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cevansbrat0007 · 8 months

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Off the Market

Summary: Ari learns that you're not the sharing type. Which is fine by him, because neither is he.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Jealous/Possessive Reader, Oral Sex (mentioned), Discussions of Public Sex, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Polite Fat Shaming, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Be sure to check out the follow-up fic, A Man Starved. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“So?” You ask before taking another sip of your milkshake. The thick and creamy treat goes down easy, which makes the amount of time it took to get to you well worth it. “What’s the verdict?”

“Not bad.” Your companion mumbles as he eagerly gulps down his own shake. “Not bad at all. But just so we’re clear, drinkin’ one of these isn’t gonna get you out of our deal.” He stirs the drink with his straw before plucking out the cherry and popping it in his mouth. “Remember you swore on it.” He holds up his pinky finger as a reminder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.” You tell him as a smile flits its way across your lips. Without thinking, you go to feed him your own cherry. You find yourself giggling at the way he playfully nips at your fingers, his tongue lapping at the traces of whipped cream.

There went your big Beast of a man proudly living up to his nickname, as per usual. Thank goodness you were the only couple dining outside today.

“Hey. How come yours tastes better?” Ari pouts suddenly, sending you into another fit of giggles.

“We got the exact same thing, honey.” You roll your eyes at him before returning your attention to the menu in your hand.

“Bird?” His growl comes out soft and silky. And it immediately has you on high alert. Because you recognized that tone.

It meant you were in trouble.

“Um, yes?” You try ducking your head behind the oversized, laminated piece of paper. Maybe if he couldn’t see you anymore, he’d just let it ride.

“Did you just do what I think you just did?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you think I just did.” You sneak another sip of your chocolate shake, doing your best to forget about all the extra unnecessary calories you’re putting into your body right then. After all, you and your man had a deal. And you aimed to see it through.

“I think you just rolled your eyes at me.” Ari rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward on his arms in an attempt to get your attention. “Now, just because I gave you a pass back the boutique–”

You blow out an annoyed breath. “That wasn’t my fault! You kept making me model the most ridiculous pieces for you, even when I knew they wouldn’t fit.” You peek out from behind your menu long enough to scan the area for Stella, your waitress. Of course she’s nowhere to be found.

Which, oddly enough, was fine by you. There was just something about the woman that seemed to ruffle your feathers a bit. Although you couldn’t quite put your finger on the reason why.

“Except they did fit.” Your bounty hunter surprises you by yanking the menu from your grasp. He then tosses both yours and his onto a nearby empty table. “And maybe if you would’ve allowed me into the fitting room with you earlier, we could’ve scored you another bathing suit. I still think we should go back for that sweet little black and white number. That ass was made for it.”

“It was too small. Just like the other ones.” You counter, feeling your cheeks heat at the intimate praise. The burn only intensifies when you recall the way he’d simply let himself into the fitting room after you’d vetoed your third bathing suit. It had been his pick, which meant he felt that he was well within his rights to, as he put it, “see for himself”.

One Hour Earlier

“Baby.” He said, chuckling softly. “If a woman expects a man to wait outside and do it patiently, then perhaps she ought to give him a little show.” When you balked he’d simply shrugged and picked up an ice blue monokini before handing it over to you, silently demanding that you try it on. With him right there in the flippin’ fitting room.

And he hadn’t felt the least bit compelled to help preserve your modesty by looking away as you’d changed. Instead, he’d had the gall to take a seat in a chair that was tucked away in a corner.

“This is completely inappropriate!” You hissed, clutching the forgotten suit to your chest. “Wh–what if someone comes by?”

“Then I expect you’ll have to be quiet then, won’t you?” He held a finger to his lips, playfully shushing you. “That way it stays our little secret. Now, how about you model the pink one for me?”

“I’ll model whatever you want once we get back to your place.” You tried, your entire body had been practically vibrating with embarrassment.

“Nah. I’m afraid that ain’t gonna work for me.” Ari had leaned back in his chair then, leisurely crossing his long legs over his ankles. “See, this Beast of yours is itchin’ for some instant gratification.” He’d locked his fingers together before resting them on his firm stomach. “And I ain’t leavin’ until I get it.”

“Guess we’ll be in here for a long time then, huh?” You’d responded rather snippily. “Because I’m not about to–”

“You know, sweetheart, now that I’m thinking about it, I just realized you haven’t fed me yet today.”

“I thought we were gonna grab a bite after..?” The knowing look that passed between you two had been enough to make you feel weak in the knees. “Umm...”

“You know how I get when you make me go too long without a taste.” His piercing blue eyes had dropped to your (thankfully) still panty clad pussy. “I’m gonna need a fix, baby. And soon.” You’d watched him cup his impressive cock through the fabric of his jeans. “Otherwise I might start gettin’ antsy.” The silky purr of his voice alone had been enough to have your thighs clenching.

“Don’t – ooh! Behave yourself, damn you!” You’d done your best to ignore the way your core had spasmed with need. “There will be no funny business in this fitting room. You are not getting us kicked out of this store, Beast!”

“But I’m hungry now. Starving actually.” He’d pressed, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. “And all I can think about is sinking to my knees and burying my face in that gorgeous pussy. Right here. Right now.”

You'd watched as he rose from his seat, his big body crowding your smaller one. “Wanna taste all that sweet, wild honey of yours when you cum on my tongue like a good girl.” You’d also squealed none-too-quietly when he pinned you against the wall.

And although the man had seen fit to warn you of his plan, you still hadn’t been prepared for his boldness. Even less so when he dropped to his knees in front of you, his nimble fingers tugging at the edges of your panties.

“Ari…” You'd breathed, rising on your toes to graze your lips along his bearded jaw. “We can’t. Not here. Patience, sugar.”

“Like I told you, I’m about out.” He’d responded on the heels of a groan. “But I might be able to find some more. Maybe. But only if…”

“If what?”

“If you stay the night once we get back to Bell’s Creek. I wanna spend the rest of the evening getting all tangled up in you. Especially after I managed to work up such a sweet tooth.” Ari had brushed mouth over your covered mound, loving the way your nipples pebbled at his words - his touch.

“I accept your terms.” You’d told him with a soft giggle as heat suffused your cheeks. “Now let me go so I can model these last few for you. It’s about time we get a move-on to our next stop -- no more kisses. Oh God, Ari! Be patient!”

“I’m not trying on another thing after I stuff my face, honey.” You mumble as you take another sip of your drink. “We’ll just have to come back another time. Plus, you’ve already spent more than enough on me.”

“You’re worth it.”

“You should’ve at least let me pay for half.” You start to protest, feeling uncomfortable with being doted on in such a way.

“Already said no. And you ain’t payin’ for lunch either, so you’d best not get that pretty mouth all twisted up to ask.”

“How about we–” You find your conversation interrupted by the arrival of your waitress, Stella.

“Hey, ya’ll!” She chirps as she comes around the corner, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her as she finally makes her way to your table. “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. How are those shakes treating you, hm? Pretty good?”

“They’re great.” You and Ari respond at the same time.

“I just knew you’d love ‘em!” She responds rather animatedly, her freshly manicured fingers lightly brushing over Ari’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice. But you do. Because it’s not the first time it’s happened. “Looks like you’re doin’ alright over there, handsome. Can I get you another one?”

“No, thank you.” Your Bounty Hunter hums, his gaze locked on the menu as he works to make a final decision. “But I do think we’re ready to order.”

“Yep.” You readily agree, even as your eye twitches. “We sure are.”

Stella makes an innocent show of turning away from you, her gaze focused on Ari. “I bet a big, strapping fella like you would be interested in one of our steaks. Our beef is grass-fed and sourced locally. Which means it’s always fresh, never frozen.”

“Actually, I think we’re both gonna have–” You attempt to interject, only to be shut down without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Did you happen to see our line of Skinny Gal Salads, buttercup? They come with all the flavor, but only half the calories. They’re listed on page two if you wanna take a gander while I walk your lovely friend here through tonight’s specials featuring our signature porterhouse.”

Your waitress’ audacity hits you so hard you almost feel a headache coming on as an unexpected fury burns in your belly. A belly that could probably stand to benefit from one of those so-called Skinny Gal salads, but then again that would go against the deal you’d made last night.

Which involved you and your man enjoying a couple of worry-free milkshakes and bacon cheeseburgers. You’d promised that you would try to relax and not get so caught up in all of that internal calorie counting like you usually did.

So, like it or not, a deal was a deal and you aimed to see it through. Regardless of what your waitress had to say about it. And if the woman was smart, she’d take her hand off your man’s arm before something happened to it.

“Now handsome, did I hear you say you were visiting from Bell’s Creek?” Your waitress cocks her hip against the table while she ignores you in favor of cozying up to your Beast. “Because it just so happens that I have a friend there that I like to visit from time to time. Do you happen to know–”

“Actually, I’ve heard amazing things about your barnyard cheeseburgers. So I think we’re gonna have two of those with bacon. Extra bacon. Please.” You tack on the last word, which is spoken through gritted teeth.

Finally, Stella turns to you and offers a patronizing smile. “Can I interest you in a side salad with that, buttercup? It comes with a spritz of our homemade red wine vinaigrette.”

Ari sits back in silence, apparently content to watch whatever the fuck was transpiring between you and this bottle blonde heifer with a notepad. Which was fine. You were a big girl who knew how to take-up for herself when the situation called for it.

“I want fries, sugarplum. But who knows, my friend might want one of those skinny ass salads to go with his meal. Does that sound good to you, baby?” While your eyes never leave hers, you manage to catch a glimpse of a smile from your companion.

“I, uh, would also like fries.” He coughs. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh, which only serves to piss you off even more. “But thank you.”

“That’ll be all, honey.” You politely growl, snatching Ari’s menu from him before your waitress could use it as an excuse to touch him again. “We’ll let you know if you need anything else.”

“But you haven’t heard the specials.” Stella turns back to Ari, a soft pout gracing her plump lips. “It just might change your mind. You might find yourself wanting something…better.”

Oh, no the fuck she did not. Your man was fine with his choice. You. The burger. All of it. Be gone, bitch!

“We’re good.” You snap, seething inwardly. “You couldn’t possibly have anything more special than what he’s already got goin’ on in front of him, right here. Right now.”

Your waitress stares you down, but you refuse to be the one to blink first. If your eyes gave up and fell out, you had faith Ari would collect them for you before safely guiding you home. Your man was a gentleman like that.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and get these orders in. Two burgers, heavy bacon, coming right up.” The smile she gives you now is much more brittle and it doesn’t meet her eyes. But you also can’t bring yourself to give a fuck.

This woman needed to remember to stay in her lane before you ran her off the road.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

And then she’s gone. You find your glaring at her retreating form. You’re actually in the middle of fantasizing about what would happen if you took a pair of scissors to her annoying ass ponytail when you hear your name being called.

“What?” You snarl as Ari comes back into focus. And what the hell was he grinning about? Didn’t he realize that that pretty face of his was in slapping distance?

“You’re really something, baby.” He murmurs, his gorgeous blue eyes dancing with mischief. “You know that?”

“Meaning?” At the moment, you were in no mood for anyone else’s bullshit.

Ari leans forward in his chair as one of his big hands comes to rest atop yours. “I just meant…I’ve never seen you jealous before. It just surprised me a little is all.” He finishes with a shrug. “I didn’t expect for you to…to…”

“Didn’t expect for me to do what, Beast?” Your tone softens as you watch his head dip, his bearded cheeks tinged with red. He perks up when you give his hand an affectionate squeeze, flipping your positions slightly so you can lace your fingers through his.

“Claim me.”

Those two simple words are enough to send you reeling. Is that really what you had just done?

“It’s no secret that I like you, Bird. A lot.” His voice drops an octave as he works to explain himself. “Every time I see you, it’s like there’s something in me deep down inside me that screams mine. I guess I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me. Until now.”

Was he being serious? Of course he was! This man had never struck you as the type to joke about any of this.

“I like you too, Ari. But what I didn’t like was watching our waitress flirt with you like I wasn’t even here. I almost fucked her up with my spoon for touching what’s mine.” Ari’s perfect teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, his nostril’s flaring as his mind works to process your admission.

“Say that again.” The command rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest, compelling you to obey. “Louder”

“You’re mine, Ari Levinson. For today. Tomorrow. For however long this magical thing between us lasts – you belong to me.” You breathe, butterflies filling your belly. “You’re officially off the market, you got that?”

“I hear you, Bird. Loud and fucking clear.” The grin on his face soon proves to be infectious. “And you have no idea just how happy I am to hear you say that.” Ari opens his arms to you then, beckoning you forward.

