my captain's head on ahead of the game. "No, I'm not. She’s just my best friend, nothing else. Now let’s go win this match.”
“She’ll never love you the way you want her to, Bea.”
I part my lips to retort. I can’t. Saying that painful fact in my own sad thoughts is one thing. Hearing a person say it so bluntly is another. It’s more real. It’s as real as the tingling I still feel on my cheek from Ava’s lips. This pain is so visceral. Just like seeing Ava bleed. Just like my fear for Ava today as she returns for her first match. It makes my throat close up, and my heart reacts in my chest painfully. I try to cover up how much it hurts to hear Lilith say that. I fail. I let a reluctant tear fall. I’m cursed to love a woman who’ll never love me back. I feel lucky that I feel this love, but I feel very unlucky at the same time.
“I’m sorry to be blunt, but we both know it’s true.” Lilith cups my shaking cheek and makes me look at her.
I look away. I should be ready for the game now and not be gently crying because I can’t have the woman I love in every way I want to have her. “Let’s go. I don’t want to talk about this.”
Lilith wipes my tears away and moves to kiss me. I consider pushing her roughly away. But why would I do that? She’s my friend. It’s still a bit off, though, that she goes in for a kiss when she just stated the very fact, which burns and pains me to know. that I love Ava, and Ava will never love me back.
“What are you doing?” I push Lilith away by her chest and look at her gentle eyes and her ponytailed hair with confusion.
Lilith shrugs. “I want you, and I don’t want to stop dating you. Ava will never be available, so why can’t we keep on doing what we’ve been doing?”
“You want to date me knowing I love Ava?”
Lilith grins and moves her palms to my back to pull me into her. I should stop this. Stop Lilith. “Why not? We both like each other. It’s not love. But we’re friends, and you know I’ll never hurt you. We can just call it casual hookups if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
My tears cease falling from my eyes. I wouldn’t mind the physical comfort. I have enjoyed it, and Lilith knows I love Ava now. It wouldn’t hurt Lilith if she didn’t ever expect me to love her. Then again, there’s the whole imagining Ava during sex with her. That’s not changed. “That’s not fair on you, Lil; I don’t want to use you like that.”
“Maybe I want to be used; you’re pretty good at making me feel good, you know.” Lilith chuckles.
I smirk. That’s nice to hear. The worst thing to hear from someone I have sex with would be. Nah. You didn’t even make me orgasm. So it gives me a feeling of achievement that that’s not the case with Lilith. I smirk wider in envisioning myself receiving the ‘I made Lilith cum, and she wants more award’. Lilith has had so many flings and hookups over the years. So that is definitely an ego-boosting thing to hear her say about me, and I could use all the compliments and confidence-boosting things I can find in my life.
I could wallow. I could go deep into my dark thoughts and be down because of a cursed, unfulfillable love for Ava, or I could have someone make me feel good, and vice versa. It won’t stop this pain. It won’t stop me from wanting my white, beautiful rose. But it’s something. I don’t want to return to being alone in my house with nothing but my thoughts all the time. It makes me shudder just thinking about it.
“So what do you say? Casual hookups with a friend and an occasional date with one too.” Lilith moves her palms to my butt and squeezes as I rest my hands on her hips.
“I’ll think about it.” I eye-roll and gulp at Lilith, who squeezes me with her hands.
“I’ll take it. Now let's go before the game starts without us.” Lilith kisses me, then strides away with confidence. I know she’s swaying her hips on purpose. She obviously wants me to stare at her ass. I’m human. I do stare. Lilith is a beauty with great curves and a great body. Lilith goes out of sight of the dimly lit red dressing room, and I go to follow.
Ava appears in the doorway and holds the frame of the door as she pops her head-guarded head into the room. I forget Lilith’s curves and her ass and just stop mid-stride. Ava’s kiss still lingers on my cheek. It lingers far more than Lilith's more lustful one does. I can’t settle for Lilith’s kissing. Not when I’ve tasted the fruit I love that electrified my body and made me shiver and shudder under a simple kiss on the cheek. No. I won’t be with Lilith, not when I know Ava’s touch now. It would feel hollow in comparison. I won’t have a distraction from my thoughts like I want. Ava’s touch. Ava’s lips have ruined me. She’s unintentionally ruined having anyone else kiss me in any way. Every time Lilith would kiss my body, I’d imagine Ava kissing me instead. I’d imagine the touch of Ava’s perfectly soft, wet lips.
“You coming, Bea?” Ava asks with an innocent head tilt.
My worry for Ava returns. That headwear she wears is a reminder of seeing Ava bleeding in the snow. The woman I love, the woman I want, whose lips have ruined me, was hurt. She won’t be hurt again on my watch. So I reply with a stubborn heart to defend Ava on the pitch and be with no one else. “Yeah coming.”
Even if it means I can never have sex or kiss anyone else again, I’m Ava’s now. She’ll never be mine like I want. But in this moment, as I walk towards her and she turns away with an excited skip in her step to play football again, I devote myself to her and only her. It’ll hurt. Oh, it’ll hurt to watch her be someone else’s and have no physical comfort for myself. But this love that I didn’t think I could feel until Ava is worth being no one else’s for.
Chapter 11: The Wounded Soldier
Summary:
Beatrice has a tough day.
Chapter Text
Ava’s second game back is a big one; it’s the Champions League Round of 16 tie against Italian juggernauts AC Milan. It’s been 60 minutes now into the game, and I’m marshalling my team with laser focus. Ava’s taken her head protection off, much to my annoyance. That’s not on my mind at the moment, though. It can’t be. I’m focused on making sure we take the lead heading into Italy next week for the second leg. Plus, my parents are in the stands tonight, and they expect nothing less than perfection from me. They’re die-hard United fans, and if I let them down again in this competition, they won’t let me hear the end of it.
Sometimes, growing up, it felt like, despite United being my dream, I was basically a manifestation of both their dreams too. They pushed me beyond belief to be the best player I could be. I loved football, so I was fully on board, but it was a very pressurised existence, and I couldn’t let them down. I haven't; I’m a United captain now.
Like every fan, they’re desperate to see their team win, and I’m reminded of that before the big matches often and regularly.
Another of my father's pre-match pep talks rings in my head as the rain falls down on me, and I’m shivering and covered in mud. “Don’t let us or the fans down tonight.
If I had a bit of energy to ever retort to my father's words, I would’ve said, “You don’t care about the fans; you just want me to steal the headlines, so our surname is in the newspapers.” I didn’t say that. I'd never talk to my father like that. He and my mother made sure I’d never be so rude to them both growing up. Instead, I heed his words and slide into the muddy ground to intercept the ball from a Milan player in a red and black striped jersey in the middle of the park.
I feel the players studs scratch my cheek as I complete the intercept. It stings immediately, but the adrenaline pumping in my veins lessens the pain. It’ll hurt later, after the match. Just like I'll feel the pain from the tackle I took earlier from my coach’s Suzanne’s daughter, Sylvia, who plays for Milan as a striker, Sylvia raked the studs of her boots down the back of my calf in a vicious tackle after 5 minutes into this second half. I’m fairly sure I’m bleeding from the area. I’ve been limping a bit because of that challenge, but I don’t feel it now as much as I will later. It is inhibiting my movements, though.
I get to my feet after the tackle, then rush to move with the ball at my feet as rain falls on me. My bloodied, muddy self probably looks like a warrior in the middle of an intense battle. I stride forward into Milan’s half. Past one player, past two, I spot Ava soaked through from the rain on the left wing. I spray a cross-field pass to her, then keep on moving to Milan’s penalty area. ‘Don’t stop. Keep going. Keep going', my mind pushes me on, and I arrive in the box and find space for Ava to cross the ball to me.
“Ava! I’m open!” That wasn't smart of me to scream. The opposing defender hears me and immediately blocks me off as Ava whips the ball to me with her talented left boot. I go for the header. I miss it, and the defender heads it away.
My shoulders slump in tiredness as Milan begins a counterattack. ‘Gotta get back; I gotta stop them scoring from this breakaway’ I scream at myself, and I wearily obey, pushing through the mud caked on my skin and the blood dripping from the scratch on my cheek. I sprint in pursuit of the ball. My senses are dulled, and my vision is blinded by the rain as I frantically push to retrieve possession of the ball like a woman possessed. “Don't let us or the fans down tonight.” My father’s voice echoes in my mind again as I see Sylvia is about to shoot towards our goal. I lunge. It’s a weary thing. It’s a tired tackle, and my studs do what she did to me and scratch down her calf.
“Argh!!” Sylvia screams and crumbles to the ground.
I know I’m screwed. Even I, in my tired, muddied state, know it’s an immediate red card. I stay on the floor, though, to avoid seeing the referee in her black clothing—the black clothing that reminds me of my inner darkness—brandish red. My chest heaves. My breathing labours. My palms touch the muddy ground below me as rain falls and creates little splotches in the muddy ground. Blood drips down to the same muddy ground from my cheek. Interweaving itself with the mud, the grass, and the rain. It’s a green, brown, and red river below me. All I see is the red, though. I hear the whistle behind me, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Damn it.” I scold myself for being so reckless and lazy with my challenge. Dad won’t be pleased, nor will Mom.
“What the fuck was that!?” An Italian accent shouts angrily above me, and I feel a pair of hands push me to the ground.
“Hey! Don't touch her!” I hear Ava’s voice angrily shout back and see, as I roll on to the muddy ground, Ava grappling with the dark-skinned Milan player.
I want to get up and plead with the ref to not send me off. It’s pointless. It’s coming, and it’s deserved. So I just lay on the muddy ground with a heaving chest. I feel the rain hit my face and feel my cheek sting as a drop hits my cheek wound. I’m so tired. So tired.
The adrenaline flows out of me. Without it, I feel empty again. When Ava bled in the snow, she looked like Snow White. A beauty who bled. I don’t look like that. I just look like a tired, muddied soldier who let her team down. What would I paint if I saw myself right now? Probably just a tired woman with a tired soul inside and out. I could use brown, red, and green paint to paint myself. It wouldn’t be half as beautiful as Ava’s white rose that drips blood that I’ve painted. It would just be a sad, lonely figure alone in the mud.
“Bea!? Are you alright!?” Ava’s voice shouts in distress above me.
Ava’s dampened by the rain, but there’s not a scratch on her. I don’t feel alone anymore. I haven’t felt alone since I met her on the Carrington training pitch.
—
After a bruising two-nil defeat to Milan, Beatrice looked as despondent as I’ve seen her be. I hated it. She worked so hard in that match but just ended bloodied, and from what I saw when I helped her off the muddy ground as the ref gave her a red card, she looked broken too. She loves United, and to let the team and the fans down like that is clearly hurting her. So for once, I’ve driven to her home in the middle of the night rather than go back to my own home. She shouldn’t be alone tonight. She’ll stew in her thoughts and begin to scold herself for letting people down.
How wrong she is on that subject. She could never let anyone down. She put everything into that match. Anyone with eyes could see that. She just made one mistake. I refuse to let her beat herself up about it. So I park my car still in my United track suit after taking a warming shower at Old Trafford post-match. I get out of my car, lock it, and then speed walk to Bea’s front door. Her home is like mine. It’s big—much too big—but its bricks are coloured white instead of brown like mine.
“You let the fans down! You let us both down tonight! What were you thinking!?” I hear a woman’s screeching voice and stop in my tracks. It’s posh like Bea's, but older. I sneak a peek through Bea’s window and see Beatrice sitting on a light grey couch, looking vacantly at the ground. I strain my neck, then see the source of the voice pacing Bea's living room: it's a woman in a United shirt with the same skin tone as Beatrice, with greying hair, looking down at Beatrice with dissatisfaction. She’s wrinkled, she has black-braided hair, and her face looks stern. As does a man’s face, who stands behind the woman with folded arms in a United shirt too.
These must be Bea’s parents. She doesn’t talk about them much other than to say they love United. Clearly, they haven’t taken the defeat well, or Bea’s involvement in that defeat.
“Absolutely useless! You embarrassed yourself out there tonight!” Bea’s mom shouts at her again.
A flick is switched inside of me. No one talks to Beatrice like that. No one hounds her when she’s clearly already beating herself up about tonight. I frown harder than I ever have. I clench my jaw as I see Beatrice with a plaster on her cheek and a defeated look in her eyes. She's accepting this scolding willingly. I’ve seen Beatrice try to hide her inner pain at times. She mostly fails. But this time, it looks like she hides nothing at all. Her hair is wet from a shower, I presume, and it’s down to her sides. She’s wearing a dressing robe with pyjamas underneath. I spot the bandage wrapped around her calf. Everything just screams that she needs my help. She needs sleep—not scolding right now. So I rush to the door and bang on it.
The shouting stops. I hear a scuffle of feet, then the door opens for me. Beatrice. At first, her eyes look empty, but when she sees that it’s me, they lighten. She smiles lightly. “Ava? What are you doing here? It’s late.”
I puff out my chest. “I came to check on you after the match, but I see your horrible parents beat me to it.”
Bea’s smile rises. “They’re not horrible; they're just disappointed. It was a big game, and their team lost.”
"Well, I’m here now, so they can get out before I throw them out.” I fold my arms with stubbornness in my eyes.
Beatrice shakes her head. "No, you won't.”
"Yes, I will.” I raise my chin, feeling a bit silly suddenly.
Beatrice sniffs humorously, then stands aside. “Come in and try if you’d like.”
I hesitate. “Why do I feel like I’m about to step into the lion's den?”
“Because you are.” Beatrice laughs softly, then outstretches her arm to offer me her hand.
‘Don’t chicken out now. Go kick these horrible people out of my friend's home.' I tell myself, and I take Bea’s hand, then come into her home.
I immediately start analysing everything as I walk in. There’s a picture of Beatrice as a child holding medals with her parents either side of her. I smile as I see Beatrice smiling widely in a small United shirt. She looks so happy. It doesn’t look like she has any darkness behind her eyes. She just looks happy. Nothing else. The years have taken that from her. Maybe the reason for that is because of the people standing on either side of her in this photo. Maybe the constant demand that she performs has led to her depression, or at least contributed to it.
I stop me and Beatrice, then just keep staring at this photo that’s framed. “This is a nice picture.”
"Mmm, it is; better days they were. I wish I had told myself back then that that time would be my best period in my life.”
I turn to Bea’s slightly melancholic voice. She looks at her younger self with wistfulness. I can tell she wishes she was that kid again without the toll the years have taken on her. “I don’t think that’s true.”
Beatrice moves her eyes towards me. She raises her eyebrow. “How so?”
“I think your best period is yet to come.” I squeeze her hand tightly.
“Maybe.” Beatrice smiles briefly, then leads me away to her living room.
I hate that she said maybe. She doesn’t believe she’ll feel true contentment again, like she did back then. It makes me squeeze her hand even tighter as I see her parents in her living room standing with folded arms.
“Ava, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bea’s mom relaxes quickly and greets me. It throws me off. She has the look of an excited fan. That’s because she is one. 'Yeah, one who just tore into my friend, my captain, and her daughter a minute ago.' I remind myself.
I shake myself, release Bea’s hand, and reply sternly, “I wish I could say the same. How dare you talk to Bea like that. She did her best. We all did. She just made a mistake, and she doesn’t need you reminding her of that.”
Bea’s mom stiffens. “I’ll talk to my daughter, as I see fit, Miss Silva.”
My normal social anxiety would make me flinch at such a sudden, stiff response. Not this time. I just feel angry that my friend just got shouted at by her parents when she needed exactly the opposite. "No, you won’t. Bea’s had a tough day, and she doesn’t need you two...” I briefly look at Bea’s dad, who I didn’t see shouting but probably did at some point. “Making her feel worse. Now please let her get some rest.”
Eyes that are so similar to Bea’s that belong to Bea’s mom regard me for a moment, then flick to Beatrice. “Is that what you want?”
Beatrice clears her throat beside me. “I’m tired, mom. I know you’re disappointed, but I’m just really tired.”
I see regret in Bea’s mom's eyes. “Alright. We'll let you get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Beatrice sighs.
I turn my gaze to Beatrice. She looks on the verge of falling where she stands. She needs rest and quiet right now.
“Come on, Steven, let’s go.” Steven Bea’s dad has an equal look of regret and follows his wife out.
Beatrice places her palm on my cheek. She strokes my skin with her thumb. “Thanks for that.”
My heart races from standing up for Beatrice. It pumps and pumps in my chest rapidly. Probably more rapidly than it did when I was playing the match a few ago. I place my palm on Bea’s arm. “Let’s get you into bed.”
Beatrice smiles tiredly. “That sounds nice, would you..” Beatrice hesitates. “Would you like to stay with me tonight? I think I don’t want to be alone.”
"Sure, anything for you.”
“Anything for me.” Beatrice repeats, then starts to lean in towards me. She’s looking at my lips. What’s she doing? I go to gently push her back, but she only kisses my cheek. “Thank you, darling.” She murmurs against my skin. I gulp at the softness of her lips touching my cheek and the tenderness of her voice. She’s never called me darling before. Only JC calls me something like that. Only JC. Only my fiancé.
It doesn’t mean anything. Beatrice sees me as her best friend, and she’s mine too. She’s just had a tough day, and her walls are down. I've never seen her be this soft before, though. It's different. It's nice.
Chapter 12: Release
Summary:
Beatrice speaks her truth.
Chapter Text
A week after the first leg in Manchester, I’m now with Beatrice and the United team in Milan. It feels so nice to be away from the cold of England. No screw, nice. Its wonderful. It’s so invigorating. Instead of looking out my window to find my back garden in Manchester, I find a beautiful view of the city of Milan. Night has fallen, but the city is lit with sparkling light; the skyscrapers sparkle in the dark, and the lights of the clubs and houses are reflected on the waters of the Navigli canals.
I sigh in relief. So beautiful. I don’t want to go to sleep; I want to go outside on the hotel balcony and sit down to admire the beautiful view for hours and hours. It’s warmer than England, so I could go outside in my pyjamas and not feel cold. I can't, unfortunately. The game is tomorrow, and I need my rest. Especially without Beatrice in the team due to her sending off in the first leg. I'll need energy without the team's heart to marshal us.
My feeling of wonder at Milan being before my view lessens in my mind. Beatrice was so tired after the first leg—so defeated. I think she’s better now. She’s had a week to recover after there was no league game at the weekend. Plus, now she can enjoy this beautiful city without worrying about having to play until next Monday. I hope she enjoys it. What happened in Manchester happened. It’s done. We lost. It can’t be undone. There’s no point in beating herself up about it. I’ve told her that every day for the last week. I hope she heard me. If she can’t enjoy a city like this when I can’t tonight, I’ll be very annoyed. At least one of us should enjoy Milan in all its glory.
I hug myself tightly. “Thank you, darling." I remember Bea’s murmuring words against my cheek. I remember the feeling of her lips kissing my skin. I smelled lavender on her hair as she leaned in. Her eyes looked at my lips; I know they did. She may have kissed my cheek, but on reflection since that night. I’ve come to the conclusion that her eyes gave her real desire away. She wanted to kiss me. Did she break up with Lilith because of this desire?
When someone’s walls are down, their true selves are revealed. Bea’s walls were down, and her eyes told me what she wanted. It’s clouded and invaded my thoughts. When I look at her now, I see what she wants more than ever. I feel so guilty. She can’t want me because it’s never going to happen. I have JC. My fiancé, whom I love, and there’s the issue of me not being... I hear my door knock.
I stifle a yawn, then reluctantly look away from my view of the city to answer the door. My pale feet move over the marble-white floor of my hotel room. I reach the door, then open it as I pat my lips.
“Hi.” The sight of Beatrice makes me double-take. She has a velvet jacket with its buttons tied up and a silky, shiny black blouse underneath. Her jeans are denim. I move my gaze to her sunkissed, freckled face; her eyes pop with eye shadow, and her hair is down. I feel myself gulp.
"Wow, uh, you look so fancy.”
Beatrice smiles shyly and scratches her arm. "Thanks; I thought I’d take your advice and enjoy the city tonight.”
I rest against the doorframe of my room and reply with a light tone. “So you’re going to rub it in my face?”
"No, I’d never do that to you.” Beatrice takes a step forward, and I move back for some reason.
“Uh, then why are you here? I’m about to get some sleep.”
“Would you like to join me? We can do anything you want. Anything at all.”
I tilt my head with a soft look in my eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Bea; there’s a game tomorrow. I need rest.”
Beatrice moves her hands to her blazer pockets and shrugs. “If I’m being honest, I don’t care anymore.”
“Huh?” I smile with confusion.
“I’m tired, Ava.” Beatrice looks to the ceiling and laughs, but it’s not a humorous laugh. Not at all. It’s an exasperated one with pain in her eyes. “I’m so tired.” Bea’s voice breaks, and I feel something break in me too, hearing it. Bea’s voice has never broken in my presence before. I’ve never seen her get tearful like she is now. She always holds it in. I feel now that she's, as she just said, too tired to not let it out anymore.
“Bea I..”
“Before I met you.” Beatrice steps closer; her lower lip trembles. “When I looked to my future beyond football, I saw nothing.” Beatrice throws her arms in the air. Tears fall from her eyes. “I saw nothing. Nothing at all. I didn’t want to think like that, but I did, and I probably still do. But you..” Beatrice moves her palm towards my arm. “You’ve given me something that’s helped me feel something other than sadness. You mean everything to me. Everything.”
I feel myself tear up seeing Beatrice like this. This is basically a declaration of love. I know it. She knows it. We both know it. She doesn’t have to say it. I feel so much pain for her. I love my fiancé; he’s the man I’ve loved for years. I can’t give Beatrice what she wants.
“You mean a lot to me too.” I tremble
“Just come take a walk with me, at least. The canal looks so beautiful. Please just come.” Beatrice lets my arm go, and she wipes her eyes, her eye shadow smudging as she does. “The tie's done; it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with my favourite person in this beautiful place. Please Ava.”
I can’t say no to Bea. I can’t be what she wants, but I can be here as a friend for her when she needs me. Fuck football. Beatrice, a person whose importance in my life is only eclipsed by JC, now needs me. So I do what she did to me once when I was faced with JC leaving me to go home to Lisbon, where he still is. I wipe her tears away with my thumb. “Alright. I’ll get changed.”
“Thank you.” Beatrice shudders, and I go to get ready for a nice, calm walk in a beautiful place on a beautifully calm night.
-
Walking with Ava by my side along the canal near our hotel In the sparkling city of Milan, I let out a puff of air. I more or less told Ava I loved her. I didn’t say the words, but it was obvious in my eyes, and through the tears I shed, that was what I said to Ava. I love her, and I think as I walk with her now, I’ll say the actual three words to her tonight. Why am I deciding to do this when I know Ava loves JC, isn’t gay, and will never want me the way I want her?
It’s simple. It’s what I said to Ava earlier. I’m tired. My walls feel broken. That bruising night versus Milan has left me and my walls a shattered mess. I cleaned the mud away, and I wiped the blood off my cheek and calf. It didn’t matter. I still feel so tired, like I did when I lay down on the ground as rain fell on me. My strength to put on a fake smile feels gone. I just don’t have the energy not to say my truth. It just feels like a switch has been flicked off in me. The energy I had to keep pushing through my darkness is gone. I’m just my true self now. A true self that just feels tired.
I’m not going to hold on to this feeling of love for Ava in any way. I can’t. It’s hurting me to hold it in more than saying it out loud ever will. I’ve held so much under the surface for so long. I can’t anymore. I love Ava. I love her. It’s the plain truth.
I move my gaze to the woman whose cheek I've felt against my lips and whose lips I've felt kiss against my own cheek—the woman I love. I smile—I smile at her hastily put-on grey hoodie. I smile at her tired eyes. I smile at everything. “Thank you for coming.”
Ava hums, looks to the ground, and moves her hands into her pockets. “You need me, so I’m here. I’ll always be here for you now. No matter what.”
I see the pain in her eyes. I know she’s upset. She feels bad about this doomed love I have for her. She has absolutely nothing to feel sorry about. My feeling of love for Ava isn’t something I regret. It’s given me such a warm feeling in my chest. I can’t think of anything else other than Ava, and that is far better than being stuck in my own head—my own depressive darkness. So I stop. “Sit with me?” I motion for us to sit just above the canal. There’s no better place to tell Ava I love her. Milan is sparkling with glittering light as we look across the canal to a few buildings that look old and picturesque.
“Sure.” Ava replies, and she and I sit with crossed legs in the silence, barring the sounds of the city. In this beautiful place.
I settle in my little spot above the water. I inhale deeply. I exhale. I say what’s true and nothing else. “I love you. I’ve fallen for you, Ava.” I hear Ava’s shuddering breath, and I look at her. She looks down at the water, hurt. So I place my palm on Ava’s knee, covered by her softly fabricated jeans. “It’s okay. I know you’ll never feel the same.”
“I love you too, Bea, but just as my friend. I’m sorry; that’s all I can be for you.” Ava grimaces
“I know.”
Ava moves her eyes away from the water towards me; her eyes shine off the dull orange light. There teary there beautiful there the eyes I love. “I’m sorry.”
“Don't be sorry.” I shuffle closer, so my hip touches Ava, and I put my arm around her. “How could I not fall for you? You understand me more than anyone else ever has. Don't feel sorry for just being you.”
Ava rests her head against my own. It’s just me and her. Me with my heart open to the air and open to Ava to see. “This doesn’t mean anything has to change, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay.” Ava whimpers below me.
I close my eyes. I’m glad I said what I’ve said tonight. I needed to. It feels like such a release. Such a weight off my shoulders. So I add something else I’ve been thinking about. “JC probably saw how I feel about you. He has every reason not to like me. I want his fiancé.”
Ava stiffens in my arms, making me open my eyes as she moves away from me and looks in the distance. “That’s not why he doesn’t like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said something to me recently that I just can't shake.”
“What’d he say?” I ask with curiosity. I really don’t like him. I just don’t. I haven’t since I met him when he called me Beatrix. He annoyed me then, and he still gets under my skin now.
“He said you aren’t like my usual friends.” Ava frowns and moves to look at me again.
Well, that has so many different potential meanings behind it. The main one being that he’s a bigoted piece of shit. Maybe that’s why I don’t like him. Maybe I’ve always sensed he doesn’t approve of who I am when he said, “That’s cool” about me being gay. His eyes said something different. It made me pause when he said it. I remember that look in his eyes distinctly all this time later. It stuck with me. The look in his eyes was familiar, but not in a good way.
“Bea?”
I shake myself from my thoughts. “Hmm?”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean he didn’t like the fact I’m friends with...
I scoff, “Someone like me? I’m not sure about that. I won’t lie to you.”
Ava moves her palm to her face and groans. “I’ll have to ask him about it. I’ve been too worried about you recently to want to think of anything else.”
I smile at that. I can’t help it. Ava’s known I’ve been having a hard time, and she hasn’t thought of her fiancé as much as she’s been thinking of me. Am I fooling myself into thinking that that’s a little nugget of hope for me that Ava could want me the way I want her eventually? Probably yes. But hope is a powerful thing. Just a single ember of it can move mountains.
I try to stop my cheeks from burning. I fail. I feel hope. A fool's hope. But I feel it. So I add, “If JC did mean that, if he does have an issue with you being friends with me because of my sexuality, how would you feel about that?”
Ava moves her palm away from her face, then scrunches her nose. “I’d be angry. More than angry, I’d be furious with him. You're my best friend, and if he can’t accept that I’m friends with you just because of who you are, then I'll…I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” I ask with a rapidly beating heart.
“I don’t know.” I see Ava's hands roll into balls. She clenches her jaw. She said she loved me tonight as a friend, but she said she loved me nonetheless. I saw how she looked at me when I stood at her hotel room doorway. She liked what she saw.
If I weren’t the person I think I am, I’d be thinking something right now like, ‘She may have never been with a woman before or ever thought of it. Maybe I can help her think of it.’ I’m not that person, though. I won’t involve myself in Ava and JC’s relationship. That’s not what someone who cares for a person like I care for Ava would do. Maybe what I saw in JC’s eyes was nothing; maybe what he meant when he said I’m not like Ava’s usual friends was not the worst possible thing it could mean. Maybe.
Chapter 13: A Burning Ember Of Hope
Summary:
Ava calls JC but doesn’t get what she wants from the call.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After a morale-boosting one-nil win versus Milan, that was ultimately not enough to qualify for the quarterfinals of the Champions League. I have an unexpected free night in Milan before we head home after Suzanne, against her usual ways, told the team to let loose a bit before we return home. I should be thinking of going out into the city. Maybe go to a restaurant. Have a nice night out. I haven't been, though. I’m just sitting on my hotel room balcony, deep in thought, after a shower.
One question is racking my mind, and I need the answer to it. I can’t wait to see JC in person to ask this. So I get my phone from my hoodie pocket and call him, then put him on speaker.
“The number you have called has not been recognised.”
I deadpan at JC’s playfulness. I’m in no mood. Beatrice is so important to me. I have to know how he truly feels about her. No bullshit. Just the truth.
“Are you going to hang up on me again this time?” I snap back with the memory of the feeling of hurt that he cut me off when I was saying I love you to him the last time we spoke. We’ve texted and stuff since then, but that’s about it. I was too lost in worrying and thinking of Beatrice to call him. It's felt strange not to talk with JC every day. I’ve been attached to him by the hip every day for so long. I had forgotten what it was like to spend weeks and weeks without seeing him or hearing his voice. I’m not missing him as much as I did initially when he first left. I’ve gotten into a routine without him.
JC sighs, “I'm sorry. I’ve texted you countless times to tell you that.”
I exhale a breath, then answer. “It’s not that that's bugging me, JC.”
"Ooo, it’s your serious voice. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
I recoil back in my chair. What was that? That's not him. He’s never mocked me like that. Never. It reminds me of our last call, when he more or less scolded me for saying Beatrice intimidated him. I feel that same hurt now.
"Listen, babe, I’m bossy. I mean, I'm busy right now. Can you call me back?” JC’s voice slurs, and I hear music in the background that I didn't hear a few moments ago. He’s drunk. I've heard his drunken voice before. I know it well. It’s probably best if I don’t continue this now. He may say something he doesn’t mean. I think of Beatrice. I think if I asked him about her now, he might say something he can’t take back.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I groan. I hope he has some of his friends with him. Drunk JC is usually a bit kooky, like his sisters.
"No, I'm not. You’re drunk.” JC slurs back.
I sigh deeply and longly. "We'll talk about this when you're sober. Please be careful. Do you have anyone with you to take you home?”
“Ye..Yeah.” JC groggily replies
“Okay.” I reply with relief. This is really throwing me off, to be honest. JC and I aren’t the most outgoing people due to our shared anxiety. He hasn’t gone clubbing in years, and he definitely hasn’t gotten drunk in that time. I would know. We’ve spent more or less every day with each other for years before he left England—left me.
I try to shake off these thoughts for another time. But it's leaving me a bit off-centre. He left me for longer than planned for work. That was fine. It sucked, but it was understandable. It feels like I don’t know. It feels like he’s just not himself. He hasn't been the same since he left me. I hate it. Is it something that I’ve done? or has leaving me back in England, where he was struggling to acclimatise, been such a freeing thing that now he feels free to let loose? Did he feel trapped in a prison—of me—and now he’s free?
“Can you text me when you’re home? I’ll be worried if you don’t.” My voice feels vulnerable. I feel vulnerable.
“Alright.”
I move my bare feet onto my chair and hug my legs with my free hand, not holding my phone. “I love you. I want you back home in England with me. It’s been long enough now."
JC scoffs. “England isn’t my home. I never wanted to move. I wish I hadn’t come with you.”
I flinch. Don’t bite; he’s just drunk. The sober JC always tells me I’m his home. Don't listen, just hang up. I tell myself as I rest my head on my legs. I can’t. I try to end the call, but I want him to say he loves me too this time. I don’t want to end a call like he did with me. So I try again. “I'm going to go now. I love you."
The line goes dead. It hurts just as much as it did the last time he didn’t say it back to me. That call was supposed to be about getting answers about the meaning of JC’s previous words about Beatrice; instead, it’s only given me more hurt and more questions.
I begin to scowl towards the distance. I’m in a beautiful city with my best friend, who loves me, and instead of enjoying myself, I’m sitting here feeling vulnerability and a feeling of hurt I don’t want to feel. All I wanted was to talk with my fiancé, whom I had missed so much for almost a month, to discuss something important. Instead, he's too drunk to do that and seems to be having the time of his life away from me.
—
I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. I’m going to take full advantage of another night in Milan. Telling Ava I loved her felt so freeing and right. It’s like I’ve been given a shot of adrenaline that’s leaving me a bit giddy. Who knows how long this feeling will last? I want to take advantage of it. I want to just go out into a beautiful city with a feeling of freedom I haven’t had in a very long time. Even if this is just one night of freedom, I want it. I want Ava to join me. I want no talk of anything heavy tonight. I just want to venture out into the city and have some fun.
I look at myself in the mirror-checkered blouse, leather jacket, and denim jeans. It’s a casual look—nothing overly fancy. Like I had on the other night to go into the city when I asked Ava to join me then too. I wanted us to go to a restaurant or something, but it ended up just being a nice walk—a walk that has given me this freeing feeling I have right now.
I take a breath. “Right.”
I straighten myself up and then head to the door of my hotel room. I have no clue where I’m going or what I’ll do. If Ava doesn’t join me, I’ll still go. I need this. I need a night to let go. To let loose.
I open my door. Ava. My heart stops.
My eyes widen. I can’t stop myself from looking down at her chest. She’s wearing a black tank top. Her pale chest and her breasts are a sight that I can’t look away from. She’s got a light brown cardigan on, and her jeans hug her legs and hips tightly. “Oh Ava Uh, ahem, I was about to ask if you wanted to come with me into the city." I see a flicker of pain in Ava’s eyes, and my wandering eyes towards her perfect chest no longer wander. “Ava?”
“I’d like to come with you, but... can we talk first?” Ava replies, and I see her eyes water.
“Of course, come in.” I step aside for Ava to come into my room.
She walks by me with her hands in her jeans pockets as I close the door. "Thanks; I just really need to talk.” She murmurs as she looks at the floor.
“Talk about what? Did something happen?” I ask in worry as I follow Ava across the marble floor of my room until we both reach and then sit on the white duvet of my bed next to each other.
Ava twiddles her thumbs on her lap as I move closer, so I feel Ava’s hip touch mine. I can’t help it. I want to feel Ava’s warmth. “I tried to talk with JC about what he said about you.”
“And?” I ask with a sudden uptick in my heart rate. Is this love I have for Ava completely doomed? I have a hope—a fool's hope—a hope that maybe what Ava is about to say might make the embers of my hope burn brighter than ever. I forget about my night out and the free feeling I feel, and I stay still beside Ava patiently to wait and see.
“He was drunk.” Ava scoffs
Is it bad that I hope he said something stupid in his drunken state about me? Yes, it is, but I don’t care. I want Ava. I want to be the soldier who walks through the ends of the earth for her. I want to hold her close and never let go. I want to bleed for her. I want her to be with me to give me this feeling of freedom I feel right now because of her. I want her to have this feeling too. I don’t speak, though. I let her speak. I wait in silence for her to go on.
“All I wanted was to talk with him about you, Bea; I just wanted to know how he truly feels about you, but instead I feel so vulnerable.”
My hand goes to her knee instinctively. I hate hearing that. “Vulnerable? Why?”
“He said he wished he never came with me to England.” Ava sighs and moves her hand through her slightly wet hair before she looks to the ceiling. “I know he was drunk, and I know he didn’t mean it, but that’s what I’ve been afraid of. That he regrets choosing to come with me.”
I shake my head. I can’t let her think that. Even for a second. I can’t allow it. I may not like JC, but I know he loves Ava. “I highly doubt he regrets that. He would be a fool to. Don’t hold drunken words against him; that’s not fair. Just talk with him when he’s sober.”
Ava looks away from the ceiling towards me. Her eyes stare at me. They linger; they don’t look at anything else but me. “Why are you defending him? You have every reason not to.”
I shrug my shoulders. Lost in Ava’s eyes—lost in feeling my heart beat faster and faster. Lost in my cheeks, burning hot with the increasing ember of hope that Ava could want me at some point if I’m patient, “You love him, and I’m not going to interfere in your relationship.”
I spot Ava’s eyes as they travel to my lips. If only for a brief moment. I see them moving there. I move my eyes to look at her lips too—the lips that felt so electrifying on my skin when she kissed my cheek. I could lunge for them now and feel them against my own. I won’t do that. I want to. God, I want to. I want to show Ava how much I love her through the intertwining of my body with hers. I won’t. My mind imagines it, though. It imagines how Ava’s lips would taste; it imagines how her tongue would feel against my own. It imagines everything.
Ava smiles gently. Her eyes look over my appearance slowly. “You look nice.”
I look down at my appearance through my ferocious feelings coursing through my body and grip my leather jacket. “You think so? It’s really nothing special; I just wanted to have some fun tonight, nothing fancy or anything.”
“It suits you." I look up. Ava’s closer. Her eyes analyse my face slowly—oh, so slowly—and her hand goes on top of mine that rests on her knee still.
“Thanks.” I whisper. My mind feels empty beyond one thing and one person. All I see is Ava looking at me in the way I’ve looked at her so much since I realised my feelings for her.
I see Ava tilt her head. A strand of her brunette hair falls. I see her look at my lips again. She’s upset about JC being drunk; don’t let that be the reason for our first kiss. I tell myself reluctantly, pushing through my empty mind somehow. I clear my throat and look away. My hope is more than an ember now. It’s fiery and burning bright.
"So, um, just speak to your fiancé tomorrow; I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Ava doesn’t reply. I close my eyes. I don’t look back. Ava’s eyes have told me multiple times now that she may not be as straight as she thinks she is. It’s given me hope. But Ava said it herself—she’s vulnerable right now. We talked the other night. That was where Ava stood and stands still undoubtedly. She loves JC. She needs to talk to him about how he feels about our friendship. ‘Don’t turn back to her,’ I plead with myself. I don’t listen. I turn to Ava.
"Ava, we should, um.” I see Ava is even closer; our bodies are touching each other closely. Her breathing is shallow. It’s just a whisper of air that escapes her lips. Her eyes look at me with something beyond the bounds of friendship. She tilts her head again. I stay still. I’m frozen in place. I feel myself shaking. I can’t make Ava a cheater. She’s my friend before anything else. “I think I’ll go out by myself tonight.”
Ava stops. She frowns. “Huh?”
I get up and rush away from Ava, and in a blur of movement and shaky feet, I get outside the room. “Bea! Stop!” She calls to me. I find the strength to not turn back. I did what was right when it was hard. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was the right thing to do. My conscience won out. I rush to the elevator, then frantically push the button to go down to the hotel lobby, making sure it does.
I see Ava rush out of my room. She stops as she sees me in the elevator and pants for breath as the doors of the elevator begin to close. "Bea, don't go."
"I have to. I'm sorry. You'll thank me in the morning." The elevator doors shut.
Notes:
Thx for taking this fic journey with me. More soon 🔜 ❤️
Chapter 14: Aftermath
Summary:
Ava and Beatrice deal with the fallout from the previous night.
Chapter Text
My head rests on my pillow. My eyes are closed, and I replay last night again in my head. I toss and turn as my mind remembers.
I smiled gently as I looked at Bea’s lips, her leather jacket, her denim jeans, and her hair that fell to her shoulders. “You look nice.”
Beatrice looked down at her own appearance and gripped her leather jacket. “You think so? It’s really nothing special; I just wanted to have some fun tonight, nothing fancy or anything.”
I moved closer. Beatrice looked better than nice; she was stunning. My body and mind screamed to get closer to her. “It suits you." Beatrice looked up to me as I analysed her features—her freckles, her lips, her kind eyes—slowly—oh, so slowly—and I moved my hand on top of Bea’s that rested on my knee.
“Thanks.” Beatrice whispered, her eyes lost in mine, and vice versa.
My heart pounded and pounded in my chest. I tilted my head. A strand of my brunette hair fell down my face. I looked at Bea's lips again. I was leaning in to kiss her. Kiss my friend. But Beatrice cleared her throat and looked away. I felt an ache in my chest seeing Beatrice look away from me.
"So, um, just speak to your fiancé tomorrow; I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
I didn’t reply. I saw Beatrice close her eyes. Her breathing was still. I inched closer. I didn’t think of JC’s drunken self. I didn’t think about him acting so differently with me; all I saw was Beatrice as she turned back to me.
"Ava, we should, um.”
My body was touching Bea’s so closely. My hand was on top of hers. My arm touched hers. My hip touched hers. My breathing was so shallow. I could barely breathe. I admired every inch of Bea’s face in a way I hadn't before. I’ve never been with a woman. But this one. This woman, who understands me—who sees me as I see her—was making me want to for the first time. I tilted my head again, hoping Beatrice wouldn’t look away again. She’d take care of me if I got nervous. If I didn’t know what to do with a woman—with her.
Beatrice was shaking. She wanted me, too. Of course, she wanted me too. She loves me. “I think I’ll go out by myself tonight.”
I stopped I frowned. My heart clenched for a moment, and I mouthed a little, “Huh?”
Before I knew what was happening, Beatrice had shot off and sprinted for the door. She vanished from view. She was gone, and I shouted through the ache and the sudden unbearable hurt in my chest, “Bea! Stop!”
I found my composure, then rushed out of my room. I quickly stopped with a heaving chest as I saw Beatrice in the elevator. The doors were closing. I didn’t want her to leave me. I felt vulnerable and alone. I wanted her to stay with me. I felt myself tear up. "Bea, don't go."
"I have to. I'm sorry. You'll thank me in the morning." The elevator doors closed.
I was left all alone. There was no Beatrice anymore. She was gone. She said I’d thank her. It didn’t feel that way. I just shakily stepped towards the elevator door. I placed my palm on the metallic surface of it. I rested my forehead gently on it. “Come back; don’t leave me.”
I considered chasing after her. I could’ve sprinted down the stairs to reach her. I came into her room thinking of JC and how he'd hurt me in our last few phone calls. But after I sat on her bed and looked into her brown, caring eyes, he wasn’t in my thoughts. Just like he hadn't been in my thoughts since I saw Beatrice alone on the muddied Old Trafford ground the week prior during the Milan match. She looked so despondent on that muddy ground. Bleeding and soaked with rain and mud. I hated it.
I moved my head away from the metal. I saw my reflection. I looked exactly as I felt. Sad and alone without my best friend.
--
I open my eyes as I now lay in bed under my duvet. I didn’t change last night; I’m still in the tank top that I wore and my cardigan, which is brown and light. I'm still in my equally light brown jeans. What hurts more? JC’s drunken admission: he wished he never went to England with me or Bea’s leaving in that elevator, leaving me alone without her. The answer is muddied in my brain. I’ve loved JC for a long time—years, in fact. I’ve known Beatrice for almost 2 months, but I feel so connected to her. I feel such a special connection with her that I feel with no one else.
I move up groggily in my bed, then look out the window. It’s still dark. If I had a choice right now to talk with Beatrice or JC in person after last night’s events, who would I go to and to whom would I feel a pull? It wouldn’t have been a question not so long ago. It is now.
I reach over to get my phone from the nightstand and turn the light on. I look at my home screen. Me and JC are smiling in the Lisbon sun. When I look at my face in this picture, I see how happy I was in JC’s arms. Can I see myself being happy in his arms right now?
No, I can't. He’s hurt me. He’s left me for a month, and his personality seems different. His hair is gone, which is fine. The feelings he’s making me feel are anything but fine.
I look at the time to see It’s 4 a.m. In Portugal, it’ll be 3 a.m. I could call one of JC’s friends to see if he got home safely. He hasn’t texted me to say he has, or I could leave my room and see if Beatrice is back from her night out.
What do I do? The more pressing is JC’s safety. He's my fiancé; I need to find out if he’s safe. So I look for JC’s best friend Miguel's number in my phone contacts, tap his name, and put my phone on speaker. I doubt JC will be reachable. He’s probably fast asleep after his escapades.
“Ava?” Miguel’s voice is groggy. I obviously just woke him up. Miguel is going to be JC’s best man; surely he would’ve gone on a night out with JC out of all JC's friends.
I rub my eyes from sleep and answer. “Hey Miguel, did you go out with JC last night?”
I hear some movement on the line before Miguel answers. It's probably him just moving up in his bed. "Uh, yeah, I did. But I left before he did. I’ve got work in the morning.”
I sag my head back on the headboard behind me and sigh. “Great.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Miguel groans
“Could you find out for sure for me? I'm really worried. He sounded really out of it when I called him.”
Miguel yawns long and loudly. “O..Okay. I’ll text some of the guys he was with when I left.”
“Thanks. Please let me know as soon as you hear.” I go to hang up, but stop. If anyone knows what’s changed with JC recently, it’ll be Miguel. “Before I go, do you know what’s going on with him recently? He’s been short with me, and now he’s drinking. He hasn't gotten drunk like this for years.”
Miguel sighs. “I wouldn’t read too much into it. He loves you.”
I hum absentmindedly and look towards my hotel room door. That answer is disappointing, but my mind feels elsewhere again. Just opposite my room is Bea’s room. I feel so split. More than split. The pain from Beatrice leaving me behind last night is more prevalent than my concern for JC. I want to see Beatrice. My chest hurts because of this desire I feel.
“Bye Miguel.”
“Bye, I’ll text you as soon as I hear about JC.”
I hang up. I don’t look away from my door. My earlier question of who I want to talk to right now becomes clear in my head. It’s Beatrice. I want to hear her voice more than JC’s. I get out of bed and walk on my bare feet towards my door. I open it, then I go across the hallway to Bea’s door.
I go to knock. But I stop. I can’t. I want to desperately, but Beatrice doesn’t need this. I’m so clouded in my thoughts about everything right now. My feelings for Beatrice are strong, but JC is my fiancé. He's my fiancé. Beatrice was right to run from me; I can’t cheat. I can’t. I need to take stock and clear my clouded mind.
—
I open my eyes. I feel an immediate, unbearable throbbing in my head. "Urgh, my head.” I grip my head, but the throbbing remains. I see I’m lying under what I hope is my hotel room's soft duvet. I still have the same clothes I had on last night, bar the jacket. I groan as I move to sit up.
"Ow, what the hell?” I wince as another wave of pain hits my head. Everything from last night is a blur. It started with me doing the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do by leaving Ava when she clearly wanted me. But after that, all I remember is that I went somewhere with loud music.
“Hangovers are the worst, am I right?”
I stiffen. I know that voice. It’s an Italian one, silky and confident. I move my head upwards from looking down at the bed slowly to not aggravate this pain in my head. I find Suzanne’s daughter Sylvia, who, as always, is a spitting image of her mother smiling down at me. Her hands are on her sides, covered by a silky-looking white buttoned blouse. Her jeans are ripped, and her hair is neatly tied in a bun. “Morning.”
I feel an immediate panic course through me. “We didn’t?”
Sylvia’s snorts "Okay, ouch, would it be so bad if we did?”
I smile nervously as I keep my hand on my throbbing head. "So we definitely didn’t?”
Sylvia shakes her head and grins. "No, Beatrice, I can confirm that you and I did not have world-ending sex last night.” Sylvia gets a glass of water from a side table before she strolls towards me with grace, then sits on my bed near my feet.
I laugh lightly in relief. It’s nothing against Sylvia; she’s pretty, and any man or woman would be lucky to have a night with her. I just don’t want to be with anyone but Ava now. Last night wasn’t the right time—the right moment for me with Ava. I want it to be soon, though, when Ava isn’t in a long-term relationship with JC. I know Ava is interested in me physically now. I just have to be patient, and if JC ruins things with the best woman he’ll ever be with in this life, I’ll be there. I want her to choose me because she wants me, not because she’s having a hard time with JC and feels hurt by him. I want to be chosen.
“Here, take some aspirin; it’ll help.” Sylvia offers me two pills.
“Thank you.” I take the aspirin pills from Sylvia’s palm and throw them both in my mouth. Sylvia hands me the water, and I drink it to help the pills go down.
“I should add that we did kiss a little.” Sylvia pinches her fingers together to emphasize her point, and I feel a pang of guilt. It’s far better than the guilt I would’ve felt if I took advantage of Ava in a vulnerable moment, though.
“What happened? I don’t remember a thing.”
Sylvia’s bites her lip “I was out with some of my teammates celebrating at a local club. I found you at the bar. We had a little chat. We kissed, and then you almost puked in my mouth.”
I hide my face with my palm, utterly mortified. "Oh, I’m so sorry! I never drink. It must’ve affected me more than I expected.”
“Beatrice.” Sylvia chuckles, then moves my hands away from my face. “It’s fine, honestly. I’m just glad I could help you get back here in one piece.”
“Okay.” I shudder. “Thanks for being there for me.”
I fall back in bed and puff my cheeks. Thank God someone I knew was there for me when I was in a vulnerable position. No alcohol for me from now on. I wanted to let loose last night after everything with Ava. Not get sick and be helped back to my hotel.
“I wouldn’t be too thankful. Mom saw me helping you back here.”
“For god sake.” I groan.
“Mmm, she asked me to stay with you to make sure you were alright, but, uh, yeah, she wasn’t happy.” Sylvia warns, and I gulp as I look to the ceiling. Suzanne will probably read me the riot act for getting inebriated. It wasn’t like I did it on purpose, though, so I’m sure I can talk my way out of too much scolding. I still care about football; it’s been my life for so long. I don’t want to lose my captaincy over this.
“I’ll try to smooth it over with her later.”
Sylvia pats my leg and gets up. “Good luck with that. Well, I’ll be off now.”
“Thanks Sylvia I owe you one.” I call over to Sylvia as she starts to leave.
“After that shit challenge last week, you owe me two.”
"Yeah, uh, sorry about that.” I awkwardly reply.
“No worrries I’m just teasing. It’s the hazard of our job. I’ll see you around; maybe less drunk next time.” Sylvia winks back to me. Sylvia’s tone is light, but as she leaves my room, I don’t feel light in the slightest. I have Suzanne on my mind, but far more importantly, I have Ava on it. I don’t know what to expect after last night. I said she’d thank me for not letting things progress between us. I just hope that's true, and she won't be too hurt by me literally running away from her. It was the right thing to do. But Ava was vulnerable, and maybe she might view what happened as me abandoning her when she needed me for comfort. I hope not. I hope she gets why I had to leave before anything happened.
Chapter 15: Anger
Summary:
Ava’s avoiding Beatrice after the night before.
Chapter Text
Walking through arrivals at Manchester Airport, I drag my suitcase behind me with a feeling of hurt in my chest. Ava hasn’t spoken to me at all since Milan. She's avoided me when I've tried to approach her. She even got her plane seat moved from being next to me. My fears have clearly proven to be the case. Ava’s angry that I abandoned her last night.
