Alessia Russo Oneshot

Trust Me

You were the only one Alessia Russo trusted enough to do this. It wasn't just anyone who could reach up and gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, your touch feather-light against her skin. Alessia, known for her toughness on the field, melted a little under your gentle attention. She leaned into your touch, her eyes momentarily closing as she savoured the quiet intimacy between you.

It had started innocently enough during a casual hangout after a particularly gruelling practice session. You had noticed a small smudge of dirt on Alessia's cheek, barely noticeable to anyone else, but your eyes were attuned to every detail of hers. Without thinking, you reached out and brushed it away with your thumb, earning a surprised but not unwelcome look from Alessia.

From then on, it became a ritual of sorts. Whenever the two of you were together, whether lounging in the locker room after training or stealing a quiet moment in the park, you found yourself drawn to her, wanting to touch her in the simplest of ways. Sometimes it was a hand on her shoulder, offering comfort after a tough match. Other times it was a quick squeeze of her hand, silently conveying your support.

Tonight, though, it was different. The team had just won a crucial game, and the locker room was buzzing with excitement. Alessia, as usual, was at the center of it all, grinning broadly as she accepted congratulations and high-fives from her teammates. But amidst the chaos, her eyes sought you out, finding you leaning casually against the wall, a soft smile playing on your lips.

She excused herself from the crowd, making her way over to where you stood. "Hey," she said, her voice tinged with exhaustion but also a hint of exhilaration.

"Hey yourself," you replied, reaching out to brush a stray bead of sweat from her forehead. Alessia's breath hitched at the unexpected contact, but she didn't pull away.

"You did amazing out there," you continued, your voice low and intimate. "I'm so proud of you."

Alessia's gaze softened, and she stepped closer to you, her hand finding its way to yours. "Thank you," she murmured, her thumb tracing absent circles on your palm. "I couldn't have done it without you."

You smiled, squeezing her hand gently. "I'll always be here for you, Alessia. No matter what."

She leaned in then, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "I know," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. "And I trust you."

In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of victory and the quiet hum of the locker room, you knew that Alessia Russo had entrusted you with something precious—her vulnerability, her moments of weakness and strength alike. And as you stood there, hand in hand, you silently vowed to always cherish that trust, to protect it with everything you had.

Because Alessia Russo, the fearless striker with a heart of gold, had chosen you. And that meant more than words could ever express.