The next thing you know, you’re up and moving before you’ve even registered what’s happening. All you knew was that your man needed you. Which meant you needed to go to him. Now.

“I always want you, Ari. Even when I shouldn’t.” You tell him as you gracefully slide into his lap, looping your arms around his neck as you do.

“I know the feeling.” Ari murmurs, brushing his mouth over yours. “Which is why I want to do something special once we get back to Bell’s Creek. Before I have to leave again.” The startled look on your face has your Bounty Hunter rushing to finish his thoughts before you can verbalize your confusion.

“What do you–?”

“I’m only gonna be gone a few days, baby. Three, maybe four, tops.” One of his large, slightly calloused palms presses against the back of your neck, drawing you in closer to him so that he can take your lips again.

“Oh.” Comes your lame reply.

“I’m coming back to you, Bird.” Ari rests his forehead against yours as you try to calm your racing heart. “You have my word. But I still wanna do something special for you – for us – before I go. Will you let me do that without a fight?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Feeling content, Ari leans in to capture your mouth with his own once again. After behaving himself all day, it was time for his reward.

“Wait.” You place your hand on his chest, halting his advances. “You’re still mine wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s fucking Siberia.” You grab a fistful of his shirt, hauling him forward. “You’ll still be mine there too. You with me?”

“Fuck yeah I am.” Ari growls, using both of hands to cradle your face as he slants his lips over yours once again. The kiss is as passionate as it is raw. Your tongues dance together, both fighting for dominance. But this time your Beast lets you win.

Desire burns in your belly as you savor the sensual victory. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging at the chestnut strands. Meanwhile, one of Ari’s hands goes to grip your hip, making you moan when he gently molds and kneads your curves.

Jesus Christ! You suddenly felt as if you were wearing too many clothes.

His lips skim along the column of your throat as you pant. You were always so fucking needy for him all the time. It made it almost impossible for you to resist him during moments like these.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t even bother to look up when you hear footsteps approaching. “Will these be separate checks or…oh.” You hear your waitress stammer as she tries to collect herself. “I’ll, um - I'll just bring the one.”

Ari briefly pulls away, eliciting a soft whine from you. “Thanks. And while you're at it, we’ll be taking our food to-go.”

“Bye, Stella.” You giggle as you give a little wave before playfully nipping at his jaw, not even bothering to glance over at the other woman’s face. You knew it was petty, but staking your claim on this man in front of your so-called rival felt so damn good. Especially after a day like today.

Frankly, the only way it could get any better was if you could make yourself utter those three magic words – the same ones you’d been practicing in the mirror last night. But right now they simply wouldn't come. They kept getting stuck in your throat.

Oh well. Guess you’d just have to try again tomorrow.

END

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mandarinmoons · 2 months

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Spencer x wife!reader who’s insecure about her postpartum body? I just know he’d be the sweetest little smorgasbord of love ever

"smorgasbord of love" omg I love that

The past few years have been the happiest time for you. You met the love of your life and after some time of dating Spencer proposed, which you obviously agreed to, and not long after that you both welcomed a precious bundle of joy into your family.

Your little girl, Bailey, was your angel and the apple of Spencer’s eye. The second you saw her in Spencer’s arms your love for him quadrupled, if that’s even possible, and it seemed to grow even more as time passed. Every second of spare time Spencer had he made sure to spend it with his daughter, whether it was watching cartoons with her or helping you change her diapers, he was a dream come true.

Even though everything seemed to be perfect from the outside, things weren’t always so beautiful in your mind. Something you struggled with for as long as you could remember was your body image and now that you managed to carry a baby through 9 months of exhausting pregnancy the image you had of yourself began to warp even more. You knew you shouldn’t think that way, after all you were healthy enough to bring this beautiful little miracle into yours and Spencer’s life, but sometimes the dark thoughts took over and you weren’t able to ignore them.

There you were, stood in front of the mirror as you lifted up your shirt to see the skin loose around your stomach. Stretch marks riddled your sides, which were already present before the pregnancy, but were now more apparent than before. You sighed as you put your shirt down and rubbed your hands over your face to try and soothe yourself and a moment later you felt arms wrap around your waist along with a few kisses peppered over your shoulder.

“You okay hun?”

As you removed your hands from your face and looked at the mirror in front of you, you saw Spencer looking up at you with the same amount of love they’ve always carried. How he managed to look at you the same way after all that your body had been through was mind boggling to you.

“I know I shouldn’t feel bad about the way that I look, but”, your eyes filled with tears, but before you were able to finish your sentence Spencer pulled you into his chest as his hand caressed your back in a soothing manner.

“Sweetheart, you are so beautiful to me and the way you look now only adds to your beauty. Look at you, you carried my child and every little mark on you is a reminder of that. You could never be more beautiful to me and if we ever have more children then you will only keep getting more beautiful to me.”

Your head rested on Spencer’s chest and a small smile creeped up on your lips as you heard Spencer speak, how could this man get any more loving with you?

“Thanks Spence, I really do love you.”

“And I love you, more than you could ever know.”

You giggled and pressed a sweet kiss to Spencer’s cheek which in turn made him smile, however the moment was cut short as both of you heard a cry coming from the other room.

“I got this,” Spencer hurried to the other room to take the crying baby into his arms and you followed suit. Walking through the door you saw Spencer cradling Bailey in his arms as he shushed her and lightly sang along to a lullaby. You walked over to them and caressed Bailey’s head as she slowly calmed down and you and Spencer looked at each other.

“Good job Dr. Daddy.”

Spencer chuckled and pressed a kiss to your ear, “You did a good job too mommy.”

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lululandd · 9 months

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Hey 🍄 (ow and sorry for the bad english) Can you write what you think Simon would be like asking you, in the middle of the night, if you still love him?

like when you have those dreams where someone cheats on you and now you can only look sideways at the person yk ... can you do? pleasee (I imagine Simon like "do you still love me?😑😑"

solace;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

wordcount: 574

warnings: fluff (´-ω-`)

note: scrolling through fucking spotify looking for a title took longer than writing the goddamn fic

summary: simon had always made you feel safe, his touches gentle, his tone of voice playful, his kind eyes always telling you without words that you’re protected and adored.

It began with your bleary eyes cracking open; seeing the fabric of Simon’s shirt up close, moving up and down in tandem with the harsh breath you feel on the top of your head. You had moved closer together in your sleep, his hand draped over your shoulder while your legs tangle in between his. The whole bed oozes comfort, the knitted blanket–one he longingly looked at the farmers market–wraps over you both in a warm cocoon.

Snuggling yourself deeper into the blankets and into him, you tried going back to sleep but Simon had started talking in his sleep and you intended to listen.

“Fuck off..” There was silence for a prolonged amount of time before he mumbled, loud and clear, “I’ll kill you.”

“Simon..” You whispered. Remembering how gently he wakes you up when you have nightmares, you try to do the same to him. Placing your hand tenderly on his side, you murmured into his chest, “Please wake up.”

A violent shift came over him and as soon as his hand was off you, instinct took over and you backed away from him. He was a little hard to see in the darkness of the room and you scrambled for the bedside lamp to at least have some light to assess the situation.

Simon had always made you feel safe, his touches gentle, his tone of voice playful, his kind eyes always telling you without words that you’re protected and adored. So when for the first time he stared daggers at you, it made your blood run cold and you didn’t know what to think or do. Sleep has left you completely at this point.

He called your name, his voice quiet but you can hear the cutting bite underneath. “Do you still love me?” He asked suddenly, tensing at the sight of one of your legs hanging off the bed, as if to run away.

Unmoving, you searched his face, trying to read his emotions. “Simon, did you have a weird dream?”

The only response you get is a grunt and him extending his hand slowly, hovering between you like a silent offering. Looking up into his eyes, the hardened edge that he displayed earlier had dissipated so you ignored his hand completely; opting to roll into the bed towards him with your half of the blanket. His arms enveloped you completely even before you reached him.

“You didn’t answer.” He spoke into your hair, his hands hugging you even tighter.

“As if the answer could be no, Simon.” wriggling yourself free from his hold and the blanket, you turn around and bury yourself into his chest as best you could. “You also didn’t answer.”

“Dreamt you ran away with your ex.”

“Ew.” you frowned. Above, you hear him blow air out of his nose. “Wanna get some tea?” You offered.

His hand came up to rub soothing circles onto your cheek before moving his palm to cover your eyes. “Sleep.”

Your breathing eventually evened out, and he was about to let you go and roll onto his side of the bed when he heard you exhale his name softly, the exhaustion and lethargy apparent in your voice.

“I’m too busy being yours to love anyone else.”

Somewhere during your descent towards unconsciousness, you can feel him holding your hand, twiddling with your ring finger. The affection and sentiment is familiar, but sleep took over before any thought registers.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing #scuffed answers

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coldfanbou · 3 months

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Manor: Parting

The new part of the Manor series involves Umji and Taeyeon!

Length 2.1K

Umji x Taeyeon x Mreader

It was the day after. You sit in your room packing a backpack full of clothes and other things you might need. Nayeon was doing the same. You had pulled out a good amount of money from your bank account, and it would last you a couple of months if you were wise with it. Nayeon was doing the same. You’re both nervous; you don’t know exactly what Moonbyul could do for the two of you, but at the moment, you feel like it’s your only choice. Once everything is packed, you hide your backpack in a closet and head out into the manor, taking a walk around the area so you can remember it well.

“Young Master!” You hear from behind you the quick steps of the person, telling you it was Taeyeon. “I have something I have to talk to you about. Could you spare me some time?”

“Sure, what is it, Taeyeon?”

“You’ll have to excuse me, but it's something that we should talk about in private.”

“I- alright.” Taeyeon leads you to her room. She opened the door and stepped to the side to reveal Umji sitting on the bed. You hadn’t had too much interaction with her in the time she worked here. “What is this about Taeyeon?”

“You see, Young Master. Umji managed to overhear something about Yuna and Chuu that I thought you should be aware of. Umji, please go ahead.”

The young woman stood up, fiddling with her hands. “I overheard them saying something about Yuna not ending up pregnant and that they would need to try again with you, Master.”

“This is very concerning, Young Master. It seems like they may be trying to force a marriage.” A knock on the door interrupts Taeyeon; she goes to check it. Opening the door just a crack, she sees Moonbyul on the other side.

“Taeyeon, I finished my task. Is there…” Moonbyul goes quiet as she manages to spot you over Taeyeon’s head.

“Moonbyul, you can- can.” Taeyeon struggles to think of a task for Moonbyul when you manage to see who it is.

“She knows Taeyeon. You can let her in.” You grab the door handle and open the door for Moonbyul. You close the door behind her. “Well, Moonbyul. It looks like you were on the money, but I think Yuna took a different path. According to Umji here, Yuna just planned on getting pregnant to force a marriage.”

Moonbyul nods her head. “I guess that is the fastest way.”

The confused expression on Taeyeon and Umji’s faces is enough for you to explain the situation. “So Moonbyul heard something similar and saw Chuu heading in and out of my father’s office. We have come to the conclusion that it’s my father’s wish.”

“I see.” Taeyeon looks slightly concerned at the prospect. “I’ll talk with him.”

“No, Taeyeon. I’m planning on running away with Nayeon.”

“I don’t understand. If you’re running away with her, why not tell your father? You two could become a couple, and this would all stop.” Taeyeon makes a good point, but this wasn’t as much about marrying and more about wanting your freedom.

“Taeyeon, that’s not what I meant. I meant that we both want to get out of this life. I want my freedom; I don’t want to have my parents watch over me my entire life. Nayeon has her own reasons.”

“That’s his call, and I’m helping him,” Moonbyul says, stepping back into the conversation.

“I think I should leave,” Umji says as she approaches the door. Taeyeon holds her at the door. “Miss Taeyeon?”

“Young Master. I don’t think you should leave. I think we should have a longer talk about this.”

You sigh in response, “Taeyeon, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to keep me here.”

“Let’s just talk this out. I’d like you to leave us, Moonbyul.”

Moonbyul stands there for a moment, “What about Umji?”

“I need her to stay here for a moment. Please leave us. Now.” Moonbyul bows and leaves the room. “Young Master, please reconsider this. If you talk to your father, I'm sure we could get him to stop all this nonsense.”

You put your hand up. “Taeyeon, I just need to leave.” She looks to the floor, considering her options.

In a quiet voice, she says, “You wanted me, right?” Taeyeon slips the straps of her maid dress off her shoulders and forces it off her body, leaving her in her bra and panties. “You can have sex with me whenever you want. Umji, you want him to stay here too, right?” She whispers something into Umji’s ears, and soon, she’s stripping down, too. Your body reacts the only way it can after seeing the two beautiful women strip down.