It was for her own good, though, as well as mine. I don’t regret it. If I had given into the unbearable temptation of Ava and touched her electrifying lips with my own, she’d be a cheater. Ava isn’t that. She’s a good person who loves her fiancé. I just couldn’t let her become something she’s not because of one moment of weakness due to JC’s drunken night out.
Meanwhile, for me, it was more than right. It was so bloody hard, but it was right. I want Ava with every fibre of my being. I want to hold her at night and kiss every inch of her. I want to feel my body electrify when it’s pressed up against hers. I want it all. But I do not want my first kiss with the woman I love to be something that is tarnished in any way. I don’t want to wake up the next morning after we have sex for the first time and have a feeling of guilt. I want her to want me and only me, not because of something JC’s done. Not because she wants some comfort after an argument with him.
I want her to look at me with the full love in her eyes that I have for her and have thoughts of no one else while she does. So if I have to take the silent treatment because I want that, then so be it.
I won’t stop trying to talk to Ava, though. I’m her friend before everything, before my desire for her before anything else; that's who I am. I made a promise in Milan that nothing would change between us after my admission of love. Things may have happened in that time that neither of us expected, but I’m a woman of my word. I’m here, and even if she chooses to be with JC, after our moment, I would still be her friend—her best friend.
"Beatrice, a word.” Suzanne’s voice makes me stiffen a bit as I step onto a moving walkway.
I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk with Suzanne yet after my own inebriation. I guess now is as good a time as any. I force a smile, then turn to Suzanne, who is walking beside me. She and Sylvia look so alike; of course they do; they're mother and daughter, but it’s like Sylvia is a clone of her mother, just younger and hotter. I cringe a bit at that thought. Suzanne’s like a mother figure to me, and I just, in a roundabout way, thought of her as hot.
“Of course.” I stiffly reply, and I push through my cringing thoughts. I briefly look at and analyse her appearance again. She’s in a United tracksuit like me, but unlike me, she’s got tidy hair and isn’t nursing the world's stiffest hangover.
“Did you thank Sylvia for helping you last night? She didn’t need to have done it, and you were very lucky she was the one who found you.” Suzanne sternly starts with more than a tint of pride in her voice for her daughter.
“I did yes. I’m very grateful she found me.”
That’s one way to put it. Another is that Sylvia found my tongue in her mouth, and I almost puked in that mouth before she dragged me back to the hotel.
“Good.” Suzanne pauses; she always pauses like this before she says something important. Pause for dramatic effect, if you will. “Now I hope you know I expect far better from my captain, and after that red card you took, I have a mind to not play you on Monday.”
I hum in understanding. If I’m honest, I really wouldn’t mind not playing our next league match. After everything that’s gone on with me since I got that red for raking my studs down Sylvia’s calf, I think it’ll be best just to have a quiet few days of reflection.
“But. I’ll let you off with a fine this time.”
I look sideways towards Suzanne with a pained expression. “You will?”
"Mmm, I will. We need you back in the team or it’ll jeopardise the 3 points at Palace, and that’ll just punish the team overall.”
If I could groan right now without drawing Suzanne’s wrath, I would. Selhurst Park in South London on a Monday night in undoubtedly more muddy conditions. I should want to play to help my team win the title. I really, really don’t. But I push on through. I really can’t be bothered to do anything else. My tiredness after last week's red card incident went away thanks to Ava, and now, after the jolt of telling Ava how I felt, I’m stuck in the middle. I’m tired but invigorated, with the addition of an unbearable migraine.
"Yes, coach, of course you’re right.” I reply and wince as I feel a sudden throb in my head. I don’t drink at all. So having a hangover isn’t something I’m used to having. I won’t start to get used to it. That’s for sure.
Suzanne hums in clear approval of my words and starts to walk in front of me on the moving walkway. Thank God, that’s over.
I clear my mind of that conversation and then focus on what I really want to focus on. Ava. I look around in front of me for her. I spot her at the end of the walkway. She’s dragging her suitcase along as if it personally insulted her. ‘Give her some space; she’ll come around.’ I tell myself, and I hope that’s the case. I don’t want her to be angry with me. I love her. I never want to see her angry.
—
After arriving back home, I get out of my car and, more or less, smash my car door shut. I can’t remember being this angry. It’s not JC who’s made me angry, although he’s pissing me off too with the call I just had with him where he said I should “chill out” and let him breathe. No, I don’t give a shit about that. I don’t give a flying fuck that after being worried sick about him, he’s basically just brushed my concern for his welfare off as if it were nothing. It’s Beatrice who’s made me angry.
“How could she?” I mutter to myself as I roll my hands into balls. She tells me she loves me; we almost kissed; she pushed me away, which was correct of her to do in hindsight, but then she goes and has a one-night stand with Suzanne’s stupid daughter Sylvia.
I have no right to be this furious. No right—no right at all. But I am. I’m so unbelievably angry at Beatrice. She’s single. I’m engaged. She did nothing wrong. But it just makes me so unbearably upset that, after we almost kissed, she would find someone else to kiss. To be with on the same night. How do I know Beatrice had a one-night stand? It’s simple: I saw Sylvia more or less skip out of Bea’s hotel room this morning with a satisfied grin on her face.
I speed walk to my front door, then hurriedly try to open it with my keys. My fingers are shaking with so much anger that I struggle to get the key through the keyhole.
I get so annoyed with struggling to do the most basic of tasks that I shout loudly in anger. "Come on!" My voice makes some pigeons that were nearby start to fly off into the cold sky of Manchester.
I swing open my front door, throw my luggage to the ground, and then slam the door behind me. I pace my house, and I move my fingers through my hair roughly. My body burns with rage. Beatrice being with Sylvia shouldn't be invading my thoughts right now. It should be JC, the man I’ve been with for years and the man I will be marrying in the summer. He should have all my attention and all my anger. Not Beatrice.
“Beatrice did nothing wrong. She did nothing wrong. I’m engaged to JC, and I love him. I’m not even gay; I’m not.” I don’t believe my own words. I try to control my breathing, but the image of Sylvia’s smile as she left Bea’s room invades my mind. My breath is anything but controlled; it’s shuddering and labouring, and as I grip a countertop in my kitchen, it’s barely there at all.
“I have to. I'm sorry. You'll thank me in the morning." Bea’s words ring in my head. Well, the morning came and went, and I didn’t thank her and don’t want to thank her. I should want to. I should want to. I should be relieved that I didn't cheat. JC’s my fiancé. He's my safe place. I love him. I love him. Yet when I imagine being safe and being loved right now, it’s not with JC. But on the other hand, Beatrice just had sex with Sylvia when she said she loved me and only me. I’ve never felt so fractured in my thoughts in my life. Everything was simple, then JC stayed away for longer than agreed, and he’s started to be different towards me. While I’ve only gotten closer with Beatrice,.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s JC. I close my eyes, take a breath, and answer. I’m tempted not to answer, but I do. I’ve never not picked up when JC calls.
“He...” my breath hitches. “Hello.”
"Listen, I'm sorry for being so dismissive of you just now. It's just my hangover. You know how it is. My head is killing me, and you were going on and on.”
“What?” I breathily snap in disbelief as my chest heaves with my emotions all over the place. I was hardly going on; I was just upset about how he’s been acting with me. I have every right to be upset.
“I think it’s best you calm down and give me some time to get over this hangover, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
That’s an annoyingly good idea. I’m too frazzled right now to talk, and JC’s clearly too irritable. But I don’t really like his tone. Telling me to calm down as if I’m the one in the wrong here. As if I shouldn’t have been worried sick about him after even Miguel couldn’t find out where he ended up last night.
“Ava?”
I place my phone down on the countertop and decide that I just don’t want to even hear JC’s voice right now. "You know what, JC? I’m sorry for caring about your safety. Miguel couldn’t even find out where you were, but as you said, I’ll chill out and maybe don’t bother coming home to me.” I snigger. "Oh, wait, how could I forget? You regret coming with me to England in the first place. So I guess you are home.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” JC groans as if this conversation is the last thing he wants to be involved in right now.
I want to snap again at him, but Beatrice was right—I shouldn’t use drunken words against him. Or should I? because, in the end, he did say that to me. That didn’t come from nowhere. Drunk or not, he’s clearly been thinking that way. It was my biggest fear that he regrets moving for me, and him saying the words stung and stung badly.
I don’t talk for a few moments. I look down at my phone—at JC’s name. I know I’m angry at him; that is clear in my mind, but what’s also abundantly clear to me is that the anger I feel towards him isn’t the reason I'm so agitated at the moment. It’s because of Beatrice.
“Whatever you mean by that, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.”
I hang up. I’m the one who hangs up on him this time, and I don’t regret not saying I love you to him. Not even for a moment. He’s become someone I don’t recognise anymore. I could’ve finally asked him about his true feelings about Beatrice, but I don’t really care how he feels about her anymore. He could be a homophobic piece of shit for all I care. All I care about is Bea's being with Sylvia and the pain I’m feeling because of it.
Chapter 16: Denial
Summary:
Ava denies her feelings.
Chapter Text
The next day comes, the sun rises, and I’ve had time to collect my thoughts. My emotions were all over the place yesterday, and my anxiety took over. JC is my fiance; he’s acting differently with me, and that’s really hurting me, but that’s no reason to throw away everything we have together. A few days ago, I told Beatrice I could never be what she wanted. That was how I felt, with a clear mind. Beatrice is my best friend. That’s it. She isn’t more. I’ve decided to just go with what I was feeling before my moment with Beatrice, which should’ve never happened.
Beatrice ran from me; it hurt, but it was completely correct of her to do so. She was my best friend before anything else. She saved me from making a choice I couldn’t take back. I love her so much for that—as a friend, of course.
Does the fact that Beatrice had sex with Sylvia after our moment together hurt? Yes. Does Beatrice doing that after she said she loved me the previous night hurt? Yes, again, of course it does. But she had every right to be with Sylvia if she wished. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me. She’s not obligated to not be with anyone because she’s in love with me. In her mind, I came on to her in a moment of weakness. But when I was clear-minded, I told her I’d never love her the way she loves me. So she found some comfort with someone else with that knowledge in mind. She knew that was where I really stood. I put her in a position she should’ve never been put in.
I’m engaged. I’m not gay. She’s single. End of story. I’m the one in the wrong here. Not Beatrice. She’s done nothing wrong—nothing at all. So I’ve driven up to Bea’s home to apologise for everything.
I’m going to work things out with JC, and everything will go back to how it was, and that’ll be that. He got drunk and said some things he didn’t mean, and then the next day he was dismissive of me because he had a hangover. Yes. It’s all going to be fine. This is all very logical of me. He’ll tell me he has no issue with Beatrice being my friend because she’s gay, and he’ll explain what’s been up with him recently. Maybe something happened that I don’t know about, and he just got drunk because he’s reeling from that. I need to be understanding of him. I love him, and he loves me. Now is not the time to waver when it gets hard.
Moving to Manchester Moving away from our home and everything we knew was a big deal; our lives have taken a whole new direction. Anyone would struggle with that. We’ve had a wobble, but relationships are like that, and you don’t give up when you have a few. I can’t forget all the good moments just because I’m upset with JC right now. Hopefully, when he comes back to me, he can get back to trying to acclimatise to our new home and our new life.
I inhale a calming breath in my car after I park in Bea’s driveway, then exhale. This is right. I’m making a clear-headed, logical choice in the face of a few difficult days. "Okay. Time to fix this.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt, open my car door, and then walk to Bea’s front door. 'Yes, this is how I feel. I don’t have the same feelings that Beatrice has for me. I’m not gay. There’s nothing wrong with being gay; of course there isn't, but that’s not me. I have a fiancé I love. I can’t wait to marry him.’ I affirm mentally and raise my chin in belief with my own thoughts.
I raise my hand to knock on Bea’s door. My mind, for a moment, goes back to the night I almost knocked on her hotel room door. I made the right choice then, and I’m about to make another right choice now by making this right. I knock on the door.
Moments pass Birds chirp in the trees near Bea’s home, and I straighten myself. I look at my appearance. I’ve got a big, oversized warm coat on, and I’ve got a red jumper underneath while I’m in comfy jeans. Why am I looking at my appearance? Why am I making sure my hair is neatly tied? I shake myself. I’m simply doing that because I’m nervous to see my best friend after an embarrassing moment for me. Yes. That’s it.
Bea’s door opens, and I inwardly relax as she smiles at me while she wears a long-sleeved jumper and denim jeans again. She always has a calming effect on me. This is right. We’re friends. Best friends. That's all.
I anxiously wave “Hi.”
“So are you done being angry with me now?” Beatrice leans onto the doorframe of her front door and teases me. She’s not too upset about how I ignored her yesterday; that’s good.
I clear my throat and decide to get the Sylvia thing out of the way early. “I’m sorry, Bea. You did the right thing by leaving me. That wasn’t why I was angry yesterday. I saw Sylvia leave your room, and I just felt hurt.” Beatrice straightens and goes to interject, but I stop her quickly. “And that was completely wrong of me. I had no right to be upset with you. You told me you loved me. I had a moment of weakness and then expected you to not be with anyone else. I’m sorry.”
Beatrice chuckles. That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s far from unwelcome. Everything’s fine. I feel myself smile too; it's nice seeing Beatrice laugh. She has been struggling recently, and I added to that struggle. I feel so angry at myself for that.
“Ava, I didn’t sleep with Sylvia.”
My shoulders untense, and an inexplicable wave of relief hits me. “You didn’t?”
Beatrice shakes her head, and her hair that’s down moves with her. I watch Bea’s hair move, transfixed, for a moment. It’s lighter than the other day. It’s got some blond highlights in it, I notice.
“No, I didn’t. After I left you, I went to a club, drunkenly kissed her, then almost puked in her mouth, and she stayed with me at the hotel to make sure I was alright. That’s it. Nothing else. But you’re right. It wouldn’t have been wrong if I did sleep with her.”
I hum absentmindedly. I feel my cheeks burn. What’s wrong with me? Get it together. I shake off whatever this feeling is and agree. “Yeah, exactly. It’s not my business who you sleep with. I’m engaged. I’m just really sorry I put you in an awkward position.”
Beatrice smirks. My legs buckle. Why am I acting so differently around Beatrice now? It’s nothing. This is just a passing feeling. It’ll go away when JC returns to me. “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee, and we’ll talk.” Beatrice goes back into her home, and I follow. Everything’s fine. Nothings changed.
I close the door behind me, and my eyes travel downward as Beatrice walks ahead of me. She’s wearing similar jeans to the night we almost kissed. They really show off her ass. I shake myself and ignore that thought immediately. I take off my shoes and coat, then keep following Beatrice as she disappears into her kitchen.
—
I put my kettle on to make Ava’s and mine coffees with a newfound skip in my step. I was hurt that Ava avoided me yesterday. I’m far from hurt now. My fears that Ava was angry because she felt abandoned by me in a vulnerable moment have been proven wrong. Ava was angry because she thought I had sex with Sylvia. In essence, she was jealous, and by the look in her eyes when I said I kissed Sylvia, she very much still is. I should be upset that Ava was angry when she didn’t have a right to be. I’m not. Because what I want could actually be starting to develop.
Yes, she’s probably still upset about JC. I presume, but she’s acting so differently around me now. This isn’t a fleeting moment. This isn’t a moment of weakness. It’s a full-on volcano ready to erupt. Ava’s never looked so obviously flustered near me. She’s never talked to me as if she’s an android with a pre-rehearsed script. She wants me. She wanted me the other night, and she still wants me physically after a day of reflection on what almost happened between us. She just has to come to terms with that. However long that might take.
“I’m sorry, Bea.” Ava speaks behind me as I get some mugs, and I bite my lip, suppressing the smirk that’s lingering.
“You said that already, darling.”
Ava walks into the kitchen behind me, and I wait for a reply. I don’t get one—I just hear a little intake of breath after I called her darling.
I keep making our coffees. “So have you spoken with JC since the other night?”
“Yes.” Ava’s stiff reply makes me turn to her. Her cheeks are redder than I’ve ever seen them, and it’s hardly warm in my home today.
“And?”
Ava smiles, and she tries to act casual as she rests her back against a countertop. It’s forced. I know forced smiles and forced comfortability well. Oh, so very well. For once, I’m glad of that. “I’m not exactly happy with him at the moment, but he’s safe, and that’s all that matters. We’ll talk properly when he’s home. It’ll be fine.”
I fold my arms. Well, that’s bullshit. She’s clearly trying to convince herself that nothing has changed for her. It obviously has, but I smile and let her take her journey. “I’m sure it will be.”
“We definitely have a lot to discuss, but he’s my fiancé, and I love him.” Ava replies as she looks anywhere but at me and seems to have no idea what to do with her hands. Putting them on her sides on the countertop behind her, then into her pockets deeply.
“Did you ask him about how he feels about me being your friend?”
“No, I was too upset to talk with him about that on our last call.”
"Mmm, that’s interesting.” I spin towards the kettle as it reaches the boiling point.
“Why's that?” Ava asks pointedly.
“You just seemed really keen on knowing where he stood on the subject." I pour some coffee into our mugs and go to the fridge for the required milk with a giddiness in my chest.
"Yeah, well, I was really worried about him the other night, so it wasn’t on the list of priorities. I’ll talk to him when he’s back.”
I make an effort to show off my ass as I retrieve the milk and briefly glance behind me at Ava. Her eyes are attached to me like I’m a dessert that she craves to satisfy her sweet tooth. “That’s good. It’s important you discuss it. We can't have you marrying a homophobe now, can we?”
Ava doesn’t reply; she just keeps staring at my ass. “Ava?”
Ava flicks her eyes up to mine as I move away from bending down. “Huh?”
“Are you alright?”
Ava stares at me, and I stare back. It’s silent; Ava’s going redder. I’m not red. I’m just getting giddy at her genuinely wanting me. “I’m fine; it’s just JC. I’m eager to fix things with him. I love him.”
That’s the second time she’s said that. I’m not convinced she truly believes that anymore, and by the flushed expression on her cheeks as she looks at me right now, neither is she.
“Of course.” I smile briefly at her, then go to the mugs of coffee and pour the milk. “I’m here for you, no matter what happens.” I say that with less teasing and giddiness. I will be here for Ava. In all eventualities, I love her, and I’ll always be here for her. She’s my best friend; that’s the main thing.
“I really love JC.”
I stop my movements and look at my cabinets. I smile more widely. “You’ve said that three times now.”
I hear Ava’s start to step towards me. “Because it’s the truth.”
“I know.” I turn around. Ava’s close to me; her eyes look me up and down. Her breathing labours.
“I think I better go.”
“Go? You just got here?” I tease.
“I’m sorry about the other night. Bye." Ava rushes out of the kitchen. Rushes away from me. I’ll be here when she’s ready, but for now, I’m just really enjoying this. I made the right decision by not taking advantage of Ava in a vulnerable moment, and when she hopefully accepts and sees what she’s clearly feeling towards me now, we can start what I’ve wanted since I broke up with Lilith. On the right terms, in the right way, with no JC or anything else attached to us.
Chapter 17: Electrifying
Summary:
Ava tries to fight the inevitable.
Notes:
Thought I’d burnt out. Turns out I just needed one sleep to get back on the writing bike. Hope you enjoy this chapter. :) oh and to those who didn’t see I changed the last chap after I initially posted something different. Gone the playful route.
Chapter Text
Tossing and turning in my bed I squeeze my eyes shut. No. No. No. Stop thinking about Bea’s ass, for fuck sake. I can’t. I do think of her ass in those denim jeans from this morning. They were so tight, and I couldn’t help but stare. She wore the same ones in Milan. The blue fabric hugging tightly against her ass inflamed me. I can’t stop thinking about it about her. No! I love JC; he’s coming home after we had a brief conversation that I was hardly present in after I got back from Bea’s. He’s coming home, and we’re going to discuss everything that’s happened since he left—the snapping about me saying Beatrice intimidated him, the drunken escapade he went on, and the flippant way he acted when I was fussing over his safety. Then we'll discuss Beatrice and if he has a problem with me being friends with her because she’s gay. Yes. It’s all perfectly thought out. I’m going to get through this tough period with JC, then maybe we’ll have some great make-up sex to celebrate.
I try to picture having sex with JC again after we make up as I turn onto my side under my duvet. He’ll move into me, and I’ll like it, and like always, I’ll hold onto his muscular back and love how hard he is for me, just like he will be when he’s inside of me. Yup, that sounds good, just like old times. I turn again and snuggle myself into my pillow. That’s it. I like men. I only like men.
“Darling.” I hear Bea’s voice. Nope, turn around again. Imagine JC. My stupid mind won’t listen. I don’t think of JC on top of me anymore. I imagine Beatrice. I imagine her wearing those stupidly tight jeans. I imagine rubbing my hands on her stupidly hot arse. I imagine Bea’s breasts on top of mine. I imagine that infuriating smirk on her lips she gave me this morning as I burned up in her presence.
My mind goes back to being in Bea’s kitchen as she bent down to get some milk from her fridge, showing off her ass for my eyes to see. “That’s good. It’s important you discuss it. We can't have you marrying a homophobe now, can we?”
I stopped thinking about whatever the hell the conversation was about and just gawked at Bea’s ass and the belt that secured her jeans around her waist. I had the insatiable, almost feral need to rip that belt off of her and her jeans off of her.
“Ava?”
I flicked my eyes up at Bea’s smirking ones as she got up, and my heart raced in my chest. “Huh?”
“Are you alright?”
I stared at her, and Beatrice stared back. It was so silent; I felt myself go redder and redder. “I’m fine; it’s just JC. I’m eager to fix things with him. I love him.”
“Of course.” Beatrice smiled at me briefly, then went to the mugs of coffee and poured the milk. “I’m here for you, no matter what happens.”
“I really love JC.” I said it and tried to make myself believe it. I love J.C.
Beatrice stopped her movements and looked at her cabinets. “You’ve said that three times now.”
My body screamed to step towards Beatrice. So I did. But I said, “Because it’s the truth.”
“I know.” Beatrice turned around. I was so close to Beatrice, and I looked her up and down with eyes filled with want. My breathing was labouring uncontrollably. I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt so hot and flustered under Bea’s eyes.
“I think I better go.” I gulped as my body burned and burned. I didn’t want to go. Just like I didn’t want Beatrice to go away from me in Milan.
“Go? You just got here?” Beatrice teased, and I almost melted into a puddle on Bea's kitchen floor.
“I’m sorry about the other night. Bye." I squeaked and rushed out of the kitchen.
I moan I feel my heart race, and I start to imagine what would’ve happened if I had stayed. No! Don’t do that! I scream in my beleaguered mind as I turn over again in my bed. I don’t listen. My mind has its own desires. I stay. I stay with the woman who calms me and loves me.
Instead of saying, “I think I better go,” I say nothing this time. I step closer and closer until Beatrice is pushed up against the countertop behind her. Until my hands reach her waist, I move my fingers into the belt loops of her jeans, and the smirk in Bea’s eyes turns dark. I stop and bite my lip and admire her hair, which has a highlight of blonde in it that I’d never seen on her before this morning. It only makes her more stunning than she was in Milan. I put my fingers through her hair—through the blonde highlight.
“I love this, Bea; it really suits you.”
Beatrice grins, and her pupils dilate. Her eyes are hungry—hungry for me and wanting to ravage me. I can’t want this. It’s so bad. So very bad. But I want it. I want her. I want a woman. I want Beatrice, who has a ridiculously hot ass that, before Milan, I never really took time to notice. "I got it done for you, darling. I’m glad you like it.”
My legs buckle beneath me. I whimper at Beatrice calling me darling. My body implodes. I can’t take it. She’s called me darling twice. The first time was in her home after the first leg versus Milan, when she kissed my cheek with her soft lips. And the second time was as I walked into the kitchen after her. It made me take a breath then, and it makes me crumble into Bea’s arms now. “Whoa there.” Beatrice holds me up by my ass. I gasp up at her, my cheeks becoming so hot that I feel like I’m molten lava now. “Don’t worry.” Beatrice whispers as she pulls me close to her lips as I gasp for air. “I’ve got you. I’ll show you everything.”
I open an eye. I stop imagining, dreaming, or whatever the hell I was doing just then. I move onto my back. I look up at my ceiling and let out a breath. Ignore this. Keep ignoring it. J.C. is home tomorrow; he’ll help me ignore it. He’ll help me see that this isn’t real.
—
Working out in the gym at Carrington in my sports bra has never felt so bloody good. Depression? What’s that? I've never heard of it.
I’m too unbelievably giddy right now to even care about dark thoughts or any of that shit. I feel cheeky. I feel like a playful person. I feel like I used to be when I was a child, before the years took their toll on me. I feel filled with excitement, like I was back then, for the future. Ava will be with me soon enough, and then I’ll feel her electrifying lips on mine. I’ll show her everything. I’ll be the one who has confidence during sex from the get-go. I normally feel nervous about being with a new person. I know I won't be with Ava when the time comes. I’ll be strong for her when she needs me to be. I’ll be tender, slow, and, oh, so precise with my movements. I’ll treat Ava like the beautiful white rose she is. I’ll please her. In a way, JC could only dream of doing.
I push up a heavy weight and grin as sweat drips down from my forehead. Being with Lilith was, by no means, a waste of time. It gave me confidence again in my sexual endeavours. I’m ready. I’m ready for Ava. Ready to make her feel good. Lilith said I was great at making her feel good. There's no higher praise. She’s had so many sexual partners over the years. Her saying that about me was more than confidence-boosting. It’s prepared me for Ava. Prepared me to give Ava everything. To give the woman I've fallen for everything she needs.
I hear some movement in the gym as I move my weight down to my chest, and I flick my gaze at the disturbance. It’s Ava. She has a towel over her shoulder. But that towel isn’t on my mind as I push up by my weight with effort and give Ava a good view of my pulsing, straining muscles. She’s in a sports bra too, with tight leggings. I can imagine ripping them both off of her and untying her tied-up hair, then having her in this very gym.
I wink towards her cheekily as I hold my weight up in the air. I see Ava part her lips and see her cheeks redden again. I’ve got her now. She wants me. She can’t deny it. Not when she looks at me like this every time she sees me now. “Are you alright over there, darling? You look a bit red.”
I hear her little gasp escaping her perfectly soft-looking lips, which I’ve felt against my cheek painfully only once. I hear her breathing turn raggedy. She’s bi. She just needs to accept that. Before she dumps that idiot fiancé of hers who’s treated her like shit since he left, what a Moron JC is. Whatever’s gone on with him, it’s going to cost him his girl. Screw that. It’s already cost him. Milan changed things forever. Ava saw me in a different light that night, and there’s no going back for her. For either of us. He's lost her, and I’ll treat Ava better than he ever did.
Ava clears her throat and walks towards me until she’s standing directly above me. “J..JC is home today.”
Ava’s hair falls down from behind her ear, and I’m the one turning red. She’s stunning. She’s a goddess, and I’ll treat her like one. I’ll never let her be hurt like she was at Villa Park again. I’ll never let her be emotionally hurt by me like JC has made her since the idiot left her alone in a foreign country. I’ll be her guardian. I’ll be her safe place, and she’ll help me feel like I am now. Giddy, excitable, and teasing. I wanted her to fight my invisible demons away. I can tell she’ll do more than that for me—so much more. Her excitable inner child, which only JC saw, I’ll only see now. I’ll help her feel more confident in herself and maybe let others see it too. It’ll help me fight the invisible demons, and I’ll adore and cherish her for that. Cherish my white, beautiful rose.
I finally stop gawking and start to strain under the weight I’m lifting. But I hold on and respond to her previous words about JC, the dumbass who’s lost her, being back today. “The twat is back; is he then? Well, let me know if he has an issue with me being gay.”
Ava takes the weight from me and moves it to rest above me. I pant for breath and wait for Ava to respond. She doesn’t. She just looks down at me with an unreadable look in her brown eyes—eyes that contain so much capacity for love—the love I crave to be directed towards me. Her best friend—her loyal, devoted best friend—who has only known her for a short while but whose whole world revolves around protecting her and loving her now.
“Ava?” I ask softly with a little chuckle after time passes, and Ava keeps on looking down at me without speaking.
“I..uh. I’m not gay.” Ava murmurs.
I feel myself begin to inwardly beam at Ava, denying the obvious, and I smirk at her. It looks like JC will be a distant memory sooner than I thought. "No, darling, your bi.”
Ava inhales deeply, then exhales. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Before I can react, Ava moves down to me and shocks me as she grips the sides of my head and captures my lips with her own. I again feel the electrifying feeling I felt when she kissed my cheek flow through me. But it's multiplied by a billion this time. It's on my lips; it's not on my cheek; it's where I've craved it to be. It's where I never dared dream it to be before Milan. It’s everything. It gives me such a jolt of energy that I can barely contain the moan that escapes me.
I didn’t want to have my first kiss with Ava happen when she was still with JC. I wanted it to be free of him. I wanted it to be so perfect, without any guilt attached. But as I feel her nose on my chin as she kisses me sloppily from above me, I don’t feel any guilt at all. This is perfect. I’m trapped under Ava’s grip. She didn’t like it when I left her in Milan as that elevator closed. She didn’t want me to leave as she attempted to kiss me in my hotel room, and now she’s made sure I can't, and what a glorious feeling this is.
Her lips are so wet, so soft, so cushiony, and so desperately caressing my mouth; they're so unbelievably perfect. I made the right choice by running from her in Milan. But this time, I’m not given a choice. Ava has chosen me, and she is refusing to let me go, and now that she has me, I won’t go. I won't stop. That’s why I ran away from her in Milan because I knew that as soon as I kissed Ava, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I can’t stop now. Even if Ava did let me go, I wouldn't. I can't stop.
Ava needs to end things with JC, and I’m sure this means she will. She’ll see him today and end it. I know it might make her extremely anxious, so I’ll come with her if she wants. I’ll protect her if JC reacts in a bad way. He’s lost his fiancé. He was stupid to leave her. Absolutely bloody stupid, and he’s about to see what a giant error he’s made or not. I don’t care what that potential bigot really thinks or feels. I only care about Ava. I don’t care about United or football in general. Ava's entered my life. A life that felt so hollow and hopeless, and she's given me a jolt of energy—a jolt of beautiful energy.
Chapter 18: Ava’s Awakening
Summary:
Ava begins to desire Beatrice almost uncontrollably.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sitting in the passenger seat as Beatrice drives me home, I look at her hand on my thigh. It looks so right. It feels like it belongs there, as she has her other hand on the steering wheel.
I move my hand on top of it. I turn it over to interlock our hands together. It immediately looks right, too. This just feels right. I love JC, but this is undeniable. The connection and electricity I feel now with Beatrice after Milan are too much to stop or deny. I need her. I love her. She’s my best friend. She’s my favourite person. JC isn’t anymore. He’s become someone I don’t recognise, or maybe he’s always been like this under the surface and I didn’t let myself see it. Either way, I know the feeling I’m feeling now with Beatrice as she drives her car is just right. It’s what I want.
I’m bi. I couldn’t deny it to myself after finding Beatrice in the gym sweating and straining her sunkissed muscles. I crave Beatrice. I’ve never been with a woman, but I know my own body. I know what I like; it must be similar with Beatrice; she must like what I do with myself. I can do what I do alone sometimes when I masturbate with her, and she can show me the rest.
It excites me. It excites my being, like the excitement I felt when I found out Benfica agreed to a deal with United to sell me to them. I’m nervous too, like I was then as well, but Beatrice will help me. I want this. I never want her to run away from me like she did in Milan again. I squeeze her hand and admire her side profile as she keeps on driving with that pain in my chest that I felt back in that beautiful, life-changing city suddenly flowing into me once again. It’s horrible. So I place my other hand on our interlocked ones and stare stubbornly at her. She’s tied her hair up after having a shower at Carrington, and she’s smiling contendedly. I love to see it. I love to see that I’m why she’s so content and happy.
I said to her that I’d only love her as a friend. Well, that’s changed. It’s changed in a few short days. Everything has. The moment—the second she ran from me and into that elevator in Milan—it all changed, and there was no going back. I just had to accept it. I had to accept the fact that I was bi before I could reciprocate her feelings. It didn’t take me long. These feelings are too strong and too much to push down. I tried. I would like to put it on record that I did try to remain JC's, but I couldn’t fight this. JC has hurt me, sure, but the month we spent apart has changed everything for me. I don’t think of him as home anymore. I didn’t think that could be possible, but it is because of a connection, a bond, and a friendship that’s grown into more with Beatrice.
I wasn’t friends with JC before we started dating, like I am with Beatrice. It took time to build a connection. This has taken no time at all. In the grand scheme of things, how could anybody fight that? I’ve never felt so connected to someone before. Yes, JC and I have shared anxiety, and I thought we understood each other. This, though, is deeper. I see Beatrice. I see the face she hides from view. I see all of her, and I just know. I know deep in me that she’d never be like the way JC has been towards me. Never.
I analyse Bea’s clothing and scrunch my nose with all these realisations in my mind. She’s in a simple United training top and tracksuit bottoms. It’s too cold to be wearing just that. I’m in a warm jumper and even warmer trousers. “Bea, you look cold.”
Beatrice briefly moves her smiling eyes towards me. “I’m fine. We’ll be back at yours soon anyway. Your place is always warm. Just like you.”
I feel myself reddening. Now that I’ve accepted what I feel—accepted how my mind and heart have shifted—my whole identity has shifted. I feel different around Beatrice. I feel myself blush at her praising words. I feel different. In an amazing way. Our friendship has just evolved into something more. Something about her words and her body has a blushing effect on me now.
“We’re almost there.” Beatrice adds, and my blush dies a bit. I have to end my relationship with my fiancé. To explore this. To explore myself to explore this new dynamic, this new evolution in my friendship with Beatrice.
I turn my gaze to the car's front window and see my road come up. How do I do this? I don’t know. How do I end something that I’ve been tethered to for so long? “Maybe we should hold off before I do this.”
Beatrice begins to park the car just next to my road. She turns the engine off and swivels towards me. “Am I pressuring you too much? That’s exactly the opposite of what I want, Ava. You don’t have to do this. If you don’t want to, it’s amazing you’ve accepted your bisexuality, and I'm so proud of you for that, but maybe.” Beatrice moves her fingers to my cheek and trails them over my shivering skin. “Maybe you're not ready to let J.C. go, perhaps? Maybe you need time.”
I shake my head roughly. “I know what I want now. I want you. I want to explore who I am with you.” I lunge at Bea’s lips and capture them. I can’t let her think I don’t want this. It’s just my anxiety; it’s just my nerves at ending something that’s lasted so long. I want this. I want her. I bite her lip, and I smother her mouth with my own. I love how her lips feel so soft. They're different from JC's; they feel so much softer that it makes my breathing shudder and makes me moan against them. I’m cheating right now. I should feel like a terrible, awful person. I don’t. It’s horrible, but I don’t.
Beatrice chuckles against my lips, then pushes me away. I see her lips are red and swollen when I move away. I love it. I love that I did that to her lips. I crave doing it more.
“That didn’t answer my question.” Beatrice smiles widely as she speaks—it's not fake; it’s the realest smile I’ve seen her do. It reminds me of how she looked in that photo—that's hanging up near her front door inside her home, where she stood next to her parents and beamed unabashedly. She said she didn’t think she’d be that happy again. I hated hearing that so much. I want to make her like that again every chance I get. I want her to smile like she’s smiling now.
I don’t answer her question. I just move my fingers to trail her lips as she looks at me with lust in her eyes. She goes red. I'm making her cheeks go red again, like in the gym today. She was so cheeky with me yesterday morning. It inflamed me; it made me a quivering wreck; it made me, after a night of thinking about it, accept that I was bi.
I want her to teach me how to make her feel good. I have this burning need to be with her. Be with a woman for the first time and explore who I am. I never considered women until now. But she’s made me. She’s driven me to the brink of insanity because of an insatiable desire for her. I want to learn to be exactly what she needs and then some. J.C. has always told me I’m a bit overly enthusiastic during sex. Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. I want to give that to Beatrice. She just has to teach me how to please her before I can be that way fully.
I move my finger into Bea’s mouth, and she quickly wraps her lips around my finger. She wanted me to tell her if I was ready to end things with J.C. I didn’t feel ready a few moments ago for a brief moment. My anxiety took hold. It’s gone now. Replaced by a burning heat in my stomach to get this over with.
“I’m ready to end things with him. I want this. You’re doing something to me, Bea. I can’t wait for this. I have to just get it over with.”
Beatrice grins and sucks my finger. She never takes her eyes off mine. I let out a needful breath. It feels like my dream or whatever last night was when she held me up by my ass. I can’t bear this insatiable, utterly insatiable need. I’m hers. She’s trapped me in a prison of only wanting her, and I’m now a fully willing prisoner.
Beatrice licks my finger softly, then releases it from her mouth, and holds my wrist. “Then we’ll get it over with, and I’ll be there for you if you want me to be.”
“Yeah, I do. You help me feel calm. I need that right now.” I whisper as I struggle to hold myself back from fully cheating. I’m sure Beatrice wouldn’t let it happen like she didn't in Milan if I did fail at holding this need in. But if she was willing and I gave in to my desires in that scenario, I wouldn’t be able to stop, despite not knowing what I was doing, despite it being wrong. I wouldn't stop. I’ve never felt so consumed by desire and connection like this. Every time I kiss her, it feels like an eruption, like electricity is coiling inside of me.
Beatrice gets lost in my eyes, as do I in hers. My cheeks are red, my breathing is nonexistent, and it’s the same for her. She wanted me first, but I think I want her now more than she could ever want me.
“Let’s go then.” Beatrice says the words but doesn’t stop looking at me. She keeps looking at me, and I keep looking at her with an equal amount of lust. Time flies, but we keep looking at each other. Keep being lost in each other. “This..." Beatrice gulps. "This is why I had to run from you in Milan. I couldn’t stop if I started this.”
I trail my eyes around her freckled nose, around her soft skin, around her beauty, and around the blonde highlight in her hair and stubbornly retort. “Never run from me again.” I grip her shirt and pull her to my lips, then I growl against them. “Never ever do that to me again.”
I move my free hand to be flat against Bea’s chest and feel her heart beating like crazy.
“O..Okay.” She gasps out against me and my lips. She doesn’t understand what I’m like when I’m turned on. J.C. has at times been intimidated by it, like he’s intimidated by Beatrice. I don’t think she’ll be intimidated by it. Certainly not at first when she’s teaching me how to please her. I hope she’s ready after she does, though. I'm hers now, all hers. She's driven me crazy; she's opened my eyes. She's made me want to explore a woman—explore her and never stop. In a way, it's like how I am on the football pitch with sex and lust. When I'm comfortable with someone and feel safe in their arms, I feel uninhibited by my anxiety. I feel free. So very free.
Notes:
So um you know when I said this is a personal fic. I meant the depression and the anxiety not this smut I’m about to write 😂😂😂
Chapter 19: True Colours
Summary:
Ava prepares to end things with JC
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
My adrenaline is through the roof right now. Everything is happening in a lustful blur. I've accepted who I am. I’ve accepted that I’m desiring Beatrice more than I can ever remember desiring anyone. I’ve kissed her, I’ve felt her lips against mine, and now I’m standing hand in hand with her outside my home, where J.C. awaits after returning from Portugal.
I take a shuddering breath and try to steady my rapidly beating heart. I can’t do this hurriedly; I have to breathe and end things amicably. We’ve had a lot of good years together, and I have to remember that. I have to remember that not so long ago, I was fully on board with marrying J.C. He was my safe place, and I thought I was his. He's not now. He’s snapped at me; he’s made me feel like I was wrong for caring for him after his drunken bullshit, and it’s led to the place I am now.
I can’t put all the blame for my engagement to him ending solely on his shoulders, though, of course. If I had not found Beatrice and not opened up a part of myself I didn’t know existed, I would’ve fought for us. I would’ve tried to understand what has happened to him and why he’s acted the way he has. But the reality is that I have found Beatrice. I did have a moment in Milan that resulted in me taking a few days to accept who I am and accept my increasing adoration for Beatrice. So I’m not going to fight for what I and J.C. built.
This is what I want. I need to explore who I am with Beatrice. I need to be with her. I’ve barely been able to think straight despite trying to act rationally since I got back from Italy. I couldn’t run away from my desires like Beatrice did in Milan. She’s far stronger than me. Far stronger than I’ll ever be.
“Ready?” Beatrice, in all her British-accented glory, squeezes my hand and asks.
I puff out a little readying breath like I do when I’m about to enter the pitch before a match and jump on the spot to psyche myself up. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Are you sure? This is no small thing. I know he’s been an asshole to you recently, but you do love him still. That doesn’t just fade away.”
I move my eyes sideways towards Beatrice. I smile softly. “I do your right. But this is what I want. I want you. I want to be with you.”
Beatrice smiles back at me. She brings my hand to her lips. I never imagined someone making my legs buckle just by a simple act like this, by simple words, or just simply existing, but suddenly Beatrice has become that for me.
She looks at me with softness as she keeps her lips on my knuckles, like I’m sort of a princess. She lingers and lingers until, painfully, she moves her lips away. "Well, then what are we waiting for?”
I giggle at Bea’s excited look but stop myself. This is a serious moment, and I have to treat my relationship with J.C. with the respect it deserves. I do love him still. No matter recent events, Bea’s right, I do love him, and the years we’ve spent together have been good ones. This should end on good terms. I want to know what he thought about Beatrice, and I want to help him if he’s going through something I didn’t see.
I think I need to do this alone. I really do. I have to do this where it’s just me and him. That’s what I need to do. As much as I’m anxious about doing this without support, I have to.
J.C. won’t react in a terrible physical way or anything; he’s a good man. A man I’ve loved and thought I’d marry. So I turn to Beatrice and nod to myself. “I need to do this alone, Bea. He deserves that.”
Beatrice hums “Of course. I’ll wait here if you need me.”
I quickly kiss her cheek, then move away, feeling a buzz as I do. I let her hand go. I walk towards my house past the big black gates up the driveway and to my front door. This is my home. I own it, and I pay the bills for it. But I feel like it's not my home at the moment. It doesn’t feel as homely as it normally does. I’ve gotten used to being alone in it during JC’s absence, and now that he’s back, the idea of him being inside it feels foreign to me. As if he’s an intruder. That's ridiculous, of course. J.C. could never be an intruder; he’s someone I care deeply for, and no matter what, I want to still be someone he can call if he ever needs me. This is over with him. But I want that. I won't suddenly stop caring about him now that I’ve found this undeniable, utterly insatiable need to be with Beatrice.
I check to see if the door is unlocked. It is. So I step inside. J.C. was never one to worry about security. He should’ve because I'm a well-known footballer and security in my position is vital, but he never did. He can be lazy at times. I remember telling Beatrice when she came over to my house for the first time that he couldn’t help us lift boxes around the house because he had a bad back. That was bull. He just couldn’t be arsed to help, and I felt inwardly embarrassed on his behalf.
No relationship is perfect. It takes work. J.C. and my relationship took so much work to build up to what it was. I thought it was sturdy enough to survive anything—sturdy enough to survive his sometimes annoyingly lazy ways. I didn’t count on a certain Brit coming into my life and making me crave her so much that I’d smash the foundations of my engagement to pieces.
I have found Beatrice, though, and the lust, sexual need, and awakening I feel because of her is too strong. My pain in Milan at seeing Beatrice leave in that elevator and seeing Sylvia leave her room the morning after was too raw and primal to deny.
I try to shake my thoughts of Beatrice, however hard that is now, as I close the door behind me. J.C. deserves my full attention here. This moment is a big one. It’ll hurt. Of course it will. But it’s what’s right for me, and considering JC’s clear need to be home and stay home, it's right for him too. He regrets coming with me to England. I’m prepared to hear that now, when he’s not a drunken mess over the phone.
“J.C?” I call out as I go into my living room and pass my leather couch.
I hear a scuffling from upstairs, then a sudden, loud crash makes me flinch. “Oh for fuck sake!”
I hate angry shouting when it’s not on a football pitch. J.C. never used to shout before. Never. I try to ignore the feeling of my heart rate increasing after his outburst, then pull at the sleeves of my comfy red jumper nervously. I suddenly feel unsafe. Maybe I should’ve let Beatrice come in with me. So I quickly get my phone from my trouser pocket and text her to come wait closer to the house.
Ava: Prob nothing, but J.C. just screamed about something upstairs. Could you come closer to the house, just in case?
JC’s never been violent with me, but he’s changed. I don’t know why, but he has. So I don’t want to take any risks. I can defend myself. I’m a tough-tackling football player who’s gotten through scrapes and head injuries like the one I got at Villa Park. I’m not defenceless. But I’d like the backup of Beatrice in this situation. This is uncharted territory for me. I know J.C. mostly as a kind man, but people can surprise you in difficult circumstances.
I see Beatrice texting back as I reach the top of the stairs.
Bea: On my way.
My breathing relaxes a bit after seeing that. It’s probably me overreacting to a small thing, but I feel safer already.
“J.C.? I’m back.” I call out and see him in my bedroom, rummaging through a sock drawer.
He stiffens as I walk into the room that’s painted light blue with my fluffy bed in its centre. I see he’s in some trousers that look unkept and look a bit fusty, while he’s in a black shirt that looks and smells just as fusty.
He scratches the back of his shaved head before he turns towards me. I gasp as I see his face. He’s got a horrible black eye. I forget everything, then rush to him. “Oh my god, what happened?” I quickly take his chin as I analyse his eye.
J.C. sighs, then moves me into an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry, Mi Amor. I’m so sorry.” He sobs gently into my chest.
I can’t help but soothe him and rub his back. I care for him, and I always will. Things have just changed for me, but that hasn't changed. “Who did that to you?” I ask, then look around the room to find a suitcase hastily packed. “What’s going on?”
J.C. sniffles. But he doesn’t answer me. I’ll give him a moment to compose himself. There’s no rush; I’m here for him no matter what.
“I’m sorry.” He starts to kiss my neck. I don’t feel the electricity I feel when Beatrice has kissed me recently. It’s not the same. She's truly ruined me. In a good way, of course, but she has nonetheless.
I gently push him away by his chest, then smell a wave of alcohol come off his breath. He’s been drinking since he got back.
“What’s happened with you? And why are you packing your stuff?” I ask, knowing full well he’ll be doing that anyway soon after I end things.
“Uh I.” J.C. mumbles.
I wait I blink my eyes and wait and wait. But he just mouths like a fish out of water. “Well? Don't I deserve to know what the hell has been going on with you?”
I think about the whole Beatrice question I was so eager to have answered. I don’t think it really matters anymore what he thinks of her. We’re done. I just want to know why he looks and smells like a drunken mess.
“My editor, Reya I...” He finally finds his shaky, tear-laden words, but stops.
His breathing labours, and he grimaces. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s saying here. “Are you telling me you cheated on me with your editor?”
J.C. tearfully nods. I feel hurt. There's a pain in my chest, but I think it’s not as painful as it would’ve been had Milan and Beatrice not happened.
I let his arms go. I move my gaze back towards his suitcase. Understanding hits me. This. I am angry about. “Were you just going to pack up your stuff and leave without telling me?”
He looks away from me, and I get my answer. I step back. I shake my head slightly in disbelief. I may be sort of cheating too now, but at least I wanted to end things immediately. At least I have the decency to tell him to his face about what’s gone on with me and Beatrice. “Wow, I don’t know what to say, J.C. I thought I meant more to you than this. But I guess not.”
J.C. reaches over to take my arm. I flinch away and raise my hand. “Don’t touch me.”
“It just happened, Ava; it was a mistake it...”
“Trying to leave today without speaking to me first, wasn't, though!? Was it!?” I interrupt and shout in anger.
J.C. opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s been caught, and he doesn’t know how to defend himself. He said he’d be back when I was at training today. He obviously didn’t have enough time to pack before I got back.
“I’m..” I try to calm my breathing. “I honestly don’t know what to say, and clearly neither do you.”
“I’m sorry.” He looks to the ground and says meekly.
I think of Beatrice. Any guilt I may have felt about kissing her before ending things with J.C. fades away. I step back to him and do what I wanted to before I entered my home. Just get this over with and rip the band-aid off as soon as possible so I can be with the woman I love. “I'm leaving you for Beatrice.” J.C. looks up in surprise. I go on before he says a word. “And no, unlike you, I didn’t cheat.”
“You and Beatrice?” J.C. begins to grin, and the unbearable urge to punch him for saying her name like that with so much scorn and dismissiveness is almost too much to bear.
"Yeah, me and Beatrice. I’m bi.” I proudly reply and puff out my chest.
“I probably should’ve seen this coming, shouldn't I? the way she’s looked at you, the dyke..Ooft!!” I punched him, and he stumbled back onto the bed.
He looks up to me in shock as he holds his chin. Beatrice was right. My fears about J.C. were right. He didn’t like me being friends with her because of who she is. It doesn’t matter anymore what he thinks, though. I’m going to be with her now, and he can go back home, so I don’t have to think about the fact that I was about to marry a homophobe.
I shake my hand after the punch and stand over him. “I’ll help you pack. I want you and your stuff gone from my house.”
Notes:
From now on it’s smut smut smut. Lmao
Chapter 20: First Time
Summary:
Ava and Beatrice finally give in to their needs.
Notes:
Longest chap I’ve done for a while…
Hope u enjoy it ❤️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sitting beside Ava on her bed with my arm around her shoulder as she gently sobs, I soothe her. I rest my cheek on her head and soothe her as best I can. “It’s okay. It’s done now; he’s gone.”
“I shouldn’t be crying.” Ava’s voice breaks, and I feel a huge chunk of me break to hear it. “He doesn’t deserve it. But it hurts so much. How could he do this to me? He tried to leave without telling me what he had done. Didn’t I deserve at least that from him?”
I hum and hold Ava close, infuriated that anyone could make Ava cry like this. Especially a drunken bigoted shit like JC. Ava’s right JC doesn’t deserve her tears. He deserves none of them. He’s cheated; he’s lied to her and treated her like shit because of his guilt. In this moment, I’m so very glad I stopped myself in Milan, and I haven’t progressed from kissing to full-on sex yet with Ava. She deserves a bit of high ground here; he doesn’t deserve an escape from his guilt. What kind of man tries to run away rather than own up to his mistake with the woman he wanted to marry? It’s honestly pathetic. He’s pathetic. A pathetic man I always had a suspicion was a homophobic piece of work.
Ever since he lounged about when I first came to Ava’s home and he mocked me by calling me Beatrix, I knew something was off with him. I despised the guy, and now Ava sees him for all he is—a bigot, a coward, and a pathetic person who took her for granted.
I kiss her head gently and finally reply as she sniffles under my arm, “Of course you deserved that. He’s just a coward and a bigot, and you're rid of him now.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this. I was about to marry him. I’ve known him for years, but I didn’t see this in him. I’m so fucking stupid.” Ava bemoans, then wraps her arms around me tightly.
