Lesbian one shots

Philophobia - Emma x OC | pt. 1

Emma raducanu x Alicia Alcaraz

Philophobia; the fear of falling in love.

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The soft hum of the air conditioner is the only sound breaking the silence in my room. The sun pours through the wide, arched windows. My eyes trace the familiar lines of the pictures on my wall, their edges slightly curling from years of admiration. Right in the center, smiling triumphantly after a Wimbledon doubles victory, is Emma Raducanu and me. My chest tightens at the sight of her, a mix of pride and something far more complicated flooding through me, a storm of emotions I could hardly bear to name. Meeting Emma was something I'd never expected. Our paths crossed at a charity event last summer. I volunteered to help organize the event, and Emma offered to help me inspire and interact with young tennis enthusiasts for the Teenage Cancer Trust. I remember the first time our eyes met; her smile was warm, and her laugh was infectious. I was instantly drawn to her.

Emma has been my best friend ever since. From that moment, we've been inseparable. Emma is everything I'm not: confident, spontaneous, effortlessly charming. She can walk into a room and instantly make friends, her laughter is infectious and her presence is magnetic. On the other hand I'm, quite, reserved, always content to follow her lead. As our friendship blossomed, my admiration for her skill on the court turned into something deeper. Her dedication, her resilience, her kindness-all of it captivated me. I found myself looking forward to her texts, her calls, and the moments we spend together, whether in person or over video chat. But with every beat of my heart, I feel a growing fear. What if these feelings I was developing were more than just friendly admiration? What if I was falling in love with Emma Raducanu? I've tried to ignore them, to push them aside as a mere infatuation. But the truth's undeniable. I'm in love with her. The realization hits me like a tidal wave, overwhelming and terrifying. How can I feel this way about my friend, especially someone as amazing as Emma? The fear of ruining our friendship paralyzes me, keeping my feelings locked tightly within.

As I squeezed the blue grip on my tennis racket, I glanced at my clock. Emma will be here soon. She never misses a single bit of training for the doubles in the Australian Open. A tradition we started in after the charity event. It was our sanctuary, a time to work and talk and just be, away from the pressures of life. But today, I feel a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. Today, I've decided, was the day I would tell her how I felt. My fingers brush over the racket, my mind swirling with doubts. What if she doesn't't feel the same way? What if my confession ruins everything? The thought of losing Emma's friendship is almost too much to bear, but keeping these feelings bottled up was becoming unbearable too. It's been months since I realized my feelings for Emma were more than just friendly affection. At first, I tried to dismiss the flutter in my chest whenever she laughed, the warmth that spread through me when she smiled, or the way my eyes sought her out in any room. But these feelings have only grown stronger, like a wild vine creeping up and tangling around my heart. I'm terrified of the feelings themselves, of what they meant, and of the possibility that they might destroy the friendship I hold so dear.

I hear a voice, and here she is, a whirlwind of energy as always. Emma's dark hair in a slick back ponytail on the top of her head. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she crosses the court in a few quick strides, enveloping me in a hug that leaves me breathless. "Morning, Alicia!" she says, her voice bright and cheerful. "Ready to play some great tennis?" I smile, though it feels a little forced. "Always." We settle into our routine, the comfortable silence punctuated by the noise of the ball hitting the racket and the talk about who's going to hit it. But my mind is far from our training. Every glance at Emma, every accidental brush of her hand, sends my heart racing. How can she be so oblivious to the turmoil inside me? Or maybe she isn't oblivious, maybe she just doesn't care. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I set my racket down and take a deep breath. "Emma, can we talk for a minute?" She looks up, her eyes curious. "Of course. What's up?" I feel my pulse quicken, my palms growing sweaty. This is it. There's no turning back now. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you. Something important." Emma sets her racket down too, giving me her full attention. Her gaze is so open, so trusting, that it almost breaks my resolve. But I have to do this. I have to be honest.