“Taeyeon,” You whisper before she rushes in and plants her lips on yours. She places your hands on her ass and rubs your bulge.

“Let me do this, Young Master.” She pulls your cock out of your pants and strokes it gently. Taeyeon looks over her shoulder and nods at Umji. The young woman steps up to you and takes your cock from Taeyeon’s hand, continuing to stroke your shaft. Taeyeon’s kiss muffles your grunt. She starts stripping you of your clothes, starting with your shirt, before dragging you onto her bed to take your pants.

On her bed, Taeyeon continues to kiss you. You feel her fingertip move across your chest, but your focus is soon on Umji’s tongue as she drags it along your shaft. You groan from the pleasure. “Just stay quiet and enjoy this Young Master,” Taeyeon says before moving down your body to join Umji. You stare at them, watching each woman take their turn licking your shaft. Taeyeon cups your balls, moving them in her hand as she plants her lips on your cock and runs them along your shaft. On the other side, Umji is doing the same thing; her cute face and dirty act turn you on. “I’ll let you have it first,” Taeyeon whispers before kissing Umji’s cheek. You see the smile on Umji’s face grow as she moves toward the head and swallows it. Her small warm tongue playfully moves up and down over the head of your cock. Taeyeon strips off her remaining pieces of clothing and straddles your leg, rocking on it. Small moans escape her. She uses one hand to balance herself and uses the other to pinch her nipple. You can feel her nectar rubbing off against your leg. “We can take good care of you here. Always and forever.” She moans.

You switch between watching Umji and Taeyeon, unable to keep your attention on a single person. Umji begins bobbing her head, taking in half your shaft. She looks pleased with herself as she glances at you. You moan her name; Umji rubs the tip against the inside of her cheek. It’s soft and warm, but soon you feel something else. Umji reaches your pelvis, your cock down her throat. Her voice is garbled as she mouths something. You unconsciously move your hand down and caress her cheek, feeling the skin around her mouth pull as she smiles. Her tongue taps the underside of your cock as she slowly pulls back. She lets go of your cock with a pop, smiling to herself as she kisses the tip. Umji gently sucks on it, involuntarily making you thrust your hips. She’s surprised and giggles before going back to your cock. You’re getting close to your orgasm, your cock beginning to throb in the young woman’s mouth. “He’s cumming.” Umji mumbles for Taeyeon to hear.

“Go ahead, Umji. Drink it all; you deserve it.” Taeyeon replies before moving to your side. “Let her have it, Young Master.” She whispers into your ear. You give in, pouring your cum onto Umji’s tongue. A happy hum comes from Umji as she greedily drinks every drop. She laps at your tip as your orgasm comes to an end. Opening her mouth, Umji shows you how she drank it all with a smug smile. Taeyeon looks just as happy. She sits up and caresses Umji’s cheek. “I’ll take it from here. You can ride him after.” The two switch places. Taeyeon is between your legs, stroking your cock, getting it hard again while Umji kisses your neck and presses her body against yours. You feel her modest breasts rub against your side.

Once you’re hard, Taeyeon straddles you aligning herself with your cock. “We love you, Young Master.” She says before pushing your cock inside. Taeyeon throws her head back and moans as she slowly stuffs herself with your cock. “You’re so big. I feel so full.” You see a slight bulge where your cock is inside her. Taeyeon rests for a moment, nearly at her end, despite just putting it in. Umji sits up and attaches herself to Taeyeon’s nipple, running her tongue around her areola. “Ah, Umji, don’t do that. I’ll cum.” Taeyeon moans as she starts grinding on your cock. “It feels so good.” She mumbles as she slowly rises. You grab her hips and pull her back down. “Shit,” You feel Taeyeon’s walls tighten around your cock. She leans forward, biting her lip. Taeyeon’s body goes stiff as she hits her orgasm.

You didn’t realize much you missed being inside Taeyeon; you moan and start thrusting into her tightening pussy. “Y-young Master, wait,” Taeyeon mumbles as she becomes overloaded with pleasure. Your thrusts were driving her crazy; add in Umji teasing her breasts, and Taeyeon was becoming lost in pure bliss. Taeyeon struggled to keep herself up as she felt your cock being slammed inside her. Taeyeon was being pushed toward another climax. “I’m cumming again!” Taeyeon cries out. You hold onto her waist, continuing to piston in and out of her as she cums again. Her tight pussy pushes you slowly toward your orgasm, but you hold on for now.

Umji detaches herself from Taeyeon, watching as her superior collapses on top of you after her orgasm ends. “Let me rest, let me…” Taeyeon mumbles on about needing to rest. You lift her off your cock and move her to the side. Umji immediately replaces Taeyeon, rolling over you. Her back was to you, you could feel her soft ass against you, and your cock was trapped between her thighs for the moment. She rubs her legs together, making you groan. Umji’s thighs were beyond soft. You hold onto her waist and begin thrusting; after a minor adjustment, you’re cock in rubbing against her slit. Umji releases a small whine; she reaches up and plays with her tits as she watches your cock slide between her folds.

“Put it in, please, Master. I want your cock.” Umji’s pleas are heard, and you give her what she wants. You slide your cock inside; Umji is tighter than Taeyeon. You both moan loudly. Umji turns her head toward you, and you do the same, kissing her as you begin thrusting. Your hands dig into her soft flesh as you push every inch of your cock inside her. Umji moves one hand down, rubbing her clit. “Harder Master, Harder.” Umji whines. You drive your cock deep inside Umji with every thrust; you can see her body jiggle when you put a lot of strength into it. Umji grabs one of your hands and moves it up toward her breast. Knowing what she wants, you squeeze; you find her nipple between your fingers and try to pinch it. She holds your hand over yours, helping you. Umji’s whines continue to flow as she feels your cock begin to throb inside her. “Master! Cum inside me, please!” You feel Umji walls wrapping around your cock, rubbing every part as she nears her climax.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You groan. You pull Umji down, impaling her on your cock as you cum. She feels your thick baby batter pour into her. Umji rests against you, her hand slowly rubbing her clit as she comes down from her orgasm.

“Master’s cum feels so nice. It’s warm,” Umji mumbles blissfully. You kiss Umji, her lips melting into yours. You slip your tongue inside her mouth as your hands wander her body, running over her smooth skin. “Master can use me whenever he likes,” Umji giggles. You stay inside Umji, letting her be a cockwarmer as you look over at Taeyeon, who’s fallen asleep. You think to yourself about how you still need to go. You decide you’ll at least leave her a note. For now, though, you choose to enjoy Umji for a little while longer.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #gfriend smut #viviz smut #umji smut #taeyeon smut #snsd smut

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a-spes · 1 month

Text

| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - part two (4.070 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person, and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Men & minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, nothing else for the moment (I think?)

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

When Natasha realised that you left nothing to her, taking even her cheque book, she had to call her sister, asking her to come and pay for her. Even if she tried to be as nice as she could in such a situation, she couldn’t keep her words from being harsh.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. Natasha Romanoff, known as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of her generation, having to explain to the waiter that she can’t pay, having to ask her sister for money. It is something that shouldn’t have happened, something that needed to be repaired.

If one thing was sure, it’s that Yelena has not been happy to be woken up by her sister’s bad mood, but she complied with her request without questioning it, knowing better than to argue with her eldest.

“Don’t you dare to say a word", she warned when she eventually saw the blonde approaching the table.

She had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for her sister who decided to take her time. It was a childish way of avenging the brutal awakening she underwent, and the redhead would certainly have laughed if she wasn’t already irritated, and the youngest’s attitude only made it worse.

On the contrary, when Yelena saw her sister sitting at the table, she forgot about her bitterness, realizing how funny the situation was. She never could’ve imagined her sister calling her because she needed money. She is one of the richest people that exist on earth, and one of the most far-sighted at the same time. She always has her phone, at least two cards, her cheque book, and an absurd amount of cash, just in case.

The smile that grows on her face as she realizes how improbable the situation is earns her a slap on the back of the head, and Natasha never holds back her strength.

“Ouch!" She said, rubbing where she was hit, “it hurts!” She complained, but her sister doesn’t seem to care. In a second, the smile disappeared, giving way to a dark look.

“Shut up", the redhead said, rolling her eyes. She knows her sister as the back of her hand, and she also knows that the strength she put in that slap wasn’t enough to hurt her. She probably barely felt it, and is just too much of a cry baby sometimes. Something that’s pissing off the redhead that is in no mood for that kind of game. “Shut up, or you’ll learn what real pain is", she added, not even trying to hide the threat behind her words.

“You’ve no right to snap at me when I came all the way just to help you", she protested, and if they both knew she was right, her words were greeted by a simple sigh from the redhead who ran her hand over her face. No apologies, just silence.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she witnessed her sister in such a state of distress, but she knows that nothing good came out of it. If she enjoys it when the oldest terrifies her men, she fears the incensed decisions she will inevitably make.

She could burn the whole city if she wanted to.

And Natasha has to admit that the thought crossed her mind a few times while she was waiting for the blonde to show up. She was barely able to control her anger, and couldn’t help but bounce her right leg under the table while her fingers were tapping on the table. But none of these actions helped to calm her nerves.

“I abandoned really important things, you know”, she added, as she took her wallet out of her pocket to put it in her sister’s hand. She had outstretched it toward her, and Yelena didn’t need words to understand what the redhead wanted. “All of that because you forgot your wallet …", she mumbled under her breath, but obviously the other heard it.

“I didn’t forget my wallet, it has been stolen”, she muttered, as if it could make the situation less embarrassing, as if she hoped her sister wouldn’t hear, but none of these statements turned out to be true.

“You’re joking, right?” she asked back, not believing the oldest. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone if that’s the case”, she added, sure that her sister was lying to her in an attempt to hide what she probably considered as a weakness.

That’s what her sister always does. Most of the time, she is perfect, but when she inevitably makes mistakes, she always finds excuses. She blames her men, runs away, or pretends it has never happened, and Yelena feels like it’s exactly what’s happening right now. She is thinking that her sister has forgotten her wallet, but doesn't want to admit it.

Maybe because the idea of Natasha being robbed sounds unbelievable.

“I am not lying, someone stole me”, she said again, and her sister better not make her repeat it a third time because she will really lose her temper this time. Everytime she said it out loud, it only made it a bit more real, as if she couldn’t quite believe it before. But the realization is now sinking in, and she feels like she is becoming crazy with all the thoughts that are crossing her mind at the moment. “They took everything", she angrily added, throwing the empty wallet on the table, only for the youngest to check.

And her sister was right. They took everything, not leaving a single penny. The blonde was so shocked that she didn’t even know how to react.

“But … who’s stupid enough to steal things from The Natasha Romanoff?” She managed to ask, once the initial surprise had worn off, “and how did that even happen?” she added, looking at her sister who was now pacing up and down the terrace.

But she knew she wouldn’t get an answer, at least no today. Her sister was ignoring her voice, too busy mumbling things to herself, and she would probably be thrown over the edge if she interrupts, so she waited for them to be in the car to talk again.

She didn’t even complain when the oldest stole her keys, deciding that she will be the one to drive without even asking first. The blonde slipped in the passenger seat, muttering a few insults that Natasha pretends not to hear.

“So, what do you want us to do?” she eventually asked after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes. She was looking at the redhead, the one who was staring at the road, lost in her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she replied, and brought back to reality by the question, she started the car, trying to ignore the look of surprise on her sister’s face.

“Nothing?” she repeated, “so you’re just going to let them go away when they robbed you?” she continued, and the lack of reaction from her sister made her want to shake her sister to get her thinking straight.

“Nothing yet” she corrected her, putting an end to Yelena’s protests. Despite what the other may think, she doesn’t intend to let the culprit be forgiven. It has never been her intention, and she knows exactly what to do to get every penny back.

When she notices the determination in the eyes of the oldest, she knew the next months were going to be interesting. She smirks at the thought.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

This time was the last.

That’s what you said to yourself after every theft, and it has never been true, because you never earned enough to get out of this situation. What you were stealing was usually just enough for you to survive a few weeks, and even if you kept telling that to yourself, you stopped believing that it could become a reality.

It was nothing more than a dream, you head knew it, even if your heart never stopped dreaming about a future brighter than your present. Every night, the day you would eventually be out of misery was the last thing you were thinking about, and you spent hours imagining how it would look like.

You wanted an apartment that would be big enough to welcome the friends you would have made, and a job that you appreciate, but about which you would still complain.