"Shhh, never say that about yourself. You’re not stupid; you just got blindsided. People surprise us, darling, and not always in good ways.”
Ava scoffs “You got that right. I never want to see him again. I hate him. I loved him still, and he was going to just slip away like our years together didn’t mean anything, like I was nothing to him.”
I pepper Ava’s head with kisses, then gently say, “I know me saying this won’t make the pain you’re feeling because of him hurt less, but let me say. Anyone who views a brave, wonderful woman like you as nothing—anyone who takes you for granted—is a fool. I’ll never be like that. I promise. I love you. I’ll cherish you. I’m yours, Ava. You’re all I think about. Even when you said you’d never love me, I was willing to never be in a relationship with anyone because of the love I have for you. You’re my best friend, and I feel so lucky to have met you.”
I move back, and I take Ava’s chin with my thumb and index finger to make her look into my stubborn eyes. Her eyes are watery and red, but her smile is beginning to break through her pain about J.C.'s cheating—about him being a bigot about loving a man she didn’t see for who he truly was. “If you’ll allow me to soak up even a tiny amount of your light every day from now on, I’ll consider myself the luckiest woman in the world. Let me show you everything. Let me love you like he never could. Let me be yours, my beautiful white rose.”
Ava tilts her head, chuckles tearfully, and moves her palm to my cheek. “White Rose?”
I nod and finally tell Ava about how I fell for her and how I now feel completely devoted to her. “When you were bleeding in the snow at Villa Park, it was so raw and painful for me to see. You looked like a bleeding white rose.” I take my phone out quickly and bring up my photos of the paintings I’ve done of a bleeding white rose. I hand the phone to Ava, which she takes with shaky hands. “That’s when I fell for you, Ava, when you were bleeding on that pitch. I hated that I couldn’t be the one who bled instead of you. It’s consumed my thoughts since it happened—you have, and that's something I didn’t think was possible for me to feel about someone."
Ava looks at my phone with tears falling and her lips trembling. “They’re amazing, Bea. You’re so talented.”
I take my phone from Ava’s hands and place it on the bed between us. I rub her arm. I rest my head on hers. “They’re all for you. Only you. Only ever you.”
Ava places her palm on my cheek again. She moves close to my lips, as there’re no sounds but mine and hers breathing. “What about Sylvia?”
I laugh. Ava laughs. “You’re still mad about that, aren’t you?”
“Not mad. I didn’t have a right to be mad.”
“Jealous then?” I tease.
“Hmm absolutely. I want to be the only one you kiss. No one else.”
I grin and tilt my head. I whisper, “You know you are now.”
I swear I hear Ava purr. It makes me gulp. It makes me shake as I approach her lips, inch by inch. I can tell she’s no flower, no white rose, and no shy person during sex. She’s feisty, like she is on the pitch. I just need to show her how to be in the most pleasurable way for us both.
“Enough of this already; just kiss me.” Ava grabs my shirt, and she pulls me into her lips. I moan immediately at the desperate embrace of our lips. My body again, like every time today when I've kissed these lips, electrifies. My body feels a current of energy, an undeniable connection, and a desperate need to not stop kissing Ava. I don’t have to stop now. J.C., the cheating bigoted idiot, is gone. I can finally be with Ava in the way I’ve wanted so desperately.
Everything becomes hurried; everything becomes so very needy and urgent. We both have this need that’s been burning in us to do this with each other for the first time. I've had this need for longer than Ava, but for Ava. It must be even more impactful. This is her first time with a woman. First experience with one since her acceptance of her identity. She’ll want to experiment. She’ll want to explore this new side of herself, and I’ll help her.
Our lips become one. My lips caress Ava’s frantically, as if I don’t kiss her hard enough, she’ll disappear, and this will have all been a dream. Her lips are so soft. So much better than I’ve dreamed. Her scent fills my nostrils. It’s her natural one. She didn’t shower after training today, so this scent of hers can’t really be defined other than to say it’s her; it's all her. All her. It’s all her in all her natural glory.
Ava puts her fingers into my hair, still slightly wet from my shower at Carrington. She hurriedly unties my bun as I grip her arms with my palms and continue to frantically, almost in a feral manner, move my tongue into her mouth and fight her for control. It’s so good to feel her tongue against mine. I have to enjoy this. I have to steady my heart rate and caress her tongue, her mouth, and her lips less hurriedly. I simply must take in every moment of this. I have to enjoy the feeling of my nose against hers and the taste of her salvia entering my mouth. I try to calm my heart. I can’t. Ava is growling and purring like a needful cat for their prey; it's making it impossible to slow anything.
She bites my lip, and I gasp, "Ah.” I feel her fingers trying to tug off my training top. She begins to move my top upwards as she drags her sharp teeth across my lower lip. She draws blood, and the symbolic meaning of her making me draw blood for her isn’t lost on me after all this time of me dreaming of bleeding for Ava. I love it. It’s so feisty. The excitable person Ava only felt comfortable showing at home with J.C. is mine now. But there’s more to the person she only shows to a person she’s in love with in the comfort of her own home. I can tell. She’s more than excitable. She’s more than needy. I can tell she’s enthusiastic. I might be in for a surprise with Ava after she learns how to be with a woman fully.
“Arms.” Ava whispers, and I quickly understand and raise my arms so she can rip off my shirt. I quickly rush to take off her red jumper after my shirt is thrown to God knows where. It’s all so hurried. I want to enjoy this and cherish every moment. I need to, and as I see her pale chest—her breasts—only covered by her black lacy bra, I know I need to slow this down so it’s pleasurable for us both. Ava’s desperate for me, and I'm desperate for her, but we can have more hurried sex later, when she knows what she’s doing better—when she knows my body and she knows my likes and dislikes better. So I stop her with a hand on her chest as she lunges for my lips.
“Huh? Why are you stopping me, baby?” I almost completely crumble apart as that word leaves her lips. My body involuntarily shudders, and my mouth opens in an orgasmic gasp. I don’t think a word has ever, by itself, made me so utterly wet and desperate. I try to close my mouth. I can’t. I just keep panting for breath as I look at Ava’s swollen lips and feel her breasts through the fabric of her bra on my palm and fingers.
“I... we should." I try to speak, but I can’t. Ava's saying that word is inflaming me. I imagined her saying something like that to me in my dreams, but the reality is so different and so arousal-inducing that I can barely take it.
Ava grins and moves her hands around my back. She moves forward towards my lips with playfulness in her eyes as she unclips my bra. “B. A. B. Y.” She whispers after she tosses my bra aside, while my hand feels her heart beating rapidly and my other hand rests on her thigh. She grabs my wrist, then moves my hand away from her chest. My breathing is so laboured, I can’t even think, nevermind control my breaths.
She moves to my lips. “Baby.” She whispers again, and my body buckles and crumbles into the bed I sit on.
“A..Ava. We should...take it...slow.” I pant for breath.
Ava kisses me gently, then moves her hands to her own back. “Okay, show me everything, Bea. Show me. I want to learn. Teach me.”
I feel so hot. My whole body is so aflame right now. A few minutes ago, my heart was cracking hearing Ava cry, and now it’s beating faster than I’ve ever felt it beat in pure arousal. Ava’s definitely going to help me not get lost in my dark thoughts. I don’t think I’ll be able to think again when I’m near her; nevermind, think of darkness. Her light is so intoxicating that there’s no room for anything else.
I look down and find Ava’s bare breasts, tits, or whatever the hell I want to call them. They’re before my eyes. Finally, I see them. Her nipples are erect and ready for me and my mouth to suck on them. They’re perky and so perfect. She’s a goddess—a goddess to whom I want to devote my body and soul.
I move towards them, towards her breasts, towards her right nipple, and look up at her as I slowly approach. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”
Ava’s lips curve upwards on one side. It’s dark, it’s lustful—it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever bloody seen. She rubs her soft palm on my bare back while her chest heaves and her eyes give off clear excitement for me to touch her breast with my lips. “Show me.”
I immediately obey Ava, lunge for her breast, and latch my mouth over her nipple. “Oh, fuck.” Ava moans as I start to lick and caress my mouth over her breast.
‘Take it slow, remember’ I tell myself as I start to suck and look up at her. I don’t listen. I suck hard and enjoy the gasp Ava makes as much as I do.
“Yes.” Ava puts her hand on the back of my head to push me further into her and gasps to the ceiling as I suck, suck, and suck some more. I look up at her as I keep on sucking, admiring her parted lips. her heaving chest and her flushed cheeks. Perfection—beautiful perfection—that’s mine now. Seriously, how could J.C. cheat when he had this? The guy was a buffoon—a drunken buffoon who’s lost this goddess I’m sucking on for dear life now.
I cup the goddess's other breast with my other hand, and she looks down at me as I squeeze. I feel completely soaked now under the fabric of my trousers and underwear. I’ll please Ava today in a way she’s never experienced, and I think as I move my fingers and twist her nipple, this will be something I’ve never experienced too. It’s more than just physical; it’s connection; it’s friendship; it’s love; it’s coiling electricity flowing through both our bodies. It’s everything. Ava’s pupils dilate; they turn more black than brown, and my mind agrees emphatically. Even if Ava is learning from me today, this will be the best sex I’ve ever had.
—
After Beatrice ripped away my clothes—after I ripped away hers in a frenzy—I now lay on my back, panting for breath, while Beatrice crawls up to me. This is all making my heart beat so fast; I’m not sure it can beat much faster. I’m eager to learn—eager for everything. I want Beatrice to taste me, to move into me, and to do everything she knows with me. I haven’t felt her fingers touch my folds yet. I need her there in any way she wants. I’ve forgotten J.C. I can only think of Beatrice and the need I have for her to touch me to make me cum—make me release multiple times.
Beatrice crawls with eyes filled with hunger, up above my stomach. Her tits have my eyes locked on them. They’re red from me sucking on them like Beatrice sucked on mine. I had to suck on Bea’s sunkissed tits after she sucked on mine. I had to, and it was amazing. They were so soft in my mouth—her nipples were so delicate against my tongue and my teeth. I loved it. I want more of that. I want it as much as I can have it from now on. But I want her inside of me more.
She stops, then kisses my belly button with her soft, perfect lips. She looks up at me as she does. Fuck. It’s too much for my body to bear when she looks up at me like this with blown pupils and her lips on my body. She starts to pepper me with kisses as I bite my lip hard. She goes up and up until she goes in between my breasts and kisses where my heart resides. The heart that’s totally hers now.
I immediately move my hands to her back as she reaches my collarbone. She goes to rest her weight on me, and I feel her tits on top of mine like in my dream. “Bea.” I breathily moan at the contact.
Beatrice moves to my ear and bites my earlobe. I tilt into her and gasp for the millionth time. J.C. hurt me today, but Beatrice is what I’ll remember today for. She kisses my ear with a feathery, soft touch, and I move my palms down to her bare ass. Finally, I feel it in my palms. Finally, I can squeeze it. I feel so relieved to have it at last.
“You..Oh!” I slapped her ass as she spoke. I had to. No regrets; I just had to.
“That’s for teasing me so much with this yesterday, you cheeky Bea.” I growl as I rest my chin on her shoulder.
Beatrice chuckles into my ear. “You can do that as much as you like, darling." My mind goes crazy when she calls me darling. It does something to me that I just can’t explain or put into words.
“Bea, please, I need you.” I beg for Beatrice to touch my clit. She’s been teasing me again. I know it. She has to touch me there now properly. I feel her body on top of me, but she’s been so careful not to touch my clit. It’s so infuriating.
“Are you ready, then?” Beatrice teases whisperingly into my ear as I massage her ass with my palms.
I move to her ear and bite her earlobe hard with my teeth. I hear Bea’s intake of breath. I love it. I can’t wait to learn everything I need to learn to make Beatrice feel good. I drag my teeth against Bea’s earlobe, scraping the skin off it as I do, then I release it. Making Beatrice jolt a bit. “What do you think? You’ve been teasing me so much, it’s insane. No more teasing.” I smirk slightly, then softly add the word that I see now affects Beatrice as much as Darling affects me. “Baby.” I feel Beatrice shudder, and I squeeze her perfect ass cheeks with my hands as she does. “You’ve wanted me. Now have me.”
Beatrice moves away from my ear; she moves above me. I admire her freckled nose, her red cheeks, and the messy hair I’ve put my fingers through. She’s so beautiful. She’s made me desire her. She’s made me discover a part of myself I didn’t think or know existed. I can’t wait to explore my sexuality with her. I can’t wait to explore her body and for her to explore mine.
Beatrice smiles, then moves down to kiss my lips with her soft ones, which I just can’t get enough of. “I love you.” She whispers so quietly and so caringly that I forget my need for her temporarily and move my hands to her hair.
“I love you.” I kiss her delicately.
She crawls down. Her eyes stay on mine. They stay. They don’t go anywhere else. She crawls and crawls until she reaches my legs. She rests her front on the messy bed that I punched J.C. down to today. My fist hurts because of that, but I’m too intoxicated by Beatrice now to care. She moves my legs apart. She moves one leg over her shoulder so slowly, carefully, and delicately that it makes my heart squeeze.
She doesn’t speak as she moves above my folds. She just keeps looking up at me with her brown, emotive eyes. She breathes some hot air into my clit. I shiver. It’s hot. It’s Bea’s breath. But it makes me shiver so much.
“Mine.” Beatrice dives into my clit, and I immediately throw my head back and grip the headboard behind me. Finally.
Notes:
The smut begins now. Lmao
Chapter 21: Lost In Each Other
Summary:
Ava and Bea’s first time together continues
Notes:
3 and a half thousand words of pure utter smut 😭😭 the warrior nun fans deserve smut after everything we’ve been thro 😭 hope u like it ❤️
Chapter Text
Have hours passed? Days? Weeks? Months? God I don’t know, but darkness has fallen outside my bedroom window, and Bea’s still eating me out. She’s gripping my legs on top of her shoulders for dear life, as if I’ll disappear if she lets me go. I don’t want her to. I’m loving every moment of this. I love how much she’s pleasing me and wants to not stop until the moonlight shines through my window. She’s made me cum so many times. So many, many, many times. I didn’t think it was possible to cum as much as this. It’s like Bea’s unlocked more than just my sexuality as a bisexual woman; she’s unlocked me. She’s made a stream of me pour out of my core into her mouth. She’s bitten my folds with her teeth; she’s flicked her tongue on them; she’s sucked and sucked on them. She moved two fingers and three fingers into me at such speed that it defied belief. I couldn’t have possibly fathomed the way Beatrice could please me and unlock me like this.
My eyes are open. So very, very open, just like my mouth is open as I writhe under Bea’s lips and tongue ravishing me while I grip the bed beneath me with a firm grip. “Bea! Don’t stop! Don’t let go! Oh my god!” I scream desperately for Beatrice to keep hold of me and not let me go—to not leave me like she did in Milan. The city where everything changed for me and her. The city where my heart, my mind, and my life changed forever.
“I won’t.” Beatrice replies with such stubborn determination in her voice that it makes my heart feel so secure and safe, so sure she won’t leave me again.
Sweat sticks to my skin. My forehead is drenched in it. My body sticks to my duvet, and my hair is all over the place, as I’ve put my hands through it so much now that Beatrice has unlocked wall after wall and made me release and release onto her tongue.
I look down at Beatrice as my sweaty, reddened chest heaves and heaves at the sheer arousal I’m feeling that’s become untameable. “Bea! Bea! Bea!” I pant. I exhale so many breaths I can’t contain. I’ve never felt like this before. No one has made me feel like this during sex. I’ve wanted to be sexually adventurous in the past, but no one has made me feel like this. I can’t believe I had the strength to run away from Beatrice yesterday. I wish I hadn’t run. I wish I didn’t hold back what was obvious in my heart after my moment with Beatrice in Milan. Fuck, I wish I had told Beatrice I loved her too when we sat next to that glittering, beautiful canal. What a place that would’ve been to have reciprocated Bea’s love. But that’s gone. I needed to hear Bea’s admission of love first before I found myself. I needed to feel hurt by a man who hid his true, ugly face from me for years before I discovered this love in all its glory. A love built on friendship—connection—understanding mutual affection and mutual adoration.
Beatrice licks and licks the cum off my folds rapidly. She tastes me like I’m the elixir of life she needs to keep on living. I feel so special for her to want to taste like this. No one has ever wanted to taste me—to sip me—and wanted more like this before. I want to do this for Beatrice. I want to turn her over and grip my hands onto her ass—a ass that I need to and crave to hold desperately and part her legs before I bury my face in her ass as I taste her too. But I can’t ask for Beatrice to let me go so I can do this for her or attempt to. I can’t. I can’t. I have to let her keep going. Beatrice looks so right and so comfortable in her place between my legs, with her nose and mouth buried into my core. She looks too perfect to push away. She belongs there. So beautiful. Her hair is dishevelled; it’s sticking to her forehead and covered in sweat.
“You taste amazing, darling, so good, so fucking good—mine.” Beatrice growls before she keeps going. I love it when she says mine. She’s got me, and she’s hungry for more. She can have as much of me as she likes. Fuck, she can have everything I have to give. I love her swearing like that too. She’s intoxicated by me, and me by her. I want her to feel free to swear to scream in pleasure to be a mischievous happy content person because of me. Anything she needs, I want to give her now—my best friend, my love, my lover, my captain.
I sag my head back into my pillow and throw my head around like I’m possessed—possessed by Beatrice and her hunger for me. I blink my eyes as I try to breathe, trying to catch my breath. It’s a losing battle, and what a feeling that is. “Ah. Ah.” I gasp out as my body pulses with release and utter disbelief. I hear Beatrice spit at my folds, and I look down. I laugh breathily. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m soaking, baby.”
Beatrice stops, and I see her gulp. That word is an obvious turn-on for Beatrice. I’ll never forget that. Never, as I admire my cum all over her mouth and all over her chin. She looks almost feral. She’s breathing as heavily as me. Her cheeks are so red—redder than I’ve ever seen them. She’s drunk on me. If this is how she looks during sex, then fuck, I want more. I have to have more. I thought Beatrice wouldn’t understand what she was in for when I’m turned on like she’s made me. That’s still the case, but I didn’t expect this from Beatrice. She controls herself so well, or at least did before the Milan first leg. But in the bedroom, she seems to let it all go, or maybe I’m special and this is a release for her like it is for me. My mind goes to Lilith. Sylvia didn’t sleep with Beatrice, but Lilith did. I’m jealous. Like with Sylvia, I don’t have the right to be. But I am. She’s mine, and I’m hers. I’m her white rose. The rose she painted looked so beautifully painted in the pictures she showed me of her work on her phone. I’m no flower; I can assure her of that.
I shake off Lilith and Sylvia and motion for Beatrice to come up to me with my hand. “Come up here.”
Beatrice kisses my thigh, then obeys and crawls and crawls over me until she rests her tits on mine. Jeez, there's burning; she’s so hot, and I don’t mean her in general. She’s literally burning hot. It’s like we’re on fire—two flames that are dancing and writhing together. She places her palm on my cheek as she breathes heavily. Our breaths are both so heavy. She and I are sweating so much, and I love it. I love our sweaty bodies against each other like this. “You..You tired? I might have gotten a bit lost there.”
I giggle in utter awe at this woman. My first woman. My Beatrice. I can’t wait for more of this, and not just sex. I can’t wait to just hold Beatrice, push her into my warmth with my palms, hug her close—hold a woman who adores me and who I adore just as much every chance I can. I think I am tired, and I think Beatrice is too. I want to taste Beatrice and please her too, but it’s been a long day. I like the idea of our naked bodies pressed up against each other as we hug under the covers and sleep in each other's arms. So I reply, “Yeah, I think we’re both tired.”
Beatrice nods and laughs breathily. “I think you’re right.”
I rub Bea’s back and just watch. I watch as Beatrice laughs. I told Beatrice after the Milan first leg that her best days are yet to come. I want to be there to see those days. The happy soul buried behind Bea’s pain is so beautiful, I want to help her find it. I want her to completely ravage me with her teeth, her tongue, her mouth—her everything, like she just has as she does.
—
I breathe in the moment. This moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget. The morning after my first time with Ava, I’m now holding her naked body under her soft duvet in my arms. Our legs are intertwined, and our bodies are pressed so close together. What a moment this is after all my pining. This moment I dreamed of so much has finally come after I may have gotten carried away yesterday and got lost in Ava’s clit for what felt like hours.
I chuckle quietly as Ava rests her cheek on my chest and snores a cute little snore. I really got carried away; seriously, I used every technique I’ve ever learned with my tongue and fingers. I don’t regret it, though. Ava loved it, and after thinking this would never happen, I think my body and mind just went rabid—rabid for Ava. My desire for her has been so raw and visceral that I just had to hold onto her legs and suck on her clit for dear life. She released so much; I think there’s no doubt in her mind now that she’s bi, if there was any. No one has ever released so much under my touch, and her craving for my ass is ridiculous. It was obvious the other day when she couldn’t stop staring, and it was obvious yesterday as she gripped on to my ass for dear life. It’s amazing to be craved like this by the woman I love at long last in the way I’ve craved her.
I feel a dampness on my chest and tilt my head to see that Ava’s drooling on my chest. It’s so adorable. Her messy hair is adorable; her nose is adorable; she’s just so adorable it hurts. I feel Ava’s hand on my stomach and move my own hand to go on top of hers.
“I love you.” I speak to Ava’s sleeping self. I kiss her head. “I love you.” I kiss her. “I love you.” I kiss her again. ”I love you.” I kiss and kiss and kiss her to make sure this is real. “This is really happening; I’m not dreaming.” I feel myself tear up. I have Ava. Something I wanted so desperately to help me through all my darkness is in my arms. She loves me. Nothing has felt better than this. Not becoming United captain, not joining United’s academy, not anything. I’ll protect her from anyone hurting her like J.C. did with everything I have. Everything. I’m devoted to her. Utterly unequivocally devoted. I’m hers, completely hers.
I move my lips away from Ava’s head and sigh so deeply in contentment that it scares me how content I feel. I’ve never felt so tearful and content because of another person like this before. It’s incredible. I can’t wait for more. I can’t wait for Ava to get to know my body and get used to making me feel good too. I think I showed her a few things yesterday that she won’t soon forget. How to lick a clit—how to completely bury your face in one and elicit arousal and orgasmic feelings in the recipient chief among them. She has a lot to learn. I’ll teach her, though. I’ll show her everything I know; everything she asks, I’ll answer. I’ll basically be like Coach Suzanne for Ava, but for sex with a woman rather than football.
I sniff in humour at my own thoughts. I could call myself Coach Xhang, and Ava would be Student Silva. I’m sure Ava would play along with that. Although all that excitement about sexual learning will come secondary to my having Ava as a person, she’s really the only person I want to be around at the moment. Not my fellow players or my parents, not anyone. I wish I could just be consumed by Ava and forget that the world exists. I wish I could just have the next period of time completely free with her to teach her everything she needs to know. I want to go even more rabid with her and sip on her for hours and hours every day, uninterrupted, until she can’t remember her own name. She probably won’t this morning when she wakes up after my ravaging of her beautiful clit last night. She tasted so good. Better than I could’ve imagined. I can’t wait to taste more of her. I’m honestly hooked on how she tastes. She’s ruined me for life now. I can’t ever do this or taste anyone else again. She’s too good—too scrumptious—too delicious.
I feel Ava shift below me, and my thoughts of teaching Ava everything I know intensify. I could get back to where I left off last night and taste her again. God, I want that right now. I’m pretty sure there’s training today, a game, or whatever. I honestly don’t give a fuck if there is. I’m staying with Ava like this, and no one can drag me away from her. We can go to my place if she can’t be in her own home right now because of the memory of that drunken, stinking mess of a man being in her home. That black eye and bleeding lip from Ava’s fierce punch are the least he deserved. Whatever his next chapter is, it’ll be a far darker path. It’s like I’ve been substituted for him on the football pitch, and he’ll take over my position in the darkness now. But unlike him, I’ll cherish Ava’s light. I’ll adore it and fuss over it with everything I have. My light—my Ava. She’s mine, and I’m hers.
I start to play with her hair with this amazing thought in mind and flatten it; it’s so dishevelled, so all over the place after last night, I love it. I love her hair looking like this. It’s perfect, and it’s because of me. It’s like my own hair, but shorter. It’s what I want Ava’s hair to look like after every night we share together from now on.
I see Ava’s eyelashes flutter open beneath me, and I hear her little exhale of breath against my skin. "Mmm, morning, baby.”
I crumble again at hearing her say that—I crumble into a million pieces of arousal. I can’t get enough of hearing it. It burns me and my body to ridiculous levels. I want her to scream that when we have more incredible sex in the future. I want her to say that word against my clit as she eats me out for the first time. I’m desperate to hear Ava say that unrelentingly from now on. Now that I’ve heard her say it, I must hear her say it loudly and often.
“M..Morning.” I stutter out an aroused reply, trying to recover from the word’s effect on me.
Ava starts to kiss my chest with her very soft, cushiony lips. “Last night was incredible.”
I rub her perfectly toned soft back and reply softly against her hair, “You were incredible.”
Ava cups one of my breasts with her hand and begins to lick the nipple of the other. Her tongue feels so good to have on me. She sucked on my breasts last night until they were red and raw after I did the same for her. She was very good at it. I don’t think I need to teach her anything in that department. She bit my nipples and sucked on them like she'd done it a thousand times. I think she’ll be adept at a lot of things when she gets the chance to have me more often, when I don’t get lost in that amazing clit of hers.
Ava’s hair falls on my chest, so I move strands of it behind her ear for her to keep up with what she’s doing unencumbered. “I didn’t do much. It was all you.” She whispers against my nipple, then breathes her hot air against my skin. I love her breath on my body like this. I want it against my folds when she feels ready. I want it desperately.
I played with her a bit before I finally dove into her clit yesterday. I felt playful just like I was when Ava came over to my place, and I gave her a view of my ass. I edged her, in essence, making her desperate for me. Then I went for it and didn’t stop for, I don’t know, how long. I’d love for Ava to do that to me. I’ll let her take her time, though. If she’s more comfortable sucking on my breasts this morning, then by all means I’ll lay back and enjoy this.
Ava moves her index finger and thumb to the nipple; she’s not sucking or licking. “Oh.” I gasp as she pinches hard. It’s painful, but in such a good way. It’s so erotic. So amazingly erotic.
Ava releases my breast with a pop, making me jolt, “I love these.”
I chuckle. “Hey?” Ava stops and looks up to me with parted lips. “Are you sure you like women, then?”
Ava playfully eye rolls. “Don’t tease.”
I smirk, feeling so giddy and silly, like I never have before. “I don’t know, darling. So far, you’ve just been a pillow princess. Anyone can lay back and get eaten out. I think I need proof.”
I hear that purr coming from Ava’s throat again. It’s so feral, and it’s all for me. Her eyes darken, and she quickly disappears under the duvet. I almost start to wiggle in anticipation. I’m going to feel Ava’s lips on my folds; finally, I’m having her where I want her most. I feel her gentle lips kissing my belly button. I feel her kiss around my thighs. I feel her kiss everywhere; that isn't my clit. I go to tease her again, but she does what I did last night and moves my legs onto her shoulders. She breathes hot air into my folds like I did. So I just shudder and throw my head back onto my pillow.
“Here’s your proof.” Ava attaches her lips to my folds.
“Yes.” I gasp, then bite my lip and grip the bedsheets like Ava did. She’s immediately hurried. She’s licking like her life depends on it. She bites my folds, suddenly making me gasp, “Ah.” Then she sucks and licks so quickly that it’s like she’s an expert. I don’t think I’ll have to teach her for long; she’s felt what I did and is replicating it, but at an even greater speed. I didn’t think that was possible after last night. "Wow, Ava, you're...” I try to speak. I can't; I’m in too much shock and shivering right now to form sentences.
Ava grips my hips with her hands and dives deeper into me. Her nose is pushed into my skin. I feel her spit quickly; I jolt, and she resumes her sucking and licking. I blink and blink as I try to take in how good this feels. My breathing stills, though my body squirms, and my hips involuntarily tilt up to Ava. I can’t take this. I’m in too much shock at how good she is already. “Ava!” I exclaim as she sucks so hard on my folds. She drags me down off the pillow by my hips and keeps going. The noise she’s making as she sucks on me is so squelchy and ridiculously hot that I can barely breathe. I mouth what the fuck as I feel myself on the edge of release. I try to prepare to let go, but my body just lets go. I release so quickly that I can barely process it. Ava slurps in my cum and keeps going.
“Mine.” She purrs against my soaking folds, and I gulp deeply in reply as she doesn’t stop.
“Jesus! Ava! What the fuck!?” I scream in ecstasy, and my chest heaves uncontrollably. I think Ava won’t need much studying from me. I think I’m going to need to learn from her after this. Bloody hell. I writhe on the bed like I never have during sex before. Ava is comfortable with me like this now, and a comfortable Ava during sex, I think, might be something I could never anticipate or imagine. JC, you idiot, how could you cheat when you had Ava like this when she’s such a quick learner and so eager?
“Are.. Are you sure you’ve never been with a woman?” I pant, and I hear Ava giggle against my folds as she points her tongue into me.
She drags in my cum and replies, “So this is good? You like it?”
“Uh yeah, you could say that, Oh!” Ava dived back into my folds and resumed her movements. I can’t right now. I can’t think. I can’t. I’m just too shocked and in awe of how quick a study Ava is. I whine as she slurps against my folds. Ava’s feisty, as I expected; she’s eager, but I couldn’t imagine this. She’s incredible, and she’s all mine.
Chapter 22: Bea’s Safe Embrace
Summary:
Beatrice takes good care of Ava. Ava is keen to reciprocate.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
How many days have passed since my and Ava’s first time together? I’ve honestly got no clue. None at all. For all I know, it could’ve been weeks since that amazing day when I finally got what my heart so desperately desired. Because, simply put, other than training and stupid football matches, I’ve been utterly swallowed up in an unrelenting stream of having Ava and Ava having me. The sex is something I don’t think I can do justice to by trying to put it into words. She’s better than anyone I’ve ever been with, and she’s only just got started, and I’m not just saying that because I’m in complete and utter love with her. Nooooo. She’s an energetic, hungry sex machine that not only pleases me but completely leaves me a mess of a human after we’re finished. The love shared between us, unlike anything I’ve ever felt with someone, just makes Ava‘s excitable, gleeful, sexy nature even more electric.
How the hell could J.C. actually put her down for being like this? It’s utterly bonkers just to think about. How could he not cherish this woman and want to never leave her side like he did? It’s nuts. It’s completely nuts that he didn’t appreciate this goddess of a woman. I will not be making that mistake.
She’s been staying with me at my home for all the days since she punched JC’s drunken buffoon face, and I’ve never not let her know how much I’m in love with her. I’ve opened up my world to her in a way I’ve never done with anyone. I’ve slept with her every night after the incredible sex that only keeps getting better every time we do it. I’ve made her breakfast every morning and treated and spoiled her rotten with pancakes, omelettes, or whatever breakfast she wants, and I’ve held her on my couch as we watched TV together and never let her leave my arms as she snuggles into me.
I appreciate her. I love her. I see her, and I’ll never take her amazing giddy self when she’s with me in our little sexy paradise for granted. She deserves that. She deserves everything I have to give her. She’s made herself at home, and I opened my arms, held her close, and told her how much I love that she has. Just like she does again now, as she’s decided to take a bath in my bathroom.
I can smell all the lavender bath oils streaming from the bathroom as I lay in bed and get ready for bed. It’s so lovely. She deserves a calm bath anytime of the day she likes. Something else that I’ve learned J.C. didn’t allow her to do, as the guy had ridiculously long showers every day and used up all the hot water. I swear, the more I learn about JC’s and Ava’s relationships behind closed doors, the more I get even more bemused that she loved him as much as she did when I first met her. I think she just got used to his ways. How lazy he was and how dismissive he could be with her—she must’ve thought that’s what a loving partner is like. It burns me to know she might’ve just forgotten her own self-value in a relationship like that because she was attuned to not being given the respect and adoration she deserved. I hated J.C. before, but now that I know more about him as a person and how he was with My Ava, my distaste for the guy is completely justified in all ways. I’m glad he showed his true colours to Ava because she sees him for all he is now. A lazy buffoon, she should just forget she was ever with
I try to forget him myself as I rest my back against the headboard of my bed. Urgh. I grimace at the memory of his pungent, drunken breath.
"Ahem, and what do you think you’re doing, missy?” I hear Ava’s cheeky-sounding voice and look to the source of it. Gulp. She’s completely naked and standing at the entrance to my bathroom as steam floors into the room.
“I..uh..I’m going to bed.” I squeak. I never squeak about anything, but Ava is making me do so many things I don’t usually do. Like smiling all day and eating pussy all day, my lips curve upwards in thought as I take in the stunning sight of Ava, who now rests her back on the bathroom door frame and folds her arms.
Ava quirks an eyebrow. “It’s bath time. You don’t think I made this bath all for me, did you?”
I pat my lips, and I probably look more like a fish out of water than an actual fish does. I’m a trembling mess. Just like I am whenever Ava does anything to me or says baby to me. I’m just unbelievably intoxicated by her. “I guess not.”
Ava moves one naked leg slowly in front of her with poise, then another and another as she steps towards me. I watch her legs completely entranced. I rake my eyes up at her clit, her stomach that’s so toned, her breasts that scream to be bitten and sucked on again by me, her neck that needs to have my lips on it, her chin that I must lavish with so many kisses, and her cheeks that are red from the heat of the bathroom that remind me of how she looks when she’s eating me out so expertly without hardly any training by me.
She starts to skip towards me, and my eyes go to her bouncing breasts. “Oh fuck.” I say in response to witnessing it. I’m not usually an avid swearer, but when I’m with Ava, I swear and swear like no one’s business. I can’t stop myself. She’s a goddess formed by clay just for me. The goddess reaches me and grins down at me as I lay in awe of her in my bed under my duvet. Her hair is tied up so securely that none of it rests on her neck or shoulders. I won’t have time to tie my hair up before this bath. No chance will I. I’m going to be completely wet in all departments.
“Come on.” Ava purses her lips and offers me her hand.
I gently move my hand into hers. I don’t stop admiring her breasts and her smiling, cheeky self; that’s all for me. “I think I’m falling harder for you, darling.”
Ava’s eyes go serious, and she drags me off the bed.
“Whoa!” I giggle and don’t hold back as my heart beats excitedly while I quickly grab onto Ava’s shoulders to balance myself.
Ava grabs my ass, covered by my sweatpants, and squeezes. “You know it drives me crazy when you call me that.”
I smile breathily. I melt into Ava's hands, squeezing her favourite part of my body. “I do, yeah.”
Ava spanks me with both her palms. “Ah.” I moan inches from her nose and lips, my eyes intoxicated by her beauty and devilishness.
She goes to my ear slowly. I know what she’s about to say, and I know my body's reaction when she says it. “Baby.” She whispers, and my legs shake where I stand. Ava holds me up by my ass. She doesn’t let me fall.
“You know.” I gulp. “I’m still not convinced you were never with a woman before me.”
Ava bites my earlobe with her teeth. I shiver. I love it when she does that to me, as I’ve done it to her so many times. She drags her teeth against my skin until she lets my earlobe go. “I wasn’t; you’re just an amazing teacher.”
I tilt my head so I rest against Ava’s. “It’s been my pleasure.”
"Bath now.” Ava demands and grips my ass hard.
I inhale a shaky breath at Ava’s grip and hold onto her shoulders. “Did..Did J.C. ever take a bath with you?”
Ava moves back from my ear and bites the inside of her cheek. "No, he always said it was impractical and too much effort.”
I double-take in disbelief. “I honestly don’t know why you were engaged to that man. The more I learn about your relationship, the more angry I get.”
Ava tilts her head with a soft smile. I frown. She can’t think for a second that he wasn't all that bad—she can’t think how he treated her was acceptable. I have to show her what a shitty partner he was even more. Anything she wants to do, I’ll do with her gladly. “You deserve the effort, Ava. Don’t ever sell yourself short. I’m not like him. I’m going to do anything you want and more, love, anything at all.”
Ava's smile turns toothy. My body sighs inwardly and just relaxes at seeing this smile. It’s my favourite smile of Ava's; it’s so free, so utterly free of restrictions. “Anything?”
"Mmm, hmm, anything.” I affirm, and I hear the cogs turning in her cheeky little mind. I have a strong feeling her exploration of her sexuality is going to take me and her on quite the ride. Literally.
—-
I flutter my eyes close and sigh in beautiful content. This is so nice. My back to Bea’s front. My head rests on Bea’s shoulder. Bea’s lips to my neck as we lay together in a nice lavender-scented bath covered by foam. The room is steamy and lit by so many candles that I always like to use whenever I get the chance to have a relaxing bath.
I'm so content right now that I could cry. I’ve learned so much about how to please Beatrice and what positions elicit the most pleasure during sex. She’s instructed me, and I’m an eager, very eager learner. She’s not like J.C. in so many ways. She appreciates my eagerness; she craves it; she encourages it, like we encouraged each other as friends before our friendship turned into this. I’m really starting to see now just how much I may have blinded myself to JC’s ways or just plain accepted them. We were needy for each other, but I think it was obvious I was the more needy. He wanted to be with me a lot, and we felt safe in each other's space to be ourselves, but he proved the person he really was wasn’t exactly something I should’ve gotten used to. Maybe my eagerness to not be alone blinded me. After my parents deaths, I was so desperate to have someone to always come home to. But he wasn’t the right person. Beatrice has shown me more effort and care than he has in years.
Beatrice gently brushes the tips of her fingertips on the line of my jaw. She kisses my ear, then keeps kissing me until she reaches my lips. I tilt my head upward and embrace her soft lips fully. She’s making me feel so cared for. So loved. So appreciated. I honestly feel like I’m being served hand over foot by her, like I’m a princess. I love it, and I’m desperate to reciprocate it with her. I want her to feel the way she’s making me feel all the time too—loved and cared for. The centre of my world.
I hear a few bubbles pop as I kiss Bea’s wet lips. I hear the swish of the water as I tilt my head up more and move my fingers to Bea’s cheek to deepen our kissing. I’ve always had a fantasy of doing this with someone. J.C. never did this, and frankly, in hindsight, I’m glad he didn’t want to because this feels like something only for me and Bea. No one else. It’s symbolic. She’s willing to do this, while he never was. She won’t take ridiculously long showers and rob me of a nice hot bath when I want one. No. She’ll go in the bath with me and kiss me while we lay together under foam and hot, steaming water.
I can imagine me and Beatrice always having baths or showers together now, and no J.C. didn’t want to shower with me either. He said baths and showers are meant for getting clean, not anything else. He probably had a bit of OCD, if I’m honest with myself about that. In that case, it’s a preference, I guess. But I wanted showers and baths with my partner, like in the movies. I want this sensual feeling I’m feeling right now as Bea’s hand rests on top of mine on top of my stomach under the water. I want romance; I want excitement, and maybe I forgot that. Maybe I forgot about my wants and accepted comfortability.
Being with Beatrice already feels so fiery and filled with passion and desire. It’s the polar opposite of J.C., and I’m just enjoying that fact so much over the last period of time I’ve been staying with Beatrice at her home. I’m eager for more, and so is Beatrice. She loves my playfulness; she loves all of me, and I love all of her. I’ve forgotten football because of Beatrice. I barely pay attention during games or training sessions now. All I can think about is getting back to Bea’s for more passion, lust, and affection. United haven’t had an away game yet since me and Beatrice got together, god knows how many days or weeks ago, but I can imagine me and her having the same hotel room if the game is far from Manchester, like in London or anywhere down south. I’m eager for that. I’m eager to have more sex and sensual moments in different places. I’m definitely eager to try new things and explore myself in this new evolution of myself. So very eager.
One place I’m eager to have this is Milan. Instead of my wedding in the summer, I want to go back there with Beatrice and do what we didn’t in her room. I want her to wear that leather jacket again and denim jeans that show off her ass and rip them both off of her. I want it. I want it. I want it. I giggle while thinking to myself as I enjoy Bea’s lips against my own.
"Mmm, what are you laughing about, silly?” Beatrice moves a whisper away from my lips and asks as she moves her hand to lay flat on my chest. I rest my hand on top of hers in response, so now both of my hands rest on Bea’s.
I rest my cheek on her shoulder and breathe in the lovely smell of this bath. “Just thinking.”
“About” Beatrice tilts her head down towards me, and the ends of her flowing locks touch the water. Her blonde highlight is gone. I want it back. I pout to myself.
“I want to go back to Milan this summer.” I lazily smile.
Beatrice squints her eyes. “Don’t you have a wedding then?”
I poke out my tongue between my lips and wiggle in our bath. “Nope. I’m totally free.”
Bea’s eyes go to my lips. She leans in again to quickly caress them before she murmurs. “We’ll go anywhere you want.”
“I want Milan.”
“Then you’ll have it.” Beatrice brushes her nose against mine. Milan for me and Bea this summer after the football season is done. No football. Nothing but me and Bea. Sounds perfect.
I kiss Bea’s lips gently in reply. I made this bath for sensualness with my Beatrice. But the cogs in my mind now begin to turn. I want Bea’s ass in my face, like I’ve had it so many times now. I can’t get enough of it. “Turn over.”
“Hmm?” Beatrice queries.
I move my hand that lay on Bea’s stomach down towards her clit. I trail my fingers like spider legs crawling across a wall, closer and closer to her clit.
“I said..” I reach her clit and curl two fingers into her. Bea’s eyes snap open in erotic surprise, and she parts her lips. “Turn the fuck over.”
“But.” Beatrice laughs, “You're inside me right now; I can’t move.”
I move my fingers in and out. In and out. In and out. “Ava, the bath will spill out if.. " Beatrice gasps again as my fingers move into her with utter ease, thanks to the water dampening her clit. I’m sure she’d be wet for my fingers without the water anyway. I delight in thinking.
“I thought you said you’d do anything I wanted. Well…” I increase the pace of my fingers, and the water starts to splash quickly due to the speed of my movements. I admire Bea’s inability to speak, moan, or do anything other than take rapid breaths. “I want you to turn over.”
Beatrice looks at my fingers and gulps. She nods, and I move my fingers out of her. I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck. She tastes so good. I move back on my knees in the bath so Beatrice can turn over so I can taste her some more. Beatrice stops as she turns her wet, glistening back to me.
“Why’d you stop?”
Beatrice puts her hand through her wet hair and looks back at me with a frown. “There’s not enough room.”
I move my eyes down to our swishing tub. Hmm, she’s right. Damn it. I think for a moment. “Stand up and rest your foot on the side of the tub."
Beatrice grins. “You got it.”
She gets up, and the bath swishes out of the tub to the marble floor. I don’t care. All I care about is Beatrice in all her shining, stunning glory above me. There’s foam all over her body, and her back, ass, and legs are a sight I'm in awe of. She’s unlocked me; she’s made me desire her all day, every day. "God, you're so beautiful.”
She places her foot on the side of the tub and spreads herself out for me. “You’re more beautiful.”
I strain the sides of my cheeks as I beam in response. Beatrice said she fell harder for me earlier. I think I’ve just fallen harder for her now, too. So I move forward on my knees in the bath, eager to show her just how much further I’ve fallen. I smack her ass. “Oh!” Beatrice jumps. I love it when she reacts like that.
I grab her ass cheeks, edge closer to her leg, and feel her foot underneath the water against my knee. “I love your ass, Bea. Seriously, I love it. Can I marry your ass?” I giggle as I spread her out, then tilt my head up towards her folds.
Beatrice laughs above me as I move inches from her clitoral area. I love the sound of Bea’s laugh. But I end it as I dive for her clit and start to lick my tongue over her folds.
“Mmm.” Beatrice moans, and it inflames me to hear that too. I don’t stop licking, though. I lick and lick and lick and lick. I increase my speed and bury my face in Bea’s ass further. My nose touches her clit. I smell her scent through the lavender bath oils. I prefer her to the lavender smell. I prefer her scent to everything, just like I prefer her taste to everything. I’ve gotten lost in Beatrice so much that I don’t even care about JC’s cheating anymore. He’s just a bad memory that I'm eager to get rid of lick by lick and release after release into my mouth from Beatrice. “You’re so good at this, so good.”
I squeeze her ass cheeks harder and part them further after her praising words. I love it when she praises me. I’m new to this. But her praising words are giving me so much confidence in myself when I eat her out or slide and grind my clit over hers. Her praise is like a drug. Her ass is a drug. She’s a drug I can’t get enough of.
I point my tongue into her clit deeply, and I feel her shudder. Time for some fingers. I want her to release completely into my mouth. I want to taste her sweet cum. I want it now. I move my fingers upwards to join my tongue and move them into her core. I find her sweet spot. "Oh, Ava, that’s it right there.” I grin, then start to push my fingers up and down. Up and down. Up and down. I flick my tongue over her folds at ridiculous speed. Beatrice loves it when I go at a frenetic pace.
“Yes, Yes, Yes.” Beatrice pants above me and starts to bounce up and down, making the need for me to move my fingers at all unnecessary. She’s so wet for me. So wet. I’m making her so wet. I love making her this wet. I love pleasing her.
Cum starts to string from Bea’s clit as she bounces, and I just leave my tongue out for her to bounce on. I don’t even have to work now. Beatrice is getting excited, and so am I, hearing her gasp and gasp above me.
“I’m close!” Beatrice screams, and almost instantly she squirts out onto my tongue. I drag the cum immediately into my mouth. I’m feasting on her release like it’s the best meal I’ll ever consume. She stops bouncing; she flops a bit, then I pounce for her clit again. "Fuck, I love you.” I’d reply, but I’m nose deep in pussy right now. Something I didn’t think I’d ever think or say. . I’m too busy holding this ass that I’m intoxicated by to talk. I start to slurp on Beatrice. Scrumptious. Delicious. Delectable. My Beatrice. She’s so special. She’s such a special woman. So very special in so many ways. I love her taste—her laugh—her smile. I’m truly falling deeper and deeper, and I don’t want to stop.
Beatrice suddenly moves away from me, but before I can complain, she goes onto her knees and moves her palms onto my hips. Her previous softness is gone too, and she pulls me into her lips. I moan as I open my mouth for her and feel her tongue go to the roof of my mouth. She’s undoubtedly tasting herself right now after all the cum I took in. I grin before I move my palms to the sides of her head and just get lost in her like I have been every day since our first time together, just like I’m lost in the electricity of our love.
Notes:
This fic is basically a destruction of JC as a character with every passing chap I make him a bigger douche bag 🤣
Lazy, a drunk, controlling, dismissive, a cheater there’s prob more ways to describe him but you get the point LmaoThx for the kudos it fuels me to write more smut....
Chapter 23: Consumed
Summary:
Ava and Beatrice get more and more consumed by each other.
Notes:
More smut. It’s pure smut this fic atm 😅
Chapter Text
I think I’ve forgotten what football is. What’s Manchester United? Is it a type of rash you get when you get stressed? Is it something that appears when you shower too much? Mom and Dad talk about it a lot over the phone to me when they talk about the so-called “tense title race." United are having, but all I can think of is Ava. I’m obsessed with this woman. Seriously, I’m entrenched in her. More weeks have flown by, and things are getting insane. We can’t keep our hands off each other. I’ve had so much sex with her that I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. The pining and longing for Ava I had feels like a distant memory. I imagined what her naked body would look like. I imagined what she would taste like, and I did the whole sappy white rose thing, but being with her, loving her, and sleeping in bed with her is so much better than I could’ve imagined. It’s so much better than any sappy thoughts of painting her as a symbolic rose bleeding in the snow. It’s lustful; it’s all-encompassing; it’s everything. It’s consuming my every waking thought just like it does now as Ava pumps herself into me on my bed with a strap deeply and quickly in a ferocious, fierce pace that’s making both mine and hers breasts bounce like no one's business.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” I repeat breathily as Ava holds onto my legs and keeps pumping.
“Fuck your hot, like this.” Ava pants, then bites her lip.
I get pushed back into my pillow with so much intensity that I begin to feel the springs of my bed against my neck, as if there's no pillow below me. I can barely breathe. I think I’m forgetting my own name, along with United. I never could’ve anticipated what Ava could do in the bedroom. Never. She’s become an expert in everything I’ve taught her. She’s even done research by herself to get better. It’s like I’m a project for her to please as much as humanly possible, and what a feeling that is as I hold Ava’s bare hips as she moves and moves into me.
“Don’t stop!” I exclaim as Ava moves so fast into my core that I begin to feel my heart burst at the pleasure I’m experiencing.
“I wasn’t planning to.” Ava cheekily grins as she moves into me and licks the top of her teeth. It’s so mischievous that I can’t help but release all over the red dildo she’s pumping into me as I admire it.
I laugh in lust. I laugh with my red cheeks unabashedly. “G..Good.”
Ava purses her lips and breathes in contentment. She looks so free and unencumbered when she’s fucking me. She’s not shy or has any social anxiety when we’re like this with me. She’s just her cheeky, enthusiastic, and excitable self.
“Am I a white rose baby? Huh?” Ava teases me as she fucks me so well and so fast that I lose the ability to form words to speak and do anything other than gasp in utter pleasure. She’s no flower; she’s a sexy goddess who’s fucking me like she’s been with women more than me.
She keeps going and going and going, and the dildo keeps penetrating and penetrating and penetrating my soaking core. “Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah.” Is the only noise I can make as I rest my hands on Ava’s sweaty hips and she moves and moves and moves into me again.
“What’s wrong? Dildo got your tongue?” Ava pants down to me and pushes my legs back by my calves. She kisses one of them with feathery, swollen lips.
I try to laugh. In reply. I can’t. I’m sorry, Ava. I can’t. I can’t do anything other than make the noise, “Ah.” As she fucks me better than anyone has before. Lilith and Nicole are nothing compared to this shining, glistening goddess of a woman. Nothing. Lilith was good. But she could have experience with countless women; she could have hundreds of flings and hookups. She’ll never be like Ava. Ava just has a naturally cheeky, sexy gift. A gift—that’s all for me.
Ava keeps going; she doesn’t stop as promised and moves her lips upwards towards my foot. My eyes widen. She moves above my big toe, then pounces to suck on it. No one has sucked on my toes before. But Ava is. She’s sucking and sucking while she doesn’t relent on her pace. “A..Ava.” I somehow speak, and Ava looks at me with smirking eyes as she releases my big toe. She kisses my calves again, then lunges for my lips, capturing them with hurried intensity. I love feeling her nipples against mine. I love feeling her stomach on top of mine. I drop my legs down to the bed and rub my hands on Ava’s back, which’s so muscular and toned. I love this back. I love her shoulders. Her lips. I love her nose being against mine. I love all of her inside and out.