At first, it was only about stealing the essentials, a jumper or an apple for which you would feel guilty for days. It’s when you stopped fearing that someone would catch you that you’ve started to think bigger. The few people who witnessed your theft generally decided that they weren’t paid enough to come after you, a little girl isn't worth their energy.

The years have gone by, and if the number of your victims increased, your wealth hasn’t. That’s when you realized that stealing money from the tourists in the street was not what would give you a better life, and decided to go after the richest people on the earth, the ones that probably wouldn’t even notice if you’d taken a few hundred dollars from their wallet.

One day, you’ll be making so much money that you will be able to pay for your debts.

Slowly, this need to survive has turned into a need for a life where you would have something to call yours. You didn’t want something to eat, you wanted an apartment. You didn’t want stolen clothes, you wanted something bought with your own money. Even a cup or a pen would be enough, as long as you could claim it as yours.

One day, you’ll deserve everything you have.

You stopped stealing almost two years ago, when you eventually raised enough money to start a new life, and the dream became a reality. It took you a lot of time and effort, but you eventually got exactly where you’ve been dreaming of being since your teenage years.

It was thanks to the inattention of this woman who hadn’t blocked her card when it was stolen, neither she declared her cheque book stolen, allowing you to use it as you wished for months. Usually, your victims are quick to solve the problem, leaving you only with the few notes you stole from their wallets.

But this time, you were left with more money than you ever had, more than enough to buy a ticket to another city, and still being able to buy essential supplies after. You could leave, rent a room for a few weeks, just until you find a job and get your first pay, you could even buy some new clothes, and you would still have enough money.

At first, you thought there was a catch, but the days have gone by, they became weeks, months, then years, and if the card and the cheque book never stopped working, nothing bad happened. No one ever knocked at your door, no letter got sent, and the feeling of dread you felt every time you paid has finally disappeared.

Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Maybe there was a problem that never got fixed. Maybe it’s just taking a lot of time. You have no idea, but you can’t help but wonder why, thinking about all the reasons that must have led to that situation.

It is fate.

That’s what a part of your mind is whispering to you, and you ask nothing more than being able to believe it, the other part trying to understand the situation without being able to make sense of it. Even after two years, the question was still in the back of your mind, and you’re almost sure that you could still use the card if you wanted to.

But you don’t, because you made a promise to yourself. You swore that, the moment you would earn enough money to support yourself, you would stop using hers. It has been a bit more than a year since you found your job, and this part of your life feels so foreign now. The only reminder of your past is that box, where you’re keeping all the cards, cheque books, and wallets you once stole. The one that’s hidden in your closet, where no one could see it, not even yourself. The one that contains a past you want to forget about.

You now have a job, an apartment, and you even made some friends on the way. They’re good people, hanging out with them makes you feel like you are too. They never asked questions about where you’re coming from, because they don’t need to know, they’re just appreciating you as you are. The grown-up version of who you were once.

When late at night guilt gnaws at your mind, you’re thinking about their compliments. When the sadness at the thought of your younger self never being loved that way, your memories with them remind you that you succeed to become someone that can be loved.

Someone that deserves everything she has.

There is only one person that had glimpses of who you were, and it’s Kate Bishop. Even if you’ve tried to keep your secrets away from her, it’s hard to do so when you’re spending all your days and nights with someone so curious.

Kate is a coworker, a roommate, but mostly your closest friend. It’s not because she understands you more than anyone else. It’s because she never makes a big deal of anything, and you know nothing you could tell her about you would change the way she acts around you. This girl is everything you want to be: free and happy.

Someone that doesn’t care about social norms.

She would sneak into your room in the middle of the night just because she heard you cry. She wouldn’t even ask questions about the reasons behind the tears, only complaining about how thin the walls are, and how she can’t sleep because of that.

She would go through your belongings when she needs something but she can’t ask you because you’re not home, only telling you when she gives the objects back.

She would answer your phone when it’s ringing while you’re in another room or your hands busy, holding the conversation as if the calls were intended for her.

That’s how she discovered you were looking for a new place to stay. You’ve only been coworkers for a few months when she answered your phone. It was the social worker who called to tell you that you’ll have to move out of your flat within the next weeks because you no longer meet the criterias.

Your first reaction was to yell at Kate. It has been the first and only time you’ve done it, usually not minding when she does it.

But this time it was different: you were scared. You didn’t know her a lot at that time, and you were fearing that this call would destroy the relationship you had started to build. You put so much effort into pretending that everything was fine, and had always been that way, that you thought the truth coming out would ruin everything.

She was the first relationship that you didn’t build on lies, at least not on the big ones. She also has been the first to be able to hold a conversation with you for a while. Not Lydia, or any name you might have borrowed by the past, but just y/n.

When you’ve spent your whole life lying, it’s not easy to know who you are.

It was a bad habit that you had a hard time quitting, still having the urge to lie about some details. Maybe to appear as a more interesting person, maybe because you are afraid to disappoint them.

No, it’s because it’s comforting.

It’s what gave you a bit of hope, what gave you the impression that you had a normal life. You’ve never been interested in living the marvelous lives of your alias, you just wanted a normal one for you. Maybe if you tell these stories a lot of time, your mind will accept them as reality.

Over the years, lying became more than a habit: it was an addiction. You felt bad every time you lied to the black-haired, even if it was only about small and insignificant things, like your favourite colour, but you couldn’t just stop. It’s only that day that you realised that it might ruin everything between the two of you.

Everything has been so easy since you met Kate. You never felt like you were too much, or in the wrong place, because she always made sure to integrate you into the team, and you’re still regretting the words that fell from your lips that day.

She was the first genuine friend you’ve made, and that’s how you thanked her kindness, with snide remarks that she didn’t deserve.

For a minute, you saw yourself back there. In that lonely and miserable place.

But she didn’t get angry. Nor for the lies, nor for the horrible things you said. She didn’t look at you with pity, but with something that was closer to surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand your reaction, but knew enough to not judge. That’s when she asked you to be her flatmate.

Kate was the first one to learn about your favourite colour, the real one, and all your daily habits. From your favourite thing to eat for breakfast to the time you get up, she knows things you never thought you would share with someone one day. Kate has been the first one to see y/n. The one that doesn’t wear any mask, the one that does not need to pretend she is someone else.

Then, it was your turn.

Tonight, when you’re looking in the mirror, the only thing you can see is your smile. A bright, and big one. Even with makeup on, you are not looking or feeling as anyone else than yourself. Every choice has been made by you to suit your taste.

“Are you done yet?” She asked, and you could hear Kate’s muffled voice through the bathroom’s door, “we’re going to be late!” She complained for what’s probably the tenth time in the last quarter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was stamping her foot on the other side of the door, throwing a tantrum like a child.

“Isn’t it what celebrities are supposed to do?” you replied, a smug smile on your face as you eventually opened the door after spending more than an hour in the room.

Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection demands time, something your impatient roommate doesn’t seem to agree with. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed your arm.

“That’s not funny!” she exclaimed as she started dragging you toward the entrance. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at her attitude.

You know that the real reason behind her actions isn’t a concern for punctuality, Kate always being late, but just a result of her excitement for the evening that’s coming: some friends of hers are going to play music in a bar, and she doesn’t want to miss even a second of the show. A simple glance at the clock confirms what you were thinking: you’re not late.

But you also know it’s useless to argue with the black haired woman when she is in that state of mind, so you just go along with it, letting your friend drag you toward the entrance. You have just enough time to grab your bag before you leave the apartment.

You are too focused on your footsteps to be listening to her rambling about the coming party, trying to not trip on your own feet. But she isn’t listening to you either, deaf to your pleas for her to slow down, or to let go of your arm, and it’s only when you arrive at the said bar that you get your freedom back.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

She never forgot.

She has been thinking about what happened that night every day since. The years have gone by, but it never left her mind, and picturing all the ways in which she could get back what you owe her was soothing her to sleep every night.

Despite her impatience, she took her time, waiting for the moment you would’ve forgotten about her, when you would let your guard down, thinking that your past mistakes had been forgotten, and forgiven. Maybe your previous victims did, but she has nothing in common with these guys, and chasing you wasn’t about the money. It was about dignity.

She needed to make you feel the same shame that she had that morning.

Some of her associates don’t understand her obsession, even her sister sometimes suggested that she let it go, fearing that it would jeopardize the company. But she stayed firm; you started a game that night, and she is not the kind that appreciates losing.

She is determined to show you that two can play that game.

It wasn’t difficult to track you down. The only obstacle had been the false identity you built for yourself, but it had only been a matter of months before she found you, there was no way she couldn’t recognize your face on the security tape. It was in the middle of the night, one of those where she couldn’t sleep, and eventually decided that she would rather look for you instead of tossing and turning in her bed, consumed by her thoughts.

That’s when she found it, a footage from a shop’s security camera where your face appeared. You were nothing like the woman she met at the party, from your hair to the way you were moving, you definitely had none of Lydia’s elegance, and she couldn’t even understand how you’ve been able to pretend to be her, and how you’ve possibly been good enough to fool her, The Natasha Romanoff.

But despite the numerous differences, she was sure it was you on that video. There were details you couldn’t change, and the shape of your jaw was one of them. She could still see your face as she had you pinned beneath her that night, her fingers running along your cheeks, wishing that moment would last forever.

Since then, she kept collecting these videos as a kid would collect cards, watching them regularly. The footage made everything make sense, and you seemed closer than ever as she kept hitting the replay button.

She had to admit that you are smart, but not smart enough, and everytime you used the card was one more clue guiding her in the right direction. At first, she was able to track your movements, it only took her a few more weeks before she discovered your identity, and more importantly, learned about your past.

A few weeks, that’s all it took, yet she had waited several years before going after you, deciding it was the right time only when you started building a new life for yourself. You moved to a city where no one knew your name, you got a normal job, and haven’t stolen since. You even made some friends. You got the life you have probably dreamed about since your teenage years, and she knew that perfectly.

She also knew that the moment she would break your illusion of peace, and steal your hope of a better life, you’ll be heartbroken. Hopeless.

She saw how, as the years went by, you started to be less cautious, thinking that your past mistakes were nothing more than faded memories in your mind. She saw how you eventually stopped looking around every time you were going out, how you started opening up to your friends, seeming to forget about what you have done.

But she didn’t forget, and she promised herself that you wouldn’t either. It’s only fair that you pay for your mistakes, isn’t it?

She started the car when she saw you, and Kate, disappear round the corner. You were obviously out for the night, and it was the perfect opportunity. No one would pay attention to the disappearance of a girl, not in a crowded, dark place that reeked of alcohol and illegal substances.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

| tag list - @thalia-is-not-ok / @tobiaslut

#a spes writing #pretty faces dark souls #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow fanfiction #dark natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #reader insert #female reader

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fatuismooches · 9 months

Text

a lesson in happiness.

Kabukimono did not know the day of his creation.

It was already a sad thing, you thought, to not have been given a name at birth. Much less to not know the day you were first brought into this world. To not have a birthday. Though Kabukimono initially didn’t care, due to having no knowledge of the concepts of birthdays at first, seeing other villagers celebrate their own caused him to be excited about his birthday, and then be crushed by the realization that he didn’t have one.

He acted like it didn’t hurt him. But it did. And it hurt you too. Though, you had an idea.

January third. That was the day Katsuragi and the others found the puppet lying inside Shakkei Pavilion. It wasn’t his day of birth, but still an important day. A day when he was found. Seen. And you wanted Kabukimono to feel special, just like every human does, on a day of the year. So you devised a little plan. It wasn’t anything grand of course, no, you didn’t have the Mora for that. But to Kabukimono, he would probably think you may have just given him a five-star course anyway. You hadn’t told him about this yet, as you wanted it to be a surprise.

The first step was baking a cake, which wasn’t as simple as one would think.

Kabukimono was always open to trying new human foods, but surprisingly, he did not enjoy sweets. You’ll never forget the screwed-up expression on his face when you introduced him to dango. He tried to speak while eating it but it sounded all jumbled up because his teeth were stuck together. It was quite adorable.

So therefore, you had to make sure that the cake wasn’t too sweet and also tasted good at the same time. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, and it took you a good amount of tries. Not to mention Kabukimono was constantly glued at your hip so it was hard to find time to do it so he wouldn’t find out about the surprise. But at last, you had done it. It was light, fluffy, and yummy, with not too much sugar so you hoped Kabukimono would find it delicious.

The second thing was to acquire a gift. It was hard to think of something to get your lover. It felt like, no matter what you gave him, it wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much it was (not that you had the money for that anyway.) But you had settled on something simple but pretty - you had commissioned someone in the village to produce a lovely, handmade comb for you. It was beautiful, sturdy and practical, and the best part it had your and Kabukimono’s initials carved into it with a plus sign.

Kabukimono always loved it when you brushed his hair. It had become a nightly and morning routine actually. Every night you’d brush out the knots that may have accumulated during the day. And in the morning you’d brush out any tangles he may have gotten in his sleep. You took care of his silky princessy hair better than your own. So you think he’d appreciate this comb especially, for when he had to brush his hair when you weren’t around.

Regardless, you were set and prepared to make Kabukimono’s first birthday with you a success. The night before, you were trying to hide your giddiness, but it seemed like you weren’t the only one. Kabukimono kept looking at you with shy eyes, to which you smiled and came to hug him from behind, wrapping your arms around him.

“Something you want to say, love?” You asked, nuzzling your face into his neck. He blushed a little bit.

“I was just thinking a bit.”

“About? Perhaps little old me?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “But also about tomorrow. It was the day I…” The puppet’s memory was always sharp, you noticed. Of course he wouldn’t forget about such a notable day.

“The day Katsuragi and the others found you,” you finished. “And the day I met you,” you softly pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“You remembered!” Kabukimono beamed.

“Of course I did,” you chuckled. “How could I forget about the love of my life?” You squeezed him tighter and pulled him down, both of you falling together onto the futon as giggles filled the air. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” you sighed nostalgically. To think time would pass so fast.

“I remember it so clearly. Like it was yesterday…” The puppet drifted off as he buried his face in your chest. “So many things have happened since then. Sometimes I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, stroking his hair. “I’m quite happy to have been able to be with you for this long though.”

“Me too, [Name]! You’ve always made my days so much better,” he reached up to kiss your cheek and you grinned, cupping his face and pulling him in for another. Intimate moments like this were always lovely.

… But you knew for Kabukimono, this would eventually become nothing but a drop in the eternity that would stretch on endlessly for him.

—

It was Kabukimono’s birthday today.

That was the first thing you thought when you cracked your eyes open. You turned to face your lover and there he was, sleeping peacefully, snuggled into your shoulder. Stunning, as usual. For someone who didn’t need to sleep, he sure seemed to enjoy it. Though you hoped that today he’d stay asleep by himself for a while now. He always seemed to know when you left the futon and would soon follow you. So this time you placed a pillow for him to snuggle into instead. Hopefully, that’d keep him at bay for a bit until you finished baking the cake. You already knew the process like the back of your hand so it wouldn’t be too long.

… Unfortunately, Kabukimono was awake and pouting at you in the kitchen before you finished, the baked cake lying on the counter to cool while you had just finished whisking the icing.

“[Name], what are you doing up so early?” He whined, rubbing his eyes and sleepily making his way over to you. As he got closer he squinted at the stuff on the cupboard. “Are you making a cake? Is it someone’s birthday?”

Looks like the jig was up. “Yes, indeed. It’s for someone very important,” you hummed, as you began to spread the frosting over the layers of cake. Kabukimono blinked at you, trying to figure out who it could be. January third… January third. Not Niwa, nor Katsuragi… Kinjirou? No, not him either.

“Who?”

“You, silly.” There was a pause after your words as your lover stared at you blankly, processing your words.

“What? I-I don’t understand, [Name],” the puppet looked at you with a perplexed expression. You merely smiled back in response.

“A year ago today, when we all found you, you became part of this village’s family. You became irreplaceable to all of us. Especially me,” you uttered softly, looking straight into his eyes. “It may not have been the day you were brought into this world, but instead a day you were introduced to the world. A fitting day for a birthday, no? And I’d love to celebrate it with you… as long as it’s okay with you, dear.”

Kabukimono was stunned into near silence. “Is that… really possible? Can I really do that?”

“Of course you can. There are no rules.” Within seconds, a large smile appeared on Kabukimono’s face.

“January third… my birthday. My birthday! I actually have one now!” He looked so joyful, that it would make anyone smile. The puppet felt as though he was a little bit more human now.

“Indeed you do! Now, go get ready. We’re going out soon. There’s a really pretty spot I want to take you.” At this point, Kabukimono was practically jumping in excitement.

“Thank you so much [Name]! I love you so much!” He threw his hands around you quickly and then released you to go off and get changed.

“Love you… too.” Before you could even finish your sentence he was already out of the room. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you retrieved a basket to place the cake and other small foods in.

Today was going to be an excellent day.

—

Kabukimono was too thrilled to walk at a normal pace, so the two of you were virtually running to the spot you had picked out. Thankfully the food was okay. Once the two of you had settled down at the scenic spot, the puppet marveled at the snacks and most importantly, the cake. It had been a hit with him, considering how he gobbled it down before you even finished your first slice. You made a mental note to make more non-sweet pastries for him.

Not to mention how over the moon he was when you finally presented his gift, the comb. He couldn’t stop staring and fiddling with it, despite the fact there was really not much to see after a few minutes. Regardless, he asked you to comb his hair with it while he played with the finches and squirrels that had somehow shown up in his lap.

It really was a beautiful day, a birthday well celebrated. Now, it was going to be the evening time soon, so you two began to make it back to your home. Kabukimono wanted to cuddle in bed with you and read some stories. But when you arrived, you had one more surprise for your lover.

“There’s one last thing for you.”

“There’s even more?” Kabukimono looked at you with pure awe and adoration, making your heart squeeze.

“Yup! Though this one… it’s something for both of us, kind of. You’ll see. Wait here!” And with that you were running off, leaving the puppet confused and intrigued. But in no time you were back, carrying something.

It was… a tree? With the bottom of it contained in a bag with soil.

“[Name], you got us a tree?”

“Not just any tree, love. A Lavender Melon tree,” you grinned, setting the plant down with a huff. “You know what that means?”

“… We’re going to grow our own Lavender Melons!” The boy launched himself at you and you almost toppled over, but you gladly accepted his affection. “Oh but, how do we take care of it? I’ve never done something like this before!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it step by step. It’s not easy, but it’ll be rewarding and fun! Here, would you help me plant it now?” The puppet eagerly agreed and you two got to work finding a nice spot for your new tree and shoveling the ground (which Kabukimono insisted on doing himself despite it being his birthday.) Soon enough, the fruit tree was tucked firmly into the ground and watered. Kabukimono looked rather proud.

“I’ve never seen a tree this short. So this is how they look before they’re all grown up.”

“This one isn’t even that tiny. I’ve seen saplings much smaller. Though, maybe if you sing to it, it’ll grow faster.”

“Really? Is that true?!” Kabukimono was now staring at you with wide, impressed eyes. Before you could even respond, he spoke again. “Well, I’ll sing as much as it wants every day.” Your eyes softened at his declaration. You couldn’t wait to hear that.

“But [Name], how long will it take to bear some Lavender Melons?”

“Well, it’s going to be a long journey. We might see some in a few years from now.”

“Oh, that isn’t too far away! How juicy do you think our melons will be? I can’t wait!”

Your heart felt a prick of pain at his words. A few years, a blink of an eye for Kabukimono, but ages for you. His perception of time was so different from yours, the more time you spent with him, the more it hurt you badly to think of how it would scar him in the future.

“But [Name], why did you get this tree in the first place? We can always buy Lavender Melons from the market.” His innocent voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Today was a happy day for both of you. It was rude to think such things today of all days.

“You’re right, we can. But I just thought it would be nice to raise something together.”

“Raise something?”

“Yes. Human life is beautiful, but so is the life of nature, animals, and things around us. It’s a nice feeling to be able to nourish and take care of something. Perhaps later on we can get a cat too. What do you think?” You expected a response but you received nothing.

“Kabuki-” You froze mid-sentence when you saw your lover’s face.

Kabukimono was crying.

“Oh Kabukimono, what’s wrong?” You immediately went to embrace and comfort him. “You can talk to me.” The only problem was that Kabukimono himself did not know where these tears came from. This whole day had been so incredible and joyous, so why was he crying?

The only experience he had with tears were moments when it felt like his chest had been pierced and left with a gaping hole. When he was abandoned. When he sat alone in Shakkei Pavilion, his whole body ached as he believed himself to be tossed out like trash. So why…? Why was he crying when you were being so kind to him…?

“I- I don’t know,” he croaked. “It just came out of nowhere,” he wept into your chest. You were silent for a bit, stroking his hair before you spoke.

“Tears are not only a sign of sadness, Kabukimono. They are also for anger, surprise, jealousy, fear… but most importantly, happiness. If I may take a little guess here… you are feeling so much happiness, you became a bit overwhelmed,” you gently explained, wiping his tears with your fingers and sleeves. Kabukimono looked at you with teary eyes. “Am I right, love?”

The puppet looked down, contemplating your words and trying to understand his own emotions. You were right. Though there was a tinge of sadness in his chest, all he could think about was how grateful he was to have you. His light, his support. The one who gave him a second chance after he thought he was useless, the one who gave him worth and meaning to himself and this world.

“Happy birthday, Kabukimono. May we spend many more together.”

The puppet’s heart felt oddly at ease at your words, and he slowly nodded as he enjoyed the homely warmth your embrace provided.

He thought you would be right.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer fluff #scaramouche fluff #kabukimono #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche genshin #wanderer genshin #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst

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leahwllmsn · 4 months

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august slipped away into a moment in time (‘cause it was never mine) | alessia russo x reader

Alessia has someone else and you should’ve known better.

; angst, cheating

I’m in love with Alessia Russo. It was that thought that kept on repeating in your head as Alessia’s blue eyes stared right into yours. With that thought playing on a loop in your head, your gaze dropped to her lips and you unconsciously bit your own. You saw she did the same and you almost, almost leaned forward to capture those plump lips in yours.

But this was Alessia Russo and Alessia Russo had a boyfriend and you knew it wouldn’t be right.

It took everything in you to get your back off the lockers and push her away.

You didn’t even remember how you got into that position in the first place—with Alessia inches away from you, pinning you against the lockers of the changing room.

Shaking your head, you swore that you would never let yourself get that close to Alessia again. You didn’t think you’d have the willpower to resist next time.

But nothing ever went your way and next time came a second later.

Alessia grabbed your wrist and tugged you closer. It was the closest you had ever been to each other and you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Alessia…” you whispered. You didn’t know what she wanted from you. Alessia had someone, why would she want you?

“Kiss me.” Alessia whispered back and you thought you had to be dreaming. But she repeated her words once again and you felt all the air rush out your body.

“Are you sure?”

You knew that you were crazy to even think about agreeing to the girl in front of you. But having Alessia so close after years of admiring her from afar, you were starting to feel every selfish bone in your body.

So when Alessia nodded, you didn’t waste another second before you pulled her neck and crashed your lips together.

Her hands immediately went to your hips, lifting you up and pushing you against the wall. You knew the door was unlocked and anyone could come in at any moment, but you didn’t care. Besides, it was off-season so no one was likely to be here. So you wrapped your legs around Alessia’s waist and enjoyed the soft moans coming from the blonde as you ran your hand through her hair.

It was the middle of summer. You were exploring the Arsenal training grounds—your future club once the new season starts. The staff told you that you were welcome to use the facilities before training resumed, allowing you to familiarize yourself with the place. Nobody had any more reason to be here since the season has ended, so it was a surprise when you found Alessia Russo doing some shooting practicing on the empty field.

It was another surprise to have your training kit forgotten on the floor as you spent hours worshiping every single inch of Alessia Russo’s body.

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

You’ve met Alessia a number of times, your paths always seemed to intertwine. Her playing for England as a forward and you for the Netherlands as a defender, it was inevitable, really.

You two were the same age, thus making appearances for the U15 squad at around the same time until you both made it to the senior squad, at the same time too.

But your relationship with Alessia never went further than the typical hellos and how are yous, which seemed ridiculous with the amount of times your paths crossed. You didn’t even think you two could be considered as friends.

Still though, you managed to develop a crush on her, which over the years, seemed to only magnified—a result of your longing glances from afar on and off the pitch, you watching her post-match interviews from the side like she hung the stars in the sky (plus you watching all the videos of her on Youtube—it was a bit pathetic), and how you hang on to every word your teammates said whenever they shared stories about the great Alessia Russo.

Despite all that, you didn’t try to form some sort of relationship with her. You weren’t the most confident kid on the block. You were fine with that though—admiring her from afar.

Alessia had always seemed to be a galaxy away from your reach.

You knew the incident that happened at the locker room—stupidly charming Alessia Russo looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and not the other way around, it was a nice change for once—you knew it was a one-in-a-million type of thing, and although it was wrong, you couldn't help it. It was all the pent up longing emotions.