She suddenly moves the dildo out of me “Why’d...mmppphh.” Ava kissed me with force. She bites my lip, and she then drags her teeth along; it leaves me a quivering mess.
“Turn over.” Ava moves back, and I obey, swivelling so quickly that I get a bit dizzy. I move my ass upwards, rest my chin on my pillow, and ignore my dizziness.
Ava rubs my ass with her palms, an ass she loves and can’t seem to get enough of. My teasing her with my ass the day after arriving back from Milan unlocked so many things, but this unlocking of Ava’s desire for it—her desire to spank it to feel it on her palms—is definitely at the top of that list. She spanks me. “Oh!” Then I feel her position the dildo near my throbbing clit.
“Say please.” She demands
“Please.”
“Call me baby.” She demands something she’s never demanded before.
“That’s your shtick. I call you darling; you call me baby; it’s our thing silly.” I laugh
She spanks me again with her right hand, a hand that’s not holding the dildo, making me jolt. “Do as you’re told; I’m the captain right now, and I want you to call me baby.”
“No.” I defy.
She rubs my ass, then moves into me. I take a breath as the dildo enters me with ease. “You’ll call me baby Bea; you will. I’ll fuck you until you do.”
"No, I won’t.” I defy again as I gulp at Ava moving so very deeply into me.
Ava moves her other palm to my ass cheek, so she has both palms on her favourite place on my body. “You will, darling.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head at hearing Ava say that to me. It sounds different from her silky-accented voice than it does mine. Oh, so very different. Ava is so cheeky. I can only imagine how JC could ever push this side of Ava away. Madness. Utter madness on his part.
Ava starts thrusting steadily faster and faster, and I bury my face in my pillow. I feel a tug at the back of my dishevelled hair, and she tugs me back so my voice won’t be muffled by that pillow. “Call me baby.”
"N..o.” I stammer out as she goes faster.
She tugs again so my sweaty self is curved upwards, and she thrusts and thrusts and thrusts into me. “Say it, say it, say it.” She pants, and I bite my lip in defiance. She growls “You promised me you’d do anything for me.” She reminds me, and I instantly relent.
“Baby.”
She lets my hair go, and I go to the pillow. “That’s my girl.”
She’s never called me her girl before. I like it so much that I take it in and store it in my memory banks as something that made me so happy to hear. She doesn’t let me store it for long as her palm returns to my ass. She moves and moves into me, and I think my love for her only grows as she does. How is that possible? How can I fall harder and harder and further and further in love with Ava when I’m already completely consumed with her? I guess it’s just so easy to fall harder, just like it’s so easy for Ava to penetrate me and my core with her dildo right now.
—
Who’s J.C.? Seriously, who is he? I don’t think I can remember his face anymore. I’m so intoxicated by Beatrice. I knew him for years, but my memories of him are fading and fading fast thanks to this ridiculous sexual desire and the glorious prison of Bea that I’m in right now. She’s all I dream about—all I think about. When game day arrives and we play matches at Old Trafford, I think to myself, Why aren’t I fucking Beatrice right now rather than kicking this stupid football about a grass pitch? I love football; it’s given me so much, but honestly, I don’t think I would care if I had to retire right this second, despite being so early in my career. I have an amazing girlfriend, and I’d much rather spend every hour of the day with her in bed than play football. I never craved to have sex with what’s his name, like I do with Beatrice.
Bea’s enthusiasm for the cheeky side of me when we’re in her home that I’ve stayed in for however long we’ve been a couple, which could be months at this point for all I know, is so freeing—so utterly freeing that I feel no reservations when asking for us to do anything. Like I feel now the morning after I pumped my dildo into her that I bought for her online as I begin to ask up to her as we lay naked together under the duvet of her bed. “Hey Bea?”
“Hmm?” Beatrice moves my hair behind my ear as I lay my cheek on her chest. My favourite place to rest.
“I want to do something new.”
"Mmm, go on.” Beatrice chuckles
I rub my palm on her strap. I mean, stomach. Damn, I’m seriously thinking a lot about using that strap again right now. “Two numbers; guess what they are.”
Beatrice kisses my hair and breathes me in like I’m a delightfully scented flower. “6 and 9.”
I giggle and move my leg over Bea’s excitedly. “Yup. Have you done it before?”
“I have.”
Why did I ask that? I hate being reminded that Beatrice has been with others. I can’t be annoyed by it. Of course she has, but I’m so jealous that anyone else has had the sunkissed, freckled beauty that is Beatrice. I can’t help it.
“You’re regretting asking me that, aren’t you?” Bea’s shoulders shake softly above me.
I scrunch my nose. “Yes.”
"Aw, I love my jealous baby.” Beatrice teases and kisses my head repeatedly. I scrunch my nose even harder and squirm in delight.
“I’m not a baby.”
“But you were so eager for me to call you one? What’s happened, baby?” Beatrice tilts my head and starts to kiss my ear and my jaw with peppery kisses.
I smirk, “Enough, my darling Bea!” I moved up abruptly and now lean over Beatrice, entrapping her with my hands on either side of her.
“Can we stop switching pet names now?” Beatrice breathily replies as she rubs my back.
I salute down to her, "Yes, ma'am, no more switcheroos.”
Beatrice pokes out her tongue and gleefully bites it with her teeth. I’m so happy I’m making her look like this. I’m the reason she’s so happy. It’s such an incredible feeling. She deserves to feel happy and loved. She’s so doting on me, and my love is only growing for her because of that—because of everything about her.
“You’re so silly.” Beatrice shakes her head and laughs.
I move down to rest my tits on Bea's, and I murmur close to her lips. “I love you. I can’t tell you how happy you’re making me.”
"Mmm, I feel the same. I’ve never felt like this because of anyone before. Thank you, Ava. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for seeing me.”
I smile and gently kiss her. I love the frenzied, lustful side of us. It’s the most prevalent during the sex we have, but these types of soft moments are equally intoxicating. When I’m with Beatrice in this type of moment, I feel so special and loved. I had moments of this Ilk with 'he who must not be named', but this just feels so much softer, so filled with more mutual love, respect, and friendship, it’s more. It’s so much more.
I move away from her lips and move my palm to her cheek. I admire her breathy smile; her beauty is something I can’t resist. “Right back at you. I love how you take care of me. You make me feel so special.”
Beatrice moves her hand to my cheek, brushes some hairs aside with her fingers, and inhales deeply and contentedly, like this is her favourite place in the world to be. With me in bed as the birds tweet outside Bea’s window. It’s my favourite place too. I love her so much.
“You deserve it. You deserve everything.”
I mimic Bea’s previous action of sticking out my tongue and biting it as I smile gleefully down at her. I wiggle my brows. “So do you.”
Beatrice picks up on my meaning and eye rolls. “I’ll show you how to do it right; no rushing.”
I nod hurriedly and giddily reply, “Okay.”
“Turn around and...” Beatrice stops as I quirk an eyebrow. “You want to be the one lying down, don’t you?”
"Mmm, hmm,” I affirm. She knows how much I love her ass. I have to be the one on the bottom, so I get to hold it again as I suck, lick, and spit on her folds.
Beatrice snorts, and I roll over onto my back on the bed excitedly. I’m so excited to try this. I’ll please Bea, and she’ll please me at the same time with our mouths and tongues.
Beatrice throws off the covers from us both, and I see her tits in all their glory. “Hold on,” I beg.
“What?” Beatrice asks
I motion with my hand for her to come down. “Give me a second with my girls first.”
Beatrice laughs again. She moves her palm onto her face as she laughs so freely. “God. I love you.”
I bob my head. “I'm flattered, Bea, but I’m not god.” I pull her down to me with my palms on her back and immediately suck on her tit.
“Are.. Are you sure you aren't? because I think you must be to make me feel this happy.”
Bea’s words above me make me whimper. Hearing her say that is too much. When I met her, she used so many fake smiles and buried so much behind her eyes. She’s been so sad for so long. So hearing that again makes me more than whimper as I keep sucking with more gentleness than hurriedness. I feel my eyes watering. Not now. Stupid eyes. I want to be giddy right now, not tearful. They don’t listen, and my tears fall against Bea’s skin.
“Hey. Hey, are you okay?” Beatrice immediately worries and cups my cheek, making me stop what I was doing. She’s so aware of me—so attuned to my emotions. It feels like we see each other more now than ever. We’re attuned to any change in the other's emotions. It makes for such a fulfilling relationship. Such a special bond.
I sniffle and wipe my eyes. "Yup, I’m just so happy you’re happy.”
“Well.” Beatrice strokes my cheek with her thumb. “I am. Now come on, let’s do this. I’m getting bored.”
I open my mouth aghast, “Hey!” I gently slap her chest.
“Hey yourself.” Beatrice winks, then rushes to put her ass in my face. My tearful emotions go away, and my lustful ones return as if they hadn’t gone.
I bite my lower lip, place my palms on her sunkissed ass, and massage her. I could stare at this view all day. No denim jeans, no clothing restricting me from seeing it. Just Bea’s ass in my face. Her clit fully on display to me—her smooth skin against my palms and fingers. My obsession with Bea’s tushy—her butt—her ass should be studied by United’s team doctor, Jillian. I'm besotted by it. I know it by heart now. I could probably draw it from memory on one of Bea’s blank canvasses in her room for her art. I’d sign the words next to it. ‘Property of Ava Silva.’ Then sign my autograph underneath. Is it crazy that I’m actually considering doing that now? I inwardly giggle in thought as Beatrice spreads my legs.
I feel a sudden wetness on my folds, and my silly thoughts are brought to a shuddering orgasmic haunt. It’s Bea’s spit. It travels down my folds, and I feel Bea’s fingers spread it about. My breath hitches. It hitches so much that I melt into the bed beneath me. I try to do the same, nonetheless, and spit on Bea’s folds. I feel her ass move back a bit at the contact of my saliva, but I hold her ass firm in my palms to keep her in place.
“Al..Alright. Now when I say go, you go.”
I ready myself and lean towards Bea’s clit. I pat my lips in anticipation of Bea’s taste on my tongue.
“Go.” Beatrice softly commands, and I dive in nose-first to Bea’s clit. Beatrice moans a bit as I quickly lick my tongue up and down her folds, and so do I as Beatrice sucks and flicks her tongue on me. This is so hot. So. So hot. I’m in my favourite position, enjoying pleasing Beatrice and tasting her taste as she eats me out too.
I swirl my tongue over her folds. I move my nose into Bea’s clit as I swirl and swirl and swirl. Beatrice suddenly bites my folds with her teeth, and I stop my movements. “Oh Shit!”
“Don’t stop.” Beatrice demands with so much of her authority that I’ve seen her use as United captain, and like on the pitch, I obey her and dive back into her clit. I quickly use my hands to part Bea’s ass cheeks to get more entrenched in her scent and sweet taste.
I have to make her release I have to feel her hot cum squirt onto my tongue. I need it. I can’t wail as she plants her whole mouth on my clit. I have to keep going and going. Lick. Lick. Lick and Lick. I start to make slurping noises, and Beatrice is the one who stops this time. “I..I love it when you do that.” Buoyed by Bea’s praise, I push through my heart’s ferocious beating and my own clit throbbing and keep slurping.
I feel Beatrice sag onto the bed and feel her body shudder and shake. “Ohhhh!” Beatrice begins to writhe against my tongue. I firmly hold her ass cheeks to keep her in place. I’m too dedicated to my task to stop; I have to feel her hot cum squirt onto my tongue. I can feel it's close, as Bea’s body doesn’t stop squirming. Beatrice said doing a sixty-nine is good if it's done right. But right now, I don’t care if I’ve done it right; I’m going to make Beatrice squirt. I want it now.
“Ava! God!” Beatrice wails and writhes.
I want to retort with a quip. I don’t. I can’t. I just slurp and slurp. I drag my tongue upwards like she’s ice cream that’s melting in the sun, and I have to eat her before she melts.
“You’re so good! I can’t. I can't.” Beatrice begins to shake uncontrollably, and I feel her squirt into my mouth. Finally.
If this was a contest, I definitely won the battle with Beatrice and then some. Beatrice flops on the bed, and I just keep enjoying her warm cum now in my mouth. "Mmm, I’ll never get tired of this.”
“Me neither.” Beatrice replies tiredly. It’s so true. I’m never going to get tired of tasting my Beatrice. Never. She fusses over me, and in return, I’ll make her cum and cum in complete gratitude.
Chapter 24: A Step
Summary:
Ava starts to consider a step in her relationship with Beatrice.
Chapter Text
Swirling my spoon in my cereal bowl as I sit down in Carrington’s cafeteria, I puff out my cheeks. Urgh. Training—I hate it. I just want to be back at Bea’s home right now, where I’ve stayed for—I don’t know, two months perhaps? Whatever time it has been, it’s been so perfect, and I honestly can’t imagine going back to my own home to do anything other than house maintenance. I’m sleeping at Bea's. I have all my meals at Bea’s. Well, when we aren’t staying in a hotel pre-game day in the south of the country, but the point is, at this point, I’m more or less without officially saying it moved in with Beatrice.
I won’t put any pressure on Beatrice by asking to make it official or anything, though, or maybe I should? No. It’s too soon. I can wait for her to ask me when the time is right. No rush. We’re not going anywhere. She’s the United captain, and since I’m a new signing, we’ll have plenty of time for that with both our respective futures tied up at the club. She’s my girlfriend, my first girlfriend, with whom I have sex so much that I’ve forgotten I ever thought I was straight. I think I just want to relish in that at the moment.
Thinking about me and Beatrice in that way, as always, makes me smile. I love the intimacy we share together. We know each other’s bodies so well now. I know every inch of hers, and she knows every inch of mine. We’re experts on each other now. Experts in knowing our separate sweet spots or favourite parts of each other’s bodies. Mine is obviously her ass, while Bea’s is always so sappy and says she loves my eyes the most. I love that she‘s sappy. She’s my sappy Bea.
"Ava, can I have a word?” Lilith's voice above me makes me flick my eyes at her. She’s in a dark green long-sleeved training jumper like me, and her hair is tied back like mine too. She used to have Beatrice the way I do now as well. I grimace at that thought. I was the one who pushed Beatrice to accept Lilith’s request to go out. Nope. I cut that thread of thought dead in its tracks. I can’t be jealous. I was in a different place back then, and I just need to appreciate what I have now.
"Sure, what’s up?” I finally motioned for Lilith to sit opposite me after I shook myself.
Lilith deftly moves to take a chair and sits. “About Beatrice.”
I raise an eyebrow. I’m sort of friendly with Lilith now; she’s my teammate, but I’d get it if she’s jealous of me being with Beatrice. I mean, who wouldn’t be jealous? Am I right?
"What about her?”
“Is this serious for you? Or is it just an experiment? because if it is, I want you..."
“I’m sorry?” I interrupt, feeling immediately offended. “Bea’s my favourite person, and I love her; of course she isn’t an experiment. I left my fiancé for her. I’m living with her at the moment; how could you think I’m just experimenting with her?” I look around the cafeteria for Beatrice, then remember she’s with Dr. Salvius to check up on an old thigh injury that’s been bothering her recently.
Lilith raises her hands. “I’m just looking out for her; she doesn’t need to be played around with.”
My shoulders lose a bit of tension in them. I guess that’s considerate of Lilith to be looking out for Beatrice; they’ve known each other for years and dated. Beatrice is obviously important to her. "Well, I can assure you, I’m not playing around with her, Lilith. You don’t need to worry. She’s my boo.” I end with a little frown and cross my arms.
Lilith blinks and regards me for a moment. Her lips curve upwards, oh, so slightly. “Alright. Just checking. But Ava.." she leans forward. “Never hurt her. Promise me you won’t hurt her.”
I straighten myself and defiantly retort, “Never; I love her. Of course I won’t hurt her.”
“Those we love are usually the ones who hurt us the most, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
I darken and look down at my cereal bowl. I don’t think of JC, although I did love him when I found him in my bedroom trying to run for the hills before telling me he had cheated. No, I think of my parents. I was only young when they died, but losing them—losing those I loved—still burns me to this day. "Yes, Lilith, I’m aware. I got cheated on. I fell for a bigoted little shit, and my parents died.”
"Exactly, so please don’t cause Beatrice any pain; she really loves you. She wouldn’t have broken up with me otherwise.”
As I move my gaze up to Lilith, I see a flicker of pain in her eyes. Being broken up with is never nice, especially by someone as amazing as Beatrice is, and especially in Lilith’s circumstance, where she did nothing wrong. “I’m not sorry she broke up with you, obviously, but um...” I look at the table between us in thought. “I guess I’m sorry; I kind of doomed your chances with her..." I stop. "Well, I’m not sorry about that, but you get my point.”
Lilith leans back in her chair and folds her arms. “I did really enjoy being her girlfriend, but no. It’s obvious to everyone that she’s happier than she’s ever been because of being with you. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t break her heart or anything.”
I shake my head roughly. “Fuck no, I really love her too, and actually, I’ve sort of been...” I scratch the back of my neck. “I’ve sort of been hoping she’ll invite me to live with her full-time soon.”
Lilith softens, and I know she’s reassured by me that I’ll try my upmost to not be a cause of pain for Bea. Exactly the opposite is what I want and what I’m thriving for in my relationship with her.
”Why don’t you just ask her? Maybe she’s nervous. You were engaged not too long ago. She might be thinking it’s a big step so soon after that.”
I swirl my spoon in my bowl and contemplate Lilith’s words. It would be soon after JC, of course. But this isn’t just any sort of relationship; it’s been built up since I met Beatrice in January, and now it’s almost April, and we’re more than just girlfriends; we’re each other’s obsessions. I spend every night at her home, and we’re planning to go to Milan together in the summer.
"Anyway, I’ll leave you to your breakfast."
I flash Liltih a small smile as she leaves, then look back down at my bowl. It’s very quick, to be honest. I’m living with Beatrice right now anyway; maybe wait until the summer after the season is over. Give it a few more months of comfortability, then maybe discuss it with her. There truly is no rush, especially when the honeymoon period of our relationship is so fiery and filled with incredible sex. Bea’s really happy at the moment with the unspoken situation, and so am I. Making anything permanent can wait.
—
The day before a crucial game versus Aston Villa at Old Trafford to maintain the team's slender lead at the top of the table, I’m not exactly resting before the big match. Far from it, in fact. I’m using so much energy right now doing one of my favourite things with my girlfriend. I’m holding onto Ava’s leg and sliding my clit rapidly on top of Ava's on my couch. Ava has her favourite position with my ass in her face, which I always feel so silly actually saying out loud, and I have mine. I love this position for multiple reasons. I get an amazing view of Ava’s breasts bouncing as I move into her. I get to enjoy the sight of me squeezing one of her perfect breasts beneath me. I see our clits get so wet together beneath me, and most of all, I get to look into Ava’s giddy cheek eyes, filled with lust, as I please us both.
“Yes Bea!” Ava exclaims as she holds onto my hips, and her cheeks get redder and redder, and her forehead gets sweatier and sweatier.
I lick my lips at Ava’s eyes being locked on mine as I keep sliding and sliding my clit over Ava’s rapidly. “Don’t stop looking at me. Don't even blink.” I demand in desperation for Ava to keep looking up at me unblinkingly. It turns me on so much. I love Ava’s eyes so much. They’re so emotive. When she feels something, it’s so clear to me exactly what she feels from the look in her eyes. Be it annoyance, anxiety, sadness, or now complete and utter arousal for me,.
“I love you.” Ava’s eyes stay lustful, but I spot something in them. Worry? I’m not sure exactly. It makes me slow down. I don’t stop, but I slow down in concern.
“I love you too. Everything alright?”
Ava giggles and grips her hands on my hips, pulling me into her more. “Not now, no; I’m close, and you just slowed down.”
I hesitate for a moment, just a moment, but Ava’s close, and so am I. We can’t have that. I’m not edging my girl right now. “Right then.” I grin and start to increase my speed again. I see Ava inhale a shaky breath. It sends a shiver up my spine immediately. I love my effect on her like this. I love to do tribbing or scissoring with her. Hell, I love every type of sexual position I do with her.
I spit down to our folds, then admire the spit as it hits both our clits with a keen, excited eye. It drools down both our folds and its strings and moistens everything more than it already was. It’s another of my favourite views of being on top of Ava like this as I hold her leg by her calf.
We’re joined together as if we’re one; we fit together so very well, like this is where we have always been destined to belong. Everything we do just fits. Our lips as we kiss meld so well together; our tongues when they connect just feel so right as they touch; and our saliva joins together so easily and readily. Everything is a perfect match. Everything.
“Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes!” Ava repeats as I really start to do more than just slide us together. I bounce our clits off each other and watch with hungry-blown pupils as I see our cum string off our clits.
“I’m..I’m!” I try to utter the last word, but the shuddering feeling throughout my body as my climax gets closer and closer stops me. I instead look to the ceiling in utter ecstasy. Don't stop. I tell myself, Fuck tomorrow's match. Use everything for this, use all my energy, and use it again after me and Ava climax against each other.
“Oh!…fuck! fuck! fuck!" Ava repeats, and I feel Ava’s fingernails bury themselves into my hips. I hear a primal growl from her. It makes me look down as my flowing hair sticks to my forehead and my body shakes.
Was their worry on Ava’s face for a brief moment about something? Yes, and I'll ask what’s up in a second or whenever we’re finished, but now all I see is messy hair, hungry primal eyes looking at me, and Ava’s teeth biting her lip hard. It makes me cum. My body can’t take that look in her eyes. Her hungry self is just too much. I part my lips and gasp, “Ah. Ah. Ah.” As my core squirts out my cum against Ava, I see her parting her lips too. I feel her body jolt at intervals, just like I do. It’s such a sight when I make her cum when I make her release for me and I release too at the same time. Her eyes always widen, and her mouth always parts as each moment of release makes her body make a little shudder.
Ava sags her head back on the arm rest of my couch. "Fuck, I love you.”
My shoulders sag as my release stops flowing and I take a breath. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud right now. A cloud of Ava. I never want to stop floating on this perfect happy cloud that I’ve found and cherish more than anything else in my life. I smile, lazily release Ava’s leg, then slowly climb down to rest my head on Ava’s heaving chest. “Love you more.”
Ava starts moving my sticky hair out of my eyes and behind my ear. We just lay together. Stuck on each other by sweat. I still taste Ava’s cum inside my mouth from earlier. It’s undoubtedly still on my chin, starting to dry into my skin. I always let it go down my chin as if it’s a delicious meal I let dribble down from my lips in pleasure from its taste.
This is my happy place, be it after sex or just sleeping in bed with Ava. Hearing her heart's vibrations against my cheek—hearing both of us breathe, either heavily or just normally, in the silence of my home. Ava loves to rest her cheek on my chest too. We like to hear each other's hearts beating—the hearts we love.
The clock ticks above us. Our breathing calms, and our bodies meld more and more together as I move my legs to rest on the couch.
“Can I…No, forget it. Let’s just rest.” Ava’s anxious tone alerts me, and I rub her arm with my palm.
“What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?”
Ava kisses my head and starts to stroke my hair. I smile. I smile so lazily, so contentedly, and so very happily. I’m so happy to be with Ava. It’s all I want. I just want to be with my favourite person in my home and keep her safe from harm all the time.
“It’s nothing bad; it’s just...” Ava sighs above me. “I was speaking to Lilith this morning, and she wanted to know if this was all one big experiment for me to be with a woman.” Ava scoffs, and I clench my jaw in slight annoyance at Lilith; she’s my friend, but she shouldn’t cast aspersions on Ava and my relationship. I’ll talk with her about it when I get the chance. It’s nice she cares, but I’m very protective of Ava with everyone at the club and in general, and I’ve become even more protective of her on the pitch, too. No one hurts my girl. No one.
“She told me to never hurt you too, which I hope you know I never will.”
“I know.” I move my hand down Ava’s arm and interlock our hands together.
“Anyway.” Ava kisses my head again with a gentle touch. “That isn’t what’s on my mind. I was going to try to leave this conversation until Milan, but I..I don’t think I want to.”
I shift my weight on Ava, then move my chin onto her chest. I get comfortable and bring our interlocked hands together to her chest too. “Hmm?"
Ava smiles softly down at me and strokes my hair again with her delicate fingers. “We’ve been living together for 2 months now, and I..I really like it. I like waking up in the morning with you. I like having breakfast, lunch, and dinner here, so I was wondering if um.." Ava blinks, and I see the anxiety in her eyes. I don’t like Ava being anxious about anything with me. She’s never usually anxious, but I just wait and let her finish her words in her own time. “Would you like me to move in with you? Like permanently? Is it too soon?”
I rest my cheek again on her chest and look up at her very softly. “Ava, I’d love that.”
Ava’s nervousness lessens, and her eyes light up. “You would? Really!?”
I nod and gently hum. “Hmm, of course I would. I love having you here.”
Ava dimples her smile, and I see her eyes water from her excitement. I love it. I haven’t really considered this step until now. I was just in such a comfortable, amazing pattern with Ava that it just felt like we were already living together permanently. It’s official now, and seeing Ava so excited as I rest my cheek on her chest is such a good feeling.
“Are you sure? Like 100 percent? I wouldn’t want to, mmm." I place my finger on Ava’s silly lips, stopping her doubts that I want her here.
“I am.” I bring our conjoined hands to my lips and keep smiling softly up at Ava. “I am. I've never been so sure of anything, love. Never."
Tears fall gently from Ava’s eyes. Normally, I’d dislike seeing Ava cry, but not today. They’re happy tears, and I just feel so utterly content in her arms. So perfectly blissfully content. So seeing her cry because of this is more than okay.
I move up to kiss her gently and feel her tears touch my lips. It’s easily my favourite moment so far in my relationship with Ava. My heart feels so calm. I feel calm. Ava is my safe place now. I don’t want to be alone again. She’s blown my tunnel of darkness apart. I see a future beyond football now. I see it with her.
Chapter 25: Trauma
Summary:
Beatrice tries to calm down as Crimson taunts her.
Chapter Text
Standing in the tunnel at Old Trafford ahead of kick-off for the game versus Aston Villa, I’m doing my best to control my emotions. I completely forgot about Crimson. The bitch is standing beside me, ready to lead her team onto the pitch in her claret with a blue-sleeve Villa jersey and white shorts. She hurt Ava. She hurt my Ava. The scar Crimson caused Ava is still on Ava’s forhead. She made Ava bleed, and everything in my body is begging me to make her bleed in kind today.
“Breathe, Breathe.” I whisper under my breath as I move up my captain’s armband on my red sleeve.
"Nervous, are we?” Crimson’s biting voice speaks over to me, and I almost punch her where she stands.
“Shut up.” I bite back as I shake with rage and keep my eyes firmly set on the old Trafford pitch as rain falls heavily from the clouded heavens.
"Aww, what’s the matter? Still upset I made your girl bleed?”
My eyes widen. I roll my hands into balls. They shake with such a deep need to punch Crimson that I can barely contain them. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe, inhale, and exhale. Don't do anything stupid. I’m the club's captain. I may be consumed with Ava and rather be at home with her right now, but I do care about United, and that doesn’t just stop as much as I tell myself I don’t care anymore about football. I do. I do care. We’re in a tight battle for the title with Manchester City with only 5 games to go, and if we drop points today, we’ll hand the initiative back to them. I have to stay calm. I can’t be angry. I have to be at my best—not be an angry person out for revenge. I could really use Ava being behind me—in the line of players right now—rather than Camila. She’d sense my anger. She’d help me ignore Crimson.
I feel Crimson step sideways towards me. She gets close to my ear. “You better keep a close eye on her today, because I certainly will.” Crimson sniggers, then looks back down the line of my teammates. "Ooft, that scar on her pretty little head is a doozie, isn’t it?” Crimson turns back to me, and I side-eye the cruel brunette, who has such wide eyes that scream to me that she clearly enjoys the prospect of hurting Ava again.
“Stop talking.”
Crimson grins. “What are you going to do, huh? You wouldn’t want to jeopardise your club's title chances, would you?”
I snap my head to Crimson and snap back. “I said stop. I’m warning you, you bitch.”
“Go on, make a move. I dare you.” Crimson moves her foot on top of mine and digs her studs into my boot.
I wince, but I don’t stop staring her down. “You won’t touch Ava today, I swear.” Crimson twists her studs into my foot. I wince again and quickly grip Crimson’s jersey collar roughly. “Enough!”
Crimson laughs, and I feel Camila, I presume, trying to drag me away from Crimson, as a Villa player does the same behind Crimson. “You really love her, don’t you? Aww, how sweet.”
“Shut up!” I shouted through gritted teeth.
"Beatrice, let her go!” Camila pulls on my arm.
Crimson’s grin enrages me as it turns toothy. She roughly shrugs off one of her teammates and looks at her elbow. The same elbow she used to hurt Ava. “I think I’ll aim for her nose this time!”
My blood boils, and I go to hit Crimson. Another pair of hands grabs, then pulls my other arm back. “You’re finished! I..”
“Bea.” Ava’s soft, soothing voice sounds in my ear, and I soften. I turn back towards her, and I feel an immediate pang of regret as I see the look in her eyes. It’s soft. So soft. Everything about her calms me down. Her unstained Manchester United kit of a red shirt and black shorts, her hair that’s not covered in blood like it was in the snow—her whole being just calms my angry protective heart. She’s everything to me. I usually help her calm down when she’s feeling stressed, but now she's doing it for me. Just by a look in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips, my heavy breathing and desire to punch Crimson leave me. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before; we don’t even have to speak. We see each other. All of each other. Camila lets go of my arm, and I hear Crimson snapping at her teammates, but all I care about is Ava right now.
“I’m.. I’m sorry.”
Ava palms my cheek and strokes her thumb over my skin as I hear rain falling more heavily outside the tunnel. It’s just me and her. Me and her. No one else. “Don’t be sorry. I love how protective you are of me. Just don’t let her get to you. She doesn’t matter. She’s just a cruel player whose team we’re about to smash.” Ava adds a bit of teasing to her tone.
I snort. “Hell yeah, we are.”
Ava leans up and gently kisses me. It’s brief, but I moan into these lips. I know the feeling of Ava’s lips against mine off by heart now. She pulls away from me. “Come on, let's get this done.”
I smile, and Ava gets in line behind me. She rubs my arm. I move my hand on top of hers. I close my eyes and breathe. Just breathe; it’s okay. Ava’s right, don’t let Crimson get to me; just focus on getting the three points for my club.
I look at the rainy Old Trafford packed to the rafters and exhale a breath. Breathe in, breathe out, and just calm down. Forget Crimson.
The referees walk out onto the pitch, and I reluctantly let Ava’s hand go as I lead the team out. It’s loud as always. Just like it was at Villa Park when Ava was bleeding in that snow, just like it was when I knew I had fallen for Ava. I look back to Ava through the rain as flashes of Ava in mid-air being elbowed by Crimson fill my mind. Her hair is dampening just like it was dampened by blood on that day. I keep walking and see Ava’s smile, but my eyes travel up to her forehead, where the scar from Crimson’s handiwork still resides. It caused so much blood. Too much. I can’t bear it. I look away and squeeze my eyes shut. I can breathe. I can’t let Ava get hurt by Crimson again. I can’t. I can’t. I have to protect her.
I’ve never cared about anything as much as I do for Ava now. It terrifies me just how important she is to me. She’s my light. My joy. She’s given me so much light since I met her—since I started a relationship with her—and now she’s moved in with me full-time. All her stuff is at our home now. It’s not just my home; it’s ours now. It was such a big step to move in permanently. I love that we took that step. I love the simpleness of waking up next to her and having breakfast with her. I can’t lose that. What if Crimson hits her head again? What if Crimson really hurts her, and this time it’s more serious, I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I can’t.
—
The half-time whistle is about to blow, and I’m completely soaked through in my position at left back. My United top is clinging to my chest, and my hair is a soaking mess. We’re winning one nil yippee, that’s great, but I’m really eager for the half-time whistle right now to warm up a bit and dry off.
It hasn’t been as tough and physical a battle with Crimson as I feared today. I can’t lie. I did have some anxiety about facing Crimson again on the wing, but I’ve barely seen her thanks to Beatrice. She’s blocked her from coming near me completely. I love her protective nature, I really do, and today I’m so grateful for that. My mind is slightly eased by her high work rate, keeping Crimson away from me.
In the distance, a Villa player spreads a cross-field pass towards me. I stop. I never stop. Even after my head injury, I didn’t flinch when I got back to the pitch when going for headers. I do now. I just remember the pain, the blood, and the weakness I felt after Crimson's elbow connected with my head as I lay on the snowy floor. The ball gets closer, and I feel my scar on my head with my fingers. It’s faded, but it’s there; it’s a constant reminder of that day. A constant reminder of the pain and the blood. I see in the corner of my eye Crimson running for the ball to intercept. I don’t move. I can’t. Beatrice sprints towards me with a clear look of determination In her eyes. She’s as soaked as me. I didn't see until now just how muddy she is, though. She’s been sliding on the ground and throwing Crimson about like a rag doll today.
The ball flies my way. It comes closer and closer. I don’t move. Beatrice does, though she sprints and sprints. Not towards the ball. Towards Crimson. “Argh!!” Beatrice tackles Crimson to the ground like she’s playing rugby rather than football, and the ball falls to my feet.
“Get off me!” Crimson struggles on the ground as the ref blows the whistle. Beatrice isn’t letting her go. She’s holding her down, hugging her in a tight, unflinching hold. “I said get off!” Beatrice stays down and doesn’t let go.
I shake myself, crouch down, and place my hands on Bea’s shoulders. “Bea, let go. It’s okay. Let go.” Beatrice releases her grip, and Crimson rolls away with a sniggering look in her cruel face. I don’t care about Crimson. I care about Beatrice. Only Beatrice and I try to help her to her feet. She stops as she gets to her knees.
“I can’t...I can't." Beatrice clutches her chest, and I rush around her to see her pupils darting around in distress. Her chest is heaving heavily. “Crimson almost..almost, she..she.” Bea’s breath goes even more laboured.
I move to rest my knees on the muddy pitch, not caring if my knees get completely drenched and soaked in mud. Bea’s having a panic attack. I’ve never seen her panic about anything before. Other than Milan, when she ran away from me. This is different, though. This isn’t a quiet hotel room. It’s on a muddy, rainy pitch, and she clutches her chest tightly. I hesitate for a moment as I move my hands to her soaked cheeks. If one of us were to ever have a panic attack, I thought it would be me. Not Beatrice. It’s so distressing to see her like this; she's always the calm, steady one. My hands feel numb as I palm her cheeks.
“Ava, are you...are you...” Beatrice tries to speak as she keeps struggling to breathe.
Get it together! I scold myself inwardly. Beatrice needs me. If I didn’t know just how important I’ve become to Beatrice, I do now. She’s just as important to me. She’s my whole world at the moment, and she‘s so distressed at the possibility of me coming to harm by Crimson’s hand again that she can’t breathe. “I’m okay, Bea. It’s alright, just breathe.”
Bea’s breath isn’t calm. Her eyes don’t focus on me; they keep darting around in panic: “I..I can’t..I..you..Crimson.”
I quickly move my forehead onto Bea’s and keep my shivering hands on her cheeks. The rain falls on us both, and thousands are watching. I don’t care. I have to help my Beatrice. “Deep breathes, baby; it’s okay; just breathe in like me.” I inhale deeply for 4 seconds, and Beatrice shakily follows. “Breathe out.” I exhale for 4 seconds, and again, Beatrice tries to follow. “That’s it. You’re doing so great. Come on, do it again for me. Breathe In.” I inhale, and Beatrice follows my lead again. Bea’s breath isn’t as shaky this time as I hold her cheeks in my hands, close my eyes, and rest my forehead on hers. “Breathe out.” Bea’s exhaling breath is calmer and steadier. So much steadier.
“Ava I can’t..” Bea’s voice breaks, and I pull her into a fierce hug. She grips my back with her strong hands, “I can’t bear it; I can’t. I’ve never cared about anything or anyone like I do for you. I..I love you so much. She was going to hurt you again. Not again. I can't see you like that again. I can’t see you in pain.”
I bury my nose in Bea’s shoulder and hold her tight as she cries. My heart melts at how much Beatrice truly loves me. It’s on display for the world to see, but more importantly, it’s fully on display for me. How lucky I am now to have someone as kind and loving as Beatrice care for me this much. I knew JC for years, the little shit, and he never showed this much care for my safety; he never treated me like I was his everything, like Beatrice does. She’s my everything too. “It’s okay.” My own voice breaks, and I cradle Bea’s head in the rain. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I love you so much too.”
Chapter 26: Mother Superion
Summary:
Suzanne has brought Ava and Beatrice into her office to speak about Bea’s protective nature.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
To say I feel a bit on edge right now is an understatement. A few days after the Villa game, where we won two-nil, I’m sitting in Suzanne’s office with Ava beside me. Suzanne’s not speaking; she’s doing the whole pause for effect thing to make her eventual words have an impact. In this case, she’s writing something down on a piece of paper on her desk. The only sounds are the clock to my left and the pen in Suzanne’s hand, writing words I don’t see.
It’s obvious why I and Ava are in her office. Painfully so. The rugby tackle on Crimson I did before I had that honestly kind of terrifying panic attack where I couldn’t breathe has only brought home the fact to everyone at the club that me and Ava’s relationship is making me more reckless during matches to defend her. I still do a lot of good things on the pitch, but my attention is always on defending Ava. Always. No matter how futile that is during a game of 90 minutes with 22 players on the pitch, Suzanne has finally decided to talk about it with us. Well, she will talk about it once she’s finished writing whatever the hell she’s writing right now.
I bet it’s just her shopping list. What could she possibly have to write down that’s taken her almost 10 minutes to complete while me and Ava sit here in silence, waiting for her to finish?
“Coach I..” Suzanne, sporting a smart blazer and a white buttoned blouse, raises her hand, and I stop my words. She starts writing again, and so the silence goes on.
I grip my chair armrest tightly in response. I hate silence like this. Filled with tension. Filled with the proverbial elephant in the room. Just get it over with and talk to us rather than making me and Ava sit in complete silence. I normally love the silence with Ava. But normally it’s back home as we sleep in each other's arms or just snuggle up on the couch. This is not that. This is unbearable.
I feel fingers crawl onto my hand, which grips my armrest tightly. I feel a tad better as Ava’s mimics a spider's legs moving across the top of my hand. She loves to do that in a far different situation than this, and it’s not on top of my hand. She moves her fingers down my chest as she lays on her side beside me. She crawls and crawls her delicate fingers down and down until she reaches my clit. It’s so teasing, so soft and delicate. It always elicits a smile from me or makes my heart race in anticipation. She knows I love it. She knows I love how delicate it is when she does it. Her doing it now just makes everything seem okay.
I relax my hand, then turn it over. Ava interlocks our hands together. I’ve been holding her hand a lot more recently. I’ve become even more protective of her whenever we go out, as well as on the pitch. I hold her hand tightly and never let it go. Even when we’re in a restaurant or something, I don’t let it go. I just use one hand to eat my food. It’s clingy. I know. Ava loves it, though. So I don’t feel self-conscious about it. She used to be clingy to JC. He didn’t show her the same affection back then. I’m not him. I’m never letting go of her hand if I can help it.
“Pssstt.” Ava attracts my attention even more, and I turn my eyes to her beside me. She’s in a United-branded training top like mine. Her hair is tied up like mine, bar me doing it in a bun as I usually have my hair.
I mouth 'what?' over to Ava with a gentle smile, and she sags her head onto her shoulder and starts to act as if she’s asleep. My smile turns into a smirk, and I look at my tracksuit bottoms-covered lap, trying to suppress any sort of laugh.
“Right. Now. Shall we begin?” Suzanne finally speaks, and I stiffen a bit. Ava squeezes my hand in reassurance.
“Yes, that would be nice, coach. I'm bored as fuck right now.” Ava retorts, and I almost snort in response. Ava’s been getting more and more confident lately around the club. She’s less closed off with people other than me, and it’s so great to see. I like to think I’m playing a big hand in Ava finding her voice more.
"Language, Miss Silva.”
“Sorry.” Ava apologises, but I hear her voice isn’t shaky or anything; it’s light. She’s not anxious right now. I am, but she isn't, and that’s not usually how it works with us. But then again, I didn’t expect to be the one who had a panic attack between the two of us either. I guess we’re picking up each other's personalities the more we live together. It’s only natural, I guess. I'm getting more anxious and worried, and Ava’s picking up my confidence as a leader for the club. It was the same when I was growing up with my parents. I picked up their reserved nature and their desire to live alone in the quiet.
Suzanne clears her throat. She rests her chin on the back of her hands. “So what are we going to do about you two lovebirds? It’s all very sweet how much you care for your girlfriend, Beatrice, but it’s affecting you on the pitch. You’re ignoring tactical instructions and instead protecting Ava like she’s not capable of defending herself.”
I perk up and look between Ava and Suzanne defensively. “Of course I know she can protect herself. I just… I can’t just do nothing when I see she’s in danger; it goes against all my instincts.”
Suzanne sighs. "Yes, and again, that’s very sweet of you, and I’m sure Ava loves you for that.”
“I do.” Ava beams, then quickly looks down to her lap as Suzanne raises an eyebrow.
“But it’s not good for the team, you must see. We need your focus on the match and fulfilling your duties, not protecting your girlfriend.” Suzanne brings up a piece of paper from her side and hands it to me. I take it with my free hand. I see it’s my stats since the match at Villa Park and Ava’s injury. “Look at those goal contributions. They’re way down. You’re not as far up the pitch as you used to be. You’re too busy staying close to the left side.” Suzanne hands me another piece of paper showing a heat map of my average positions on the pitch since Villa Park, too. “It’s completely messing with our system. All our opponents are going down Yasmine’s and Camila’s sides of the pitch because they know you won’t be there. Your performance is being affected defensively as well as offensively, and it must stop now if we’re to win this title.”
I frown at these pieces of paper in my hands. Of course Suzanne’s right, but I can’t just stop worrying about Ava all of a sudden. She’s all I worry about.
“Bea.” Ava says my name gently, and I look at her.
“I love that you’re protective, but I really can take care of myself on the pitch. I’ve done it for years. You can’t focus on just me during games; it’s not fair on the team.”
I nod “I know. But I..” I bite my lip. “I love you, Ava. I just can’t stop worrying about you because we’re on the pitch. I can’t bear to see you hurt again.”
Ava tilts her head, and I see her eyes go so soft that it hurts my chest to witness. “And I can’t bear to see you overextending yourself for me. I see you when we’re playing, and you get so exhausted defending me constantly. You can’t keep doing this; it’s not good for anyone. Well..” Ava chuckles. “It’s good for me as I don’t have to do much work anymore defensively, but you get my point.”
"Mmm, I do. I do.” I affirm softly.
Suzanne claps her hands together, making me jump. “So we’re in agreement!? No more rugby tackles on other players to protect Ava. No more thinking only of Ava during games. Let Ava play her game, and you do the same.”
I straighten my posture in my chair. "Yes, we are. I’ll try to be a bit less mothering to her from now on. Mother Superion.” I gulp, and my eyes widen. That's the nickname the players call Suzanne behind her back. Ava chuckles. I don’t. I inwardly panic as Suzanne frowns. “I’m..”
“Don’t worry yourself.” Suzanne shakes her head with a grin. “I’m well aware of that nickname. Just go and promise to focus on your own game from now on.”
“I promise, you have my word.” I try to fight my reddened cheeks and fail.
"Great, now off you pop.” Suzanne waves us away. “My husband will be here in a minute with my favourite treats.”
I stop as I go to get up with Ava. “Favourite treats?”
Suzanne’s cheeks redden. I spot. "Yes, now, please. Before he arrives," Suzanne waves us off again.
I get up with Ava and walk out with her into the hall. She moves up to my ear as we do. “I’ve heard Suzanne has a hankering for penis pops from an erotic bakery in the city. Don’t laugh; we’re still in earshot.”
I instantly failed to stifle my laughter as Ava pleaded and covered my mouth with my hand. “What!?”
“Shhh! Silly!” Ava giggles and kisses my cheek.
“What are you two laughing about!?” Suzanne shouts behind us, and we both try to scurry off before Vincent arrives. Ava’s making me so different in so many ways. She’s making me laugh more; she’s making me light. She truly is my light. My sun. My joy.
Notes:
Little nod to my other fic Fifty shades of Cakes here 😂 I will be getting back to that after this. Lmao
Chapter 27: Crunch Time
Summary:
United visit Ipswich aiming for victory to stay ahead in the title race.
Chapter Text
Sorry, not sorry; I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t. When Ava told me about Suzanne’s penis pop obsession, I had to get proof—and not just any proof—photographic—undeniable evidence of Suzanne in her office munching on her baked penis treats. I got the proof, and I’m now pre-game versus Ipswich at Portman Road in the team dressing room, showing Ava and the whole team. I played a practical joke or two before Ava arrived, but now being with Ava is making me want to be more silly.
“Send them the one where she and Vincent are eating them together.” Ava giggles as she looks at my phone while she sits beside me sporting her United kit, ready for the game. Just like the whole United team sat to our left and right,.
I tap the picture of Suzanne and Vincent sitting in her office on her couch, both with penis pops in their mouths, then send it to the team group chat, and the team immediately burst out in laughter.
“Oh dear!” Yasmine covers her mouth and laughs across from me.
“Damn. Vincent is really sucking on that thing, isn’t he?” Lilith remarks next to Yasmine through a chuckle.
“Suzanne might need to be worried if Vincent enjoys Dick that much.” Camila laughs beside me as she enlarges the picture on my phone. It’s true. Vincent is really going to town on his penis in this particular picture. His mouth is wrapped around the whole white-frosted treat, and that shit ain’t small; the penis pop is big, like really big.
“How’d you even get these?” Mary inquires over to me from my right seat next to Shannon.
I smirk at Ava beside me. “I may have planted a recording device in the air duct next to Suzanne’s clock.”
“What!? How’d you manage that!?” Dora belly laughs next to the door to the dressing room.
“When there’s a will, there’s a way.” I wink over to Dora.
Dora shakes her head as her laughter lessens, then looks back at her phone. “You’re something else; you know that.”
“She really is.” Ava moves her palm to my thigh, and I feel my cheeks burn. She moved to my ear as I started to feel a bit shy. “Love you.”
It’s such a simple, small thing to do, but it brightens me more than the countless pictures I’ve sent the team tonight, eliciting bouts of huge laughter from my teammates and friends. Ranging from Suzanne sitting in the corner of her room with a conspiratorial look in her eyes as she ate a penis pop to Vincent licking multiple pops at once with a hungry eye,.
“Love you more.” I whisper, then kiss Ava quickly. It’s brief, but the touch of Ava’s lips on mine feels like home. We’re a four-hour coach drive from Manchester in Suffolk right now. I feel like I’m home, though, in our house in the quiet with no one else. We could be in any city in any country, but when I kiss Ava, it feels like home now. I can’t wait until the summer so me and Ava can go off to Milan together. It’s so exciting to think about. It’ll be just me and her. No football, no teammates, just me and Ava in a beautiful city—the city where everything changed for us both.
I want to fully experience it this time with Ava by my side as my girlfriend. I know partly Ava’s motivation for the trip is to remedy the whole me running away from her and leaving her alone thing. I want that too, but the main motivation for me is just being in a beautiful place with a beautiful Ava. I can imagine more calm walks down the Navigli Canals, and I already have a keenness to visit the Duomo. It’s the very symbol of Milan. The Gothic-style cathedral dates back to the 14th century and is to Milan what the Colosseum is to Rome. It’s stained glass windows; it’s history is something I’d really just like to soak in, and then, most likely, we’ll go to Noli, a small beach about two hours away from Milan by car. It has a lovely sandy beach and clear blue water. I can see it now: me and Ava relaxing on a beautiful beach with the sun beaming down on us.
“Alright! Get ready; kickoff is in 15 minutes!” Suzanne suddenly shouts, and I jump away from my excited thoughts of Milan, then hurriedly put my phone in my bag behind me.
"Yes, coach, penis pop.” Dora mutters to Chanel next to her.
Suzanne, in an all-black track suit, swivels to Dora and asks, “What was that?”
Dora looks at her feet. “Nothing.”
Suzanne quirks an eyebrow and begins to survey the dressing room. She walks by each individual player with her hands behind her back. She’s really going for the drill-sergeant vibe right now. The title race is really stressing her out. Understandable, of course, but it’s important for moments of levity that I just provided the team, or we’ll get too nervous or bogged down by the pressure on us at the moment.
“What’s got you all so chipper this evening!? Well!?” Suzanne shouts. “We need to be focused! Ipswich may be relegation fodder, but we mustn’t take them lightly!”
"Light, like those fluffy penis pastries.” Lilith murmurs to Yasmine and draws Suzanne’s eye.
“What!?” Suzanne goes beet red as she shouts towards Lilith from the middle of the dressing room.
I’ve never seen Suzanne so red before. She’s redder than the Utd top the team is wearing. I suppress any sort of smile or laugh. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I hear Ava fail beside me. But I do it. Suzanne seems on edge, and I’d rather not be the target of her ire.
Lilith smirks up at Suzanne defiantly as Suzanne starts to walk to her. I see Lilith’s still holding her phone. “Nothing coach.”
“Mmm.” Suzanne regards Lilith for a moment. “I thought so.” Suzanne turns away from Lilith and looks at the team. "Everyone, go line up in the tunnel and win this match!”
I begin to rise to my feet with the rest of my team, but Ava grabs my hand. I stop and hum in query to her beside me, “Hmm? Yes love?”
“Remember what Suzanne said. Focus on your own game. I’ll be fine.” Ava takes my hand and places it on her lap. She smiles, and I smile back.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Ava leans towards my lips, and I lean to hers. I know she can take care of herself on the pitch, but I won’t stop worrying, no matter my pledge to focus on my own responsibilities as captain and midfield general of our team. I reach Ava’s lips and caress them gently, feeling my nose on hers. She’ll be okay. Just four more games, and we can go to Milan and be alone together for a few months.
—
10 minutes left. Nil-nil Bombing down the left wing in the second half versus Ipswich, I call to Lilith at centre back. “I’m open!” Lilith sprays the ball with poise and skill, and I let the ball bounce. The Ipswich defender there, right back, adorned in a blue top and white shorts, fights me for possession. It’s a tussle for the ball. My opponent, Areala, grabs my arm. I shield the ball from her as the ball bounces to my feet at the corner flag.
I’m trapped in the corner, blocked off from my closest teammate, Chanel. I assess the options. I could play it against Areala and get a throw in, or I could try the audacious and try to do a bit of trickery to be set loose on the Ipswich goal. I decide on the latter and back heel the ball through Areala’s legs. I spin away from her. She pulls me back again, but I’m close to the penalty box.