You promised yourself that you weren’t going to let your feelings for Alessia clouded your judgment anymore. As much as you wanted it to happen again, you knew better.

Turns out, the incident at the locker room happened again a week later. (You hated how weak you were for Alessia).

You went with your parents to have dinner at their friends’ house, who turned out to be Alessia’s parents and you couldn’t help how wide your eyes went at the sight of none other than Alessia opening the front door.

Unlike last time, Alessia didn’t have her training gear on. This Alessia had a pair of skinny jeans and a white crop top that slightly showed off her abs and you felt so full of a sin for having memories of ripping Alessia’s top while she was with her parents.

“Mr and Mrs y/l/n, happy to see you again,” Alessia greeted them with a hug and a smile on her face. She turned to you and you were surprised when Alessia went to hug you too. “Happy to see you again too, y/n.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you two knew each other!” Your mom’s tone was full of surprise and you didn’t blame her one bit—you usually kept to yourself. The only people your parents were familiar with were your Netherlands teammate, Viv and Jill.

“Just recently,” Alessia answered, her eyes fixated on you. “We spent hours getting to know each other last week.” You want to wipe that damn smirk off her face. “We are going to be teammates after all.”

You cleared her throat, looking away. You definitely spent hours getting to know each other, but it most definitely wasn’t what your parents were thinking about.

“Oh yes! That’s so lovely!” Your mom laughed. “You must bring her out more often, Alessia. We keep on worrying that our schatje will be stuck with two friends for the rest of her life.”

You grimaced at your mom. “I do have friends.”

“Schatje?”

Your dad went on to explain that it was a term of endearment, mentioning how you didn’t really like it when they called you that, and how you especially didn’t like it when they called you y/n/n.

“Oh that’s a cute one,” Alessia told your dad and your scowl deepened further. You hated how Alessia’s eyes glimmered in amusement.

“It’s just a shortened version of my name,” you waved off. “It’s not that hard to say the whole thing.”

“Any other nickname of hers I should know about?” Alessia grinned at your mom.

“Didn’t you say you two spent hours with each other last week?” Your dad asked, head shaking in amusement.

You could only pray that your face wasn’t turning completely red. “It—it didn’t come up.”

Alessia only laughed and ushered them inside. When your parents were out of earshot, Alessia whispered to your ears, “Can’t wait to know which of your names will be my favourite to scream out.”

You couldn’t concentrate on the entire dinner.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

Alessia’s face was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. She was looking at you, lying on her side with one hand under her head. Her blonde hair was messy, the sunlight seeping through the curtains made her skin glow more than usual. You thought that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

You cleared your throat. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Alessia said back. “Thanks for sleeping over.”

“Thanks?” you laughed.

Alessia hummed, grinning. “Yes, thanks. You are so good with your—”

“Less!” you immediately put your hand on her mouth and she laughed in response.

“I’m only joking,” Alessia took your hand and intertwined it with hers. “You’re fun to talk to.”

“We only talked for… an hour,” you noted.

“Still,” Alessia shrugged. “I really like talking to you.”

You went quiet after that. You noted how the silence was far from awkward despite you two barely knowing each other.

Alessia’s hands moved to caress your cheeks and you were starting to feel the weight of her touch. What were you doing? You had no right to be in Alessia’s bed. You knew how wrong it was.

But at the same time, it felt so right that you couldn’t help but bury yourself deeper into Alessia’s bedsheets, swallowing yourself with scents of the blonde girl.

“Why are you staring at me?” you whispered.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

You scoffed. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Alessia furrowed her brows. “You’re very beautiful, y/n.”

“There are more beautiful people.”

“Like who?” Alessia looked curious.

“You.”

You had front row seats to the way Alessia’s cheek turned a brighter red and you enjoyed how she tried to act unaffected by your words.

“Well, I am beautiful.” Alessia said, her voice teasing.

“Aaand I’m leaving.” you sat up, pretending to leave.

“No,” Alessia whined, tugging you back down. “But you’re more beautiful, is what I meant to say.”

You snuggled into her chest. You wondered how something so wrong could feel so right.

“Should we put some clothes on?”

“Why?” Alessia asked, her hand gently stroking your back.

“Because,” you stopped her hand that was trailing further and further down. “Your parents can come in at any second.”

“True.” Despite that, Alessia made no move to untangle herself from you, only hugging you tighter.

You giggled. “So can you let go of me or…?”

“This feels nice.”

“But your parents—”

“I locked the door.”

You playfully slapped her arms. “You couldn’t say that in the beginning?”

Alessia giggled and kissed the top of your head.

You closed your eyes and sighed in content. It felt really nice being in Alessia’s arms. With her this close to you, you could pretend that she was yours—even if it was just for a moment.

“Lessi?”

“Hm?”

“This does feel nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“What are you doing for the rest of the summer?” you asked.

“Spending time with you, if you’re free.” Alessia answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’ll make myself free for you then.” That wasn’t what you should have answered. You should’ve resisted Alessia’s grip and gone home that day and erased any memories of her.

“How does every day this summer sound?”

But you decided that being with Alessia was too addicting.

“It sounds perfect.”

So you let yourself pretend a little longer.

less: come join me at the beach

y/n: it’s so hot out today

less: it’s the perfect weather

less: plus I miss you

y/n: fine

Your back

Beneath the sun

Wishing I could write my name on it

“Told you it’s the perfect weather.”

You looked to your right. Alessia was laying on her front, her back in full display and you wanted nothing more than to run her hands up and down the bare skin. But there were people around and you were sure that what they had could only happen behind closed doors.

“Yeah.” you turned your attention back to your book, but you couldn’t concentrate on what you were reading. Not when you could feel Alessia’s gaze on you.

“What book are you reading?”

“Anna Karenina.”

“Oh, I’ve read that before.”

You looked at her, amused. “You have?”

Alessia laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You shrugged, a smile on your lips. “You don’t seem like the type who reads books.”

“Hey! I do!” she lifted her head up, resting her chin on the palm of her hands. “Anna had an affair right? And she ran away with her lover to Italy, or something.”

You hummed. “Like what we’re doing right now, isn’t it? Minus the running away part.”

Alessia didn’t say anything at that and you realized how they had never talked about their situation before.

“Less—”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” It was the first time that you heard her sound so timid. “I’m still with my boyfriend.”

Your heart broke at Alessia’s words. You did know from the start that she had someone else and that this wasn’t meant to be anything more than a love affair, but still, it hurt.

“I won’t,” you tried her best to smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know it’s not fair to you,” she broke your eye contact, her fingers started playing aimlessly with the sand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” you replied. You focused your gaze back to your book, trying your best to not show your emotions—at least, not now, not when Alessia was in front of you. “I’ve always known you have him.”

It was far from fine. You felt horrible. You knew a million reasons why this whole thing was wrong.

But you were in love with Alessia Russo and you just wanted to be selfish for a little longer.

So when a notification popped up in Alessia’s phone and you saw a boy kissing her cheek on the lockscreen, you pretended you didn’t see it.

Will you call when you're back at school?

I remember thinkin' I had you

Meeting everyday became a frequent thing and soon enough, Alessia was everywhere.

You would walk down to your kitchen to find her already having breakfast with your parents. Or on days where you woke up earlier than usual, you would jog to Alessia’s house and jump on top of her sleeping figure (to which Alessia would always complain but you could still see the hint of a smile).

You would have sleepovers and mornings together before you two decided to play some football together, it was the one thing you two loved more than anything.

If the security guards and the few staff around started noticing how you and Alessia were always together, they never mentioned it.

Once you two are done, Alessia would drag you off the field to an unused closet and you truly hated how you were getting used to the comfort of tight places with the amount of time you spent hiding away.

“You know,” Alessia trailed a finger down your chest. “You’re the best one I ever had.”

You rolled her eyes. “I bet you say that to everyone.”

You two were on the floor, your clothes spread out haphazardly around you. You were laying on your back, Alessia on top of you. Despite the cold, hard floor, you enjoyed every second of having Alessia’s weight pressed against you.

“No, it’s true,” Alessia smiled flirtatiously. “Who knew? y/n l/n, a monster in bed.”

“You’re always so blunt,” you laughed and leaned forward to peck Alessia’s lips. “We’re not even in a bed right now.”

“Does your back hurt?”

“Just a bit.” Alessia looked worried at your answer so you quickly flashed her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay though, I’m getting used to the floor.”

Alessia shook her head and smiled amusedly at you. “Maybe I should buy an inflatable bed.”

You hummed. “And how will you explain to everyone when they see you carrying a bed to this tiny closet?”

Alessia rested her head on your chest and you instantly wrapped your arms around Alessia. “I’ll just say that it’s none of their business.”

You laughed in response and hugged Alessia tighter.

“Are you hungry?” Alessia asked.

“I’m always hungry.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Alessia’s tone was full of endearment and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “Let me sleep for five minutes then we’ll grab some food, okay?”

Before you could reply, you could already hear Alessia’s soft snores. You let out a chuckle, your hand tracing circles on Alessia’s back as you stared at the ceiling.

You didn’t know how long this would last. You were naive to think it would be forever.

You ended up bumping into Alessia’s ex-teammate at lunch. You and Alessia were standing outside a sushi restaurant, waiting to be seated, when you saw two familiar figures walking towards you.

You tugged at your intertwined hands. “Less, isn’t that-”

“Mary and Ella.” you weren't surprised when Alessia immediately dropped your hand.

Alessia looked anxious, she was looking around and you wondered if she was going to ask you to leave.

You could see Mary and Ella recognizing Alessia as they walked closer and closer. And once they were right in front of you, Ella spoke up. “Less? Thought you were too tired to join us!”

“I am.” Alessia answered quickly. Her posture was tense and any trace of smile that she had on previously had now completely disappeared.

It was then that Alessia’s friends noticed you standing next to Alessia. They looked at you and their faces lit up in recognition. “Hi, y/n! How have you been, mate? Did you and Less come here to have lunch?”

Alessia moved away from you and you would be lying to say that it didn’t hurt.

“Oh, we didn’t come together. Must be a coincidence.” You weren't surprised at Alessia’s answer, after all no one was supposed to know about them.

Mary and Ella didn’t seem to believe Alessia, so you stepped back, moving to leave. “Yeah, no, I saw Alessia standing by herself and went to say hello.”

When Alessia didn’t say anything else, still keeping her eyes glued to the floor, you bid goodbyes to Mary and Ella, turned around and left.

less: I’m sorry

Back when we were still changin' for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

Alessia didn’t call or text you again for a few days and you decided that you weren't going to be the first one to do so.

But despite everything, you missed Alessia.

And it was for that reason that you spent your mornings waiting by your phone in hopes that a notification from Alessia would appear.

When night time came and there was still nothing from the blonde girl, you decided that waiting was hopeless, you turned off your phone and get ready for bed. It felt like an endless cycle.

You managed to turn off all the lights and slid under the covers, yet every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was you and Alessia tangled in bedsheets.

You wondered how you could forget about Alessia when she was all you think about.

You woke up in the middle of the night, exactly four days since you last spoke with Alessia. The first thing you noticed was the sudden weight against your back. You looked down and saw an arm encircling your waist and you were surprised that Alessia managed to enter your room without waking you up (Alessia was the noisiest and clumsiest person you had ever met).

You sighed and turned around. Alessia wasn’t asleep. After hours of watching her sleep, you could tell when she was only pretending. So you leaned forward and placed your forehead against hers.

Alessia’s eyes slowly blinked open and despite it being dark, the moonlight from the window was able to illuminate Alessia’s features perfectly.

“Hi,” Alessia whispered. “Your parents let me in.”

“I thought you were never going to come,” you confessed.

“I’m late, but I’m here.” Alessia brought her hand up to your face, trailing a finger from your forehead down to your chin.

You offered a small smile. Were you pathetic for finally feeling at ease with Alessia next to you?

“About the thing with Ella and—” she started but you quickly interrupted her.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t.

You knew what Alessia did was unnecessary. You two were going to be teammates—heck, you two were friends. There was no reason to hide any friendship. But you guessed Alessia didn’t want to be associated with you at all and it hurt.

So, no, it wasn’t okay.

But you were in love with Alessia and you didn’t want to lose her. “No one can know, right?” you gave her a small smile—it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

You’d take having Alessia in secret than not having her at all.

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

“My boyfriend’s back in town.”

Alessia said it so casually one night that you were caught off guard. Your hand that was gently stroking Alessia’s back stopped mid-air and you slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard and bringing the covers closer to your chest.