“Ava!” Dora calls, and I see she’s light on her feet, ready to make a run for a simple tap-in if I can guide the ball past the Ipswich centre back in front of me. It’ll need a bit of venom behind it. So I get ready to pull the trigger to cross and move my leg back. I feel Areala’s studs on my heel and crumble to the floor just outside the box. "Argh!" I scream as I tumble to the ground.
I can’t emphasise enough how painful it is to get the sharp studs of a fellow player's boot raked down my heel. I roll on the ground and hold my heel with my hands. It’s stinging. I take a quick peek and see that my black sock has been ripped open and my heel is bleeding through the fabric. I’ve got the free kick. I heard the ref blow his whistle, but the price to pay for it wasn’t worth it.
“Ava!?” Beatrice slides along the grass down to me and palms my arm in concern. “How bad is it?”
I look up through gritted teeth as I hold my heel. “It looks like I broke my promise.”
Beatrice frets over my heel as I hold it with both hands. She winces, “Wait for Jillian. She’ll patch you up.” Beatrice looks back to the all-black behind her and says, “Ref!? Surely that’s a red!?”
Areala walks by me, and Beatrice says, “Shut up; that’s never a red bitch.”
Beatrice clenches her jaw and goes to jump to her feet. “You..”
“Bea Don’t. It’s fine.” I grip her arm, remembering Bea’s confrontation with Crimson. We need her energy and her focus on the game, not picking fights.
Beatrice grins down at me as I move to sit, still nursing my heel. “I’m being your captain here, not your girlfriend; let me defend you.” I nod in acceptance, allowing Beatrice to go to the referee and Areala.
I can’t lie; Bea’s protective nature towards me is tough to ever push back or say no to. I love her watching out for me on the pitch, or, of course, in general. She’s like my own personal Bea Bodyguard. I can defend myself, but having Bea’s love is like having a warm protective blanket over me at all times. It’s so lovely to feel protected by her. Even the smallest things, like when I’m cold and she gives me her coat to help me get warm or when she just helps me eat healthily, make me feel so safe—so loved—protected.
I allow Jillian to get to work on my heel after she reaches me. My heel still stings. But my eyes focus on Beatrice defending me with the ref and Areala. I feel warmth. There is so much warmth in my chest, in my mind, and throughout every part of my body. It’s a cold night in Norfolk. I don’t feel cold. Not at all. “Eu te amo meu protetor, Minha Beatrice.”
—-
There’s two minutes of stoppage time left before the final whistle blows, and it’s still nil-nil. The need for a goal is becoming utterly desperate for my United team, and again, I now carry the ball from the middle of the pitch.
Ipswich are sitting all ten of their outfield players behind the ball. The routes to the goal are blocked off. My teammates aren’t making any bloody runs, and so the picture in front of me is like an unmoving chess board.
I throw my arms in the air and shout, “Someone make a run! You’re as static as Suzanne’s penis pops!” Oops. I didn’t mean to say that. I briefly look over to the bench and see Suzanne. She’s livid, and her skin has gone bright red as both my teammates and Ipswich players alike laugh. I bite the tip of my tongue and grin a bit. I would’ve never stopped like this in such a crucial game before I started dating Ava. Hell, I wouldn’t have just said what I said before Ava either. Am I blaming my sexy, cheeky girlfriend for that slip of the tongue? Yes. Yes, I am. The more time I spend with just her at home, the more of her natural cheekiness in the bedroom is imprinting itself on me, as is a bit of her anxiety. It’s truly a beautiful, beautifully perfect thing.
I’ve never lived with anyone other than my parents before. It’s more than safe to say that Ava’s impact on my daily psyche is far better for me than living with them ever gave me. My parents influence was to elicit me to prefer my own company. To achieve—achieve—achieve to earn their love, and look what that did to me! It made me fall into a deep depressive state, while Ava’s impact on me is so amazingly different. She loves me for me. She smothers me with affection, and I love her for that. She’s making me someone I never saw myself as being. A content, sometimes excitable person. Of course, not every day is perfect. That’s not how life is. But it’s become closer to perfect for the time being than I could’ve hoped when I dreamt of having Ava be mine for so long.
"Beatrice, pass the fucking ball!” Suzanne bellows, and I’m snapped away from my thoughts. Oh bugger, I completely spaced out there for a moment.
I shake myself, then look again for passing options. Still nothing. “Fuck this.” I decide to push forward with the ball by myself. It may drag some Ipswich players out of position and open some of my teammates for a pass, or maybe I’ll just hoof it with my right boot and hope it smashes into the net. I’m good at pile-driver goals. I do a lot of work on my leg strength for such lethal long-range shooting. I work out hard in general. It’s made me strong and toned. It’s definitely something Ava appreciates. I grin in thought as I push through the Ipswich midfield block and skip past a few players with sheer determination as I shrug off multiple players tussling me for the ball.
“Bea!” Ava shouts to me, and I look to the left. She’s making a run down the wing. I could pass it to her and make a run into the box to potentially rifle one of her expert crosses into the net with my head. I don’t. I fake the pass, then throw some Ipswich players off my intention.
“Pass the ball! Pass the fucking ball!” Suzanne screeches, and her voice breaks.
I block her out. I block everyone and everything out. It’s just me, the ball, and one thunderous objective. I skip by another midfielder with a shimmy. I shape my body to shoot. Target the top corner, visualise the correct amount of power and curve required, and then execute. I look at the ball with intent and imagine that it’s Crimson’s cruel face. Whack! My boot smashes the ball. I watch it travel like a bullet towards the net. The floodlights glisten off the ball and its hard rubber material. It doesn’t spin. It just stays straight and true. I caught it sweetly. The goalkeeper scrambles to dive. It’s heading where I want it to.
The ball rifles into the top right-hand corner beyond the keeper's grasp, and I wheel away in celebration. “Yessss!! Come on!!” I fist pump and run to the away end of Portman Road—to the wall of red—to the stands packed, with United fans losing their collective minds. “Yes!!!” I jump in mid-air and punch the air. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I feel nothing but pure jubilation. Football can provide these moments. These moments of pure, unfiltered joy that not many things in life can. It’s so intoxicating to score and celebrate with the fans like this. Before Ava, scoring goals, winning games, and winning trophies were my only sources of happiness. Not now. I have Ava now. But moments like these are still very sweet.
I punch the air again and roar. “Come on!” I kiss the badge. We’re winning this title; I can feel it.
An arm goes over my shoulder. “Vamos! vamos! vamos! Que gol de merda! meu amor!”
My teammates start to jump on my back and hug me. Only one voice and one person's touch inflame me, though. Ava. Yes, her speaking Portuguese has an affect on me, and she knows it does. I feel it as I smile widely and my teammates ruffle my hair in jubilation. It’s been a long match. But I feel so charged by adrenaline now that I definitely have energy for something else tonight. I move my excited eyes to Ava, and she winks. I look away, back to the jubilant fans with crimson cheeks. The feeling of having Ava to go home with tonight is better than any goal, and I have it not just tonight but hopefully many more nights to come.
Chapter 28: A Distraction and The Future
Summary:
Ava and Bea plays some Mario Kart. Ava thinks of home.
Chapter Text
Trying to not focus on the last three league fixtures in our title race is hard. But Ava has just the thing tonight. She brought her Nintendo Wii console from her soon-to-be completely empty house ahead of its sale to play a bit of Mario Kart. I’m not an avid gamer in the slightest, but this game, I can’t lie, is actually really fun. I’ve got a Wii steering wheel in my hands next to Ava on my couch and am desperately trying to navigate the Paris Promenade map without getting hit by Mario and Luigi’s seemingly unending stream of shells behind me.
“What!? No! I was leading!” I excitedly grip my wheel in my hands tightly and bemoan. Mario, one of the CPUs, hit me with a stupid red shell, making my character Bowser crash under the Eiffel Tower.
“Tough luck, babe! Bye! bye!” Ava, in a snuggly red onesie with cute bunny rabbit ears on the hood, shoulder bumps me, and I see her racer Princess stupid Peach speed past me.
“How!? I was miles ahead of you!?” I frantically push any and every button to get Bowser racing again.
“Obviously not! Wooo! Suck it, Luigi!”
I see Ava has hit a shell at Luigi and has gone into the lead past his annoying brother Mario too. I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “You won’t be ahead for long, pillow princess!”
Ava gasps as she keeps swaying on the spot with her wheel in hand. “Pillow Princess!?”
I grin. "Hmm, mmm, Princess Peach is an apt character for you, love!”
“Grrrr! You’ll get it later when I’m done kicking your butt, Bea!”
I spot Ava’s Princess Peach character ahead of me and use a boost to collect a question mark box to retrieve a weapon to hit Peach with. I get a green shell and immediately fire it across the brick-laden street of this circuit. I look at Ava as I see it’s going to hit Princess Peach. “Oopsie.”
“Noooo!! How could you!?”
“What did you say again? Oh yeah, bye-bye!” I laugh as Ava leans back on the couch and scrunches her own silly nose.
“That’s it! No sex for a month!”
I snap my head at Ava with a disbelieving look. “You wouldn’t last a week.”
“Hey! Yes, I would!” Ava giggles and shoves my shoulder covered by a pyjama shirt before refocusing on getting Peach back racing.
“Pffft. My backside, you would.” I wink, knowing full well that Ava would crack if I wore some tight-fitting jeans to show off her favourite part of my body to her.
Ava bites her lip and shakes her head. “Shut up. I could if I tried.”
I keep my eye on the TV attached to the wall and quickly kiss Ava’s cheek through her onesie. She’s so cute in her one-piece comfy outfit, I could cry. “Please never try.”
I move back to fully focus on the game, and Ava kisses my cheek back with softness, as per usual. “I promise. Never ever ever.”
I press pause and tilt my head into Ava’s touch. I sigh as she starts to softly move her soft nose against my cheek. So gentle. So nice. Suddenly, the energy turns from excitable to tender with Ava and me. We’re so affectionate and so physical, and I’ll never take this for granted. "Mmmm, I love you.”
"Mwa, mwa, mwa. I love you, boo boo.” Ava peppers my cheek with more kisses.
I tilt my head to lean towards Ava’s lips and place my steering wheel down. It drops to the floor. “Oops.” I whisper and flutter my eyelashes. I move my fingers to Ava’s bunny ears. They’re so fluffy and soft. “I love it when you wear your onesies. They’re adorable. Just like you.”
Ava sways her head and pokes out her tongue between her teeth. She cheekily contorts her lips upward. “Why don’t you wear them too? I could buy us a matching set.”
I move my legs onto the couch, then tilt my head some more. “What do you have in mind?
Ava trails her delicate fingers across my collarbone. “Bumblebee onesies.”
“Why Bumblebees?”
Ava drags her finger up my neck and then over my jawline, like I’m a piece of art she’s committing to memory. “Don’t you get it? Bumble Bea’s? We’d both be Bea’s then.”
I feel an utterly painful but amazing ache in my chest, and the need to smile with softness is unbearable. “That’s incredibly cute. But there’s only one Bea, and that’s me.” Ava pouts, and I quickly, oh, very easily relent: "Alright, we can both be Bea's.”
Ava’s fingers and palm go to my cheek. “I’ll order them before bed. But right now, I have something else in mind.”
I tilt my head again, and Ava does the same, eager for some gentle kissing or hurried whichever. Both methods are perfect when I do them with Ava. “Mmm? You do?”
Ava stops inches from my lips. “Yeah. Beat you at this game!” Ava jumps away from me and restarts the race.
I open my mouth aghast and scramble to my steering wheel off the floor. “Hey! No cheating!”
"Snooze, you lose!”
Ava passes me on the track, and I restart Bowser’s kart. “This won’t count if you win! You Cheater!”
I instantly regret saying the word cheater, and I regret it even more as Ava only responds with a jovial hum. JC was many things—a bigot, a cheater, and a drunk towards the end—but Ava did care for him. That hurt of being betrayed in the way he betrayed her, of course, lingers even months later. It wasn’t the cheating that hurt Ava most, though, as we’ve talked about a lot. It was JC trying to run before he told her. It was cowardice and cruel to a person he presumably loved. Wherever he is now, I hope he’s paying for treating Ava like that, like she didn't deserve the truth after years of being together. I’ll never do that to her. Well, obviously, I’ll never cheat because it would be the dumbest thing on the planet, but I mean, I’ll never lie to her or run from any problems we face. I look towards Ava, who's deep in concentration, again playing Mario Kart, and make a vow. I’ll never lie to her or not be brave for her. Never. Even when it’s easier to not be brave, even when it’s scary, I promise to always be honest and never try to hide anything from such an amazingly tender, excitable person as Ava.
—
The morning after me and Beatrice had some fun playing Mario Kart before we fell asleep on the couch together, I now slurp my coffee down long and loudly. I’m overlooking our garden, which is still amazing to be able to say now that I’m permanently living with Beatrice. It’s tranquil. The sun’s light is rising through the thick oak tree cover at the back of the garden, and I feel so snuggly warm in my onesie.
"Ava, love. your doing it again.” Beatrice, unlike me, fully dressed in a blouse and full denim jeans, remarks from her seat across me.
I start to slurp up my warm coffee again. I slurp even longer while I feel my lips curve upward at Bea’s frown. She’s trying to read her book in peace. She loves her books, and any noises like my slurping are always unappreciated. She was used to her own space and the quiet before I moved in. I like that too on occasion, but not for long. I’m too full of energy to be like that for long. I’m restless after a while of silence.
Beatrice quirks an eyebrow. “No more slurping, or I’ll make good on that no sex for a month thing from last night.”
I stick my tongue and groan, "Fineee, no more slurping.”
“Thank you.” Beatrice smiles sweetly and refocuses on her book.
I puff out a whistling breath and look out at the big oak tree. It must be a hundred years old with its thick leaves and branches. It’s teaming with nature, like squirrels and birds, and blah blah blah. Nope. I’m bored. I can’t focus on the stupid tree right now.
I lick my lips at the coffee dripping from my chin and think of something to keep me occupied. I could get dressed, I guess. Nah. I’m comfy right now in my onesie. So what then? What should I do? What should I do? I make a popping sound with my lips, as I think. After a moment, I make the popping mimic the Portuguese national anthem.
My mind starts to feel occupied with playing for my national team again. The World Cup is next summer in America and Mexico. Portugal will have some friendlies and Nations League matches before then, of course. That's boring to think of, so I focus on the real competition that matters: the World Cup. I can imagine lifting football's biggest prize for my home country. What a dream that would be. It would be the pinnacle of my career, no matter what I achieve at club level for United or whoever comes after that. It excites me just to think of it. I’d be one of many legends back home if I won that competition.
I sip some more coffee and don’t slurp this time. I move my gaze to Beatrice, contentedly reading her book with a pair of glasses on. Gulp. I love her in glasses. She likes a sexy librarian. I feel my cheeks redden. “Ahem.” I look away, but my mind still thinks of Beatrice. I haven’t had to leave the country yet for national team duty, but that time will come, and it’ll be like a week or so away from her. I hate the idea of it. I don’t want to be away from her for that long. So I move my coffee mug to my lap and say, “We haven’t really spoken about me going away with my national team for the next set of friendlies, have we?”
Beatrice stops reading and blinks behind her spectacles. She regards me for a moment and places her book down. “They’re in September, love; it’s not a pressing concern we have Utd to think about at the moment, and of course...” Beatrice wiggles her brow and leans forward. “The not-so-little matter of going to Milan before then.”
I reach my hand over, and as always, Beatrice takes it. “I know it’s a while away, but...” I frown and look at the marble table between us. “I don’t like the thought of being away from you.”
“I know.” Beatrice strokes my hand with her thumb and smiles gently. “Neither do I. But it’s what we do, isn’t it? Playing for our countries is a privilege.”
"Mmm, it is. I love playing for Portugal, and I guess I could visit my avós while I’m home.” My eyes widen. “Fuck!”
“What!?” Beatrice jumps, but she keeps my hand in hers.
“I haven’t introduced you to my grandparents yet!?” I facepalm with my free hand.
Beatrice chuckles lightly. “To be fair, we've been a bit busy recently."
I roughly shake my head, and my bunny onesie hoodie falls down. “Nope, that’s no excuse. I’ve met your parents multiple times now. You have to meet my avós.”
“I guess we could go to Lisbon before Milan if that’s what you want, or we could do FaceTime perhaps with them?”
"They're terrible with technology; we’ll have to go to Lisbon to see them at the farm.”
Beatrice hums, “Oh yeah. The farm. You must miss it a lot.”
I nod and think of my childhood after my parents died. I was lucky to have young grandparents at the time. They raised me as best they could with as much love as they could too. I do miss home. I miss them. "Yeah, I miss it and them. I used to visit all the time when I was with...” I grimace.
“He who must not be named.” Beatrice deepens her voice, mimicking Darth Vader.
I laugh “Mmm exactly.”
“Hold on.” Beatrice stiffens. “They do know you broke up with him, right? And you’re with me now?”
“Of course they know about you, silly.” I reassure and squeeze Bea’s hand. “I talk with them on the phone; they just aren’t great with FaceTime and such, but they know how to pick up a call.”
Beatrice exhales, “Right, that’s good.”
I see the anxiety in Bea’s face and lean forward. “They’ll love you when they meet you, Bea. Don’t worry, and maybe...” I smirk in thought. “I could see you in some cowgirl attire at the farm.”
Beatrice relaxes visibly. Her shoulders sag a bit. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I purse my lips and get off my chair. Beatrice moves her chair back, and I plop myself on her lap. "Mmmm, hmmm, I can see it now. My Bea in a straw hat with a belt, and..”
“Denim jeans.” Beatrice rubs my back and laughs after reading my mind. My love of her ass in blue tight denim jeans is often discussed. She doesn’t wear those jeans enough. Not nearly enough. I love ripping them off every time I see her in them.
I poke her freckled, perfect nose. “Exactly.”
“So it’s decided? Lisbon before Milan?”
“It is.” I wiggle and move close to Bea’s nose. “I’ll have to introduce you to my favourite horse.”
“Hmmm? What’s she or he named?" Beatrice whispers and brushes her nose against mine.
“Ava.” I grin.
Beatrice stops. “Ava? You named a horse after yourself?”
I shake my head, shaking my nose against Bea’s as I do. “No, meu avô named her that.”
“Why?”
“He loves me so much he had to have two of me, I guess.” I giggle
“Very understandable.” Beatrice moves her soft lips to mine, and I moan into the embrace. I can’t wait to introduce my Beatrice to my last remaining relatives, and I will in the summer. I’m sure they’ll love her just as much as I do. I just hope I don’t run into JC when we’re in Lisbon. I never want to see him again.
Chapter 29: Comfortable Loving
Summary:
After the most recent match versus West Ham Ava and Bea relax a bit…
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After a comfortable win versus West Ham, moving us two wins from the title, me and Beatrice were safe to say a little muddy after sloshing about on the Old Trafford pitch. So as soon as we got home, we decided to take a nice steaming hot shower to clean ourselves off before bed. We’re killing two birds with one stone in this scenario. One obviously getting ourselves clean, and two having some more intimacy in a steamy setting.
"Ooo, you missed a spot.” I tease Beatrice from behind and kiss her neck.
Beatrice sighs and sags, her head on my shoulder, as the water hits us both. “You sure? Where?”
I move my fingers to Bea’s chest. I start to crawl them down her chest like spider legs. She loves it when I do this. When I crawl and crawl, my gentle finger tips along her skin until I reach her clit. Every time I do it, I feel her take a shaky breath in anticipation. Just like she does now.
“Right about...” I crawl and crawl until finally I reach Bea’s oh-so-familiar folds. “Here.” I rub her folds with my fingers in a circle and keep kissing her neck.
“Mmm. Of course, how could I forget?” Beatrice moans.
I chuckle against her glistening, sunkissed skin that's so addictive to touch. “I know, right? How careless of you.”
I kiss and kiss her neck with a tender, oh, so tender touch, like I do so often. I know this beautiful feeling of my lips against her skin off by heart now. I won’t be taking this for granted. I can’t. I have to appreciate every time I’m with my girlfriend like this in our home. I feel my heart constrict thinking about this as our home again. I can’t help it. Even after my house was sold recently, I still feel like this is a dream that I’m not waking up from. I have my first girlfriend, and I live with her in a small piece of heaven.
I feel so safe here—so loved when I get up in the morning in her arms. There’s lustful moments like this as I rub Bea’s folds and she moans to my touch, and there’s other just simple, beautifully perfect moments of simplicity where we watch a movie or make meals together, and most importantly, I never feel like she takes me for granted either; I don’t feel like I did with JC.
He made me feel wrong for wanting so much intimacy. He didn’t want sex too often, which was fine, I guess, but I love the closeness it provides. I love to feel good with the person I love in my arms, like this. I love what I’m doing now: peppering kisses on Bea’s shoulder, and rubbing and rubbing her folds.
I think, looking back, I really do think I may have overegged or maybe deluded myself that what I and he had was this perfect thing where we were each other’s safe place. Being with Beatrice has shown me what real, constant connection and security feel like. I don’t feel demeaned at any time with her. I never feel wrong for wanting something. For example, I often wanted to make meals with JC, but he wouldn’t let me do it a lot. Of course someone from the outside would be like, Why are you complaining about having your partner cook all the time? You should be happy to relax after a stressful day.
I enjoy it, though—would be my answer, and I like it even more when doing it with someone I care for. Like back home, growing up with my grandparents, we used to glide about the kitchen and all be working on separate parts of a meal, making the process of constructing a meal a fun thing to do with each other. It was such a simple thing, but those moments of simplicity with the person or people I love always gave me a warm feeling in my heart. Sometimes the simplest things make us feel connected to those we love. There can be love declarations and moments like I’m having with Beatrice now. It’s the little things, though, that make the biggest impact for me on a daily basis. JC took the small things from me.
I remember on my second day at the club remarking to Beatrice that JC was an amazing cook. I lied. He wasn’t an amazing cook. He liked to think he was, and he liked it when I told others he was too. He was controlling and dismissive. I really did blind myself to him, and I see that oh so clearly now, thanks to being with Beatrice and experiencing life with a person who fusses over me and never makes me feel small in our home together. I was made to feel wrong for wanting intimacy, wanting to have a nice hot bath when I wanted one, or wanting to cook. Beatrice would never do that to me. She’s such a caring, loving person, and I feel so lucky to have her heart now. To have a love that gives me the warmth and connection I crave. The same warmth I had growing up with my grandparents. Well, obviously, not exactly the same warmth, because that would be weird, but a similar feeling of feeling safe, not just physically but emotionally.
I stop rubbing Bea’s folds, turn her around by her hips, and gently push her up against a wall. “I love you, Bea. I love this home we have together. Thank you for making me feel so loved.”
Beatrice smiles with gentleness and pulls me into her by the small of my back. “You never have to thank me. I love being with you. I’ll never take us for granted, I promise.”
I move the back of my hands to Bea’s wet cheek and, with a soft touch, move my fingers across her skin. Like I do so often in these moments now. “I promise that too, mi amor. I’ll never take this for granted. Never.“ I passionately capture Bea’s lips and grip the back of her neck. I part her legs with my own and start moving my thigh into her core.
“Yesss.” I tilt my head upward and grin as Beatrice pulls me in further to her by the small of my back.
Having Bea pull me closer, not push me away, never push me away, is all I need—all I want. Even during training or match days, deep down, I want her to come to me and hold me—let me sit on her lap, kiss her lips, and caress her skin with my fingertips. I want to do the simple things with her and the hard things. I want to travel to Milan with her and be with her like this there too.
I thrust my thigh forward. “Whoa!!” I slipped on the wet floor and fell on my back, and Beatrice fell on top of me in a tangle of limbs. "Okay, ow, that hurt.”
“You okay?” Beatrice panics and cups my cheek.
I laugh and sag my head to the ground. "Yup, I’m good. I just slipped my bad.”
Beatrice strokes my cheek with her palm. “You sure? That was a hard fall, and...” she laughs. “I kind of crushed you too.”
I see Bea’s hair getting wetter, and it starts to fall down to my face. “I don’t mind being crushed if it’s by you, Bea.” I move her hair behind her ears.
She rolls her eyes. “You have to be more careful.” I pout, and she moves down to kiss my nose instantly. “What if you banged your head? It might’ve really hurt.”
I smirk and move my palms down to Bea’s back. "Aww, I love my Worry Bea.”
Beatrice squints her eyes and reaches up to turn off the shower. “Not one of your best nicknames, love.” My eyes glue to Bea’s chest as she reaches up. Her tits are literally in my face. I lunge for them and pull her down to me.
“Oh!” Beatrice gasps.
I quickly plant my whole mouth on her nipple and suck. I laugh inwardly at myself as I think to myself, ‘I love Bea’s boobies’ I’m such a child at heart. Especially when I’m with Beatrice.
“What are you laughing at?” Beatrice asks
"Mmm, mmm, mmm, I’m too busy to talk. I got Bea’s boobies in my mouth.” I mumble with my lips still on Bea’s skin.
"Oh, for god sake, you’re so silly.” Beatrice laughs and moves her palm to the back of my head. She moves me closer into her boob, tit, breast, or whatever the fuck you want to call them. Beatrice pushes me into hers.
I lick my tongue over Bea’s erect nipple. The feeling of this nipple against my tongue always inflames me and always turns me on. It’s funny if someone had told me before moving to Manchester that I would love to have a woman’s boobs in my mouth or a woman’s ass in my face 24/7. I wouldn’t have believed them. But that was a version of me that hadn’t really thought about being with a woman before. I just did what society dictated was appropriate, I guess. In essence, I conformed without ever truly thinking about my own sexuality. I mean, I always admired women’s beauty and such, but I never said, Hey, I want to have sex with one or be in a relationship with one.
I wish I had and I hadn’t at the same time because, simply put, having Beatrice be my sexual awakening and having her make me realise I was bi was too special and too perfect to want to regret not being with a woman sooner. I found a friend in her at first, then it grew and grew and grew into lust too. My first experience with a woman wasn’t just with any woman; it was with and continues to be with my best friend, and what’s more perfect than that?
—
The morning after the West Ham game. I’m again on top of Ava, but in a far less slippery and wet setting. I have my palms on either side of Ava on the soft mattress below me, and I’m moving my clit into hers between her legs. The duvet on my back is resting just above my ass as I thrust myself into Ava, and her soft palms hold onto my shoulder blades. I’m surprised she’s not holding my ass. Normally, she does.
“No butt game today?” I pant as my breasts fall down onto Ava’s chest below me.
Ava, with parted lips, tries to grin. She can’t. She can’t speak. All she can do is hold onto me and gasp little aroused breaths as I feel her get wetter and wetter against me and my clit. I feel so wet too. I remember feeling trepidation about being with someone like this again after Ava just arrived at the club. I’ve never felt like that with Ava. From the very first time we were together like this, I’ve never felt trepidation; it’s always just felt so right, just like being with Ava in general feels right to do every day now. It all feels right. Sleeping with her—holding her hand—showing my body to her—having sex with her—it all feels so blissfully right.
"Bea, I…I..don’t…stop.” Ava pants as her head keeps going back against her pillow, and I hear the springs in the bed creak.
I curve my back upwards as I feel my core get warmer and warmer and closer to release by the second. I don’t stop my pace. I keep going and going, wanting this embrace of mine and Ava’s bodies to never end. I could stay on the cusp of release like this forever. Sometimes the feeling of release is nowhere near as good as the anticipation of it or its buildup. After releasing, cumming, or whatever, it can leave me a bit empty for a moment. Of course, I often cum multiple times with Ava, but I find the edge of it so intoxicating.
It’s excitement; I'm barely able to speak because of the sheer arousal I feel during it. It spikes my heart rate; it makes my body convulse and shudder. I feel like I’m on the edge of an eruption, and once I do erupt, once I cum. It feels like the volcano inside of me has blown all its lava up from its core. It feels like an ending because, well, it is, and with Ava, I don’t want it to end. I want to build up to the edge of the eruption again and again, feel the thrill of it, and stay there.
I look down at Ava’s beautiful eyes, so filled with emotion, and take in every second of this. Me on top of Ava, feeling closer and closer to release as Ava’s hands inevitably do crawl down to my ass.
“Ride me, Bea.” Ava gasps, and I smile as widely as the Cheshire cat.
“In..In a way, this is..is what it’s going to be like in the summer.” I jokingly reply through panting breaths.
“Wha..what?” Ava replies breathily.
“Yeah, I'll just be riding two Ava’s instead of one.”
Ava opens her mouth wider, and her eyes understand my meaning, referencing Ava’s horse named Ava. “You did not... just... Oh fuck! Say that!” Ava tries to laugh, but instead writhes beneath me and squeezes my ass.
I chuckle. “You know what I mean.”
“I won't..won’t mention what you said to poor... Ava; she'll be traumatised.”
I bite the tip of my tongue with my teeth and bob my head. I feel so silly with Ava. Even like this, I feel silly. I’ve never felt silly or playful with someone before Ava during sex. Everything is lighter with her. There’s no tension or inhibition. It’s just lustful and silly, rather than serious lust. Serious kissing. There’s always some playful language or jokes around the corner with me and her.
One time, true story, Ava waddled into our bedroom wearing a Mr. Krabs from SpongeBob costume. I remember it now again and the words Ava said in a squeaky voice as she moved like a crab towards me. “I have your order of Krabby Patties, Miss Xhang. Where’s my money!?”
I don’t think I ever laughed as hard as I did that night before and after I tore Ava out of that red crab costume. I’ll never forget it. It lingers in my mind now as I still grin widely above Ava.
The only thing that would’ve made that night even funnier is if I wore Mr. Krab's first wife’s Mrs. Krab's costume: a whale with lipstick and flowing locks, and no, I’m not going mentally into the nonsensical theme of a crab being married to a whale and having a whale child named Pearl right now. So I shake thoughts of Mrs. and Mr. Krabs away with a shake of the head, then refocus on enjoying this.
“Bea… I’m close!” Ava writhes on the bed, and I save that little trip down memory lane for later. She’ll love talking about that night. I’m sure she has other plans for something similar in the future.
I increase the pace of my thrusting into Ava. I can feel the cum stringing off our clits together. I feel so hot and sweaty. Our bodies are sticking to each other due to the humidity in the room and the frantic expenditure of energy we’ve used so far. I start to slap our bodies together almost frantically, then fall down to rest my breasts on Ava’s.
Ava pulls me in closer with her palms against my ass, and I hurriedly find her lips, desperate to feel their touch. The lips I crave—the lips I love. I frantically embrace them and moan into them. The volcano feels close to erupting again. Oh, so close. With every thrust, I get closer and closer to the eruption.
“Ah.” I gasp into Ava’s mouth and don’t stop my movements. Ava slaps my ass with her palms. "Yesss,” I whisper into her hot mouth.
“Don’t..don’t stop.” Ava whispers back.
Don’t stop moving. don’t stop. Keep going. We’re both so close now. I feel an insane amount of trembling throughout my whole body as I reach the precipice. So close. So close. So close!
I feel Ava shake beneath me, and I shake with her. I love it when this happens when we release at the same time. So I move up from Ava’s lips to admire her eyes as her body lets go as mine does too. Her pupils dilate even further, and her cheeks go redder. “Ah, Ah.” We both gasp in unison.
I lick my lips and fully enjoy the vision before me. Ava’s a piece of art I take in every time I have her like this. “So perfect. Always so perfect.”
Ava tries to catch her breath. “You too, mi amor.”
I fall down to the bed beside her and gently kiss her shoulder. “You know what I was thinking about a second ago.”
Ava turns to her side. She rubs my arm. “How great that was, I’m guessing, right?”
I nod hurriedly, “Of course. But, um, do you remember when you dressed up in that Mr. Krabs costume?”
“So you were thinking about an animated crab while we had sex?” Ava begins to laugh.
“Hey!? I was thinking about you! Not the crab!” I playfully shove her shoulder.
“Hmmm.” Ava looks at me sceptically.
I shuffle over and rest my forehead on Ava’s. “Shut up, you.”
Ava moves her hand onto my hip, pulling me closer, and I move my leg over hers. “I’ll note that, for the future, Bea has a thing for Mr. Krabs.”
I scrunch my nose and kiss Ava’s nose. “Meany.”
“Your meany.” Ava whispers.
“My meany.” I gently kiss Ava again and sigh in contentment. I’m loving the effect Ava’s having on me. I relish it. I crave it.
Notes:
And yes the Mr Krabs reference was about the unending twitter countdown since we’ve had news.😅 #SaveOurWarriorNun
Chapter 30: Baby Bea
Summary:
Beatrice gets sick before the big match and Ava enjoys taking care of her.
Chapter Text
This is just great. Two days before the biggest match of the season versus United’s Derby and direct title rivals Manchester City, I’ve been hit by the flu. I’m hot and I’m cold at the same time, and I utterly hate it. I hate being sick. I’m never sick. I’m the United captain; I’m meant to be the strong leader for my team, and Ava’s rock at home. I can’t be sick. I have to fight through this.
I try to clamber out from under my duvet with this fortifying thought in my head: I can’t afford to be sick right now. I need to get out of my pyjamas and act as if nothing is wrong, and hopefully this’ll just pass. Yes. It’ll pass. I’m fine.
Ava appears at our bedroom doorway wearing one of my old Metallica t-shirts. Long story. To summarise it quickly, I had a goth phase growing up while also pursuing my football dream. That’s not important; what is important is that Ava wearing something of mine with such comfortability makes me feel less ill for a moment. It’s much too big for her and goes down to her knees, which aren’t covered by anything. But It's so cute, and it looks so right for her to wear it makes me inwardly beam.
"Uh, what do you think you’re doing? No, Bea, get back in bed. You're poorly, and Poorly Bea’s got to be on bed rest.” Ava walks towards me carrying a tray with some soup, and what I see is some cold and flu medicine.
I groan. “I can’t be sick, Ava; the game is in a few...” I coughed wheezingly. “Days.
Ava places the tray on the bed and puts a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Bed. Now. Stop being stubborn and let me take care of you.”
I give Ava a dirty look and stick out my tongue. “No, I’m fine. There’s nothing...” I cough again and cover my mouth with my hand. I feel a shiver go up my spine and feel like utter horseshit, to put it bluntly.
Ava steps over to me and pushes me back by my shoulders with a commanding look in her eyes. “Come on. Lay back in bed and have some medicine and some nice hot soup.”
I sigh. “I hate you.”
Ava raises her brow stubbornly, and I start to get back under the covers reluctantly. "Awww, that’s so sweet. I hate you too.” Ava kisses my cheek, despite my cold. “Now let's get you comfy.” I start to rest my back on my headboard, but Ava stops me with a soft hand on my wrist. “Hold on, you need more pillows.” I stay in place as Ava places some more pillows behind me. Ava pats the pillows down. “Right there we are. Now you can lay back.”
"Urgh, I hate being a burden to you.”
“Don’t be silly; you’re never…” Ava kisses my cheek. "ever.” She kisses my other cheek. "ever, ever a burden.” She palms the same cheek she just kissed. “You can’t always be strong, Bea; no one can. Just forget about everything; forget about football; just stay in bed and have some disgusting medicine.”
"Huh, what, mmmm?” Ava stuck a spoon in my mouth before I could finish. Yuck. I hate cold medicine, and I grimace at its bitter taste.
Ava plops herself on the bed, and I know I see the beginnings of a grin on her lips; she’s enjoying this way too much. “What was that?”
I begrudgingly ingest the disgusting medicine and scowl at Ava as she removes the spoon. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Ava hums as she places the tray with soup and tea on my lap. They fill my nostrils with their hot, steaming aroma, and I inhale it deeply. “Of course I’m not enjoying seeing you sick, silly. I’m just happy I get to take care of you for a change."
I shuffle my back onto the headboard behind me and smile. “I’m not used to anyone doing this sort of thing for me.”
“Well, get used to it.” Ava leans towards me, eager for a kiss.
I stop her with a raised hand. “No more kissing; I don’t want you to get sick too.”
Ava pouts, “I don’t care about getting sick; I’d kiss you if you were, um...” She srunches her nose, obviously trying to think of something witty.
“If I were a what?" I fold my arms and tease.
“Zip it, let me think.” Ava points a cute finger at me.
"Ok, take your time. I’m not going anywhere today, it seems.”
Ava rubs her forehead and squeezes her eyes shut. “I would kiss you if you were a...” she tries to think, and I can’t help but chuckle as she squeezes her eyes even harder shut. “Come on, brain. Think.”
I start to yawn. “I guess I’ll never know the depths of your affection for me. Oh well. Woe is me.”
"Oh, I don’t know! I’d kiss you if you were a poisonous toad! Urgh! I give up!” Ava groans and lets her head fall to the bed.
“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.” I pat Ava’s back.
Ava snaps her head off the bed. "Who are you calling a pig?"
I giggle. “You’ve never watched Babe, have you?”
“What’s that got to do with you calling me a Pig? Meany Bo Beany.”
I wheeze again. “That line…is from…the movie Babe...” I start to cough throatily, and I rub my chest. "Urgh, I hate this.”
Ava crawls on to the bed and sits beside me. “From what movie?”
I groggily look towards Ava. “I just said. It’s from Babe.”
“From what, though? You keep saying it’s from something, then call me babe before you tell me.”
“Wha..What?” I sigh and rest my head.
“Just messing with you, babe.” Ava kisses my cheek again, and I’m sure she’ll get this too. The Silly Billy doesn’t want to stop being affectionate, even when I’m sick. It’s very sweet, and I love it. But if I miss the game because of this, I don’t want to be the cause of Ava missing the game too.
"Seriously, stop kissing me, or you might miss the game. Mmmphhh mmmm.” Ava grabbed my cheeks with both her hands and kissed me. Yeah, she’ll definitely catch this, but I can never feel angry because Ava wants to kiss me. Never. So I kiss her back wearily.
Ava releases my cheeks. “I’m going to keep kissing you no matter what; even if you had the plague, I’d keep kissing you.”
I pick up my spoon and shake my head softly. “You’ll regret it when you catch this.”
Ava takes the spoon from my hand. “Then you’ll take care of me, won’t you?”
"Yes, you know I would. Now give me back my spoon.” I try to take back my spoon for my tomato soup. Ava dodges with ease. I’m weak at the moment; my arms and legs feel like jelly.
“Let me feed you.” Ava shuffles closer to me and wiggles a silly wiggle.
“I can lift a spoon. I’m not that sick.”
"Oh, come on. I want to feed my baby.” Ava pleads with puppy-dog eyes.
I eye roll, “Go on then.” Ava collects some soup so excitedly that it almost makes me drop the whole tray on the bed. “Careful!”
"Oh, hush, you're fine.” Ava waves her hand dismissively. “Now open wide.” I bite my cheek, then open wide. “Here it comes.” Ava slowly moves the spoon to my mouth. “Here comes the choo choo train.” My cheeks go red at Ava’s silliness, and I sip the soup as it reaches my mouth.
Ava removes the spoon and dabs my mouth with a tissue. "Ooo, a little bit of a dribble from the baby, I got it.”
“I’m not a baby.”
Ava dramatically frowns, "Yes, you are. You’re my baby. Now no more soup if you don’t say you’re my baby.”
“No.” I look away defiantly.
“Say it.”
“No.”
Ava sighs and goes to move off the bed. “Alright, I better go call Jillian to come over.”
“Wait.” I grab Ava’s wrist, knowing if Jillian comes over, she’ll probably say I’m unfit for the game this weekend. Ava turns her head back to me with mischief and victory etched all over her face, and I give in. “I’m your baby.”
Ava bounces back towards me, and I have to steady the tray again. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, my little baby Bea?”
“Just give the baby her bloody soup, you cheeky minx of a woman.”
Ava licks her teeth as she grins and scoops up some soup. “Here it comes again. Open wide.”
“You’re insufferable.” I bite my lip, trying not to give away how much I’m truly enjoying the playfulness between us, even when I’m sick like this.
Ava moves the spoon carefully up. “Come on. We don’t want any more dribbling now, do we? Be a good baby and open up.”
I laugh and open wide again. Plop, the spoon goes into my mouth, and I drink in the hot tomato soup. “Mmm. That's really good, actually.”
"Oh, look what you’ve done! You’ve dribbled again! Naughty baby!” Ava playfully scolds and slaps my arm.
I have to laugh again. I have to. Ava’s just too contagious—a person too sweet and kind and utterly silly to not laugh with. She’s giving me such a warm feeling of care that I just can’t feel anything but light when I’m with her. Even when I’m sick, even when I feel like utter crap, she makes me want to laugh and never stop. She moves the spoon back into the soup again, and I can’t help but look on adoringly at her smiling eyes. I don’t think I mind being sick after all. Not one bit.
Chapter 31: Two BumbleBea’s
Summary:
Ava inevitably gets sick too.
Chapter Text
It's the day before the big game, and to my great surprise, Ava is sick too now. In fact, I think she has this bug worse. She’s shaking under the covers as the roles are now reversed, and I’m taking care of her. Luckily, I feel a bit better, so I’m up to it now. I think I’ll be okay for tomorrow. But for Ava, it’s a different story. I’ve called Jillian to come over to confirm later, but I’m pretty sure Ava won’t be leaving this bed that I’m walking towards now with a mug of hot honey and lemon water for a few days.
“Urgh! This sucks!” Ava, in her newly bought Bumblebee onesie, groans as she moves her back against the headboard behind her.
“I told you so.” I sit down and hand the honey and lemon water to Ava.
Ava holds the mug with both hands and inhales the bitter drink. "Eww, it smells bitter. Where’s my coffee?”
I snort "Well, of course, it smells bitter; it’s got lemon in it, and this'll do you more good than coffee, trust me.”
“Why didn’t you ask for it yesterday, then?” Ava looks at the mug with distaste.
I shrug. “I don’t like it either.”
Ava moves the hot drink away from her with disgust. “Then why do I have to drink it?”
“Cause I said so.” I grin.
"No, I don't want it. Take it back and pour it down the sink where it belongs.” Ava harrumphs, and she tries to give me the mug back. Unbearably cute as always.
“Just take a few sips.”
“No. If you love me, you won’t force me to drink this demon potion.”
I clutch Ava’s hand with the mug, then move it back towards her. “You had your fun yesterday. Now it’s time for mine.”
“No. You’ll have to force me to drink it. Take it away from me immediately!” Ava waves the mug around and drops a splash on the freshly cleaned duvet.
“Now look what you’ve done. Bad Ava. Bad.” I playfully scold and take the mug.
Ava tightens her bee hood so much that she hides her face from view except for her mouth, which she promptly sticks her tongue out of. “Tssss! Can’t make me drink now, huh?”
"Oh, you think not?” I edge closer to her on the bed in my own matching Bumblebee onesie that Ava’s insisted I wear today. Okay, it’s comfy, and I’m still not very well myself, so Ava didn’t have to push very hard for me to wear it today.
Ava scurries under the covers. “No! Go away! I hate lemon or anything bitter; you know that!"
“What about lemon drops? You like those, don’t you?” I start to move my fingers to the edge of the covers to pull them off Ava.
“That’s different. It’s more sweet than bitter.”
"Well, so is this. It has honey in it.”
Ava sneaks her bee-hood-covered head out from under the covers. “Honey?”
I purse my lips. “Mmm, hmm, honey. Just have a few sips, and then I’ll finish the rest. You know I’m still sick too, right?”
“Pffftt! You look a million bucks compared to yesterday.” Ava coughs against the covers.
“It’s not a competition.” I offer Ava the mug again.
"Well, I probably won’t be able to play tomorrow while you will, so I would win if it were one.” Ava’s voice goes more and more nasally.
“Congratulations! Your reward is to drink this.”
Ava untightens her hood and scrunches her nose. "Fine, give it here.”
I smile in victory and hand her the extremely bitter drink. She sniffs it again, then takes a sip. She grimaces immediately. I chuckle as I imagine that if this were a cartoon, her face would be crinkled beyond belief. “Blaaaa! There's no honey in this!”
"Yes, there is.” I affirm through my chuckle.
"No, there’s not! It’s like I just ingested a whole lemon!” Ava exclaims with her tongue stuck out and hands me back the mug.
I sip the drink, then pat my lips. "Mmm, yes, there is. You’re just being dramatic.”
Ava turns around and lays on her side with her back to me. She grumbles. “Mean.”
God, she’s got to be the cutest, sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I feel my heart squeeze as I place the mug on the side table. It’s still an ongoing befuddling mystery to me as to why JC could cheat on this tender soul. I’ll never get it. It didn’t matter at the point Ava found out about it, as she was leaving him for me anyway, but how he could ever cheat or treat her the way he did. How? It angers me just to think about it. I start to crawl under the covers, then hug Ava from behind. I kiss her neck with peppery kisses. If I see that idiot when we go to Lisbon in the summer, I’ll be more than tempted to punch his stupid face.
“Love you.” I whisper.
Ava coughs a little, then snuggles back into me. “Te amo mais.”
I hug her tighter and kiss her more. I love it when she speaks Portuguese, but I love being snuggled up in bed like this even more. If I wasn’t allowed to play tomorrow due to this bug, I think, to be honest, I really wouldn’t mind. Before I met Ava, I wouldn't have wanted to miss a big match. Never. Football was all I had. It was all that kept my mental health on an even keel at times. Not anymore, though. I now have the sweetest, gentlest, and mushiest woman to snuggle in bed with when I’m sick, and I’ll take that over playing in any football match any day now.
—-
Night falls outside, and I now have confirmation from Jillian of the news that I dreaded. I won’t be able to play tomorrow. 1 because I’m just so weak and can barely stand up right now, and 2 because Suzanne won’t let me be near the team to avoid the chance of me giving this illness to the rest of the team before such a crucial game. Bea’s going to play, though. That's a silver lining, I guess. But this really sucks. I love to play in these sorts of matches. I love the adrenaline and nerves before kickoff and the tense nature of a game of this magnitude. I know, though, that this is for the best. In my current state, I’d be a hindrance more than a help to my teammates. It serves me right, I guess, for kissing Beatrice so much yesterday. I’ll never apologise for kissing Beatrice. So it is what it is. She was sick. I kissed and kissed her as usual, and I inevitably caught her illness too. End of story. I’ll have to suck it up and support the team from home on the couch I rest on now, but without Bea’s lap to rest my head on like I do now.
“You okay?” Beatrice fusses as she moves her palm over my hair.
I smile woozily. I can’t be upset, not when I’m with Beatrice and we’re both in Bumblebee onesies with yellow stripes and soft yellow fabric. I feel like crap. I’m so weak, but I’m content with Beatrice right now, and nothing else matters. "Yeah, I’m fine. I'm with you. Nothing else matters right now.”
Beatrice tilts her head sadly, and her hair falls down her face. I move her hair behind her ears, then move her onesie hood over her head. I love her in this yellow onesie. I love how she agreed to let me buy us a matching set. I hate to keep comparing this to my relationship with JC. In fact, I hate to think of him at all, but here I go again. He was never silly with me, wanted to wear matching clothing, or let me wear his clothes like Bea does. It’s making me feel closer and closer to her. It’s only been months, but I feel a closeness I never shared with him over years. I just feel more free to be my silly self with her. It’s only making my devotion to her grow.
“Tomorrow you’ll be alone, though, and I...” Beatrice stops, and she continues to move her fingers through my hair. “I don’t like leaving you like this.”
I inhale a clogged-up breath through my nose, then try to breathe out. “You have to. The team needs you.”
“I know.” She wiggles her brows. “I’m kind of the team's best player, aren’t I?”
“No, I'm the best player; everyone knows I am.”
"No, they don’t.”
I squint my eyes, and Beatrice squints hers too, in a Mexican standoff. Two BumbleBea's staring each other down in a silly standoff.
"Yes, they do.” I defy and crease my forehead defiantly.
“I’m better.” Beatrice scowls
"No, I'm better. Real Madrid wanted to sign me. I’m amazing.”
Bea’s eyes widen. “They did?”
"Mmm, hmm, they sure did.” I preen with a strong sense of pride that the world’s most prestigious club wanted me before I decided to join United.
Beatrice restarts her stroking of my hair. “Why’d you pick us then? I love United, but it’s not Madrid. That would’ve been a dream for you...” Beatrice grimaces. “And I presume JC would’ve preferred the move to Spain.”
I feel myself grit my teeth hearing his name again and respond bitterly. "Oh, he was far keener on going to Madrid, trust me.”
“So why didn’t you go there?”
I shrug. “It just didn’t feel right for me yet.” I take a beat. “And playing in the Premier League was a pretty big draw.”
Beatrice hums “Well. I’m very glad you chose us. My life wouldn’t be as light as it is now if you hadn’t.”
I move my palm to Bea’s cheek before I stroke her skin with my thumb. “I feel the same.”
Beatrice moves down to me, and she kisses me gently. Her nose touches the edge of my lips, and I moan at the contact—the touch of its softness against me. I can’t imagine a world where I didn’t meet Bea. I can’t. I don’t want to. It would’ve been one where I might’ve married a bigot and a man with the capacity to run away rather than just be honest with me.
If I had gone to a more suitable place like Spain, that’s similar to Portugal’s climate. If I had married him, what happened with JC would’ve happened there too. But it would’ve just left me broken and alone. I wouldn’t have had Bea. I’d have been heartbroken and hurt away from home with no one who loved me. It’s a reality that hurts to even think of. I wouldn’t have had this. I wouldn’t have Bea’s warmth. Her love. I would’ve probably never met her unless Madrid played United in the Champions League or Portugal played England.
Portugal. It just dawned on me. I could potentially play England and Beatrice at the World Cup, in qualifying at some point, or at the European Championships. I can't imagine that. I can’t see myself fully committing to playing against Beatrice. If I went into a tackle against her, I don’t think I’d commit fully to it, and that might hurt my country in any game versus England. I’ve played and will continue to play versus Beatrice in training at United, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would be a real match with real stakes. How could I represent my country with that in my head against England?
Beatrice moves away from my lips but comes back for a quick one. I see her eyes giving away something other than the previous tenderness. “Do you still want to play for Madrid one day then?”
“Umm.” I hesitate. “I can’t say no to that, Bea. Playing for them is something I’d love to do at some point.”
Beatrice nods and looks away in thought. “So one day. You might...” she stops. “You might leave.”
I gulp. “This is a long way down the line, though. I’ve only just joined United; it’ll be at least a couple years before I’d consider leaving or United would want to sell me.”
“But you will go at some point.”
I cough into my hand quickly as my throat starts to feel scratchy, and I feel all floppy. But I push against it. I push it down to reassure Beatrice. "Bea, look at me.” Beatrice looks at me a bit forlornly. “It’s a long time in the future, but...” I move to bring my hand to the back of Bea’s neck. I pull her to me with surety of heart. “No matter what, I won’t leave you, and if I have to sacrifice playing for Madrid or anything else, I’ll do it without even blinking. Okay? We come first.”
Beatrice smiles, and I see it reaching her eyes. “We come first.”
I pull her to me—back to my lips. I ignore how weak I feel. I ignore my disappointment at missing the big game. I meant what I said. If I have to not play for Madrid one day to be with Beatrice—to stay by her side—then I’ll do it and do it gladly. It’s a dream to play for them, but Beatrice already feels like a far better dream.
Chapter 32: Smooshy
Summary:
Beatrice prepares to go to the match but hates leaving Ava.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The day of the biggest match of the season has arrived, and I’m stalling for as long as I can before heading off to Carrington. I hate leaving Ava when she’s sick. It goes against every fibre of my being. I’m more than tempted to just say screw this game and stay home to be with her—not let her be alone when she’s unwell.
“Bea, you should be going now.” Ava throatily calls over from the couch under our covers, which I brought down from our room for her.
Fully dressed in my United tracksuit, I rush about near her and fuss. “Do you need anything else before I go? I could get you another onesie from upstairs or make you some more lemon water.”
“Blaaaa! No lemon water! Be gone before I throw you out for mentioning the accursed demon potion!” Ava, still in her bumblebee onesie, exclaims and throws her arm out from under the covers. Urgh, why is she so freaking adorable?
I place some magazines and some tissues on the table beside the couch and chuckle, “Message received, no more lemon water.” I kneel down to Ava in all her silly bumblebee Onesie sniffling glory. “Anything else, m’lady.”
Ava raises her chin from her cocoon of comfort on the couch. “That shall be all, Sir Beatrice of United. I am most comfortable now. Go forth and win United the title at the battle of Old Trafford! Away with you!”
I bow my head. “Of course, it shall be done, Princess Ava.”
I get up and start to head towards the door. “Hey! Wait!”
I spin on the spot and scurry back to Ava before I kneel down to her again. “Was there something else you needed, love?”
Ava pouts from under her multiple layers of duvet and her snuggly onesie. I wish I could stay with her and be In my onesie too, I freely admit, Hell, I could scream it from the rooftops how much I’d love to be in a bumblebee onesie with my girlfriend right now rather than leave her to play this match. “You forgot my kiss.”
I melt into my carpeted floor. I don’t bother stopping the whimper from escaping my lips. "Oh, of course! How could I forget?”
Ava harrumphs “I know I can’t believe you forgot my kiss. I’m very upset with you, Baby Bea.”
I move my hand to Ava’s duvet-covered chest. She moves her hand on top of mine. As always. “Is that pet name a permanent thing now?”
Ava nods quickly. “it is. Baby has evolved into Baby Bea. Get used to it.”
“Of course I will, darling.” I smile as if I just smelled the most beautifully scented flower and lean in for our parting kiss.
“Mmmmmm.” Ava prolongs the kiss as I start to move away, puckering her lips against mine. This is physically painful to have to do. To leave my Ava behind for a whole day. It’s going to be so strange not seeing her with the team or on the pitch with me. I’m missing her already, and I haven’t even left yet. My lips part from Ava's, and I feel a terrible pang. I hate this, so I go in for another kiss.
“Mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa,” I kiss Ava repeatedly.
“Stay safe today; I’ll be watching from right here, mwa.” Ava whispers, then adds another kiss.
I brush my nose over Ava's. One of my favourite things to do with her, “I’ll do my best, and if I score, I'll send some kisses towards the camera, I promise.”
“And I’ll send them right back.”
“Mwa.” I add one more kiss, then reluctantly move up again. “I love you,” I don’t forget to say, then start to head to the door again.
"Oh, wait, Bea! You forgot, Smooshy! I need him!” Ava calls through her strained voice, and my legs buckle beneath me. This woman will be the death of me because of her adorably sweet self.
“Oh right!” I quickly head upstairs and go to our bedroom to retrieve Smooshy. Ava’s plush purple octopus, which we bought together at a local stuffed toy shop.
Ava loves her stuffed soft toys. She has so many of them jammed in our cupboard that it’s beyond ridiculous. She has koala ones with a rosemary scent; bears with hearts on their stomachs and a strawberry scent; and numerous monkeys with long, dangly arms with other varying scents. She loves to cuddle with them in bed. She has the heart and soul of a giddy, adorable child, and I absolutely love it. Smooshy is her favourite plush toy, though. He smells of A fruity, refreshing fragrance with top notes of orange, peach, and creamy dairy. Floral middle notes of orris, jasmine, and rose. Bottom notes of vanilla and malt. And yes, I’m repeating what the saleswoman said Smooshy’s scent was when we bought him word for word. Smooshy is Ava’s baby, so I committed everything about him to memory.
I bite my lip and look around the bedroom for him. “Where are you, Smooshy?”
I check the cupboard with all her plush toys and quickly move my fingers and eyes across every one of them. “No, no, not you, Giggles.” I gently put Mr. Giggles her monkey toy aside and looked towards the back of one of the shelves for Smooshy. “What am I thinking? Smooshy won’t be at the back, will he?” I remind myself. Smooshy will always be front and centre in Ava’s toy cupboard.
I puff out my cheeks, then put my hand through my hair. “Where are you?”
“Bea! Where’s Smooshy!?” Ava calls, and I almost fall to my knees at the tone of her voice. It’s pouty and needy, and I can barely breathe knowing I’ll leave it alone in this big house today.
I quickly call back, “Just looking! He's not in your toy cupboard!”.
“Check under the bed!”
“Right.” I quickly jump to the floor, then move the covers up to see underneath our bed. I scan the area vigilantly, and bingo, I find the purple Octopus dead centre under our bed. “How did you get there, you silly thing?”
I grab his purple, squishy head. “I love you.” The toy makes its voice recording active and says.
“Not now; Smooshy Ava needs you.” I pull Smooshy towards me, then roll away from the bed. “Got you.”
I stop for a moment as I lay on my carpeted floor. My fingers brush the stitching on Smooshy’s head above his little, beaded, smiling eyes. A&B. My eyes water. They water, and I know exactly why, as I beam at this silly toy. A&B. Ava and Beatrice. I’ve always seen in movies, books, or whatever couples get these sorts of things for each other. But never could I have imagined one day I’d have a relationship like that. A relationship so heartfelt that a person wanted to get something done like this for us.
Nicole was a sort of long-term girlfriend, but we were never this. Nothing has ever been this for me. Nothing. This is really special, and the feeling it’s giving me—the feeling of having a relationship that a partner wants to stitch onto a plush toy because it’s so good and has so much love involved in it—is too much for me to hold back my tears.
I laugh lightly and tearily and play with Smooshy’s dangling purple legs. “A and B.” I whimper to myself. “Ava and me.”
“Smooshy! Awoooooo! Where’s Smooshy!” Ava howls and yells, and I immediately cover my mouth as I sob. I can’t contain the joy I feel. It’s so good. So vulnerable, so perfect. It hurts how much I love Ava and her Smooshy. It hurts so much. She’s become my whole life now. My whole heart. It’s like my heart is walking about, and every time I see her sick or hurting, I hurt unbearably. It only makes leaving her home unwell even harder.
“Found him!” I call back in a shaky, oh, so shaky voice.
“Wooooo! Smooshy!” Ava screams in joy, and I clamber to my feet.
“Come on, Smooshy, mommy’s waiting for you.” I speak to the octopus and wipe away my tears.
“Smooshy! Smooshy! Smooshy!” Ava chants as I rush down the stairs.
I find her again in her bumblebee onesie, right where I left her, and swiftly jog over to her. “Here we are, Smooshy in all his fruity-scented glory.”
Ava grabs him with both hands giddily and hugs him close. “I love you.” Ava beams as Smooshy's voice speaks again.
"Awww, I love you too, Smooshy.” She frowns, then points at him. “No more hiding under the bed. You had us worried sick.”
My beaming heart thumps and thumps in my chest rapidly. My tears start to flow again, and I smile so toothily that it hurts my cheeks. I laugh gently. "Fuck, I love you.”
Ava looks away from her favourite plush toy and softens as she sees my tears. “I love you more.” She extends her arm. She offers me her hand, and I take it. I kneel down on the floor, letting my tears and emotions consume my thoughts. I’m probably a complete mess right now. I don’t care. I can’t hold back how much I truly love Ava.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you a smooshy too.” Ava wipes my tears away with her other hand's thumb.
“I’d love that.” I tearily reply and lean towards Ava’s lips. “I’d love that so much.”
Ava tilts her head. “Eu te amo.”
“Eu te amo.” I repeat back to Ava and embrace her lips with my own again. We could win the title today, and I could win the bloody World Cup next summer, but nothing, and I mean nothing, will give me this tear-laden joy I feel in my heart now that I feel in this moment with Ava and her smooshy. I gently caress her lips and know that no matter what, no matter if she wants to join Madrid one day, I won’t leave her. She’s becoming my whole heart, and how can anyone survive without their heart?
Notes:
This is so much fluff 😭 I love it. More soon.
Chapter 33: The Madrid Conundrum
Summary:
Beatrice asks for Mary’s advice about Ava’s dream.
Chapter Text
Tying my shoelaces in the United team’s modern, dimly lit dressing room, I try to find my focus. I need to have my entire mind on the game and nothing else. Big day. Big match. A season's worth of effort all comes down to this. Lose and City take the lead in the title race and will just need to win their game on the final day to win the title. Draw it’s in our hands on the final day. I want neither of those outcomes today. The goal is to win, and nothing else. Win, and the title is ours.
It would be my second title as United captain and my third overall. Those previous wins were nice and brought me a certain amount of pride and joy. But I think this one will top them all for one, oh, so simple reason. I’ll get to share this win with Ava. Share the joyful moment with someone I love who isn’t my parent.
I finish tying my laces, then secure my tied-up hair. I won’t share the joy of winning the title if we win today with Ava, though I will. She won’t be here as the final whistle blows. She won’t be here for the trophy lift. She won’t smile my way and spray a bunch of champagne down my back during the celebrations. She won’t be here at all. The idea of it makes me falter a bit as I move my hands to my shorts-covered thighs. No. I scold myself. I have to go put everything into this, then celebrate with Ava when I get home today and bring her her title-winning medal. Just imagine Ava, in all her silly glory, putting her medal around Smooshy’s neck when I give it to her. That’ll make up for Ava missing the celebrations, and then some. I can’t risk playing a mid-par performance because I want the perfect scenario with Ava being present for the celebrations with the team. Just get the job done. Get it done.
"Hey, Scoot over.” Mary’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.
“Sure.” I smile and move over a bit for Mary, sporting the all-green United Keepers kit, to sit where Ava normally sits. Mary’s and my friendship has always been more of a football-based one, with an occasional dinner at hers with Shannon here and there over the years.
“Ready for this?”
“Of course. Are you?” I reply with a teasing tone and a shoulder bump.
“Always.” Mary then shoulder-bumps me back.
I look down at my wrist and play with my beaded bracelet. I smile. Ava made it for me. I almost melted into the training ground pitch when she gave it to me. It's nothing extravagant; it has black beads, brown, and Ava’s favourite colour, red. It’s like a little talisman I get to keep on my person at all times. My little piece of Ava.
“You look happy, Bea.”
I hum. “I am. And that’s not something I thought I’d ever be able to say, not so long ago.”
I feel Mary’s hand on my shoulder, and I look away from my bracelet towards her. “That’s really good to hear. You deserve it. You always have.”
I smile briefly and reply gently, “Thanks.”
Mary swivels and looks at me defiantly. “I mean it. I’ve seen you for years be unhappy; you didn’t hide it as well as you thought.”
I sniff in humour and keep playing with my bracelet absentmindedly. “I don’t think I ever hid it, Mary. It was obvious to anyone who really looked.”
Mary hums. "Well, anyone who looks now can see how happy you are with Ava and Bea...” She stops and places her palm on my arm. “Do something for me, would you?”
“Hmmm? Do what?”
“Don’t take it for granted.” Mary palms my cheek unexpectedly and smiles, “It won’t always be easy, but it’s so worth it. When you find someone like you have, it’s more than worth it to get through hard times as well as the good.” Mary fondly moves her eyes to Shannon across from us, talking with Suzanne. “Trust me.”
Mary moves her hand back to my shoulder, and I look over to Shannon. I think over Mary’s words. Hard times as well as the good. Madrid. I can’t help but think of Ava’s dream of playing for them one day. “Ava told me she wants to play for Madrid one day.”
"Hmm, mmm, I’m sure she does. Everyone deep down wants to at some point.”
I sigh, "She said we come first, though, no matter what.”
Mary doesn’t reply for a moment, so I look back at her. She’s squinting her eyes at Shannon with a more serious look now. “Things are never that simple. Especially when it comes to dreams.”
“It sounds like you're talking from experience.” I query with keenness to get some advice from someone who’s with a fellow footballer. Things would be far simpler if I and Ava were in different occupations. Football is an ever-changing beast. One minute, me and Ava are at United like we are now, and the next, the unexpected happens, and bam, everything changes. Moves to other clubs are always a possibility; nothing is cemented in this game.
“I am.” Mary inhales deeply.
I sit and wait for Mary to go on. We don’t have long until we have to walk out onto the pitch. But I wait. I have a feeling this is something I should hear.
“After we were together for a while, she told me her dream scenario would be to go back to Spain and play there again in a few years when her contract ran out.”
“So what did you do? You’re married now, so you must’ve figured something out.” I laugh nervously.
Mary smiles slightly. "Mmm, we did.” Mary looks away from Shannon and back to me, her eyes resolute. “We talked and decided if all went well and things progressed between us, we’d have to do long distance at some point.”
“Long distance?” I meekily reply. My heart instantly feels heavy and painful at the idea of that. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t not be with Ava every day like I am now. It would be too much. My heart would be in another country away from me. I’m not JC; I couldn’t leave her even for a month. I can’t imagine it.
"I know it doesn’t sound nice, and I still don’t like the idea of it, but...” Mary stops, and her eyes scream to me that she doesn't just not like the idea; she hates it but agreed to it for Shannon. “We’ve had a few years to prepare for it. We know what we’re going to do and how to make it work.”
I shake my head stubbornly. “I don’t want that with Ava. I never want to be away from her like that. Ever.”
Mary regards me with understanding for a second. “So what are you gonna do? I wouldn’t advise ignoring it until Ava gets the call from Madrid one day. You need to think about it now before you get really serious.”
“We are serious; we’re living together.” I rebuke
Mary sighs “You know what I mean. Serious, like you get engaged serious. You need to make a plan now and find a compromise. If not long distance..”
“I’ll retire; I don’t care. I’ll go with her to Spain.” I interrupt
Mary pointedly looks at me. “You’re not going to retire, Beatrice; you’re way too young to do that, and you’d regret it. You didn’t work as hard as you did to become a professional footballer and United’s captain, your childhood club, only to retire when you have years and years left in you still.”
“I don’t care...”
Mary tilts her head with a look, saying, That's bullshit, and I stop. She’s right. Of course, I care. But I care for Ava more now. How can I have both things I want in a couple years if Ava and I are, hopefully, fingers crossed, still in this place?
“You care. And if you retired early for Ava, you could grow to be resentful of her.”
“I’d never be resentful.” I deny Mary’s words empathetically. “If I did retire for her one day, it would be my choice, my sacrifice for us.”
"Eek, that sounds like a recipe for a disaster.”
I start to get frustrated and put my palms on my face. “Then what do I do then? I want to keep playing for United, but I don’t want long distance, and she wants to play for Madrid one day.”
Mary puffs out her breath above me. “I don’t know; you’ll have to talk long and hard with Ava about it and figure out the path that’s best for both of you.”
Just thinking about this is giving me a migraine; it’s giving me pain. It’s a few years down the line, and who knows what the future holds, but I can’t just ignore the fact that Ava has a dream, and I can’t say to her now ahead of time when we go through our plans for a future together that I wouldn’t want her to fulfil that dream at some point. She could resent me if I completely blocked her from doing it. I groan long and loudly. This isn’t what I needed before such a big match. My mind feels frazzled now. Ava’s quickly become my dream, but it’s not as simple as saying I’ll retire for her, or is it? Is it the simplest choice in the world?
Chapter 34: Never Truly In The Dark
Summary:
Beatrice puts everything into perspective.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
25 minutes into the big match, it’s nil-nil, and I’ve managed to put talk of Madrid and Ava potentially leaving United one day into perspective. If anything, it’s a really good thing that me and Ava are already talking and thinking about it. It’s showing me and her are more than serious. Things have progressed to such a point that we’re thinking about years in the future. Not just now. Not just trips to Lisbon to meet her grandparents or holidays to Milan.
The more I've thought about it since my conversation with Mary, it's actually making me feel kind of excited now. We have a real future to legitimately plan for. Yes, I don’t ever want long distance, and it’ll be an issue to talk through more and more. But what me and Ava have now is so filled with connection, passion, and, most importantly, love, I know we’ll work it out.
The memory of Ava assuring me the other night flows into my mind as I energetically intercept a ball meant for one of City’s light blue jersey-wearing midfielders, Frances.
"Bea, look at me.” I looked down at Ava, laying her bumblebee onesie-hooded head on my lap, a bit forlornly. “It’s a long time in the future, but...” Ava moved to bring her hand to the back of my neck. She pulled me to her with such a fierce look in her eyes. “No matter what, I won’t leave you, and if I have to sacrifice playing for Madrid or anything else, I’ll do it without even blinking. Okay? We come first.”
I travel with the ball at my feet and remember my response to Ava’s words. “We come first.” We kissed, as we do so often, and I felt like everything would be okay. I don’t want to ever leave her, and she doesn’t want to leave me either. That’s a good foundation for the discussion about Ava’s dream. How can we stay together and not have to have a long-distance relationship but both get what we want from our football careers? I want Ava to fulfil her dream because I love her and want to support her in her dreams, and I want to not have to retire to be with her. It’s a conundrum, to be sure, but every problem has a solution, and we have so much time to find one.
I pass the ball off to Chanel on the left wing and make a forward run into the box. Move everything out of my mind right now, just focus on the game, and go home to Ava and her Smooshy with her medal in tow. The Madrid thing is so far away from now. Don’t get distracted when the matter isn’t a pressing issue like the game before me is.
“Chanel!” I call as she duels with the city right back.
Chanel sees me rushing into the box. She dummies a pass to Shannon and quickly shimmies with skill past her defender. The Old Trafford crowd roars in approval, and Chanel crosses the ball with venom across the 18-yard penalty box.
I sprint past a city defender. My eyes are only for the ball. My mind is empty. Only the ball is now in my thoughts. I’m going to have to attempt to do a diving header to reach it and make the keeper make a save to deny a goal. It’s a split-second choice, and I make it. So close to the title. A bit of bravery is required here to give us the advantage. I don’t hesitate. I dive. The ball gets closer, and I hear the crowd’s collective breath still around me. My eyes stay on the ball. Bang. I feel my head smash into something, and my world goes black.
—-
I feel my cheek rest on a grassy floor. The sky is black. The ground is covered in a mist. A white, smoky mist.
“Bea?”
I flick my eyes to find Ava’s voice. Her sweet, accented voice—a voice I never want to be parted from. The voice that’s become my whole world—my whole heart. I don’t see her. All I see is white mist and a black sky.
“Ava? Ava, where are..Ah.” I wince as my forehead stings unbearably. I move my fingers up to dab at the area. I feel a dampness and warmth and move my fingers back to my view. Blood. My blood. It’s my crimson-red blood.
“Bea?”
I grab the grass, and I try to crawl along the ground towards the source of Ava’s voice through the pain I feel. "Ava, where are you?”
“Open your eyes and see, my silly Bea." Ava’s voice is shaky and tearful. I hate Ava’s voice sounding like that. It makes me want to push myself off the ground, push through this debilitating pain in my head, and run to her—to find her, hug her, and tell her it’s all going to be okay. But my eyes are already open, and all I see is darkness and white mist, as if I’m in a graveyard in one of those old horror movies. “They are open. I don’t understand. Where am I? Where are you?”
“What do you call me? What do you always say I am to you?”
I stop crawling and sag to the ground. I taste my metallic-tasting blood. “My love?”
Ava tearily chuckles. “What else?”
“Darling?” I moan as my blood drips down from my forehead to the grass beneath me. Green, red, and brown. Just like the first leg versus Milan all those many months ago, I’m on the ground again, bleeding and alone, barring the sweet sound of My Ava’s voice.
“Nope. Guess again.” I feel a touch on my head suddenly. It’s not my blood. It’s not my own fingers. It’s someone else's, but I don't see who's. All I feel is the touch.
“I..don’t know.” I start to feel myself cry. I hate this. I hate the blood. I hate hearing Ava’s voice become so shaky and sad. I can’t hear it. I squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. “I don’t know I..." I remember. I call Ava my light. My shining light. “My light?”
"Bingo, and guess what?”
My eyes begin to flutter close, and I feel myself flop to the ground. “W…What?”
“You’re my light too. Now please open your eyes.” Ava sobs, and my heart squeezes so hard that I can’t breathe. “Open your eyes, mi amor; please open them.”
I feel a gentle pair of lips touch my weak, oh, so weak head, and the darkness fades away. The mist does too, and a beaming light hits my eyes. I flutter my eyes open again and see it’s the sun coming from a nearby window with white silky curtains pushed gently by the wind.
“There you are.” The lips—Ava’s lips move away from my head, and I see her finally come into my view. She’s blocking the light from the window, and it shines behind her messy brunette hair. It’s shining so much that it makes her hair look like strings of glimmering gold. I see her tears on her cheeks; they shine too.
“Ava. Why are you crying? Where am I?” I croak
Ava strokes my cheek with her thumb. Oh, so softly. “You’re in the hospital. You took a hit in the match and...” Ava’s face contorts into a picture of pain. “You didn’t get up. I was at home, and you didn’t get up. You didn’t get up.” Ava sobs.
I wearily move my hand to her shoulder. I still feel so weak. I’m out of the dark and in the light, but I still feel that same weakness I felt in the dark. “I’m okay.” I soothe.
Ava falls her head gently onto the bed. “I’ve never been so scared, Bea. Never.” Ava shudders, and I weakly put my hand on her shaking back. “You were hurt, and all I could do was watch.”
I grimace at that. I hate that Ava had to see me like that. All I remember was diving for the ball. It was risky, but it would’ve put us ahead. I must’ve collided with the City goalkeeper in the process. I didn’t see her; I only had eyes for the ball, but that must’ve been what happened, and Ava was at home sick and powerless to help me or be with me. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Ava looks up from the bed at me with a tear-laden smile. Beautiful. As always. More than beautiful. “You’re in the hospital after being knocked out, and you're apologising to me?”
“Mmm. Yeah, I am.” I smile lazily.
Ava kisses my head, which's covered by a bandage. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.” I still hear a slight raspy tone in Ava’s voice, so I add, “You’re not well; you should be...
“Shhhh, it’s nothing; you’re all that matters.” Ava gently kisses my head, then she sits on my bed.
My eyes start to droop, and I think of the match. “Did I score the goal at least?”
Ava laughs lightly. “You did; we drew.”
“That’s good.” My eyes close, and my body screams for rest, but I don’t want to go back to the dark again. I’m in the light now with Ava. My light.
"Hey, look who I brought.” I force my eyes open to Ava’s tearful voice and find Smooshy looking at me in all his plushy purple, fruity-scented octopus glory. “I was really worried about you, mommy.” Ava changes her voice to a squeaky, silly one.
I laugh. “Aww Smooshy I’m sorry I scared you. I’m okay.”
Ava squeezes Smooshy, and his voice recording speaks, “I love you.”
I tilt my head on my pillow. “I love you too; now come lay down with me and your mommy.”
“Okay.” Ava replies with her smooshy voice, then lays down. Next to me on my bed, she kisses my cheek. “Do you need me to call the nurse? I really should get them I...”
"No, just be here with me; you’re all I need.” I tilt my head against Ava’s and close my eyes again as my body tells me it’s okay to go back to the dark because, when Ava’s with me, I’m never truly in the dark. No. I have a light that will always be with me now—the light of my life. My shining Ava light and her Smooshy.
Notes:
Hope u enjoyed this chap. 😊
#SaveOurWarriorNun 🔥
Chapter 35: Home
Summary:
Beatrice wakes up back home after a scary few days.
Chapter Text
I flutter, open my eyes, and see a white ceiling. To my instant relief, I remember that it’s not my hospital room ceiling. I had to stay in that blank white room for a couple days after surgery on my fractured cheekbone. Yeah, not fun at all. It was an unnerving experience, to be sure. It always is when I need surgery for something. I’ve had in a few my life as a footballer, and it never gets less scary to go under the knife. Never. But I got through it, and Ava never left my side while I was in that place, so the days passed far quicker than they would’ve if I was alone.
The prognosis before a return to action is 6–8 weeks, so obviously my season is over and I’ll miss our last match away to Tottenham. In essence, I’ll miss the crucial match we have to win to win the title. I’m a bit sad about it, but what matters is that I’m home and with Ava, and I’m on the mend after a scary experience. I put Ava and Madrid into perspective, and now what happened at Old Trafford when I smashed into Manchester City’s keeper’s knee has put it all into perspective. I need to enjoy every day I’m with Ava. Be present in the here and now, or I might miss it.
Suddenly, a familiar purple plush octopus toy comes into my view. Smooshy. I scan him with fondness. I admire his purple plushness, his beaded eyes, his stitched-on smile, and the stitching A&B on his forehead. "Hello, Miss Bea, my name is Doctor Smooshy.”
I smile at the plushy toy and the silly, squeaky voice. Am I hallucinating right now? Or is Smooshy actually talking to me? It’s possible to be fair; I am on heavy pain medications after my surgery after all. "Uh, hello, Smoosh.”
Smooshy’s tentacles dangle over my face. “How are you this morning? I’m told you’ve recently had surgery on your cheeky cheekbone.”
I spot some fingers holding Smooshy and move my gaze to my left. Ava. Of course. How could I not know that Ava’s voice just made squeaky? “Morning nurse, Ava.”
Ava, already fully dressed in one of my old black Metallica shirts, smiles slyly. “Don’t look at Nurse Ava! Focus on your doctor!” Ava moves Smooshy to block my view of her, and all I see is purple.
“Sorry Doc. Please go on.”
Smooshy harrumphs “Thank you. I will.” Smooshy bounces away from me, and Ava appears again. I chuckle lightly as I watch Ava use the side of her mouth to make Smooshy’s voice.
“I’d listen to him, Bea; he doesn’t sound too happy.” Ava winks, then tilts her head towards Smooshy above me suggestively.
“Can I have a kiss from my girl first, Smoosh?”
“Hmmm. go on then. I’ll allow it.”
I pucker my lips, and Ava leans over from the side of the bed towards me. Her feathery, soft lips brush mine so very gently, and I moan into them. I feel Smooshy rest on my chest. So nice. So perfect. My light’s lips.
"How are you feeling?” Ava whispers as she moves back a touch from me and my lips.
“I’m fine. I’m always fine when I’m with you.” I whisper back.
Ava kisses me again gently. “Only fine?” She teases and brushes her nose on mine.
I move my lips up to Ava’s and kiss her again. "Mmm, I’m perfect.”
“Any pain at all?”
I whimper and tilt my head towards Ava. “It’s a bit sore, but the meds are helping.” Ava moves up, then sits on the bed and analyses my cheek; it’s still heavily swollen and bruised. She hovers her fingertips over the area. I can see the flicker of pain in her eyes. She’s recovering in a different way than me from my accident, just not in a physical way like me. She saw me badly hurt, and she was powerless to help. I hate that I made her feel that way. I hate it so much.
“I’m sorry.” I speak up to her with watery eyes.
Ava scrunches her nose, and then suddenly Smooshy’s purple fabric is in my face, again blocking my view of Ava. “What are you talking about? You have nothing to be sorry for!”
I laugh and gently move Smooshy aside. “I really am sorry I made you feel...”
“Bea.” Ava interrupts and places her palm on my chest, just above the buttons of my pyjama shirt. There’s that stubborn look in her eyes again. She had it when she told me she wouldn’t leave me for Madrid or anything else—that we come first. I believed her then, and whatever she’s about to say now, I’ll believe too. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s football, and we both know it can be a dangerous game at times.”
I hum. “I know. I just hate that you had to see me like that.”
Ava smiles softly, then lays down on her side next to me. She keeps her hand on my chest. “Me too, but you're okay now. You're home, and you won’t have to play again for like 2 months; that’s all that matters.” She shuffles close to me and rests her chin on my shoulder. “You can think of nothing but me and you going to Lisbon and Milan now; that’s all you need to think about.”
I raise my brow at Ava. “Not yet; I still have a trophy to lift and a game to attend in London before then, remember?"
“Pffftt.” Ava puffs away a strand of hair out of her eyes and eye rolls. "Okay, you have one more thing to think about before then.”
I rub Ava’s arm. “You’ll have to win without me now. I guess we’ll see if you really are the best player at the club after all.”
Ava leans up for a little kiss, then moves back. “You're the better player.”
“I am? So Madrid would want me too, would they?” I tease.
“Of course they would.” Ava shuffles and rests her cheek on my shoulder.
I am reminded of Madrid again—of Ava’s dream one day and my putting it all into perspective after my conversation with Mary. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about Madrid since you mentioned it last week, and to be honest, I’m kind of excited now.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Ava replies with confusion.
“I mean, not about Madrid, but the fact that we talked about it. We talked about something that’ll be years away if it ever happens. We’re talking like we’re sure we’ll be together then.”
Ava moves up and looks down at me with a little head tilt. “Of course we’re talking like that. We live together, and we love each other. It’s natural to think of the future.”
I feel my cheeks burn and twiddle my thumbs. "Yeah, I know. But it just hit me after I spoke with Mary for advice about what to do about your dream.” I stop and smile up at Ava. “I really want to be with you for a long time, Ava. I don’t want us to ever break up, no matter the challenges we face. I want us to find a way to always be together and never do long distance like Mary’s doing with Shannon.”
“Long distance?” Ava recoils a bit, as if she’s just had some more of that hot lemon water she hated so much, and sticks out her tongue. “Blaaaa! We ain’t ever doing long distance.” Ava leans back down to me and hovers above me as I chuckle. Her hair hits my face as she does. “I told you I would sacrifice anything for you, anything for us to stay together, and I meant it. You’re stuck with me and Smooshy now.”
I finish my chuckle and move my palm onto Ava’s back. “I don’t want you to give up your dream for me, though. I want us to find a way to stay with each other and not have to sacrifice anything.”
Ava trails her fingertips on my uninjured cheek. “You are my dream, Bea. This is right here. Me and you—that's all that's truly important to me. Football is secondary to this. Always.”
“I feel the same. But I want you to have no regrets when your career is over. I want you to have everything you want out of your career and me too.”
Ava pokes my nose. “Boop, I already have everything.”
“I’m serious. I want you to play for Madrid one day. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
Ava kisses my nose. “Okay, we’ll talk more about it, I promise. I want my future fiancé to feel reassured.”
My cheeks burn more and more fiercely. Me and Ava engaged one day in the same sentence. I love it; it just sounds so right. "We, um I..”
Smooshy suddenly blocks my view of Ava again. “What’s all this? I allowed one kiss with Nurse Ava; that is all, not a full-blown conversation!"
I grin through my blush. "Sorry, Doctor Smooshy.”
"Grrr, you will be sorry.” Ava sits smooshy on my face. “I’m going to make you some disgusting lemon water now, mwahahaha!”
I want to continue our discussion about Madrid. It’s a conundrum to be solved on how to make it work and not be like Mary and Shannon, and I want to solve it, but we have so much time for that. Right now, I’m high on pain medications, and I just want to enjoy being with Ava like this. So I play along again. "Please, Doc, don’t make me drink that evil water!”
Ava turns Smooshy over so his eyes are facing me. “Nope, I’m going to go make it now!” Ava rolls off the bed and runs to the doorway.
“No! Please Smooshy! Come back!”
“I will! When I have your lemon water!” Ava calls back.
I shake my head softly and smile at Ava’s silliness. I look back at the white ceiling. I’m home with my silly light, where I feel I belong now. I close my eyes and whisper the words Ava just said so easily, without any inhibitions. “My future fiancé.” I want that more than anything, and eventually, it'll be a reality, just like Ava's dream to play for Los Blancos will be a reality one day too.
Chapter 36: Ava’s Fear
Summary:
Ava struggles to get past her fear for Bea’s safety
Chapter Text
It’s dark outside, Bea’s upstairs, soundly asleep, getting some much-needed rest after her time in the hospital, and I’m just sitting down on my couch, staring at the TV screen, barely paying attention to this movie I’ve been watching for the last hour. Bea’s accident versus Manchester City has shook me.
It's shook me more than I've let Beatrice see. I’ve been replaying it over and over in my head. I was sitting on this very couch, frozen in fear and paralysed, when Beatrice brutally collided with the Manchester City goalkeeper and went rigid on the ground. I was miles away from her and unable to help her. I was unable to help the woman I’m crazy about. I remember Bea’s blood pooling on the grass around her head, and I wince and squeeze my eyes shut. Make the horrible image go away, brain. Please, I’m begging you. Tears fall from my eyes as I remember the last time I felt so helpless like that.
I was only young when my parents died, but I remember seeing on the news a report about a massive car accident and spotting my parents car. I couldn’t do anything to help. I was powerless to help save them, and that feeling was brought back when Beatrice went down but multiplied by a million. I’m not a helpless child now. I’m a fully grown adult who should’ve been there to help Beatrice in any way I could. Maybe I would’ve panicked and just made things worse for her and not put her in the recovery position like the city keeper did. Maybe the fact that I wasn’t there was a good thing. But it didn’t change the way I felt in the moment. Stuck at home watching helplessly, frozen in fear, while the United and City players stood around Beatrice to block the crowd or the cameras from seeing her in that state as the medics worked on her. My world was in peril, my heart was in peril, and I could do nothing.
I switch off the TV and throw away the remote on the couch. I fall back and rest my back on the cushions behind me. “She’s safe now. It’s over. She's not like my parents; it’s not the same. She came home.”
I look to the ceiling and shudder out a breath. “She’s okay; she’s okay.” The image of Beatrice bleeding and going rigid goes through my mind again. “Stop it. Stop thinking about it.”
I move my palm to my face, trying to rid myself of these thoughts and these images of Beatrice unconscious and bleeding from her head. I can’t. They flood into me like an unrelenting stream of water rushing down a riverbank. Beatrice went for the diving header, then banged into the keeper so hard that her body jolted at the contact. Her arms contorted upward unnaturally, like a puppet on strings. It was haunting. My Bea was gone, and her body was nothing but a hollow shell without her in it anymore. She was gone. Only her shell remained. A shell that bled, a shell that twisted its arms back unnaturally, a shell that had no Bea.
My breathing goes shaky. “Fuck sake, I hate this.”
I have to silence these thoughts and these haunting images. I begin to think of a way to healthily clear my mind. A run. Yes. A run will help clear my mind. It always does, and when I’m done, I’ll go to bed, hold on tight to Beatrice, and never let her go.
—
After getting into appropriate running clothes (leggings and a bright yellow coat) to make sure any approaching cars see me at this time of night, I run down a sidewalk, panting for breath.
I pump my legs forward and forward. I push through the burning feeling in my lungs from my exertions and keep running. Big game at the weekend, Tottenham. Win the title for Beatrice and celebrate with her. Forget about what happened; put it in the past. Enjoy every second spent with her, and never take a moment for granted.
I run past a street light brightening the deserted sidewalk and dodge a bush that hasn’t been cut back. I wince as the stupid, thorny bush scrapes my thigh. “Ouch!” I rub the area as I run. I’ll have to put a clean plaster on it when I get back home. Ignore that now, though. Keep pushing; keep running. Empty my mind of all thoughts. Just focus on my breaths, focus on my legs moving backwards and forwards, and focus on the night sky with the countless stars illuminating the night.
“Come on, come on.” I push myself on through gritted teeth. Dont think. Don’t picture Beatrice in pain. Just run. Let everything go. I need to centre myself and return home with a refreshed, cleansed mind when I’m done running, ready for a new day tomorrow.
I feel a buzz in my coat pocket and reluctantly stop as I’m about to jog across the street. I unzip my pocket and bring my phone into view. Grandpa. If there was ever a perfect time for him to call me, now is that time. Talking to him always calms me down. Beatrice obviously does now too, and she will undoubtedly calm me when I confide in her how scared I feel for her safety now and try to help me move past my constant thoughts of seeing her sickeningly crunch into the city keeper. But I think I desperately need someone else to talk to right now. I quickly spot a bench outside what appears to be a local primary school entrance and jog over to it.
I sit down and press accept on Grandpa's call.
"Hi, I’m so glad you called.” I pant into my phone in greeting.
“I’ll always call Ava; I’m always here.”
I breathe another shaky breath. My face contorts, and I know my voice will break when I speak next. He knew about Bea’s surgery, and like the caring man he is, my grandpa has called to make sure Beatrice and me are okay. God. I love him and Grandma too much for words. I can’t wait for Beatrice to meet them both and see the wonderful farm I grew up on. “I’m scared, grandpa. I’m so scared, I can’t get what happened out of my head. I keep replaying it, replaying it, and replaying it…"
“Shhh, it’s okay. She’s okay. This isn’t your parents; she’s safe.”
I calm my breathing at the sound of my grandfather's soothing voice. He and grandma were so supportive when I told them about me being bi and the whole JC being an utter cheating bigoted little shit thing. I knew they would be. They love me for me; they love me unconditionally; they always have. They always will. It’s what got me through so many tough years as I grieved as a child about my parents loss and later the struggles of progressing through the Benfica Academy.
“She was..She was hurt, and I couldn’t do anything; all I could do was sit and watch, just like I did with mom and dad. I want to be strong for her, but I..I can’t.” My voice breaks.
“From what you’ve told me about Beatrice, I don’t think you ever need to be strong. Just talk to her and tell her about how what happened to her is bringing up the past again for you. She’ll be there for you. I know it.”
I smile a teary smile. “I know she will. I love her so much; it’s just... it’s scaring me how much I love her. If I lost her, I don’t think I’d ever recover from it. She’s not like JC; she’s so kind and understanding; she sees me, and I see her. I’ve never felt like this, and I could’ve...” I move my hand to my palm and cry gently in the silence of the night.
I hear my grandfather, Diego, if you want to be all formal about what his actual name is, scoff on the other end of the line. "JC, that little shit. Do you know how many times I’ve almost driven into the city to try to find his cheating, pathetic backside?”
I laugh and move my hand away from my face. “I’d pay to see that. But I honestly don’t care about that asshole anymore. I just care about my Bea and she..she.” I puff out a little breath and look at the stars.
"Oh, right, sorry.” Diego clears his throat. “Beatrice is okay, Ava; she’s going to be alright, and so are you. We can't wait to meet her this summer.”
I wipe away some tears and calm myself down. She’s safe. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. I look at the stars, and I remember me and Diego looking at the stars on clear nights like this back on the farm in my younger years. It was always so tranquil and peaceful. So calming. So I try to push past my fears and my agony at seeing Beatrice hurt and change subjects. “The sky’s so clear tonight. How is it back home?”
“It’s clear, too. I’m with Ava right now. She’s far less emotional than you are, though.”
I laugh again. I miss that horse. I miss everything about being back home. But then again, home feels like wherever Beatrice is now. She spoke about wanting me to fulfil my dream of playing for Real Madrid and having no regrets about my career. It was very sweet, thoughtful, and considerate. Like Beatrice always is. But what happened to her on that Old Trafford pitch has only solidified my belief that she is everything to me now. She’s far more important than football. Mary and Shannon can compromise on long distance, but, fuck, me and Beatrice won’t be doing that. I want to be in her arms with Smooshy every night for a long time to come, and that's that.
Chapter 37: The Promise
Summary:
Ava has a nightmare and Beatrice is there for her.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I stand on the Old Trafford pitch as the sun hits my back. I'm frozen to the spot as I see Beatrice below me bleeding from her head in an unrelenting river of crimson. Beatrice told me when she saw me on the ground at Vllla Park bleeding in the snow that it was like I was a bleeding white rose. Blood and snow intertwined to make one raw, visceral picture. She said that was the beginning of her realisation of her feelings for me. It was all very symbolic and sappy, and I loved it. I loved her paintings of me as a symbolic rose. What I see now isn’t symbolic, sappy, or something I would want to paint if I could, like Beatrice can so beautifully. No. It’s just Beatrice face down, her arms contorted backwards, and her head drenched in blood. There’s no one in the stands. There are no City players or United players. It’s just me and Beatrice.
“Bea!” I scream through tears and try to move towards her. I can’t. I look at my feet and see they’ve been swallowed up by the ground. “No! I scream and try to wedge my feet out from underneath the ground. “Let me help her!” I can’t get free. I can’t. The ground has swallowed me up, and I’m its prisoner, cursed to be metres away from Beatrice but unable to help her.
The blood streams away from Beatrice towards me. “Bea! Hold on!” I keep trying to force my legs free. I scrape at the grass-covered ground with my fingernails, desperately trying to dig myself out. The blood hits my legs and my frantically shaking fingers as I dig.
“No, no, no, no." I repeat and cry.
I keep trying to dig through the mud and the blood. My movements become desperate. “Please, please, please, not again. Not like mom and dad, please! Please!”
The blood begins to rise, but I don’t stop digging. Must get free. Must help Bea.
“I’m so sorry, Ava; they're gone.”
“Gone?”
No, that’s my grandpa’s voice from the night my parents died and my own young, shaky one. No, no, no.
“They’ve passed on.” My grandma’s voice shakes as the blood keeps rising and rising until it's up to my waist. I try to dig still, though, and splash through the blood to keep clawing at the ground, desperately trying to free my legs.
My arms are drenched in blood. My white United shorts are consumed by it. I look up briefly and see that Bea’s gone. The Old Trafford pitch is completely submerged in blood.
“Bea!” I scream again and look for her, but there’s no sign of her anywhere.
“I’m sorry, Ava.” I hear Bea’s mother, Michele's, voice ring around the stadium. “She’s gone.”
My heart cracks in two. Never to be healed, broken forever. “No!”
"Ava, wake up!”
“No Bea! Not Bea too!” I wail to the heavens, and I let the blood consume me. The blue sky disappears, and all I see is red.
My eyes snap open. It’s still dark outside the bedroom window, and Beatrice is directly above me. Her hair is down. She’s holding my cheek. I’m panting for breath on my back in our bed. My gaze goes to Bea’s cheek and forehead. Still so bruised and swollen.
"It's okay; it was just a nightmare.” She soothes.
I shake my head, and my face contorts to one of heartbreak. “I couldn’t help you; you were hurt, and I couldn’t do anything to save you, just like with them, just like with my parents, Bea.”
Beatrice strokes my cheek with her thumb and slowly moves down to kiss me. I whimper at the touch of her soft, cushiony lips and move my hand to her back. She peppers my lips with repetitive kisses. “It’s okay; I’m fine now.”
Beatrice rests her forehead on mine, and I try to control my breathing. “I can’t lose you as well. I can’t. I can’t.”
“Shhh, you won't, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” Beatrice kisses my nose. It’s so soft and gentle that my body shakes at the touch. “I can’t get what happened to you out of my head; I can’t get rid of it. It’s all I think about.”
Beatrice moves to rest on her side, and I do too. It’s just us in our bedroom in our pyjamas. Beatrice is safe from any harm. There’s no blood, football, or anything. It’s just me and Bea.
She rubs my arm. “I’m sorry. I hate that you..”
“Stop saying you're sorry, silly.” I laugh tearily.
Beatrice smiles briefly. She exhales. “What do you need me to do to help you feel less scared? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” I sigh. “I’m always going to be scared for you. I’m always going to dread you getting hurt or ending up like my parents. I guess that’s the price of loving you and my grandparents. I’ll always be afraid of losing them—losing you.”
“Well..” Beatrice shuffles closer and grimaces. Her cheek is becoming more and more uncomfortable after her operation. I hate it. I hate seeing her in pain. I just want her to be fully healed, so I’m not given a visual reminder every day about what happened. Maybe when her face heals and her bruises fade, my mind will calm down and I’ll be able to sleep.
I close the distance instead as Beatrice holds her cheek. “Do you need your pain meds? It’s best to have them with meals, but if it’s bothering you, I’ll get you them.”
Beatrice shakes her head and clears her throat. “No..I’m fine.”
I move my leg over Bea’s and hug her close to me. “Are you sure, baby? I can’t sleep anyway; I don’t mind getting them.”
“No. I want you to stay here with me now. I didn’t like you going for that run so late.” I smile with a slight shy blush, and Beatrice moves her hand to my hip, pulling me closer so our bodies are as close as they can possibly be. “I know I’ll never be able to completely reassure you that I won’t get hurt again, but I can help you clear your mind about what happened. I can help you sleep.”
I move my head back a bit in my query, “How?”
“Breathe with me.”
I soften, then move back to rest my head on my pillow. “I don’t think breathing is going to make me stop replaying what happened all the time.”
Beatrice moves her palm to my back and squeezes me close. She moves her forehead back onto mine. “Just follow my voice.”
“Okay,” I shudder.
“Close your eyes.” I close my eyes. “Breathe in.” I breathe in, and a few seconds pass. "Breathe out.” I follow Bea's instructions and breathe out. “Now keep doing that while I talk.”
“Hmm mmm.” I hum in affirmation and keep breathing slowly, in and out.
“I’m safe; I’m not your parents. I’m okay. Me and my ass are alright.” I snort at Beatrice, mentioning my favourite part of her body.
Beatrice rubs my back for a few quiet minutes while I breathe in and out with a lighter feeling after Bea’s little quip. “Think of Lisbon; think of me going to your grandparents farm. Think of me meeting them and Ava the horse.”
I grin at the excitement I feel for Beatrice to meet that horse and, more importantly, my last remaining relatives soon. I think of the wide open fields where I and Beatrice will ride horses together. I think of a spot on the property next to a river I’d like us to camp at for a night. I spent so many nights there with my grandparents when I was growing up. It was my favourite place to be in the whole world during those years, and I think it’ll always remain my favourite place for as long as I breathe. It’s so tranquil. So beautiful. I remember lying on my back on the grassy ground and watching the stars with my grandpa as he told me about the different constellations. I want to tell Beatrice about the constellations, too. I want to share my favourite place with my favourite person.
“Now think of Milan.” I obey and shift my mind to the beautiful city where me and Bea’s relationship truly began, where everything changed. “Think of that canal we sat next to. Think of the moment I told you I loved you for the first time.” I smile in remembrance. It was such a beautiful night. The picturesque buildings across from us were lit by dim orange lights. The water beneath our feet was so still. I didn’t reciprocate Bea’s love in the way she wanted me to that night, but hearing her say she loved me as more than a friend led to the next night.
That night, when I sat with Beatrice in her room and just got lost in her eyes, her beauty was so perfect. I hated her running from me. I never want her to leave me again. I want to hold her close and never let go. I want to share my life with her, no matter where it leads. “We can’t focus on the what-ifs. We can’t think about what may or may not happen. We just have to live in the here and now. I've been thinking about the future a lot recently, worrying about Madrid and you fulfilling that dream. I want you to fulfil that dream. But let’s enjoy the now. Let’s never take the present for granted.”
I open my eyes, and Beatrice is there, smiling softly at me. “I won’t. You’re my light too, Bea; you’re everything to me—everything.”
Beatrice kisses me gently. “I love you. I promise to always come home to this. No matter what, I promise I’ll always come home. I know I can’t predict the future or what could happen, but for what’s it worth, I promise I’ll always try my best to come home to you and Smooshy.”
I smile “It’s worth a lot, mi amor. It’s worth so much.” I kiss Beatrice and her oh-so-familiar lips again and get lost in their touch—lost in the touch of Bea’s nose brushing against mine. Neither me nor Beatrice can predict the future or the potential dangers we’ll face as footballers or from life in general, but the promise that we both will always do everything to return to each other's arms every night from now on is so strong that I know we’ll always both strive to live up to it.
Notes:
Love writing this one. It’s got football and fluff and smut its just really enjoyable to write.
#SaveOurWarriorNun
There’s still hope for the show to come back with a proper season 3, and the fans deserve that after the last two years of fighting for it. Fingers crossed. ❤️
Chapter 38: Back to Carrington
Summary:
Beatrice goes back to Carrington for the first time since her head injury.
Chapter Text
Walking through the sliding doors of the Carrington training complex has never felt so strange—so foreign. It’s like I’ve been away for more than days; it’s felt more like months. The last time I was here was before the Manchester City match, after I left Ava reluctantly at home sick. That feels so long ago now.
I step through reception and nod with a smile to Kathy, the long-term receptionist, and feel a deep lump in my throat. She feels like a stranger that I haven’t seen in years. She shouldn't; it’s ridiculous to think that about Kathy. I’ve known her since I was a teenager growing up through the United Academy, but she does. She feels like a past life before I smashed my head into that citykeeper’s knee. My current life feels devoid of football; it feels more consumed by Ava than ever. She’s the only person I’ve seen at home recently as I’ve recovered from surgery. I haven’t seen Kathy, my teammates, or anybody other than Ava. If I’m honest, it feels wrong to see anyone else. Is that crazy? Is it crazy that I just want to be with Ava in our home and never see another soul other than her again?
I just feel disconnected from everything that isn’t her and smooshy now. A big part of me wants to turn around, get in my car, and drive home to wait for Ava to come home after she’s done with training. I have a taste for life with just her, and I want it. I don’t want anything else. I just want to be home. I want this nervousness about greeting people who aren’t Ava to go away.
“Hey Beatrice! How’ve you been? I’ve been so worried!” The kind woman now greying, I know Kathy to be, rushes out from behind the reception desk and jogs towards me as fast as her legs will take her.
“Oh.” I mumble in surprise as Kathy hugs me, and I hug her back, moving my palms to the back of her United tracksuit jacket. Everyone at the club knows Kathy. She’s like a second mother to anyone who walks through these Carrington halls. Remembering that makes my feeling of nervousness at seeing her again go away in an instant. “I’m okay, Kath. I’m sorry I scared you.”
Kathy holds me tighter and more fiercely. “I sent flowers to your hospital room; did you get them?”
I rest my chin on Kathy’s shoulder below me and sigh. I sag further into her warm, caring embrace. “I did. Thank you for sending them.”
Kathy moves out of the hug, then palms both my cheeks. She smiles widely with tears in her eyes, and I’m reminded even more of why I love this club and why I can’t just hide at home and wait for Ava to return, afraid to go back out into the world again. Ava’s my family, but so is United.
“Listen to me carefully now, alright?” Kathy frets over my swollen face.
“Uh okay.” I chuckle
“Never go in for a diving header again for the rest of your life.”
I eye-roll and move Kathy back into the hug. “We both know I can’t promise that.”