All at once, all the dread that you had been trying not to feel came rushing in and after a month of running around with Alessia by your side in secret, reality had finally sunk in and you couldn’t do anything but hope that after everything, you meant something to her.

You knew it was a long shot, but you hoped she would choose you.

“Right.” you replied, because what else were you supposed to say? You didn’t even know where he had gone, you never asked about him and Alessia never talked about him either.

The only thing you knew about Alessia’s boyfriend was that he had something that you so badly wanted.

Alessia fished for a t-shirt that was on the floor and put it on. (You tried to count just how many of your clothing Alessia had brought home and never returned).

The blonde sat cross-legged in front of you. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

She gently touched your forehead. “You’re frowning.”

“Oh,” you shook her head, giving a chuckle. “I don’t know.”

You were quiet for a while. You knew how this night would end—you hoped you were wrong though.

But when Alessia smiled and it was a smile so wistful, you knew that you were going to end up with a broken heart.

“You made my summer more bearable, you know,” Alessia admitted. “My family’s a drive away but I see them all the time and I would hang out with the few friends I have here sometimes, but with you, it was so… exhilarating. You made me feel so many things at once, I always felt like I couldn’t keep up.”

You stayed quiet. This wasn’t fair. You did know she had someone else, but after everything you had been through this August, did everything mean nothing to her?

“You’re going to end things, aren’t you?” you spoke up, your voice barely a whisper.

Alessia didn’t answer and it was the confirmation you needed.

“I know what we did was wrong,” you continued. “It will never be right and I’ll always feel guilty about it. But don’t I mean something to you, Less?”

Alessia pulled her knees to her chest, a sigh escaping her lips. “You mean everything to me.”

“Then?” your voice was desperate. “Why are you still with him?”

“It’s complicated.”

You scoffed. “What can be so complicated?”

Alessia gave a small shrug and didn’t elaborate further. So you took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking her hands in yours. “Be with me.”

“y/n… I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“But I love you.”

Alessia’s head immediately snapped up. “You can’t.”

You furrowed your brows. Who was she to tell you that you couldn't feel that way? “But I do.”

“We can’t do this anymore, y/n,” Alessia took her hands away from your grip. “Summer’s over.”

“Was that all I ever was to you? A summer fling?”

Alessia didn’t reply, instead she stood up and put her pants on, rummaging around for her bag.

“Lessi,” your voice was a plea. “You’re leaving?”

She took a deep breath and you could see how teary her eyes were. “Please don’t chase after me, y/n. We can’t do this anymore.”

Stopping at the door, she turned to you one last time and whispered an “I’m sorry”.

That was the last time Alessia stepped foot in your bedroom.

You should’ve known better.

Parking your car at the training ground, you looked around and saw how alive this place was after days of secret moments shared between you and Alessia through the barren place. Your heart stings at the memories and you couldn’t help but search for Alessia. With every move you took—stepping out of the car, opening the back door to retrieve your kit bag, locking your car—your mind always returned to her.

And when you finally spotted her, standing by the entrance as she kissed her boyfriend goodbye, their hands staying intertwined until he walked away, you heard your heart break in two.

You should’ve known better.

Your eyes met and you still hoped that Alessia would change her mind.

But Alessia looked away and you had to swallow the bitter reality that she would never be yours.

Walking to the locker room, you wondered how you could ever find someone else when the only person that you wanted was Alessia.

“y/n, hey! Welcome! How was your summer?”

You shrugged. You didn’t even know who had asked you the question, you kept your eyes on your kit bag, rummaging around for your training kit, not bothering to look sideways.

“I feel you,” the girl continued. “August was somehow the worst month.”

You scoffed, your heart breaking and breaking at all the memories. “I agree.”

It was at that moment that Alessia entered the room, hair in a ponytail, looking everywhere but you.

You wondered how quickly she was able to forget about August when you still had dreams of it every time you close your eyes.

When your first training with your new club ended, before you went home, you found a note in your locker. You hated how a piece of paper was able to make you cry, but you kept it in the pocket of your jacket, close to your heart, nonetheless.

You spent the whole ride home thinking about whether you should forget or keep your dreams of Alessia.

You decided that for now, having Alessia’s smile in your dreams was better than not seeing it at all.

I really am sorry for everything

- Lessi

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso #woso x reader #awfc x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso community

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anqelically · 5 months

Note

hiii sorry but can you please do dazai x reader holding him and humming to him until he falls asleep? <3 ily drink water

sweet dreams | osamu dazai x gn!reader

word count: 0.6k

content: no manga spoilers, fluff, one use of “bella”, it’s been a moment since i wrote oops 😭

navi | bsd masterlist

the night is cold, a blanket of snow covering the streets and buildings of yokhama. flurries fell from the sky and onto the first surface they touched. although the amount that was falling was not much, the breeze was harsh enough to make up for it.

osamu dazai stood near the corner of your shared bedroom deep in his thoughts. the window was cracked open, allowing the heat to escape and the wind to blow into your room. although you had woken up a few minutes ago, you didn’t move once. you were waiting for dazai to come back to bed, but he didn’t seem like he’d be moving any time soon.

you laid in bed a few moments more before you got out of bed. you moved quietly, a few feet away before dazai craned his head to you. you were sure he knew that you’d been awake since earlier, but neither of you said a word about it.

“close the window and come back to bed with me,” you spoke softly, hand reaching for his. “it’s cold.”

dazai let you use his hand to cup your own cheek, “because of the open window, or because i’m not there?”

you were quick to admit, “both…”

the brunet smiled, almost seeming satisfied at your response. you guided dazai back to your bed after closing the window. you held him close, burying yourselves in the comfort of your blankets.

“so, what had you up so late?” you decided to ask, gently massaging his scalp.

“i was just thinking about the day we met, bella. this hour on this day 3 years ago. do you remember?”

a silly question he asked, of course you remembered.

you were trudging through the snow in the early morning, leaving an ex-partner’s house. the day you met him was the same day they had broken up with you. you were walking down an unfamiliar road when you stumbled across dazai, who stood alone in the middle of the street with a half-empty glass in his hand.

initially, you tried to dismiss him as a weird drunkard and wanted to pass him quickly. dazai, however, called for you anyway and asked if you wanted to share a drink. and you couldn’t tell if it was because you had just been broken up with or not, but you were compelled to say yes after looking into his eyes.

“i’ll never forget, ‘samu. you were standing in the middle of the road, drinking by yourself.“ your fingers ran through his hair a final time before you wrapped your arms around his waist. “why reminisce suddenly?”

“couldn’t sleep, so why not think about my dearest while i was awake?” he grinned.

“are you sure you couldn’t sleep because you were thinking, and not thinking because you couldn’t sleep?” a familiar warmth spread throughout your chest, “come here, let’s sleep.”

although you knew it was easier said than done, you attempted to lull your lover into a slumber. you held him close, continuously rubbing circles onto his bare skin with your thumb as you hummed the first song that came to mind.

and it took almost half an hour, but you found that dazai’s mind had eventually succumbed to sleep. when you called his name and received nothing in response, you were sure. momentarily, you glanced out the window dazai stood at earlier. the snow and breeze had come to a stop, everything outside still.

you buried yourself further into your sheets and shifted closer to dazai. your hand moved his stray hairs out of his face before you kissed his forehead tenderly.

“i’m glad for that night, always,” you whispered before closing your eyes. “sweet dreams, my love.”

note: nonnie if you’re reading this rn, i hope yk ily too 😭🫶🏻 i’ve been in a slump so once i saw this req buried in my inbox i knew i should pick it up because cuddling in bed w/ my favs has been on my mind due to the cold weather :( i am also so so SO sorry for how long this took (def not 9 months 💀)

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enomane @er0ses @spenzitz @wineaddict2904 @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ashthemadwriter @siyoko @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss @worldussysblog @hauntedsol @janbannan

#୨୧ [ writing ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd drabble

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randombush3 · 5 months

Text

audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.”

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you.

“What?” says Jenni.

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.”

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?”

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know.

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home.

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.”

“Are you angry at her?”

“Yes.”

Alexia thinks about it.

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.”

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.”

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.”

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.”

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought.

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.”

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.”

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Well, I'm not angry at her.”

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her.

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?”

“Alexia, bésame.”

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent.

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful.

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing.

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been.

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.”

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose.

The doorbell rings again.

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case.

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you.

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently.

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue.

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?”

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you.

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end.

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough.

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.”

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.”

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.”

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side.

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia.

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head.

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.”

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.”

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word.

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.”

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed.

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous.

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.”

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true.

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it.

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona.

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself.

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.”

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats.

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her.

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.”

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.”

“You’re delirious.”

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.”

“No lo sé.”

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.”

“Claro.”

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.”

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal.

…

You’re married.

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface.

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time.

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone.

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.”

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.”

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel.

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.”

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended.

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.”

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work.

“I left Mia with her dad for this.”

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.”

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.”

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.”

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.”

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.”

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?”

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers.

“Not what I meant.”

“I won’t take it back.”

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.”

“Does that count?”

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation.

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.”

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?”

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.”

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible.

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers.

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.”

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people.

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.”

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove.

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.”

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?”

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well.

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.”

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.”

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?”

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?”

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time.

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her.

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic.

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.”

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days.

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning.

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.”

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there.

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.”

“How’s the album doing?”

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.”

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms.

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio.

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment.

But 2020 kind of sucks.

For the entire world.

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal.

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.)

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat.

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.”

…

The routine changes the following year.

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading.

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it?

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.”

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down.

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return.

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again.

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.”

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!”

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.”

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.”

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you.

…

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football.

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him.

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain.

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words.

“You don’t have to be.”

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works.

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth.

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment.

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back.

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else.

In this way, she is functional.

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni.

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed?

Where does she put the used bandage?

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo.

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her.

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see.

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son.

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.”

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.”

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.”

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you.

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.”

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.”

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.”

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle.

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you).

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish.

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.”

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick.

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’.

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?”

…

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together.

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman.

She consults Mapi.

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows.

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation?

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.”

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.”

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right.

…

June, July, and August pass with bliss.

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days.

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way.

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.”

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong.

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.”

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her.

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.”

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited.

You are.

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back.

#barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona #woso imagines #mapi leon #jenni hermoso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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xas24 · 5 months

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haircut ~ pablo gavi

summary: gavi gets a surprise new haircut.

for @zowanew and her obsession with buzzcuts and gavi 🤭🥰

"me, personally, i like it." y/n stated whilst her hands ran over her boyfriends freshly shaven hair, still slightly in shock at the new look. he looked extremely handsome, she had to admit. more manly, more confident. it was a small joke that the two had pulled just last week, but she had never expected him to actually cut his hair.

"remember that picture your mother was showing us last week when we were at her house?" y/n asked pablo as the two lounged on the couch.

pablos lips tipped up and a hint of a grimace lurked on his expression. "the one where i barely have any hair and look disgustingly sweaty?"

a loud laugh escaped her lips at his remark and pablo smiled in return too, loving the sound of her gorgeous laugh he emitted from her. "you had hair! it was just so short and you looked adorable, not disgusting."

"i did, she took it after a game!"

"stop it pablo, you were small, you looked so precious, amor." she chuckled and pablo scoffed, throwing his head back on the couch.

"did you really like it that much?" he asked, his arm encircling her body and pulling her closer to himself. y/n cuddled up to her boyfriend as her legs came to rest on his lap, his hoodie that she wore made her feel even more warm and comfortable.

"yes, i liked it. it was cute, querido." she gave him a little smile. pablos brown eyes roamed his girls face, running over her features that he loved so much. he leaned forward, wanting to steal a kiss from her to which she returned with the same amount of love.

"okay, i'll keep that in mind." he murmured, moving his lips from her mouth to her cheek, pressing another kiss there.

"what do you mean by that?"

"so this is what you meant by that." y/n started laughing as she instantly remembered the little interaction they both had last week regarding his hair.

pablo couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop the small giggles coming from him as he kept staring at his girlfriends baffled expression. the way she had dropped everything she was doing when he walked in without his fluffly hair made him laugh, and he liked the fact that she wasn't too bothered by it.

"you said you liked the short hair." his hand came to rest on her leg that was thrown over his lap.

"yes, but i didn't think you'd actually cut it all off!" y/n chuckled. her hands couldn't stop running over the gruffness of his hair. she couldn't deny he looked good with and without his fluffy hair - he looked good all the time though.

"well it's too late." he smiled, eyes pausing on her expression mirroring his own.