"Yeah, well, just say it anyway to put my mind at ease.” Kathy tearily laughs.
"Alright, I promise.” I relent, knowing that every time I go onto the pitch, there’ll always be a chance I could get hurt again.
“Good.” Kathy gives me a squeeze, then she lets me go.
I put my hands into my hoodie pockets shyly. I came here today with a little push from Ava. The squad and all the staff have been asking about me, and I am the captain after all. I may not be on the pitch in the crucial game this weekend versus Tottenham, but I should give the team some morale support as their leader. "Well, um, I better go say hi to everyone else now.”
“Alright sweetheart.” Kathy palms my arm and smiles sweetly before I move by her with a little shy wave in goodbye and begin to walk through the halls of Carrington.
I look at the walls and see the images plastered all over them of past United legends in iconic moments of varying degrees. Previous captains lifting trophies, previous world-class players in celebration poses after incredible goals, and finally me lifting up the Premier League trophy as captain. I stop and stare at it. This is my home. My club. Sure, it felt so empty before I met Ava and still does at times, but this is all I’ve known for so many years. My loyalty and love for this club are fierce. It's nowhere near my devotion and love for Ava, but I feel it towards the club nonetheless.
“Beatrice!” Camila suddenly hugs me, and I almost lose my footing.
“Whoa! Easy! I’m still recovering, you idiot.” I recover myself and swivel to hug her back.
"Oh, right, sorry. I just haven’t seen you since before your surgery; we’ve all missed you.”
“It’s alright; I’m happy to see you too.”
I suddenly feel another pair of arms hugging me from behind. The scent is unmistakably Lilith’s. I know it well after our brief but steamy, albeit hollow-feeling relationship. “How’re you feeling, Bea?”
“I’m alright; my face will tell you otherwise, but I feel alright.”
"Well, after what happened, we’ll take—alright, any day, won’t we, Cam?”
“Mmm Hmm.” Camila hugs me tighter, and I start to struggle to catch my breath. I ignore it. I let Camila hug me tightly. Her concern is touching. I saw her on replays of the City game in tears at seeing me the way I was. It couldn’t have been easy for my teammates—my friends seeing me in such a bleeding, messy unconscious state. Just like it wasn’t easy for Ava to watch from back home but multiplied due to our love, I hate that fact. I hate that anyone had to see me so bloody and hurt. My parents are included in that equation, of course too. They were so insistent on pushing me to become who I am, but at the heart of it, they do love me. I was reminded of that when my mother and father looked glossy-eyed as they saw me in my hospital bed. They just have never shown that love in words, perhaps as much as I needed growing up.
Camila squeezes me even tighter, and I try to push her back. "Okay, I can’t breathe now.”
Camila gives me a sheepish look. "Sorry, I’m just...” Camila shudders in her breath; she looks emotional. “I’m just so relieved you're on your feet again.”
Lilith, in her training jacket, like Camila, lets me go too. “That makes two of us; everyone was so relieved to hear the surgery went well."
I hum as I move back from them. All these displays of affection from people who aren’t Ava are making me feel a bit shy. I only usually get hugs when I’m celebrating with my teammates after a goal, not in any other scenario. It’s nice—nice to feel cared about, like I’m an important person in the fabric of the club—an important person to my friends and the club staff.
“Well um..” I motion with my hand awkwardly to head towards the cafeteria. “Let’s go relieve them some more, shall we?”
Camila snorts, “Relieve them?”
I eye-roll at Camila’s childlike humour and shove her shoulder. "Haha, you know what I meant. Come on.”
Camila giggles, and I eye-roll even deeper as we start to head to the cafeteria.
“Oh yeah, before I forget, I wanted to congratulate you.” Lilith remarks, and I raise a brow.
“Congratulate me? For getting metal plates in my cheek and being knocked out cold.”
“No, obviously not that.”
“Then what?”
“For scoring the goal, it was quite the header, to be fair.”
I stop and deadpan. “Really.”
Lilith grins wryly and puts an arm around my shoulder. "Yeah, and plus, thanks to that goal, we can win the title this weekend.”
I sigh and start to walk again. It’s true, I guess. I may not be able to play on Sunday versus Tottenham, but my goal has put us on the brink of the title, so I’ve done my part. It’s down to the team now to finish it off without me. "Well, you know, it would’ve been enough to win the game and this infernal title if you and the team could defend a goal lead.”
“Did you see City’s goal? No one was stopping that.”
I feel Camila take my hand and briefly smile at her beside me, then turn back to Lilith. “I saw the replays; you could’ve stopped that shot if you were a bit braver.”
“If I had been. I would’ve been in the hospital room with you. So you’re saying I should’ve made Camila cry twice in one match?”
“Shut up! I didn’t cry!” Camila complains
I smile gently at Camila. “You did. I saw you on the replays.” Camila looks to the ground coyly, but I squeeze her hand, and she looks up again. “I am sorry you and everyone had to see me like that; it couldn’t have been easy.”
Camila smiles softly. “It wasn't, but please don’t apologise for just being the brave leader we know you to be. You went for a header, and you had every right to go for it. It’s that bitch city keeper Adriela who should be apologising; did she even call to apologise for that stupidly dangerous lunge she did on you?”
"No, but she put me in the recovery position and genuinely seemed remorseful after it happened, from what I saw watching it back. It’s football; these things happen.”
“So she hasn’t called you at all? Or sent you flowers while you were in the hospital at least?.” Lilith asks with a biting tone.
I shake my head at them both with a nonplussed expression. Adriela has no obligation to do any of that if she doesn’t want to. Although I can’t lie, it was a bit off. She hasn’t made any attempt to contact me or apologise for what happened. I know Ava is annoyed about it, but I really don’t care, if I’m honest.
“What a bloody coward. The least she could do would be to send some flowers after what happened.” Lilith mutters under her breath.
“It doesn’t matter; honestly, I don’t care what she sends or doesn’t send or if she apologises.” I move my arm over Camila’s shoulder and then Lilith’s. “It’s her choice; all I care about is this. United and Ava, nothing else matters.”
My thoughts, as they always do, revert to Ava. I chickened out of coming this morning when she asked me to join her in coming to Carrington. I think it’s better this way, though. I needed to get past the mental hurdle of leaving the house by myself after everything that happened.
“You’re wondering where she is now, aren’t you? You two are insufferably cute together; you know that.” Camila teases.
I blush I hate blushing, but I can’t help it with Ava. She just has that effect on me, even when she’s not in a room. Even when it’s just a mention of her name, I feel my heart warm. She’s like a nice cosy blanket around my heart that makes me feel so light and loved.
“Bea! You made it!”
I jump to Ava’s voice and look immediately to see where it came from; I don’t see her. “Ooft.” I’m hugged from behind and instantly feel my body burn everywhere. I literally burn for this woman now. She’s the fire in my hearth on a cold winter night; she’s the light whenever everything goes dark. She sees me, and I see her. I let Camila and Lilith go and spin to hug her back. I breathe her scent in, and whatever anxiety I had remaining about coming to Carrington today flows away.
"Sorry, I didn’t come with you this morning. I think I just needed to do this alone. I got so in my head about coming back.” I laugh nervously. “It was so ridiculous.”
Ava holds me tight and kisses my cheek. “It wasn’t ridiculous; you were just nervous to come back after a scary experience. There’s nothing ridiculous about that.”
I sigh and kiss her cheek too. “I love you.”
“See what I mean, Lil ridiculously cute.” Camila remarks with a little pouting in her tone next to mine.
I smile at that. It’s all I can do. I can’t make a quip in response or move away from Ava in any way. I’ve never felt so tethered to someone in my whole life as I am to Ava now, and if that is viewed as cute or adorable by my friends, that’s fine with me. I love my Ava, and I’m not afraid to scream it from the rooftops. I’m not afraid to show how much I love her to others nearby. When I’m with Ava, everything else matters a little less. My nervousness about coming in today, my depression—everything just feels insignificant in the face of me and Ava and our connection—our friendship—our love.
Chapter 39: A Starry Night
Summary:
Ava and Beatrice enjoy looking at the night sky together.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The last game of my first half of the season at United is coming up this weekend. It’s a massive one, to put it lightly. United vs. Tottenham Hotspur at the imaginatively named Tottenham Hotspur Stadium. We win, and we’re champions, and Beatrice and I can end a life-changing season on the ultimate high. Is this match at the forefront of my mind right now, though? Nope, it’s not.
I’m just doing what Beatrice said we should always do from now on a few nights ago. Just taking in the present moment and not taking it for granted. The present moment where it’s just me and Beatrice laying down on the grass outside in snuggly hoodies in our back garden, looking at the night sky. It’s another clear night. Another night where the stars are so clear to the eye.
"Hey, is that a shooting star?” I point as I see something bright and shining fly by.
Beatrice snorts. “That’s a plane.”
I squint my eyes, and my cheeks redden as I see that yes, it’s a plane with its wings flashing in the night sky. “Oh. Yeah, it is; you’re right.” I feel Bea’s hand find mine in the little gap between us, and I quickly interlock my hand with hers. I breathe in deeply and out. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the now. Enjoy my hand in Bea’s.
“Just think, we’ll be doing this in Lisbon in a few weeks.” I sigh contentedly.
“Mmm, we will. Although um…” Bea’s puffs out a little breath. “What do you think the chances are of JC popping up while we’re there?”
I puff out my cheeks. “I don’t know. If he does show his face, though, can you punch him this time? It really hurt my wrist when I did it last time.”
"Hmm, mmm, I can do that.”
I smile as I hear Bea’s voice go playful. I love it when we’re lighthearted with each other. It produces things like Smooshy and game nights playing Mario Kart, or the one night I wore that Mr. Krabs costume for fun. I want that to be what the summer is for me and Bea before the inevitable grind of next season begins to rear its head with pre-season training and friendly matches. I want to have a lot of fun this summer, be it in Lisbon or Milan. I just want us to enjoy ourselves and not take life too seriously for a few months. So with that train of thought of just wanting to let loose, I turn on to my side towards Beatrice, who just keeps on looking towards the stars with her grey snuggly hoodie up over her head, obscuring her face from my view.
"Hey.” I move Bea’s hood down and see her precious face still swollen and bruised underneath. I kiss the swollen areas as gently as possible, brushing my lips very lightly on her skin. “I was so proud of you today. I know going back to Carrington after what happened was a big thing for you.”
I shuffle close and move my leg over Bea’s to more or less entrap her in a cocoon of me and start to kiss her neck. She exhales as I bring my fingers to the other side of her jaw and tilt her head into my lips. "Honestly, I think... Mmm, that’s nice.” I smirk against Bea's neck and keep kissing her gently and repeatedly. “I think the reason I got so nervous was because of you.”
“Mmm? Me?” I murmur
"Yeah, you, darling. I know it was only a few days I was back home after the surgery and everything, but Mmm." Beatrice moans as I kiss her cheek with a tender, oh, so tender touch. “Spending days with just you and no one else was like a dream. There was no training, no football. I loved it so much, I just didn’t want it to end. It felt like going back to Carrington would bring me back from a reality where it wasn’t just me and you.”
I turn Bea’s head to look at me and my gentle smile. “Well..” I move my legs up to Bea’s waist and edge closer to her. “After the weekend, that’ll be the case for a couple months; it’ll just be me, you, and nobody but my grandparents when we’re in Lisbon.”
Beatrice brushes her nose against mine, then turns onto her side too. She moves her fingers into the belt loops of my jeans. “I can’t wait.”
“Though it was good you came today, everyone was so happy to see you, especially Camila.” I chuckle and kiss Beatrice quickly but gently. “She was very clingy with you. I was starting to get jealous.”
Beatrice moves me closer by my belt loops and kisses me just as gently as I just kissed her. "Mmm, jealous, you say?”
“Uh huh.” I pucker my lips, then kiss and kiss Beatrice repeatedly with a feathery, delicate touch. “Extremely jealous.”
I go to roll on top of her, but I stop myself. “Perhaps we shouldn’t; it’s not been long since your surgery, after all.”
Beatrice gives a look of disbelief and moves back. “You’re saying no to sex. Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?”
I stroke Bea’s cheek delicately—adoringly. “Trust me, every fibre of my being is screaming to say otherwise, but I just think it’s too soon.”
“It’s just my face that hurts; everything else is fine.”
I think of reconsidering my stance for a second. Urgh, the temptation to be with Beatrice again is unbearable. It’s been almost 2 weeks since we've had sex due to the flu we both had before Bea’s injury. But our relationship is so much deeper than just desire and need. So much more, so I fight against the temptation to be with Beatrice in the most intimate way possible and hug her tightly. “I think it’s for the best; we don't. As much as it sucks.”
"Okay, we can just stay like this.” Beatrice moves on to her back, and we snuggle—we look up at the stars again.
There are so many stars—so many twinkling little lights in the night sky. It’s a still calm evening, and... okay, no, I can’t think about stars after getting all worked up a few seconds ago. As always, when I get close to being with Beatrice, my mind becomes a blender of mushy mush. I can’t think straight anymore.
“You know before I saw you at Carrington today when I was talking with Cam and Lilith?” Beatrice changes subjects, giving me something to focus on to compose myself and calm my heavily beating heart.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“They weren’t happy with Adriela, like you haven’t been.”
I frown deeply, or, more accurately, I scowl deeply. The tackle Adriela made on Beatrice was reckless and, frankly, stupid. It’s football, though; it can happen. Players can do things in the heat of the moment that they regret afterwards. That’s not why Adriela’s name angers me—okay, it kind of is. She hurt my Bea, and I hate her for that. It’s that she hasn’t contacted Beatrice or shown any contrition for the tackle since that day. She hasn’t called or done anything to apologise.
"Well, you can’t blame them. She put you in the hospital, Bea, and didn’t even check in to see if you were alright after.”
“I guess.” Beatrice sighs. “But I don’t want anyone pressuring her or confronting her about what happened on my behalf. It happened; she doesn't have an obligation to check in on me. Let’s leave it at that.”
I inwardly scoff. Whenever I’ve made a tackle on a fellow professional that’s left them injured for a long period of time, I've always either called them or made some sort of effort to show my contrition to them. But I accept Bea’s wishes nonetheless. "Okay, if that’s what you want, I’ll make sure no one tries to contact her.” I take a beat and joke. “But next season, when we play her, she's getting it.”
Beatrice laughs above me and hugs me close. Fuck, I love her laugh. It’s so nice to hear it. But it’s even nicer to be the reason for it. She was so inwardly sad when I met her, and now whenever it’s just me, her, and, of course, Smooshy, she looks so happy. I can’t wait to make her even happier this weekend and win this title before we head off on our little summer adventure.
This summer could’ve been the summer I got married to a man who hid his true ugly face from me; instead, it’s going to be a few months of bliss with Bea. It’s been a hectic season, to say the least. We both desperately need this summer break, and it’s only one more game away—we're one game away from freedom.
Notes:
Two quickish chaps after a couple days break. Hope you’ve liked them both :)
Don’t forget to keep voting in the CancelledSciFi Poll on X 🔥 we can still #SaveOurWarriorNun. Emphasis on OUR ❤️
Chapter 40: Future Proofing
Summary:
Ava has a talk with Shannon before the big match.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
If you told me at the start of last August, before my season began at Benfica, and after being newly engaged to JC, the events of the next 10 months would transpire in the way they have, I’d say you’d lost the plot. But here I am stretching for the upcoming title-deciding match versus Tottenham in their stadium in London, in a different country than my own, in a fully committed relationship with a woman—with Beatrice after a scary experience of seeing her badly hurt.
Life can be crazy; it can change paths dramatically from year to year with such ease. This time next year, who knows where I’ll be ahead of the World Cup getting under way? My main hopes for the next season though—for the next year—are 1 for things to be nowhere near as hectic with no more scary head injuries and 2 to be engaged to Beatrice at some point.
Is being engaged twice in as many years too much? Should I be less eager to be engaged again after everything that happened with JC? No, not really, because life is short and I don’t want to be scared of long-term commitment with the person I’m crazy about—the person who’s become my best friend, my love—a love that’s shown me what real true love is. A love that’s filled with understanding and connection that I never shared with JC.
That hope to be engaged to Beatrice is within my control; the hope for head injuries, on the other hand, is less so. Unfortunately, it’s the risk that me and Beatrice signed up for to play the beautiful game. It’s part of playing football. It carries risk inherently. So my hope for no severe, scary injuries is just that hope.
So there it is. It’s been a hectic season, and I have two hopes for the next year, one within my control and one that isn’t. Life is unpredictable, but those are my hopes, and if they both come to pass, I’ll be more than happy.
"Hey, your shoelaces are untied.”
I jump from my thoughts to Shannon’s silky voice beside me, similarly stretching, and look down to my boots. They are, as she said, untied. "Oh, right, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Shannon, with her hair always tied back in a tight ponytail, smiles and starts stretching her thigh by holding her leg back behind her. I follow her lead and hold onto my foot to stretch.
“10 minute warning! We’ll be heading into the dressing room in 10 minutes!” Suzanne yells to the United squad across the pitch with a whistle around her neck. She’s really been on edge recently, which is understandable, to be fair, considering the title race has been dragged to the last game and she’s lost her captain for this game today. “Lilith! Stop chatting with your mates, and do your fucking stretches!” Suzanne screeches, and I cover my mouth from laughing. It instantly brings back memories of the game at Portman Road versus Ipswich when Beatrice shouted to the team, “Someone make a run! You’re as static as Suzanne’s penis pops!” Suzanne’s scream at Beatrice to pass after that shout was similarly screeching.
"Yeesh, she needs to chill out; she’s only going to make everyone more tense right now.” Shannon remarks with some annoyance.
“Mmm, everyone’s tense as it is with no Bea available today.” I agree.
“It was great seeing her yesterday; by the way, seeing her on her feet again was such a relief for everyone.”
I smile and hum. It was great for Beatrice to come say hi to everyone, and it’s even better that she’ll be in the dressing room pregame today to give a final team talk as captain to inspire us one last time. I love that she wants it to be just me and her, but the relief on her face when she crossed the mental hurdle of being back at Carrington again was clear to see. She loves the club and her teammates, and she needed to see them again—see how much they adore her as a friend and their captain.
Shannon moves closer to me and balances herself on my shoulder as she stretches her other thigh. Jumping me from my thoughts. "Ahem, yeah, she was happy to see everyone too. She won’t hold back in the team talk today, though, I can assure you.” I laugh a bit nervously. I haven’t really interacted with Shannon a lot since I joined the club. She’s quiet like Yasmine, and obviously, me before Beatrice has had such a positive effect on me settling into the club.
Shannon hums. ”I’d expect nothing less.”
I start to stretch my other thigh and regard Shannon for a second. I think of Shannon going to Spain when her contract ends and leaving Mary behind, and inevitably, I can’t help but think of me and Beatrice in a few years with the whole Madrid possibility. “Bea told me you and Mary are going to do long distance.”
“We are.” Shannon looks away.
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but how can you be okay with doing that? You’re married, and you’re going to spend most of your time apart when you go back to Spain. How is it going to work?”
Shannon looks back at me with a slight grimace. “Well, we'll do FaceTime a lot, and every time there’s a gap in our schedules, we’ll fly over to see each other.”
Now I’m the one to look away. I can’t imagine compromising on that with Beatrice. Me in Madrid, her in Manchester, and we’d only see each other in person sporadically, bar the winter and summer breaks in the football calendar. It would be far too hard to do, and no amount of FaceTime calls would change that.
I scrunch my nose in small annoyance at myself. Don't think about the future too much. Just be in the now, like Beatrice said. Madrid, for me, if it ever happens, is a very long time away. We have time to work it all out in a way Shannon and Mary couldn’t. I could ask for advice, though, from Shannon about it. I might as well. So I look back to Shannon and do just that. “Can I ask your advice about something, Shan?”
“Sure.” Shannon tilts her head and moves her hand off my shoulder.
We both start stretching our calves, and I reply, “This is like waaaay in the future, but one day I’d like to play for Madrid.” I won't deny it is a dream, and Bea's right, I would regret it if I didn't achieve it in my career.
"Uh, huh, I’m aware. Mary told me.” Shannon says as she throws a piece of chewing gum in her mouth.
"Yeah, well, me and Bea don’t want to be apart like you and Mary are going to be if it ever happens for me. Any ideas about how we can do that?”
"Well, there’s only one thing to do if you truly always want to be together and achieve your dream too.”
“Which is?” I rotate my hand suggestively as I stretch.
Shannon shrugs “You say you’re a package deal and both join Madrid; that way you stay together and you both get to achieve the most out of your careers.”
“But Bea is a United fan; she’s captain and loves it here.” I retort, but I like Shannon’s suggestion. I can’t lie. But, as I said, Beatrice adores this club. It's her family; it's all she's known in her football career; leaving that, even for me, would be tough for her.
Shannon makes a bubble with her gum, then lets it pop before she starts chewing again. “Everyone wants to play for Madrid at some point, Beatrice included. She loves United, sure, but she’s already fulfilled that dream. She's been here her whole career. She’s won trophies, and she’s the captain now, so why not? It would be a new step in her career, and she gets to stay with you.”
“And what about United? I doubt they’d sell us both at the same time.”
Shannon grins. “You said it yourself; this is a long way in the future. You’ve got time to figure out how to make it happen. You could both run your contracts down or sign new contracts with a Madrid clause in them, so whenever Real come knocking, they have to bid for both of you.”
I smirk widely, with a bit of mischievousness in my eyes, towards Shannon. “Those are interesting ideas.”
“Hmm, mmm, they are, aren’t they?” Shannon winks, then jogs away, and I feel a little boost of energy as she does. Me and Beatrice both go to Madrid, or neither of us go. It's certainly something to consider as a solution to the problem. We both go, or we both stay. I want to play for Madrid, but I think I'd be comfortable with that if Beatrice were to agree to it.
Again, this is a long time in the future, of course, and may never happen, for all I know. Football can be an ever-changing beast. It can ebb and flow like a river, just like life. But the more I and Beatrice future-proof our lives like this or generally have ideas to solve long-term challenges to us and our relationship, despite the promise to always enjoy the now and not take it for granted, the more excited I’m getting. the more solid we become as a couple.
Notes:
This is my longest fic by words and almost by chapters 😅 how many chaps I’ll write idk it’ll be a fair amount more I’ll say then back to Fifty Shades of Cakes.
Been a month since I updated that 🤯 I know what I’m gonna do next tho for sure…
Might make a one shot just to get used to writing in 3rd person again. Maybe something to do with My The Silence fic. 🤔
More chaps 🔜
Chapter 41: Win For Bea
Summary:
Ava remembers a lustful moment as Beatrice gives her pre match team talk.
Notes:
Some smut after a bit of a break.
Chapter Text
I really should be getting into the zone right now. This is such a big match. It’s probably my biggest-ever match. But I can’t. I can’t silence my thoughts or push down my rapidly beating heart. Bea’s pre-match team talk to the team is doing something to me. She’s so confident and authoritarian. She’s in a leather jacket with a checkered shirt underneath and those damn denim jeans that always make me want to jump her whenever I see her in them. They were basically the whole reason for my sexual awakening as a bi woman.
“We’ve worked too hard to lose this now! Go out there and win this title! Do you hear me!?”
“Yes.” Several players mumble while I gawk at Beatrice with slightly parted lips and a completely dry mouth. Beatrice is water in the desert of my need right now. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I need her. I said no to sex the other night because she’s still recovering and she’s so bruised. But Beatrice is Beatrice. She could have a head resembling the donut version of Homer Simpson's head from that Treehouse of Horror episode of The Simpsons, but if she still had her voice and her body, I would still have this craving to jump her.
“I can’t hear you! Do you hear me!?” Beatrice paces and shouts.
“Yes Captain!” The team shouts back, gets to their feet, and claps. I don’t. I just gawk at Beatrice, as I remember the third time I had sex with her. She was commanding then, too. She was so instructive—so precise—so Beatrice.
—
Months earlier
The first time I was with Beatrice, it was incredible. She ate me out until the sunset after I kicked JC’s bigoted ass out of my house. She licked me up like I was her favourite dessert and never stopped. The second time was when I woke up the next morning and tasted her for the first time. I sucked on her clit for the first time—it was the first clit I sucked, for that matter.
I did exactly as she did the night before, but with an increased pace. She loved it. She even asked if I was sure if I had never been with a woman before because she liked it so much. High praise indeed. But the day later, I was letting Beatrice take control again. I let her show me how to elicit the most pleasure from her.
"Alright, now give me your leg.” Beatrice panted down to me with her boobs red from me sucking on them so much. They touched my chest. Her hair was messy, so I pushed it back over her sweaty, oh, so sweaty forehead.
“Wha..What?” I panted back, sweating heavily on my back on Bea’s bed.
Beatrice moved away from being on top of me. She edged away from me on her knees. “Give me your leg..” She stopped. “Darling.”
Fuck I loved it when she called me darling. It was intoxicating. So Intoxicating. My body shivered. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. Oh god. My core felt so hot all over again. So wet.
I raised my leg for her limply. She gripped my calf with one firm hand and pulled my leg to her chest—to her red-heaving chest. I felt my calf touch her boob—her throbbing nipple. I moaned with arousal as it did. "Mmm, what now?”
Beatrice kissed my calf and grinned with such a mischievous grin that I crumbled as I saw it form on her lips. It was amazing and exciting, and every moment was making me shake inwardly as well as outwardly.
“Now do as I say.” Bea’s tone was so authoritative. So sure, so cheeky. It wasn’t like JC when he told me to do something. It was firm but so kind. I knew she’d take care of me and instruct me in every way I needed her to.
“Show me.” I looked up at Beatrice with devotion and lust in my eyes.
Beatrice moved forward with her knees on the bed. She positioned her clit on mine. “Ah.” I gasped as my clit touched hers. We were both so wet, so hot, and so needy for each other.
“Now I’ll move into you, and you into me.” Beatrice placed her palm on my stomach.
I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t think I’d ever been so turned on in my entire life. The crescendo of days since Milan—to this moment—this feeling. Me and Beatrice built up this untameable hunger that neither I nor she could contain. Her pupils were blown; they were more black than brown. She had such a look of hunger in her eyes. It made me writhe and desperately crave to be hers—to taste her cum.
“Say yes, Bea. Say you understand, and you’ll do as I say.”
“Ye..Yes.” I stuttered and moved my palms to her hips. I dug my fingernails into her glistening, sunkissed, sweaty skin. It elicited Beatrice to take a breath. “I understand, Bea.”
Beatrice moved into me as soon as I finished speaking. I trembled so violently. My clit was so tender—so wet—so desperate. “Oh, shit. I..I oh my god.” I sagged deeper into my pillow.
“Move in to me too.” Beatrice demanded, and I obeyed, sliding my clit into hers so our clits slid into each other. "Yes…mmmm, that’s it. Good girl.”
I parted my lips after she said that. I was hers. All hers. Her girl. Only hers.
Beatrice bit her lip. She purred like a hungry, starving cat. She was so eager for me, like she was the previous night when she ate me out for hours and hours. “You’re so wet, Ava. This is where you belong, isn’t it? Tell me this is where you belong.”
“It’s where I belong. I love you.” I added, my voice becoming so shaky. I spoke for Beatrice, but my body pleaded to just moan and gasp instead.
“I love you too. I’m sorry I left you in that hotel. I’ll never ever leave you again. I'll...Yes! Thats it.” Beatrice exclaimed as I increased my sliding pace.
She went faster, too. The pace needed to go faster. I wanted her boobs to bounce above me. I wanted to grip them with my hands after they did. I wanted my own to bounce below Beatrice.
“Go..Good!” I growled and started to feel cum seeping out of me. I went faster, and then more or less bounced off of Bea’s clit. The noises we made together were so perfect. The moaning, the slapping, and the squelchy noises inflamed me to peaks I’d never reached before sexually. Beatrice and I became one. We were one, embracing love and lust.
“Yes, Yes, Yes. Yes!” Beatrice screamed, and I felt myself release all over her clit as she did. I didn’t stop moving, though. I couldn’t. I wanted more. I wanted to do more for Beatrice.
I slapped Bea’s hips with my palms. “Ah! Fuck!” Beatrice laughed, then licked her teeth with her tongue. We didn’t stop moving—slapping out clits together. I could’ve exploded at how much the picture above had a complete hold on my being. I moved my hands to finally grip one of her boobs.
Beatrice slowed us down. “Huh? Don’t stop now.”
Beatrice let some spit drool down from her lips, and I watched it string down to our clits. I watched and watched as Bea’s saliva meshed with our soaking with cum folds.
“So needy.” Beatrice laughed, then resumed moving into me, and I resumed moving into her.
I breathed in relief as Beatrice continued. I decided I wanted to taste Beatrice's cum and watch her taste me too. So I moved my fingers to our clits as we moved. I scooped up some cum, then brought two fingers into my mouth. I trailed my Beatrice-covered fingers across my lips. I never took my eyes off Beatrice. Never. She kept moving into me. She was transfixed by me. By my fingers covered in her cum, touching my lips gently—lustfully.
“I’m always needy for you now.” I stopped. I had my own word that affected Beatrice, like darling affected me. “Baby.” I saw the instant effect I had on Beatrice. I loved it. I loved seeing her become dazed for me. I moved my fingers into my mouth. “Mmm, so good.”
Beatrice slowly moved her palm from my stomach to my wrist. She pulled my fingers out of my mouth and moved my hand to our clits. She stopped sliding into me. I let my hand holding her boob fall to the bed. She guided my hand—my fingers—to dab at both our clits. She released my leg, then crawled down to me again, never letting my wrist go. She stopped directly above me. Her hair touched my face.
“Put your fingers in my mouth.” Beatrice let my wrist go. I instantly trailed my fingers over her swollen lips. The cum shone off of them. “Inside.” Beatrice whispered in command, and I obeyed by moving two fingers covered in Bea’s cum into her mouth. She wrapped her lips around my fingers. She sucked directly above me. She sucked and sucked and sucked and never looked away. Her brown eyes were feisty. She loved my taste.
I was under her spell. I never wanted to leave that moment. I never wanted to not be underneath Beatrice as she sucked on my fingers. That was my home. I was all hers. I learned more that day. I wanted desperately to learn everything Beatrice had to teach me.
—
I shake in my seat as my teammates leave the room to go to the tunnel. Beatrice pats several of them on the back, giving them some words of encouragement as she does. “Come on! Go get it! You got this! I believe in all of you!”
I can’t move. I need my Bea. I need to not be here. I need to have her in our bed and have her sucking on my fingers again. I need every inch of her on top of me. I haven’t had sex in weeks. I’m so desperate for her that I completely forget about football. I just focus on this craving. I’m in such a daze right now. My eyes go to Bea’s ass, covered by her tight denim jeans. The addition of her leather jacket makes her look exactly like she did in Milan on that fateful night.
Beatrice catches me looking. She grins. Oh, she’s worn this outfit on purpose. She purposely didn’t let me see her until the game today for this.
She starts to stroll towards me with so much confidence. Her recent anxiety about coming to see everyone at Carrington already seems to be a distant memory.
“Bea, I..I.” I fail to find my words as Beatrice reaches me.
Beatrice leans down to my ear. “Do you like what you see?”
I rest my cheek on her cheek. I moan at the touch of her skin. “You know I do.”
“I thought you didn’t want me like this.”
I close my eyes. I tilt my head towards her. “I’ll always want you. I was just worried it was so soon after your surgery.”
"Mmm, so you want me tonight, then?”
“Ye..Yes.”
Beatrice kisses my ear. “Win this match, and you’ll have me. Don't, and you won’t.”
“I will, I promise.” I whimper. I go to move my lips to Bea’s cheek. Beatrice moves away. She walks away from me.
“Bea, don’t go.” I say like I did in Milan as that elevator door closed.
Beatrice stops at the doorway. She winks back at me. “Go win for me first.”
Beatrice sways her hips as she leaves, giving me one more perfect view of her ass. Beatrice wants that title, and I’m going to give it to her. Then we’ll celebrate in the way I crave—in the way I’ll always crave. I click my neck, get up, and head to the doorway. Win for Beatrice. Win to have her tonight.
Chapter 42: Ava Unleashed
Summary:
Ava fights for the title but mostly for Beatrice.
Chapter Text
I breathe in the London air. I focus my eyes and mind on the ball coming my way through that air after Lilith just did one of her trademark cross-field passes. I keep my breath held and watch the ball all the way until I control it with the side of my boot. Win for Bea. Win to be with her tonight. I always crave her, but damn it, she’s got me wrapped around her finger again today. I must do anything she asks. I have to. I need to. The trophy is nothing when I have this deep-seated craving for her within me.
I travel up the left flank of the pitch with this craving fueling me to weave past multiple white-jersey-wearing Tottenham players in their fancy-ass stadium. One player, two players, three players—I speed past with hunger, drive, and skill. I hope Beatrice is keeping a close eye right now, because this drive is all hers tonight. It’ll always be hers.
When I reach the edge of Tottenham’s penalty area and multiple players block me from goal, I should pass it off to Shannon or whip a cross in for Dora. But Bea’s previous words ring in my mind—the feeling of her lips close to my ear stops me before I make a choice.
Beatrice leaned down to my ear. “Do you like what you see?”
I rested my cheek on her cheek. I moaned at the touch of her skin. So soft—so Bea. “You know I do.”
“I thought you didn’t want me like this.”
I closed my eyes. I tilted my head towards her. “I’ll always want you. I was just worried it was so soon after your surgery.”
"Mmm, so you want me tonight, then?”
“Ye..Yes.”
Beatrice kissed my ear and whispered with such a silky tone that I crumbled into a devoted ball of need and desire. “Win this match, and you’ll have me. Don't, and you won’t.
“I will, I promise.” I whimpered. I went to move my lips to Bea’s cheek. Beatrice moved away. She walked away from me. I wanted to drag her back, lock the dressing room door, and have her on the cold marble floor.
“Bea, don’t go.” I said like I did in Milan as that elevator door closed. I was desperate for her to stay for us, just to forget football and be together. But my body was rooted to my seat as I shuddered all over.
Beatrice stopped at the doorway. She winked back at me. “Go win for me first.”
I feel a growl inside me brewing. I want this trophy won and the celebrations to be done so I can be with Beatrice again as soon as possible. Some of Bea’s words echo again: “Don't, and you won’t.” My growl turns to a snarl, and I kick the ball forward between two approaching Tottenham defenders. I burst between them in such a blur of movement that they barely had time to react. There’s still two defenders in my path to goal and the keeper in her all-blue kit.
I’m going to smash this with a curve and whip beyond them in a knuckleball pile drive towards the net. I move my leg back, and I power myself up like a Duracell battery. My mind briefly goes to that stupid Duracell battery-animated bunny from those TV ads. I guess I am a powered bunny right now. Just not by stupid batteries but by the desire to hold Bea’s ass in my palms again. My craving for her is a thing that needs to be analysed and studied by the brightest minds in the world. It’s untameable. Nothing can stop me from winning this title for her, so I can have her again.
Bang. I smash the ball with the top of my boot. It curves past the two defenders with a furious whip. If this is going on target, I’d advise the keeper not to try to palm it away with her gloved hand. No amount of gloves will protect her hands from breaking if she is quick enough to attempt a save.
I watch it speed towards the net. The keeper gets a palm to it. That’ll hurt for weeks. I don’t care, though, because the ball rifles off her palm against the crossbar and bounces furiously against the ground, then up to the top of the net.
“Vamos!” I shout and punch the air as Tottenham’s stadium goes silent, except for the legions of United fans who lose their collective shit.
”Get in!” Shannon tries to grab a fist full of my sleeve, but I dodge her.
“Holy shit! What a strike!” Camila tries to hug me, but I dodge her too.
”Wooo!” Dora literally jumps to grab all of me. I duck underneath her, and she rolls to the ground. Oops, I grin. That’ll probably be on one of those football blooper highlight shows after today or turned into a funny meme. Sorry, not sorry, Dora. I have eyes to celebrate with one person first. Beatrice. She’s on the sidelines, hugging Suzanne. Go find Vincent to hug, or suck on one of your penis pops, Suzanne. That Bea is mine.
I sprint to Beatrice and see she’s still in her denim jeans but is now wearing her United shirt instead of her leather jacket and checkered shirt.
“Vamos! Vamos!” I shout again. I probably look like a madwoman right now with how fast I’m sprinting and how many teammates I’ve dodged.
Beatrice moves away from hugging Suzanne. She doesn’t see me basically galloping towards her, and I jump on her before she can react. “Ooft!” We fall to the ground in a tangled heap. Okay, probably not wise after Bea’s surgery, but I can’t think straight right now. Jubilation controls me, and complete adrenaline and the need for Beatrice fuel me.
“Come on!” A member of the back room staff shouts away from my view as I hug Beatrice on the ground.
I go next to Bea’s ear and feel my legs brush the fabric of her jeans. “I’m going to rip these jeans off you later.”
Beatrice palms my back and laughs below me. She rolls me on my back. Her hair falls on my face. Her cheeks are red and straining from happiness. She’s so happy. I’m making her happy. I love making her smile like this. I love it more than any smutty thoughts I have of being with her. “Go win the match first; it’s only one nil.”
I smirk. “Don't worry, I will.”
“You better.” Beatrice quickly drags me to my feet, then pushes me to the pitch. I sprint back towards the United half, intent on making this a crushing victory before halftime. Manchester City and, more importantly, that bitch Adriela will see us crushing Tottenham and know their title hopes are finished. It’s a little bit of payback for Adriela hurting Beatrice, as well as earning Beatrice tonight. City and their players were so confident before today that United would slip up. Pfft, I’m going to show them quickly that confidence was foolish to have, and then I’m going back to the hotel with my Bea.
—
The clock strikes 90 minutes, the game is almost done, and Ava is sprinting around the pitch like a woman possessed. It’s five nil, and we’ve crushed Tottenham into smithereens. The title is ours, but Ava isn’t slowing down. If anything, she’s hungry for more. She’s scored a ruthless hat trick and assisted two goals from Lilith and Dora. It isn’t enough for Ava, though. I think I’ve unleashed a horny football monster on Tottenham today. My little plan to make Ava even more desperate for victory has paid off, and then some.
Every time she’s scored today, she then subsequently sprinted over to me like a rocket-powered cheetah before jumping on me. For her second goal, she bit my ear, and I swear I heard her growl as she held me down. For the third goal, well, I giggle in remembrance as I walk across the dugout. She had her fingers on the edges of my shirt, and she almost ripped it off me. I had to stop her, of course, and she recomposed herself quickly. But it only showed me what I’ve unleashed today. Tonight, Ava’s going to be, uh, let’s say enthusiastic, at the very least.
I’m starting to feel hot and bothered myself by the second as I see Ava sprint around the pitch with so much drive. I can’t deny, even after we’ve been together for months and months now, that seeing anyone be this crazy about me is flattering beyond belief. It’s certainly an ego boost knowing that I have this effect on Ava. It always has been. But today I’m being reminded just how much Ava craves me, and hell, I’m being reminded too how much I crave her. She's insanely beautiful. She fights for what she wants. She’s stubborn. She's the most caring person I’ve ever met, and she loves me. What's there not to crave?
How did I get so lucky to have someone this beautiful inside and out love me and crave me in this way? She’s my lover, my best friend, and I can’t deny that I want to grab her and carry her away from this pitch to be with her in the way we always desire right this second.
“Hey.”
“Fuck!” I jump at the sound of Shannon’s voice. I was so entranced by Ava as she spun past an opposing player that I didn’t see Shannon coming.
“Are you on edge still? We’ve won the title; it’s wrapped up now. Relax." Shannon pushes my shoulder playfully.
I clear my throat and adjust my United armband on my sleeve awkwardly. I’m not going to relax, like Ava isn’t going to stop going for more goals on the pitch. I’m too energised right now by the prospect of first lifting the trophy and then getting to my and Ava’s hotel room. The team can get absolutely plastered tonight. Me and Ava have far better plans.
Suzanne steps next to me and puts her arm over my shoulder. “We did it, Beatrice. Well..” The final whistle blows. I push Suzanne off and sprint to Ava on the pitch.
“Yes!!” Camila and Lilith exclaim, then hug as I sprint past them.
“Champions! Wooo!” Dora shouts.
All I care about is reaching Ava. She’s on her knees, panting for breath. “Ava!” I slide over to her and hug her tightly.
“We did it!”
“We?” Ava laughs and hugs me back.
I laugh. “You know what I mean.”
Ava sighs, then rests her forehead on my shoulder. I rub her back. She’s ridiculously hot and sweaty. So much so that her United top is soaked through. “Can we go back to the hotel now?”
“We've got to do the trophy lift and celebrate with the team first, silly.” I kiss her cheek.
Ava groans. “Urgh, fuck the trophy you promised.”
"Hmm, mmm, I did, and after we’re done here, we’ll go straight to the hotel.”
“Pffft, stupid trophy.” She mumbles.
“We’ve fought for this title all season; we should at least lift the trophy.” I chuckle as I cradle her head.
“Trophy is just a metal piece of shit. I want my Bea. I’ll always want you more than football, trophies, or anything.”
I melt a bit at that. “You know I feel the same.”
“Mmm, I know.” Ava turns over and rests her head on my chest.
I stroke her hair and kiss her head. “You’re all sweaty, and we’ll probably have a bunch of champagne sprayed on us in a minute.”
"Hmm, that's true; we’ll need a shower.”
“We will do your right.” I agree. She loves to take showers with me. It’s so sensual and literally steamy when we’re together. What better way to celebrate an exhausting season than to have another one together?
I hear the United fans cheering for our title success. I hear our teammates celebrating around the pitch, and in the past, I’d be with them right now. This is not the past, though. It’s a far brighter, more hopeful present, and all I truly want is to be with Ava back home with Smooshy.
“I love you, Bea. It’s been one hell of a season, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been the best one of my career, by far."
“Why’s that.” Ava teases.
I kiss Ava’s hair. “You know why.” No season will eclipse this one. This season is the season I met Ava, fell in love, and found a beaming light in my dark world.
Chapter 43: The Real Trophy
Summary:
Ava gets what’s promised.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After all the press and celebrations were completed, me and Ava rushed to the team’s hotel, soaking in champagne. I now backtrack through my and Ava’s hotel room towards the bathroom. I giggle against Ava's lips as she furiously works on my belt around my waist.
“Where are you getting this energy from? You looked so tired on the pitch.
“I’ve always got energy for this.” Ava growls and bites my lower lip.
I can’t contain my beaming smile at those fiery words. I can’t contain anything after finally winning the title with Ava on the team for the first time. I lifted the trophy I celebrated, but this right here right now feels far more enjoyable. My adrenaline is spiking, and the need for Ava to taste me—to slaver her soft lips—across my body is all-consuming.
I rip off my United shirt as Ava tugs my jeans down to my ankles roughly. I need her lips back on mine as soon as possible. Ava senses my need and lunges up to my lips, and we crash together as I step out of my jeans. Ava loves me in those. She’s crazy for me when I’m in them. It’s the key to making Ava hungry for my touch and hungry to have me.
“Shirt. Off.” I murmur into Ava’s mouth, unwilling to part my lips from hers.
“Rip it off me.”
I smirk with devilishness and roam my hands up to the collar of Ava’s top. I pull, and the lightweight fabric rips easily in two.
Ava wiggles out of her torn top and briefly takes her lips off mine, much to my chagrin. "Fuck, that was hot.” Ava quickly pulls me in by the back of my neck, and our lips rejoin in a frantic, needy embrace. I untie Ava’s black United shorts and yank them down to her ankles.
We both smell of alcohol, and it fills my nostrils, but I don’t care. I feel at home in Ava’s mouth, and I don’t care about the pungent scent filling the room. All I care about is my home and having my tongue caress Ava’s in a frantic, needful dance. I pull Ava by her bare hips into me and backtrack into the bathroom, then kick the door closed. The sensation of her lips on mine makes me shudder in need. Her and my stupid bra need to go. I want her breasts to touch mine right this second. So I unclip Ava’s bra and toss it aside to God knows where, then do the same with my own.
I lose myself in our desperate kissing. I don’t want to be parted from them again. I can’t. I feel my back hit the shower quadrant sliding doors behind me and gasp at the coldness of it. It doesn’t matter; keep my tongue in Ava’s mouth and keep exploring, like this is the last time I’ll have my tongue in Ava’s mouth. It’s a joyous day, but after my injury, my words to Ava about taking each day as it comes and savouring every second we have make me and my body feel oh so serious and desperate to soak in this moment rather than get distracted by teasing words or giggles.
I lower my hands to Ava’s ass and hook my fingers into her pants. I pull her closer to me by pulling at the fabric. She moans into my lips, and I moan into hers.
Mine. My Ava. My light. My cheeky, ridiculously talented light—on and off the pitch. I love her, I crave her, and I desire her more than football—more than anything.
Ava entraps me by placing her palms on the sliding doors behind my head, and I squeeze her toned ass in my palms harder.
“Bea.” Ava gasps hot air into my mouth.
Ava’s usually the one grabbing my ass. She’s the one entranced by it. but I love hers too. I love her eyes the most, but her ass is firm and so soft against my palms and my fingers, and it’s mine. Ava’s mine, and I’m Ava’s.
I growl inwardly at myself, but I need to speak, so I move my lips away from Ava’s with immense reluctance. I want to lift Ava off the ground and hold her by her thighs. I want to feel her holding onto me as our lips and bodies embrace. “Jump up.”
Ava smirks and pulls down her pants. I do the same, and then she jumps up. I grab her by her thighs and lift her up.
My heart stills as Ava smiles excitably above me. She’s always so beautiful. Her hair is greasy and smells of alcohol; she’s ragged but no less beautiful than she always is. Her smile is so free when she’s with me like this—so beautifully free.
“So beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”
Ava rubs my shoulders, and her excitable smile turns gentle. “I’m the lucky one, Baby Bea.”
I laugh and relax my back against the sliding doors behind me. “So you’re finally calling me that again? It’s been ages since you last called me Baby Bea. I believe you promised me it was a permanent thing before the city match.”
Ava plays with my equally sticky, alcohol-drenched hair. Her smile dies a bit. “I kind of forgot after what happened to you.” Ava smiles widely again, much to my inward joy. “Thanks for reminding me, though. You liked it, didn’t you?”
I shrug as I keep my grip on Ava’s toned thighs strong. I loved it when she called me that little pet name, but as she said, it’s been a stressful time since the morning before the city match. It was forgotten. It’s not now. It’s back, and I want her to keep calling me it. “Maybe.”
Ava places my hair gently behind my ear. She leans down towards my lips. “Then I won’t stop saying it, Baby Bea.” Ava’s whisper—her hot breath hitting my lips—elicits me to shiver and feel such a hot dampness in my core that my legs buckle.
“G..Good.”
“Mmm.” Ava brushes her gentle nose against mine. My heart clenches. I love the feeling of my nose against hers. It’s soft—always so soft. It’s softer than any pillow—any velvety fabric. It always, without fail, makes me emotional. Even when we’re in a hurried, driven-by-lust state, it always makes me feel a pain in my chest. But I want it. I want the pain. If I didn’t have this painful feeling because of Ava’s soft nose touch every day, it would hurt far more.
“We’re free now. Me and you—off to Lisbon, then off to Milan. No more football. How does that sound?”
“Absolutely.” I kiss Ava quickly and softly. “Completely.” I kiss her again. “Wonder.” I kiss Ava again. “Ful.”
Ava goes to my ear. She nips at my earlobe. It makes me twitch a bit in arousal. “Let's take this shower, shall we?”
I grin a toothy grin and kiss Ava’s cheek. “Let’s.”
I spin us around and awkwardly try to slide the shower door open. “Little help, I’ve got my hands full right now.” I giggle and quickly regrip Ava’s soft thighs before I drop her.
Ava starts kissing my neck and rubbing my shoulder blades. "Mmm, mmm, mmm, I’m busy.”
“I…I” I can’t have Ava stop kissing my neck. It’s too perfect for me to get Ava to stop having Ava’s lips there—too perfect. It feels too good to interrupt. So I drag my foot across the sliding door in an effort to open it so I can carry Ava into the shower. I’m really grateful for all the strength and conditioning training I do at this moment. “Come on, come on.”
“Almost got it?” Ava chuckles, then starts to suck on my neck.
"Uh, huh, almost." I exhale and tilt my head upward in pleasure at Ava’s tongue licking my neck as she begins to suck my skin more intently.
I drag the door open blissfully. “Thank god.” I laugh, and Ava squeezes onto my shoulder blades tightly.
I step into the shower quadrant with Ava in my arms, then quickly press the button to ignite the hot water. It’s instantly hot, to my relief, and the room starts to steam up. I slide the shower door closed with my foot, and then the glass screen steams up too.
I stand us directly below the shower head, and it quickly soaks us both in its cleansing warmth. “Ava.” I moan, and she moves away from my neck back to my lips, where I’m desperate for her to stay. I’m home again. I push my tongue into her mouth and swirl my tongue around hers. I travel up to the roof of her mouth, then lick. It’s a sensitive area, and Ava buckles into me as I lick. I feel Ava lick underneath my tongue, and I buckle too. My legs feel like jelly, and my arms are straining while holding her, but I don’t let go of her thighs. I keep her up. I keep her strongly in my grip, refusing to let her go.
I push her back to the marble wall, and the little gasp as Ava’s back hits it inflames me further. It gives me a boost of strength, and I keep her pinned to the wall. She moves her hands into my soaking hair, and we get further lost in each other. It’s been weeks since we last did this. Far too long.
—
Finally, after so much teasing and desire and such a long day, I’m with Beatrice again, where the world isn’t watching and my teammates, the United fans, are no longer standing in my way of having Beatrice again.
To be specific, I’m currently face-deep in Bea’s clit—her ass, licking quickly, and pinning Beatrice against the shower screen door by her ass with a firm grip on both her cheeks. This feels like an explosion of need after a far too long period without being with Beatrice in this way. I’m licking fast and feeling and tasting Bea’s cum enter my mouth as I push her to the edge. I’d love to get a view of Beatrice right now from outside the shower as well as stay here firmly buried in her ass. Her boobs would be such a sight to see, as they’re pressed up against the glass door. I’ve sucked on those boobs—her tits ferociously already, but seeing them squished up against the glass door would probably make me cum by the pure vision of it.
“Yesss, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Beatrice begs, and I obey. I part her legs a bit more from my position, kneeling down on the wet marble floor, and keep flicking my tongue over her folds. I bury my nose deeper into her ass and breathe in the scent of sex—of her.
“I’m almost..” I feel Beatrice take a stilling breath and grin at my effect on her. I bite her folds with my teeth, then drag my teeth across them. “Ah.” I love it when she makes little whimpers or gasps like that. I’ve been craving to hear it all day ever since she teased me in the dressing room pregame. I did what she wanted on the pitch, and now I have my real reward, not some stupid silver trophy or medal around my neck. This is my trophy, my reward, and I’m licking up every inch of her in almost crazed fashion.