"i love it even more than that photo." she reached forward and placed a kiss to his cheek, pecking the soft skin a few times whilst trying to hold her grin in.

y/n showered him in all her love, wanting him to know that she didn't care about his looks but rather about how much she loved him. she wanted him to disregard any feelings of self-consciousness that grew within him even the slightest bit. she knew he had a habit of doing that.

"you look so handsome, mi amor. i love it and i love you."

#barça #pablo gavi #imagine #gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi imagine

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jae-bummer · 7 months

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Only If The Cats Approve

Request: I have a request for a Lee Know fic where when you first find your soulmate you have to be near them 24/7 for a certain amount of time. Also, the reader has been waiting for their soulmate their whole life and is super excited while Lino isn’t super into the idea. The rest is up to you.

Pairing: Stray Kids Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Grumpy x Sunshine (some fluff, a smidge of angst)

"Are you going to pick that up?"

Lee Know stared blankly in Hyunjin's direction before sending the call to voice mail.

"Well, that was rude," Hyunjin muttered, looking back down to his sketchbook.

"Hyung," Han sighed, plopping next to his older member. "You know how this works."

"I don't need a soulmate," Lee Know muttered, focusing in on the television. He had flipped on a drama to keep his mind busy but hadn't been watching it at all. No matter how much he resisted the idea, his thoughts kept turning back to you.

"I didn't say you did," Han treaded carefully. "I just think it might-"

"I have the members," Lee Know cut in, still refusing to look anywhere but the television. "That's enough."

"But someday-"

"I said that's enough."

Han sighed, knowing this argument was futile. He was there the day that Lee Know had bumped into you on the streets of Gangnam. Even though he had witnessed literal hearts erupt from his member's eyes, he also saw how quickly the older man was able to shut it down. He knew he would never admit it, but he was scared. It was hard enough for him to trust the seven of them on a daily basis, let alone someone the "universe" had picked for him.

Buzz

Buzz Buzz

Glancing up from his drawing, Hyunjin arched a brow. "Now you can't ignore that."

"Watch me," Lee Know muttered, settling back into the couch.

Groaning as he pulled himself to his feet, Han shuffled toward the door. Pressing the button to their intercom he tried to hide the sigh in his voice. "Hi, Y/N."

"Hey, Hannie!" you smiled. "Lee Know up there?"

"No," Lee Know called from the living room.

"You know he is," Han grimaced.

"I'll be up in a sec then!" you called, mounting the stairs two at a time.

The moment you had realized you found your soulmate was something you'd remember for the rest of your life. You were meeting a friend for lunch when you came across a group of rowdy men, pushing and shoving at each other as they attempted to enter the same restaurant as you. In the scuffle, you had somehow gotten wrapped up in their group, nearly falling to the ground as one of the men accidentally shoved your shoulder.

He had looked at you in shock, stumbling over himself to apologize until you had made eye contact. Not to sound too cartoonish, but it was like a bell had gone off in your mind. Something clicked and you both knew.

Luckily, the group of men were seated in the booth beside your friends, so you could start diving into the man who would be your inevitable future. It was common when someone met their soulmate to spend nearly every waking moment with them as you seemed to sync up. If you neglected each other during this time period, the flip that had been switched on when you had met could gradually switch off. You knew your teachers in high school biology had attempted to explain the phenomenon, but you couldn't remember the first thing about it now. All you knew was that you weren't going to have this love match go to waste.

Letting yourself into the Stray Kids dorm, you popped off your shoes and were immediately met by Han.

"I got you a caramel latte," you said cheerfully, handing him a drink. "I picked an Americano with just a little bit of cream for Lee Know. I wasn't sure how he took his coffee."

Han nodded, taking a long pull from his straw. "That's pretty much exactly how he takes it."

"I don't like coffee," Lee Know grunted from his spot on the couch.

"Now that's a damn lie," Hyunjin muttered. Just as Lee Know began to shoot him a dirty look, he sprung up from his seat, and tossed his sketchbook aside. Going full grabby fingers, he reached toward the coffee carrier. "Is the Iced Americano for me?"

"You already know," you grinned, plucking your own drink out, as well as Lee Know's. Sidling over to him, you plopped on a cushion, setting his coffee on the table in front of the couch. "What are we watching?"

"Something boring," Lee Know grumbled, crossing his arms. "You would hate it."

"Then why are you watching it?" you laughed.

"Because I like boring things," he muttered. "I am very boring. You probably shouldn't spend time with me."

"Yeah right," you laughed. "What do you mean? You're a blast."

"I don't know if they're being sarcastic or not," Hyunjin whispered to Han.

"What?" you gasped. "I love hanging out with you guys."

"Oh, "guys" being plural," Hyunjin nodded. "We are fun."

"But especially Lee Know," you nodded. "He always knows how to make me laugh."

In response, your soulmate curled his lip, causing you to grin.

"He likes playing hard to get," you teased, elbowing him as you looked to Han and Hyunjin.

You weren't stupid. You knew he was playing more than hard to get. It was obvious that he didn't want much to do with you on a good day. In any normal circumstance, you would cut your losses and just leave him be, but this was meant to be your life partner. Just when you thought he was a lost cause, you would catch his eyes for a split second and your knees would go weak. His face would immediately soften, his lips forming a small "o" as he allowed himself to stare back. It would only take a moment for him to completely shut you out again, but he had to force himself to do so. You would worm your way into his heart eventually, it just took patience.

"I don't play anything," Lee Know spat, finally addressing you for the first time since you had entered the apartment. "I don't understand why you keep trying when I'm not interested."

"You don't honestly think I believe-"

"I don't care what you believe!" he gasped. "I don't care about you! At all!"

Well, that hurt. Trying your hardest not to cry, you sucked in your lower lip. Glancing from Lee Know to the two other men in the room, their expressions were also shocked. Looking on with wide eyes, they both slowly began to back out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Lee Know, I-" you began, the words thick in your throat.

"Look," he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be a jerk, but I don't want you here. I don't want to hang out. I don't want to get to know you."

"I-I," you whimpered. How could he say that out loud when you both knew it wasn't true? Barring anything he may personally think, it was biologically impossible. He was predisposed to care about you.

"Leave," he sighed. "Please."

His brows were furrowed as he turned away, refusing to speak any further. Slowly rising to your feet, you felt helpless.

"I'm," you said quietly, grabbing the two coffees on the table. "I'm taking back your coffee!"

Turning on your heel, you stomped toward the front door.

"We can keep ours, right?" Han winced, causing Hyunjin to slap his chest lightly.

"Y/N," the taller boy sighed. "You have to understand, this really isn't like him. He just needs some time-"

"This is me!" Lee Know yelled from the living area. "I'm a monster and they shouldn't be swayed to think otherwise."

Rolling his eyes, Han leaned in toward you. "Don't get too far. Let us talk to him, okay?"

Nodding pitifully, you sniffed into your sleeve. "Okay."

"Maaan," Han groaned, turning on Lee Know. "What the fuck?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Lee Know nodded. "I thought they would never leave."

"No," Han said, pointing an accusatory finger at the older man. "That was directed at you. Who acts like that towards someone who is supposed to be their soulmate?"

"I told you, I don't want-"

"Cut the shit," Hyunjin spoke up, immediately wilting as Lee Know turned a death glare his way. "Or don't. Please continue."

"You want love just as badly as the rest of us," Han sighed, sitting on the couch to speak on the same level as his member. "Our friendship is a type love that isn't even remotely the same. We're all partners in a different way. That can't ever be enough for you."

"Who says?"

"The universe," Hyunjin piped in. "Literally, biology."

Rolling his eyes, Lee Know let his head fall back to the cushion behind him. "It's just easier this way."

"Easy doesn't mean fulfilling," Han sighed. "Easy doesn't mean right."

"Why can't it?" Lee Know argued. "Feelings are so difficult...and messy."

"But so worth it," Han supplemented. "Remember when you first met all of us? You didn't want to open up back then either. But once you did, wasn't it all worth it?"

Leaning forward again, Lee Know eyed Hyunjin, who had put on his best smile.

"The jury is still out on that one."

This time, it was Hyunjin's turn to roll his eyes. "Just admit that you're scared."

"Admit that you cried watching The Spongebob Movie."

"I was traumatized when Patrick and Spongebob dried up under the heat lamp," Hyunjin snapped. "It was heartbreaking."

"If he can admit to that," Han said slowly. "Then you can admit..."

"Maybe I'm a little scared," Lee Know said almost too quickly for either boy to catch.

"I'm going to need you to repeat that," Hyunjin said, lifting his brows.

"Maybe I'm scared!" Lee Know gasped. "Maybe I think I'm unlovable! Maybe I don't trust easily!"

"There we go," Han smiled. "Now was that so hard?"

"I am in excruciating physical and mental pain," Lee Know pouted.

"Now," Han nodded. "March down stairs and tell Y/N all of this."

"You can't just expect me to go pour my heart out to a stranger," Lee Know scoffed.

"I can and you will," Han insisted. "I refuse to see you miserable and regret this moment for the rest of your life."

"Regrets are for the weak."

"Hyung," Han groaned, rubbing his temples. "Please, just do it for us. We'll never shut up about it if you don't."

Eying both of his younger members cautiously, Lee Know puckered his lips. "Do you mean Hyunjin will be even more of a nuisance to me?"

"In new and creative ways," Hyunjin nodded with a smile.

"Well, fuck me," Lee Know murmured, shaking his head. "Time to swallow my pride I guess."

"Rip it off like a band aid," Han nodded. "Word vomit it all out. That's how I operate."

"Such sage advice from someone with so much wisdom," Lee Know muttered, standing with a frustrated stomp. "Where did they go?"

"Downstairs," Han smiled. "I told them you'd be having a change of heart so they should stick around."

"Can I have my coffee back?"

Glancing up from your shoes, you were greeted by the tormented face of Lee Know. You wordlessly lifted his cup toward him, allowing him to take it from your fingers.

"Thanks," he whispered, clutching the cup for dear life. You could see a battle play across his face before he seemed to decide something. Easing down to sit on the bench beside you, he heaved a sigh. "Y/N, I-"

"Don't like me?" you squeaked. "Don't want me around? Hope my cat gets hit by a car?"

This caused him to you to sharply inhale, drawing your eyes from the ground to him.

"I would never want anyone's cat to get hit by a car," he urged, his voice passionate. "Not even my worst enemy."

"Why are you here, Lee Know?" you groaned. "Be honest."

"So," he began slowly. "I may or may not have been projecting my abandonment issues on you earlier."

You raised your brows, surprised out how direct he was being. "Yeah?"

"I recognize that I tend to push away the ones I love when they haven't seen my flaws," he continued in a monotone. "And when they do, I'm terrified they'll turn away from them, and in turn, me."

"Lee Know," you breathed, hardly believing he was finally breaking down this barrier. "Why are you telling me this?"

"For fear that Han or Hyunjin will make my life significantly more difficult than they already do," he said blandly. "I was threatened, and frankly, am not all of the way sure that I want to be sitting down here right now, but here I am."

"Here you are," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"I guess I'm really not that bad," he sighed. "If you get to know me."

"Quite the salesman," you grinned.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," he muttered with an eye twitch. "That really sucked."

"It did," you murmured. "But you have to know, I don't want this if someone else has to convince you to be here."

Lifting his brows, Lee Know tilted his head in thought. "That's fair."

"Could you just, could you look at me?" you pleaded.

Taking a deep breath, he began to nod. Slowly but surely he pivoted to face you, his focus wandering up your body before finally settling on your eyes.

His own grew wider as they took you in, his breathing more stifled and coming in quick bursts.

"I'm scared if I make direct eye contact for any prolonged period that you will see me, Y/N," he said quietly, not breaking contact despite the admission. "Really see me."

"Would that be so bad?"

"The literal worst," he smirked.

"Then why are you still looking at me?" you grinned.

"Because when I look into your eyes, I see us retired, owning a cat sanctuary on the countryside. I'll take up a niche hobby like making my own paper and you'll read books to me by the fire while I wait for the sheets to dry before I bind them," he said in a whispered stream of consciousness. "Soonie, Doongie, and Dori will be at least sixty years old by then, outliving all other cats in Korea and proving themselves to be immortal."

"I'm sorry," you said slowly, trying to keep up. "Are Soonie, Doongie, and Dori your cats?"

"And also my children," he nodded, hardly even blinking now. "Do you want to go meet them?"

"I would love to."

"Excellent," he grinned. "Maybe this will work out after all."

#lee know #lee minho #lino #stray kids #skz #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know fanfic #lee know grumpy sunshine #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader

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