She’s close, but I won’t stop after she squirts into my mouth, tongue, and lips. I want more of her essence, her cum, to taste. I move not one, not two, but three fingers into her soaking wet folds from the shower, as well as from my hard work.
“Oh.” She twitches above, and I hold her in place firmer in response. I move my fingers deeper and deeper as I lick. Up and down, up and down. “Shit!”
I giggle and tut, “Language Bea.”
“More.” She pleads, and I give her exactly what she wants as she cums into my awaiting mouth. She releases all over my fingers. I push my fingers knuckle deep inside of her.
“Right there, that’s...” I cut off her words as my fingers go up and down again. Her walls are clamping around my fingers now. She’s twitching above me, desperate for more.
“What was that?” I say with an open mouth and my tongue on her glistening folds.
“Huh?” She laughs.
I lick my tongue up next to my thrusting fingers and say it again. “I said, What was that?”
“I can’t understand you with your tongue on...fuck!” I thrust at a blistering pace. I stop licking to give myself room to do so unhindered.
“Can you understand me now?” I look up with hungry eyes.
“Keep going, keep going!” She begins to crumble and writhe against the wall. I watch with awe as she tilts her head to the ceiling. In and out. In and out. I admire the curve of her back—her toned shoulder blades that I clung on to earlier as she lifted me into the shower. It’ll never get old admiring Bea’s back—admiring her shaking and writhing due to my touch.
“Say my name. Scream it.” I demand as I grab her ass tightly.
“Ava!”
I don't usually ask her to say my name, but its effect on me is instant, and I think I’ll do it far more often now.
I get to my feet and take one finger out deftly. She whines, but the whines stop as I kiss her neck and keep fucking her. “Keep saying my name.” I murmur, eager for more of my name on her lips.
“Ava.” She breathes, and I bite her skin in reply.
“Louder, scream it again.” She shivers as I thrust harder than I’ve ever thrust into her before.
“Fuck! Ava!” She moves her ass down into my fingers.
I move my lips to her ear as I fuck her. “You like that?”
“Yesss.” She drags her s’s and hisses more or less to the sliding door’s glass.
I kiss her ear and kiss her cheek repeatedly. I can’t stop when my girl says she loves what I’m doing. I don’t want to stop, and she doesn’t want me either.
“I needed this.” She says with such relief. It’s been a trying time, and she needs to feel good after it. I’m going to spend the whole summer making her feel good like this. She deserves it.
”So you’re saying you wanted this no matter what happened today?” I tease and rest my chin on her shoulder, then refocus on pushing my fingers into Beatrice and pushing her harder against the glass.
“What…what do you think?” She sags her head back on my shoulder. It fits so well there. She fits like a well-worn glove. She fits as if she’s the only person who’ll ever fit there or has ever fit there.
Notes:
Plan is to pick up Fifty Shades after I’m done with this. Idk when that’ll be tho we got Lisbon and Milan and a lot of smut to go 😅❤️
Chapter 44: Perfect
Summary:
Ava and Bea revel in the season being over.
Chapter Text
Back in Manchester, back in the quiet after celebrating with an open-top bus parade with fans, I play with Ava’s hand as I rest my cheek on her hair—our naked bodies pressed together beneath the bedding—our legs interwoven as the morning light comes through the window. It’s so still now. So tranquil. It's just the sounds of Ava’s and my breathing filling the room.
I let out a sigh of complete contentment. I start to trace the lines of Ava's palm with the tips of my fingers.
"Mmm, that tickles.” Ava calmly—gently says.
I smile just as gently and drag my thumb across the top line on Ava’s palm. "I can’t believe this season is over, can you? It’s so strange. It’s felt like a whole lifetime since I met you.”
Ava moves her fingers into the gaps between mine, and we both squeeze our hands together. A perfect fit. A light and the defender of that light. Our hands look so right, like this—joined as one. Me and Ava. Me and my girlfriend, whom I never expected to find but am so very grateful I did.
"Mmm, I know, it’s crazy to think about. You’ve...” Ava brings our hands to her lips. “changed my life, Bea. You are my life now. I love you so much.”
I melt into our bed. I can’t force myself to not whimper at those perfect words. I kiss Ava’s hair. I breathe in her smell; the scent of Ava is so lovely to inhale through my nose. To just be with her is just as lovely. I feel at home here. Right at home, “I love you, my darling. I love you and Smooshy.”
Ava moves our hands away from her lips and places them on her chest. She wiggles and tilts her cheek upwards towards me. I instantly kiss her soft skin and linger there, letting my nose feel the gentle touch of Ava’s cheek. I’m literally kissing her dimpled smile. Her beautiful, dimpled smile. “Mmmmwa.” I kiss her and her kiss, then brush my nose on her.
“I like my darling. It makes me feel all fuzzy inside.” Ava giggles. Her giggles and laughs are lifeblood to me. I must hear her laugh every day. I must make her happy, or my day will be less full. That’s why the recent tribulations of my injury and surgery have definitely been extra hard to deal with. Ava’s been upset seeing me the way I have been and still am, with a bruised eye and a swollen post-op cheekbone. She's been upset, so I have too. Her emotions affect me so vividly now. She feels something, and I feel it too, even when we’re not in the same room. If I know Ava is concerned about something like my safety, like she has been recently, I feel concern too. In my case, it’s about Madrid one day, but we feel things the other feels do. It’s scary to have this connection, but when I didn’t have it, I was so unhappy. I was so filled with melancholy, and now that I feel the opposite of that, I outright refuse to let it go.
“I love hearing you say that.” I bring our conjoined hands away from Ava’s chest and kiss them like she did. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back. “I’ve hated seeing you be so stressed because of me. It’s the last thing I want.”
Ava turns over on the bed and moves onto her front. The covers shuffling as she does. She rests her cute little chin on my chest and places her free hand on my naked chest. I’ve never felt so unbelievably comfortable with someone touching my naked chest or intertwining their legs into mine like this. I’ve slept so often like this, and I want to keep doing so.
"Bea, please never feel bad when I worry about you. It’s my job to worry. You’re my..”
“Future fiancé?” I interject with a slight smile. I can’t get those words out of my head since Ava said them. I can’t. It sounds so right.
Ava tilts her head, her messy hair falling on my chest. She beams. It immediately lights up the room more than the sun coming through the curtains ever could. “Exactly; one day we’ll be that. So I want to worry for you, always.”
My heart tightens. I even feel myself getting emotional. I lean down to get a kiss from my girl. “I’m so happy; you’re making me so happy.”
Ava presses her lips on mine. It’s gentle, as always. She palms my cheek, and we begin to caress each other's lips. I breathe out in pure calmness and contentment. I’m back home with my person, enjoying her scent, her touch on my cheek, and her breast touching my side under the covers. I can have this with Ava for longer in the morning and night now, be it here or in Milan or Lisbon; we don’t have to get up for training early in the morning. We can sleep in or stay up later with each other and soak in every blissful second we have together.
“You know..” Ava whispers as we kiss. “We said, Let’s not think about the future too much, mmm.” I put my tongue in her mouth and grin against her lips as I hear the little moan Ava makes.
“Mmm.” I place my hand on the curve of Ava’s defined back and pull her as close to me as possible.
I swirl my tongue with Ava’s—her saliva mixing with mine, her scent filling my nostrils. Her breath hits my skin. We keep our interlocked hands locked together on the bed; we keep squeezing; we don’t let go. Ava moves on top of me, placing her thighs on either side of me. Our cores touch; they brush each other, and a slight wave of arousal emanates through me.
Ava’s breasts rest on top of mine, and they squeeze together. So soft—so Ava—so us.
“Other hand, Baby Bea.” Ava murmurs, and the smile on my lips is instantaneous. I really enjoy her saying that. Baby got me hot and bothered and still does, but the addition of Bea brings me back to our tender selves, back to Ava being so adorable with her affection towards me that it hurts my chest.
I obey Ava and move my other hands fingers between hers. I lock my hand with hers, and Ava raises both of our hands to the pillow behind me. She sways her hips, and our folds brush at an increased speed. I feel wetter and warmer and ready for some morning love-making in the comfort and warmth of my and Ava’s home.
We keep caressing each other's lips; we keep swirling and swirling our tongues together. I’m lost now. There’s no talking about whatever Ava wanted to talk about a second ago. It’s just time to get completely lost in Ava.
Ava shifts her legs and moves them in between mine. She thrusts upward. “Mmm.” We both moan at the same time. Our clits embrace elicits that moan with ease. Yesss. I need more of this. I need to be in Ava’s warmth. I need her on top of me.
I squeeze Ava’s hands up against my own, resting on my pillow, as she sways and then thrusts. Sways then thrusts. Wetter and wetter. More friction beginning to create more amazing wetness.
Ava pushes my hands down on the bed. I hear a little growl emanate from her. It sends a shot of arousal through me, and my stomach goes even hotter as Ava’s stomach moves up and down on mine. Ava suddenly thrusts upwards with more gusto, and I gasp away from her lips, “Oh.” My lower lip drags against Ava’s nose.
Our breathing gets heavier and more audible as our foreheads touch. All my senses are now consumed by Ava—by our bodies together—our clits continually rubbing together. By our breaths. It’s all I hear and feel in the quiet of our bedroom. “Don't stop.” I beg as Ava looks directly into my eyes as she moves into me. “Don't look away.” We’re so close to each other. My eyes are so close to Ava's that I can see my reflection in the black of Ava’s pupils. It’s an amazing sight to see.
“Yes, yes, you’re so wet, baby.” Ava says breathily, and I can’t stop myself from writhing and getting more and more wild at the touch of Ava’s clit. It’s too much. Far too much. Ava’s voice—Ava calling me baby; it’s too much. I can’t. I can’t. I’m getting closer; my body is starting to peak, and my core is beginning to throb and get wetter and wetter.
“Ah, ah, ah, yes, yes, I’m close. Keep going.” I respond just as breathily.
Ava increases the pace. Her swaying and thrusting are so fast that the bed starts to creak louder and louder. “You’re so beautiful like this, so, so beautiful.” Ava pants, and she keeps me pinned down by our interlocked hands.
I close my legs a bit and feel Ava’s legs—her, oh, so toned legs on the inside of mine. There’s no stopping us now. We’re not going to stop. This is so badly needed. It’s like the stress of the last month is being exercised out of us, like it was in our hotel room after the last game of the season.
“You..you too. I love you.” I pant back, desperate for more of this. I’m so close. I Jolt. My cum squirts out of me as Ava keeps moving. “Ah.” I open my mouth and gasp. I feel Ava’s core excude cum too. I see her eyes darken; her pupils are blown. She’s lost in this, and so am I. “Ah.” The last of my releases flows out of me. I don’t want Ava to stop, though. Please don’t stop; never stop. I need this so badly. “Let’s keep going like this, please, Ava. Please keep going.”
Ava moves her hands out of mine. “Hold my ass.” She commands, and I obey. I feel Ava’s soft cheeks on my palms as she sways again. Our wet clits are sticking together now from the cum between us. It’s so easy for Ava now. It’s so damp, so completely soaked.
I pull Ava by her ass into me, and Ava’s eyes roll to the back of her head in pleasure. She bites her lip, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect sight. She curves her back upward, and the touch of Ava’s forehead on mine goes away. My eyes revel in seeing her neck straining red and her breasts appear out from under the covers. So hot. It’s too hot for words.
I crumble now—I completely crumble. I’m just being swallowed by everything, Ava.
“Yessss.” Ava laughs breathlessly, and I squeeze her firmer. My mind and body demand I do what Ava does to me, so I slap her cheeks. “Oh!” Ava looks down at me with a toothy, excited smile. “Do it again.” I slap her again. “Ah! I love that. You never do that.”
I bite my lip with a look of hunger in my eyes. “You like me doing that, huh?”
Ava’s pupils—her smile goes almost wild, and she dives for my lips. She captures them and grabs my cheeks. She’s rough, and I’m rough back. She bites my lip. “Grrr.” She growls and drags her teeth across my lip. She bites at the tip of my lower lip. She keeps it bitten as she keeps moving into me. I shiver—oh, do I shiver—as her teeth keep biting my lip.
She lets my lip go, and it trembles. "I loved it. I love you.”
She stops swaying suddenly and starts to crawl down. "Where are you going?”
Ava grins and moves her hair back over her head. “Where do you think?”
I smile widely and expectantly, and I tease. “You still want to talk about the future?”
Ava throws the covers off her back, and the sight of Ava’s curved back and ass on the end of the bed makes me lick my lips. She’s a goddess. She’s my own goddess of pleasure. She moves my legs onto her shoulders. “Hell no. Only this now.” She grips my thighs. She grins with devilish intent. She shakes her head and breathes hot air into my clit. I enjoy the warmth so much. So very much. “Although.”
I smile broadly down to Ava inches above my clit as my chest heaves in anticipation. “Wha..what?”
“We agree we want to be engaged one day, right?” Ava kisses my clit, and I buck my hips upwards. My body reacting to Ava’s lips with an urgent need for more.
“Uh…huh.” I pat my lips, struggling to breathe now.
“Let’s talk more about that being sooner rather than later, okay? I’m ready, and I want it. I want this. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I can’t describe how much I adore hearing Ava say that. I can’t. I love it so much. I feel my eyes watering. Urgh, my emotions are mixed with being emotional and lustful. I’m a mess. A mess I immediately love feeling, though. “Me too; I want this too.”
Ava kisses the inside of my thigh. Her eyes are just as teasing as her touch. “Perfect, now where were we?”
“We...” my words halt as Ava plants her mouth on my clit. She looks up at me as she quickly flicks her tongue on my folds. “We..were..oh!” Ava increases her pace, and I let my head fall back on my pillow.
“Mmm mmm mmm.” Ava bobs her tongue up my clit and breathes through her nose against me. I can’t anymore. I’m done thinking. I can think about how excited I am about Ava’s desire to be engaged later. This is too good to think of anything else.
Chapter 45: My Bea
Summary:
Ava and Beatrice continue to be lost in each other.
Chapter Text
A week passes, and my previous concern for Beatrice not being up to physical endeavours with me so soon after her surgery is a thing of the past. I can’t take my hands off her once again. We’ve been trying to pack for Lisbon, but we always seem to end up in the situation we find ourselves in now. In each other's arms are naked bodies pressed up against each other as we make passionate love on our bed with clothes meant to be in a suitcase instead on the floor long forgotten.
I breathe in Bea’s scent as we kiss, and we don’t leave each other's lips. Our feet dangle off the end of the bed—our boobs pressed together, our everything touching in a perfect way that’s making me feel like I’m completely one with Beatrice as I lay underneath her.
I rub my hands on Bea’s strong, muscular back and feel like I’m home. This is my home—my safe place where the world can’t touch me and I’m protected by my person.
“Mmm.” I moan as Beatrice moves her warm, wet clit over mine. I feel so needy for more—more of Bea’s release and more of my own—more of Bea’s stomach moving up and down against mine. I love when our tummies touch; it’s so soft and warm. I love it even more when I feel our soft, wet folds connect and flick against each other.
I part my lips from Bea’s and pant into Bea’s mouth. “Faster, please, baby Bea; please, faster.”
“You’re so naughty, we need to start packing.” Beatrice giggles as she keeps going at the same pace, much to my growling, lustful chagrin.
"Packing is boring; go faster, grrrr.” I growl and gently kiss Bea’s lips.
"God, you are so, so, so silly.” Beatrice brushes her nose against mine. It’s soft, which I love, but I’m desperate for more—for us to be wild and frantic and release all over each other. I claw her back, and I gain a little “Oh.” from her.
“I want you to go faster, please." I whisper, dazed by lust, hungry for more.
“Should I get Mr. Strappy?”
I stop, and my wide, excitable smile is instant. I put my head back on the messy duvet. I very much would like that. Like hell, yes, I would like that. Bea’s beautiful wearing a strap, or as Beatrice and I like to call it, Mr. Strappy. So I nod hurriedly, eager to see her wearing it again. “Yes, please.”
Beatrice pokes her tongue out between her teeth and grins. Urgh, I can’t tell you how much I love it when she does that. It’s so free and happy, like I yearn for her to be so, and it’s because of me and because of us. She kisses me repeatedly. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I kiss her back, “Hurry, I’m desperate now.”
"Yes, my darling.” Beatrice kisses me one more time and rolls me off. I immediately miss the contact, but I’m too giddy at Bea calling me my darling to despair too much. My darling just sounds so—so like I’m Bea’s wife or I’m some princess that Beatrice adores and cherishes with all her heart.
“Come on, not now, Mr. Giggles.” Beatrice tuts, and I smile widely towards Beatrice, looking through my toy cupboard, hurriedly moving plush toys aside. I bought every one of my fruity-scented toys with Beatrice by my side. I want to buy more with her. I want to do so many more things with my Bea. I want her to call me her darling for a very long time.
I admire her amazing figure—her ass—her back that has red marks on it from my finger nails—her legs that glisten as a spot of sunlight shines against her skin. "Fuck, I really scored a goddess, didn’t I?”
Beatrice finds and grabs Mr. Strappy by the harness and spins. Her smile is still free and excited. She’s extremely cute when she’s happy. I’ve missed this since her injury. I’ve missed the joy—the free, unencumbered joy we share with each other. I can’t wait to enjoy us again when we go to Lisbon and then Milan.
She pinches her lips, and a little cute blush appears on her neck and cheeks. Me complimenting her in any way always finds a way of making her blush. She’s a giver, and when she receives, I know it means a lot. So I move on to my elbows and give her more: “You are Bea. You’re stunning.”
She moves her messy hair that fell out of her bun behind her ear. She's shy, again painfully cute. "No, you are. My face is all swollen still.”
“Bea.” I extend my arm and outstretch my hand.
She comes back to me. She takes my hand, then she moves back where she belongs. On top of me—in my arms back to my lips—I murmur between kisses, “You’re beautiful, you’re stunning, and I love you.”
She flutters her eyelashes. "I love you more." She kisses me softly and delicately. “Now I believe you had an appointment with Mr. Strappy.”
I grin widely, so ready for Bea and Mr. Strappy. “Hell yeah, I did.”
She moves back from me and sits upright. I see the harness and the blue dildo, and my need for her to be inside of me intensifies beyond belief. I need her inside, and I need her now. She starts to move the harness between her legs, and my heart races in anticipation. I bite my lip. “You’re even more beautiful when you wear that, you know?”
Beatrice secures the strap around her waist and gives me a little mischievous look. Fuck. I can’t explain how much it turns me on, how much wetter I feel, or how much heat rises in my lower stomach.
She shuffles to rest on her knees. She doesn’t speak with words, but her eyes devour me. She inches forward. She moves my legs up. Oh God. I can’t think. She’s so close. My chest heaves up and down, and my erect nipple raises with it. Every part of me is aflame right now seeing Beatrice like this—seeing her grab the dildo and position it against my soaking clit.
“You’ve been very bad today, my cheeky little minx. We should’ve been packing.” She rubs the dildo over my folds. Fuck That’s good. But it’s not enough.
“Punish me then. Teach your girl a lesson.” I say giddily and shake—in desperation for Beatrice to go deep and pump the strap into me.
She leans in between my legs. She rests my calves on her shoulders. The dildo penetrates my clit a little. “Beg.”
“Please, please fuck me.” She pushes the dildo inside and wraps her arms around my hips, pinning me in place. “Oh.” I whimper, and my whole body convulses.
“That's it. Beg me to fuck you. Keep begging.” She purrs, and her pupils expand to be almost completely black and hungry, like I’m her prey.
I move my fingers to my nipples and twist and beg for more—beg for her to go deep and for her to move back and forth into me ruggedly and wildly. "Please, Bea, please, faster, deeper, please.”
Beatrice grips me tight, and I know she’s about to fulfil my desperate wish. She licks her lips, and she pushes herself further inside. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, she’s really going deep. I open my mouth and gasp. “Oh fuck! Bea!”
"You're so beautiful like this. Keep saying my name. Say, Baby Bea, say it for me.” Her eyes widen, her hunger grows, and she starts to slide back and forth, so very deeply, with utter ease, into my soaking core.
My lower lip shakes, and a little “ah” escapes my lips.
“Say my name.” She demands with such ferocity that I immediately obey.
“Baby..Bea Ah.” My breath catches as she keeps pushing the dildo into me, and the feeling of boiling arousal takes hold of me.
“You like that, huh? You want more; you want me to go faster.” Oh my god, she’s so fucking hot. How I control myself around her throughout the day is a mystery. She’s my world; she’s the focus of all my sexual desires—her ass, her thighs, and her fucking perfect tits that now start to bounce.
“Oh god! Yes! Fuck! Please! Go faster!” I beg, and she provides. Yes, yes, yes. She’s thrusting rapidly now—her thighs are hitting the back of mine. “Bea! Bea! Bea! Bea!” I repeat as she fucks me as she keeps sliding the dildo fast and repeatedly with complete ease. “Baby Bea! Bea! Bea! Yes!”
“That’s my girl; you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” Beatrice pants as her tits or boobs, or who the fuck cares what I call them, they’re ducking, I mean fucking bouncing, and there's so fucking hot!
“Yes! Yes! I’m cumming baby fuck!” I can’t.. I can’t. I can't. It's too much, too amazing. I’m on fire. Bea’s amazing; she’s always amazing with a strap; she’s incredible!
Beatrice giggles her cheeks crimson red—her hair completely moving out of her bun as she keeps going and going. So fast, so deep. So good. “You’re so hot when you cum for me.”
I try to grin, but I can't. I’m cumming, and Bea’s going so deep. All I can do is keep my mouth open and groan and writhe in utter delight. “You’re perfect; you’re so fucking perfect!”
Bea’s eyes go serious. She unwraps her arms around my hips so quickly that I barely register it, and she dives for my parted lips. Her tongue goes straight into my mouth. The thrusting dildo halted, but it's still very much filling me up and making me tremble. Does Beatrice have a praise kink I didn’t know about? Because her reaction to more praise certainly suggests so, as she goes frantic with her movements, her tongue is swirling here, there, and everywhere in my mouth, her hands are going through my hair with reckless abandon, and she’s whimpering more than she has before when we had sex.
I note it down for the future, but more so for now. I can't have Beatrice ever think she’s not beautiful inside and out, even in her bruised state. I have to tell her again, so I push her shoulders slightly upward.
“What’s..what’s wrong?” She breathes heavily, quirking an eyebrow.
“You’re beautiful; you’re absolutely...” I gently stroke Bea’s swollen cheek—her bruised eye. “Beautiful.”
She beams, her smile straining her red cheeks. “I can’t tell you how much I want to marry you.” She kisses my cheeks, my jaw, and then back to my lips. She starts to push the dildo into me back and forth again.
“Mmm! Mmm!” I moan against her lips loudly as she penetrates me. I want to marry her so much too. My heart swells, my body tells me—everything tells me that this summer that me and my beautiful Bea are about to enjoy together will end in us being engaged. Madrid is there to be discussed, but is that really an obstacle? I don’t think so at all. It’ll be so long until that’s a reality, if it ever is. What matters is the here and now, and my skipping heart screams to me as Beatrice kisses me and makes me feel so good and so loved. What’s the point in waiting too long when we’re both so sure? When we both want this so much.
I find Bea’s hands and interlock mine with hers. She pushes them above me. I squeeze her hands, and I make a decision. I’m going to get a ring. I’m going to find the perfect location and just do it. Milan. I’ll do it in Milan. It’s perfect. It’s where everything changed for me. It makes so much sense to do it there—so much perfect sense.
Chapter 46: A Swelling Heart
Summary:
Ava rests on Bea’s shoulder as they fly to Lisbon.
Chapter Text
Snuggled in my little spot on Bea’s shoulder as we sit in first class on our flight to Lisbon. I do a little contented wiggle. I feel a little kiss on my head and squeeze Bea’s hand interlocked with my own that rests on Bea’s lap. I miss our little sanctuary in Manchester already—our perfect home where all my plush toys, bar Smooshy, reside. But the thing is, wherever I go, as long as I’m with Beatrice, my baby Bea, I'll always be home. So it’s okay that we’re no longer in Manchester because we’re together and nothing else matters.
I smile as I see the bracelet I made for Beatrice with red, brown, and black beads on her wrist, just above her hoodie’s sleeve. She always wears it. She never takes it off, and that means the world to me. I made it for her, and she loved it. I made little gifts for JC sometimes too; he thanked me for them, be it a necklace or bracelet, but he only wore them once or twice, then they’d get shoved into his sock drawer and forgotten, and it felt like my little offering—my little gift to the person I loved—was being shunned. I made things for him, and his response to me pouring my heart and soul into creating something for him was to forget it.
They were vulnerable offerings, and he forgot them, and I remember the little pang of pain I felt when he stopped wearing them or when I found them long forgotten. I don’t remember a lot about my mom now, to my great sadness, but I do remember her teaching me to make bracelets and necklaces on the beach, where it was nothing but me, her, the sand, and the waves.
I close my eyes and remember her soft, loving voice: “I used to make these with my mama, and she used to make them with hers, and now I can make them with you.”
“It’s so fiddly!” I giggled. I remember it so vividly as my fingers got all tingly trying to tie the little elastic cord to finish making my bracelet. I chose red beads and brown and black for my first ever bracelet, and it's safe to say it’s not a coincidence that I gifted a bracelet with those exact colours to Beatrice. It’s like giving a little piece of myself to Beatrice, unlike JC. She’s treasured it. Treasured me.
I remember my mom’s laugh in reply to my giggles, and I sink further into Bea’s shoulder. “It takes patience, my little silly bunny.” I feel the kiss on my forehead, as if my mother is kissing me now. I miss you. I’ll never stop missing you. I feel myself getting emotional. My eyes water behind my closed eyelids. She won’t see me married; she’ll never meet Beatrice, the woman I love so much. She won’t help me pick out a ring or find a wedding dress. She won’t see how happy I am with such an amazingly kind, gentle, and tender soul that loves me just as much as I love her.
I think of getting a ring by myself in Lisbon or Milan all alone, and I feel such a swell of pain. I have my grandma to come with me, but I want my mom. I want her. But I’ll never have her again.
I open my watery eyes and start to play with Bea’s bracelet with gentle fingers. I thumb some of the beads. I remember some words my grandma said to me at my parents funeral. “Your parents will always be with you, Ava.”
"No, they won’t! They’re gone! They’re gone!” I remember wailing, and my sweet, loving grandma, with her flowery scent and sad smile, hugged my little body fiercely.
“Shhhh. They’ll never be gone. No one is ever truly gone, sweet girl.”
“I want them back!” I wailed, and she squeezed me close on that foggy, oh, so sad day.
“I know, I know. I do too.” She gently moved back, then pointed at my heart. “But they’ll always be here. They’ll always be in your heart. They loved you so much, and that sort of love doesn’t just disappear now that they’re gone.”
"Yes, it does.” I cried and felt a pain I’ll never feel again, or at least hope I won’t.
My grandma’s chestnut eyes, which looked so much like my mother's, shed tears too as she cupped my cheek. “No, it doesn’t. It’s much too strong, much too powerful to ever be lost.” She brought me back into her arms, and I continued to cry and cry.
I sniffle and cry those same painful tears now.
“Darling? What’s wrong?” Beatrice tenderly asks me with her calming voice and cups my shaky wet cheek to look up to her concerned eyes—eyes that love me.
“I was..” I wipe my nose with a cardigan sleeve. “I was thinking of my parents.”
Bea’s caring face softens, and she wipes some of my tears away with her thumb as I hold her hand so tightly. “Is there anything I can do?”
I laugh gently—quietly, my heart hurts from how much I love this woman. She's my family now. I can’t imagine my life without her in it anymore. “You’re already doing it.”
She tilts her head; her hair, which she’s let flow to her shoulders today, tilts with her. Her eyes are so worry-filled for me—so loving.
I bring our joined hands away from Bea's lap to mine and squeeze her hand so tightly—so strongly in desperation to never lose her now that I’ve found her. “I love you so much, it hurts. I love you so fucking much, Bea. You’re the most accepting, loving person I've ever met. You’re..” I flick my eyes across her features—her freckled nose, her shiny hair, her cute nose, her chin, and her ears that turn red when she’s nervous, shy, or blushing. “You’re my family—you’re my home.”
Bea’s eyes glisten, and her smile turns so soft. She leans in and squeezes my hand back just as tightly as I squeeze hers. Our lips connect, and I whimper at the touch. My tears don’t stop flowing. I love her so much. I want to be her wife and face the future holding her hand as I do. Every challenge we face as partners as footballers, I want to face each one of them with her. I caress her lips. I squish my nose against Bea’s. My Bea is my home, mi amor. I can’t wait; I have to propose soon. I can’t hold this feeling of needing to be engaged to Beatrice in. I don’t want to. My heart is swelling with how much I need this. She accepts me. She sees me. She’s changed me. She’s made me feel a love so strong that I’m willing to throw everything away to ensure I’m with her no matter what.
Bea moves a whisper away from my lips. She kisses my forehead and keeps stroking my cheek with her thumb. “I love you, Bea. I love you so much.”
She kisses my nose, my eyes, my cheeks, and my ears. She kisses everywhere on my shaky face, and I love every individual soft kiss completely. She rests her forehead on mine and makes little kissy noises as she kisses my lips again. Fuck, it’s so sweet and loving, I think I’m going to full-on sob here now. She stops and brings our hands up between our chests. “You’re my family too. You’re the only person in the whole world I want to be near anymore. If I could lock away the world and have it be just me and you, I’d do it and never think twice about it. You’re my everything, Ava, and I want to marry you. I want to be your wife.”
I could just say it here and now and screw the whole romantic poetic gesture thing in Milan. Should I? I can’t lie; it would be so amazing to introduce Beatrice to my grandparents as my fiancé. But Milan. It would be so perfect. I’d find a little spot by the canal we walked beside before Beatrice told me she loved me, go down on one knee, and ask the question in a perfect way.
“I want that too.” My voice cracks, and I know wherever I propose will be perfect, even if it’s on this plane flying through the clouds as we rest our foreheads together. Milan is poetic, but I want this too much to wait that long. I'm hurting having to wait; I can't.
I hear a little intake of Bea’s breath. She squeezes my hand so tightly, and I squeeze hers. “Ava Silva, will you make me the happiest, luckiest woman in the world and be my wife?”
I giggle, and my tears flow in a stream of complete happiness. She asked me! There’s no choice to make; now I have to say yes. I must say yes to my Bea. “Yes, my Bea, and will you do the same for me?”
Bea kisses me softly and quickly—her lips feel so damp, and I see she’s crying too. “Yes, my darling, I will.”
We laugh, we cry, and we move back into a kiss that's soaked by our conjoined tears. It's not Milan, but it's perfect, and my heart feels so happy and lighter than I've ever felt. I'm Bea's fiancé, and she's mine. We're getting married. I'm marrying my best friend, my partner—my world—my beautiful, kind, adoring world.
Chapter 47: Overjoyed
Summary:
Beatrice walks through Lisbon Airport arrivals with Ava, happier than she’s ever felt.
Chapter Text
Me and Ava walk through arrivals at Lisbon Airport hand in hand, dragging our luggage along with our others, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so completely and utterly overjoyed. I’m engaged to Ava Silva! I want to scream it from the rooftops and just revel in it. How the hell did I get so lucky to be engaged to someone so affectionate, so silly, and so unbelievably beautiful? It’s honestly making me question reality. Is this truly real? Am I asleep and I’m going to wake up back in January before I met Ava alone in my bed with the deep sadness I always felt every second of every day again? Because this is only something I could’ve dreamt of happening back then. It’s never something I pictured myself having.
I looked to the future, and it was filled with nothing after football. I pictured myself in a relationship, and it was never anything as loving and caring as this. I always watched an occasional rom-com movie and said, That’ll never happen for me. It’s not realistic to have someone who I could just call my person and mean it—to have someone in my life I love so much and feel so connected to that it hurts my very heart to think of them. But it has happened to me. It has, and to whatever divine entity out there who’s given me this precious gift, all I can say is thank you because my life feels so much fuller now because of it—because of Ava. My best friend—my love, my heart.
I feel Ava give my hand a squeeze, and I look over to her in her light cardigan and tank top underneath, sporting the same giddy, cheesy smile as me—her hair still a bit messy in its tied-up state after falling asleep on my shoulder. Beautiful as ever. "Yes, my fiancé?”
She almost bounces on her feet on the shining marble floor of the airport arrivals zone, with people around us going about their everyday lives, getting coffee from a cafe or shopping at duty-free shops, as if it’s just me and her. “Is this really happening!? Did we just get engaged, or am I still.."
“With JC?” I tease and poke out my tongue a little as I grin.
Ava scrunches her nose and does a little cute frown. “Meany,”
“Your meany.” I lean down to her and quickly give her a peck on the lips.
“My meany." She pinches her lips excitedly, and I can feel her excitable energy filling the whole area lit by the sun coming into the airport through its huge glass windows.
“So..” I refocus on the path ahead, eager to get outside, get to the pick-up point, and get into our pre-booked car for the drive up to Ava’s grandparents farm, just on the outskirts of the city. “We need to make this official now.”
“Rings!” She grabs my arm and bounces again. Urgh, is it possible to be more content and happy than this? To make Ava beam like this screams to me, there really isn’t.
"Hmmm, mmm, rings.” I nod and scan the area; hopefully no press or Benfica fans will get in our way. Ava’s still popular with her former team's fans, and I know she isn’t comfortable when legions of them swarm about her personal space with her social anxiety. "How do we, uh, how do we do this? Do we get them together or make it a surprise for each other?”
“Hmmmm.” Ava contemplates with a little cute, thoughtful furrowed brow. “Definitely together. I was going to pick one out with my grandma, but us doing it sounds so much better.”
“You were now, were you?” I query, knowing Ava and I both wanted this before today, but so happy Ava was actively thinking of buying a ring and proposing soon.
“Yeah I..” Ava looks to the floor, her cheeks reddening. “I was going to propose in Milan by the canal where you first told me you loved me.”
“You were?” I ache. That would’ve been such a beautiful moment and so thoughtful, too. In the place where I confessed a love I didn’t think would ever be reciprocated, Ava was going to propose and show my past, despairing self just how wrong I was.
"Yeah, I decided to a few days ago. I..” Ava stops, and I stop too. She looks up to me as we hold each other's hands and our luggage. Her giddiness turns to softness. “I know we had the whole Madrid thing to talk about, but it really didn’t feel like an obstacle worth stopping me from proposing. It’s so far in the future. I know we’ll figure it out. We both want this, and something potentially five years down the line shouldn’t stop us from doing it.”
I agree; of course I do. We have so much time to figure it out. Why let something that could never actually happen block us from this dream? If it ever does happen or Ava gets the opportunity, me and Ava won’t be like Shannon and Mary; we’ll keep staying together as the core of every decision we make.
“It shouldn't; you’re completely right. We have so much time to worry about that, but...” I sigh and look down. “I kind of feel bad now. That proposal would’ve been so perfect, and instead we got engaged on a plane journey.”
“Bea.” Ava lets her suitcase go and takes my hand away from mine. She holds both my hands in hers, and I look up, feeling a tinge of regret that Ava and I didn’t have that moment together in such an impactful place.
“It was perfect. It was.”
“But it could’ve been everything,”
“It was everything.” She tilts her head with a look that melts me to the very floor I stand on. “It was mi amor; it was everything. It was us. It was just me and you, and no matter where we were, that’s all that mattered.” She laughs with such tearful emotion. “It could’ve been at Carrington, Old Trafford, or the freaking North Pole!” I laugh, my shoulders shake, and my eyes water, and I know she’s so right. She steps towards me, placing my hands on her hips and moving her arms on my shoulders. There’s that teary smile that fills my heart just to look at, and I know it's all for me. “And it would’ve been just as perfect.”
My eyes burn, and my heart does too. I don’t bother suppressing or holding back my tears. It’s a release of so much joy that I can’t dream of ever holding these tears back. “You marvel me, Ava. I can’t believe I’m going to be your wife. How could someone as special as you love me?”
Ava shakes her head—her tears fall and her smile contorts downward. "No, I can’t believe I’m marrying someone as loving and caring as you, and I can’t wait to tell my grandparents about us. Hell, I can’t wait to scream it to the world!”
I go completely red-faced and shy as people nearby look our way, but how can I ever be self-conscious about this? About us. So I go to my darling's lips and bring her into my arms. I kiss her with so much passion and love, not caring who sees us or the potential sideways glances that'll come our way at us as I do. I’m engaged with Ava, and nothing in this world matters more to me than that heart-burning, achingly perfect fact.
Chapter 48: Detour
Summary:
Beatrice and Ava decide to spend a night at a bed and breakfast before travelling to Ava’s grandparents farm.
Chapter Text
Me and Bea took a little detour from going to my grandparents farm and decided to stay at a bed and breakfast for tonight. We just got engaged, and the need to be intimate is skyrocketing right now, and the walls of my grandparents farmhouse home are not thick. If we had sex, it wouldn’t be a case of if they'd hear us; it would be a case of an utterly mortifying when. Can you imagine the utter cringing feeling I’d feel if the people who raised me heard me scream? “Bea! Don’t stop!” Yeah, that ain’t happening in this life or any other one. Like hell, no, it is. I need Beatrice again. I need to be with her in the way we both want on such a special day, so there was no choice to make.
The quaint little bed and breakfast hotel isn’t grand or anything, but it’s out of the way of the city, and it’s close to the sea, so we’ve got an amazing view of the white sandy beach and ocean, and we can smell the salty fresh air from our window with delicate white curtains billowing in the wind. In essence, it’s perfect. The room is modern with marble flooring, the walls are basic cream, and it has a bathroom that looks clean—well, I hope it’s clean at least; you can never tell until you go and find a bunch of old hair in the shower sink, and the bed in the centre of the room looks like one of those beds you find on hotel inn advertisements—purple, neat, and utterly enticing to jump on and sleep like a baby in.
An enticing bed I drop my luggage in front of and squint my eyes towards now. It appears nice, but does it actually feel nice to lay on—will it be comfortable like my and Bea’s soft, bouncy, cushiony bed back home?
“Don’t do it.” Beatrice warns me from behind, picking up my suitcase.
“We have to test it, Bea. The bouncier the bed, the better the sex.” I rub my hands together.
Beatrice snorts. “That's true, but...”
“Wheeee!” I rush and jump face first, arms and legs outstretched, ready to hopefully get a soft, bouncy welcome from these thin sheets and mattresses. Do I bounce? Is it soft? Tick and tick. “Mmm.” I lazily smile and rest my cheek on the bed. Ahhhh perfect.
“Please tell me it’s not broken.” Beatrice chuckles behind me, undoubtedly neatly putting our luggage aside.
“It’s perfect.” I sigh in contentment. “Come see.”
“One second, I need to get our pyjamas ready for bed later.” Practical as always, but we won’t be needing pyjamas tonight. No clothes are needed for what we’ll be doing.
I stick out my tongue and make a “Tsss!” Noise. "Nope, we don’t need any pyjamas. Now get your Bea butt over here.”
Bea breathes a little humorous breath from her nose, and she comes over and joins me. She carefully lays back on the bed and rests her hands on her hoodie-covered chest. I give her a minute to test it out to feel its bouncyness and ridiculously soft duvet.
“Well? Do you think it’ll do?”
“Mmm, it's nice.” She pats her lips and closes her eyes.
“Just nice?” I crawl my fingers onto Bea’s chest and take her hand. I bring them together on the bed between us.
“Not like our bed. But it’s pretty comfy."
I curl my fingers into Bea’s and imagine rings on both our fingers. I imagine how it will feel to hold Bea’s hand when we both have engagement rings on. I didn’t really wear rings casually until JC gave me one when he proposed. I asked for a small, elegant one with meaning behind it—nothing too extravagant—something I’d wear and not feel uncomfortable walking about with. Like, if I wanted to go on a jog or walk on a mountain trail or beach, it wouldn’t stand out and scream to people, damn! That looks pricey. I wonder how much I could get for it!
He didn’t give me something simple; the thing was heavy and stood out like a sore thumb. He was dismissive of my wants, and I just got used to it. I accepted it far too easily because I loved him.
Great. I'm thinking of JC now—on this amazing day that me and Bea got engaged, I'm now thinking of him suddenly. I really don’t want to bump into him somewhere now that I’m in Lisbon again. Urgh, it’s really something I want to avoid. I desperately don’t want to see his cheating, lying, cowardly, stupid, big-do-do-chiselled face.
I flap my lips like a horse and groan. “Let’s avoid the city at all costs. I can’t stand the possibility of bumping into JC. I can't, Bea. Or Reya, or even Miguel. I just want to forget him.”
“Sure, we’ll just go to the farm, stay there a few weeks, then straight back to the airport if that’s what you really want, and...” Bea stops; she opens her eyes, and I see the cogs beginning to turn behind her brown eyes.
“And what?” I sink into the bed further, my body completely flops on its softness, and my eyelids start to close. I feel all drowsy suddenly. Jet lag is making an unwanted appearance.
“Let’s get the rings in Milan!”
“Huh? What? Who?” I jump as Beatrice sits upright in a blink of an eye, literally.
“It would make up for you not getting to propose to me there!” Beatrice turns and rests on her side—she’s excited. I really love her excited face, and I’ve been seeing it so often ever since the season ended. It’s so infectious to see her like this, considering her struggles with depression.
She rests her hands on my hips. She pulls me close. I ain’t tired any more. When Bea touches my hips and pulls me close, I always, without fail, get hot at the contact.
“Bea, I told you. There’s absolutely nothing to make up for.” I rub her arm. There really isn’t. The proposal was everything I could’ve wanted it to be.
“I know, but... I want us to have a piece of that city with us. It’s where everything changed for us. It represents so much; it just feels... ” Beatrice delicately moves her fingers up to my hair and starts to move some strands behind my ear. It’s everyone’s dream to have a person they love do that often, like Beatrice does for me, with genuine care, and I won’t hear otherwise.
“Right.” I finish her words.
“Hmm exactly.” She whispers, her eyes flicking over me gently. Oh. Maybe we can test out the bed earlier than I thought. We were going to do a quick walk on the beach first, but screw it.
“Do you want to skip the beach?”
“What do you think?” Beatrice bites her lip and pulls me towards her lips. This is going to be so special, so... my stupid phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Do you want to get that?” Beatrice teases millimetres from my lips. Hell no, I don’t want to get that.
“I’d rather break my phone than be interrupted right now.”
"Mmm, I don’t know. It’s rude to not respond to a text, you know.” She tugs at my hip, her fingers digging into my ass.
“Then I guess I’m just going to have to be rude. Hey!” She grabs my phone from my pocket, and I try to reach for it as she looks at the screen.
“Nope! It’s…” Beatrice darkens.
“What? Who is it?” I take the phone from Bea’s hand and see a text from Miguel.
It’s JC; I heard you’re back. Can we meet up? Please Ava I'm sorry about what happened. I know you said you were with Beatrice, but I want you back. What we had was special; just give me a second chance. I've missed you so much. What I did was the biggest mistake of my life.
First, I feel a bit taken aback, then I feel angry, but you know what? It’s absolutely fucking hilarious. After what he did after what he called my Bea, he has the cheek to text me through Miguel's phone so many months later and say he misses me and wants me back.
A brief but loud laugh escapes me. “Ha!”
“Ava?” Beatrice moves up on her elbow and gives me a curious look, but I spot the little confused smile.
I try to hold it in, but this is so ridiculous after what he did—after he tried to run away rather than just tell me the truth about Reya. “The cheek of him!” I roll over onto my back and let it loose. I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much.
“Are you, uh, going to text him back?” Beatrice laughs hesitantly.
“Uhhh dear. Let..Let me.” I try to compose myself and catch my breath. “Put it this way.”
I grab Bea’s hoodie and tug her down to me. “Mmmphh! Mmmm.” I capture Bea’s lips roughly without ceremony or softness. I move my tongue into her mouth sloppily, my movements completely carnal, fuelled by lust for Beatrice, eager to mark the day we got engaged with some incredible sex and absolutely no thoughts of JC.
Chapter 49: The Ex Fiancé
Summary:
JC wants to pursue Ava and get her back.
Notes:
Been far tooo long but got sidetracked with The Mission and then the Olympian at the time so can’t be too guilty love those fics. ❤️
Chapter Text
Frustrated after Ava blocked my number. I bite my cheek as I have lunch with Miguel as I continue to try to mend my friendship with him after everything.
I want Ava back. I made a mistake. It just happened with Reya. She just…praised my work one night, and it just went from there. It was a mistake. I hated myself after it happened, and I let that hate go on to how I was with Ava over the phone. I had the love of a special woman I felt safe with, and I lost her. I did the cowardly thing and tried to get my things from our new home in Manchester without facing accountability.
I let her down. But I have to make it right. I have to save what I broke. I know I can save it. It’s been months, and I’ve missed Ava for all of them.
Maybe I took her for granted; maybe I wasn’t as keen on the things she wanted sometimes, and maybe I made her feel bad for wanting them. There are a lot of things like that I see now that I did. She wanted baths together; I said no. She wanted sex and… to try things and be excitable, and I just wasn’t available to it. She was a firecracker, and she loved me. I had her. She was going to be my wife. I just got homesick, and when I came home, it all felt right again, ultimately leading to Reya.
I’m not giving up. Ava blocked me, but I’m not giving this up without a fight. She’s engaged to Beatrice. And when I found out, it made my heart drop. It’s not Ava. I have to stop it and get her back, and I will.
“Bro, give it up. You cheated. You treated her like shit when she needed you in a new country, so just leave her and Beatrice be. As your begrudging friend again, I’m telling you, Don’t.” Miguel stares at me as he speaks with a mouthful of fries in his mouth at this beachside restaurant as we sit outside.
I see the anger in his eyes behind his sunglasses. He’s pissed at me too about Ava still. Like my sisters and my parents are.
“Let’s go through it all again so you understand it’s never going to happen. 1. You made Ava feel so cut off and worried that she had to call me directly at 4 or something in the morning after you took out your guilt on her like a drunken arsehole over the phone.” He points with one finger about to go through it all again. “2. You cheated. Enough said.” He points to a 3-finger. “3. You made her feel bad just for worrying about you.”
“You know this isn’t in the correct order, right?” I scoff as I sit back in my seat to glare at the beach, hating the lecture.
“Doesn’t matter; shut up and listen. 4. You left her in the first place, something you shouldn’t have done. It was completely selfish. You made a commitment to Ava; you said it was okay to move to England, and you abandoned her.” Miguel stops for a moment. “Hold on, I’m thirsty. Telling you, you’re an idiot. Is thirsty work.”
I snort bitterly as Miguel swigs down some coke. Miguel has always been blunt, and I should’ve expected this when I told him I texted Ava.
“Ahh. Right.” Miguel finishes drinking and places his glass back down. “5. You tried to get your shit from your and Ava’s home and run like a coward before telling her the truth. Did I miss anything? Oh!” Miguel picks up a fry in remembrance. “After Ava told you she wanted to be with Beatrice anyway, you called Beatrice a dyke, and she rightly punched your idiot face.”
“Wow, wait a take it easy on me.” I puff out a disheartened breath.
“Well, you need to hear it again. On no earth would she trust you again or even want to see you again after what you did—never mind take you back. She’s happy, and if you actually gave a shit about what she needed or respected her, which you didn’t and don’t by even sending that text, you’d back off and let her get on with her life. You did wrong; you lost a great woman. Deal with it.”
“Fuck off, I made a series of stupid choices, and it cost me, but I can save this. She’s known Beatrice for nowhere near the amount of time me and her were together. I can get her back. I know it. She’s not bi; she’s just…”
“I swear to fucking god if you say Ava’s confused, I’ll give you another black eye.” Miguel interrupts, and I shut up. He was the one who punched me and gave me the black eye Ava fussed over when she saw me again. He was angry about what I had done to her. Punches were thrown either way. Hopefully that’s behind us now.
“I’ll give you another too, if you try.” I wink, and he eye rolls.
“You elbowed me; it was a lucky blow.”
“Blow like you wanna blow, Stefan.” I joke. Stefan’s one of our friends.
Miguel twitches and glares at me. “What did you say?”
“Come on,” I laugh. “I know you’re gay at this point. I don’t agree with your lifestyle choice, like, at all, but I see you eyeing him up.”
Miguel doesn’t take it lightly. Fuck.
“So you actually are homophobic? What you called Beatrice…how you hated her and Ava being friends was because you didn’t like the fact Beatrice is gay?”
I shrug. Not looking at him again but at the beach. “That’s an ugly word. I just don’t agree with it. I don’t think it’s a real thing.”
Miguel laughs bitterly. “I’m sorry? Are you for real?”
“Just how I feel. I bet Beatrice deep down wants a little…”
“J.C.!” Miguel shouts. He gets up roughly angry.
“Yeesh, calm down.” I look around the restaurant, embarrassed at his sudden shout.
Miguel sniggers. “You know what? I was a fool for giving you another chance – an absolute fool. Fuck you. We’re done.”
I get up as Miguel goes to go. I don’t wanna lose him again. “Wait! I’m sorry! I…”
“No, you’re not!” He points at me enraged. “We’re done. Go after Reya finally or something for all I fucking care, but stay the fuck away from Ava. She was my friend too, you bastard. She still is, and I should've never let you back in. What was I thinking? As soon as you told me everything with Beatrice too, I should’ve seen, but I guess that’s on me. I give people second chances where they don’t deserve it.” He shoves me. “I mean it. Don’t text her again. She’s in Portugal to see her grandparents; she doesn’t wanna see you. She’s getting married. Accept it. Goodbye.” He walks off, and I know I’ve lost him for good. I know I can get Ava back though, and I’m going to. Just need to see her. Talk to her. Get through to her.
I don’t wanna lose Miguel, though. He’s my closest friend or was till all of this. I lost my sisters; they won’t talk to me. I need someone like him. I get up and rush after him.
“Miguel!” He doesn’t stop. As I jog to him, I grab his arm. “Hey! We can’t just end things like that. I won’t. You’re…” Miguel punches me yet again, and I’m on my backside because of him yet again. I’ve lost so much, but I know I can get Ava back. If I do everything, else will find a way of healing too. I just need her back.
“Fuck JC! Enough!” Miguel spins around. I get up. “Just mphhh!” What the fuck am I doing?? Uhhhh. I don’t know. Why am I doing it? I don’t know. I’m pushed back and don’t know what the fuck just happened. Why the hell did I kiss him?
Miguel pants for breath. “What. The. Fuck. Was that?” He tenses up, and I… I don’t know.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Well!?” He demands.
“I…uh, don’t know. Sorry.” I laugh nervously.
Miguel looks at me warily. He walks away, and I let him. I touch my lips, not understanding why I did that.
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