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#im so glad to have finally PUT IT SOMEWHERE

where-does-the-heart-lie · 6 months

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Water is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 33

So neither deuce nor Yamato, im sorry to say :) but now i know NONE of you were expecting this guy (he is a canon character btw)

{Start} {Prev Next}

“Ass?” Is one of my fav gags that ive had saved up for a while, im glad its finally free!!!!

Everyone please read the keep reading :) 👇

I rigged it~

i bet you guys werent expecting i pull out one of the least known characters in all of One Piece for this silly little comic!

But~! ☝️

i do my research~~~

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At the time of posting this, the results could not be closer, which has been a very thrilling ride for me to watch with Overseer Knowledge.

I'd say that those who voted 'Another Canon Character' get half credit, since no one guessed the character correctly. Who ever voted 'OC' also gets half credit, cuz i meann... This guy doesn't have a canon design. He doesn't even have a canon name! So even though he is a canon character, i am going to count him as a KOC (kinda Original Character)

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Yamato Girlies, thank you for showing up [i hand you a bouquet of flowers, each] if it makes you feel any better, i already have Yamato content with design and headcanons galore in this post!

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As for Deuce Girlies...

[i hand you guys bouquets as well]

im so sorry... but... I've never read the Ace Novels :D

I'm sure if i had, i would have put him in here somewhere as a major character, but I didnt, and i couldnt

it is very evident by the reactions i got on the post that yall are Starved For Deuce Content!

i designed a modern au look for him here just for you guys :)

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I've put a lot of foreshadowing on who this guy is in the comic! I would love to point it all out, but i wanna see if you guys get it with hind sight :D

i will point it all out eventually though 👍 perhaps at the next SBS :)

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Thank you all so much for being so invested in my silly little comic! it makes me really happy to see everyone get passionate about something I've been working really hard on!!!

This was all so much light hearted fun :) thanks again!

bonus unshaded/ less shaded Emmanuel design:

so you can see his colors~

#my art #one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #asl brothers #one piece fan art #portgas d. ace #wittb #water is thicker than blood comic #wittb Emmanuel

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vanillabeams · 4 months

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nerdy armin prt2!!

christmas special!!!

warning: smut, pet names, sub men, mention of cum, cursing, teasing

surprise at the end!!

prt1

poor armin..buddy was skipping classes just to avoiding you and we all know how important his classes were to him. he was so embarrassed because he knew for fact that you knew he was getting off to your voice.

it’s been 2 days and you haven’t seen armin at all, he hasn’t answered any of your texts and your seriously getting worried because this isn’t like him at all,

it’s been 4 days now and you can’t lie you miss him a lot the way he can’t look you in the eyes properly..or the way he stares at you in class. you squeeze your thighs together releasing the energy that is slowly creeping up on you which made you realize you arrived at the mall to bring him a christmas gift as an excuse to come over to his house. you shop around the mall finding different things you think he would like making him a little basket.

you knock on his front door rethinking this whole plan but your worries gotten the best of you and now your here there’s no going back, armin opens the door shocked that your here “y-y/n??..what are you doing here?” his tall frame clouding over you and it doesn’t help with what he is wearing. he was wearing a black tank top with shorts that hang just above his knees with his black Yeezy slides and a Santa hat on the side of his head to top it off . he stretches his arm resting it on on the very top of the door

omg he is so fineee you can’t even squeeze your legs together right now cause your standing. “y/n?” you look back up at his face seeing him turn red because you were staring too hard and it was noticeable. “christmas gift duhh” you smile wide at him and he looks down at your glossed lips but quickly looks away embarrassed. “you should come in, i know it’s cold” he stretches the door wider for you.

“ im glad you finally let me inside im freezing!” you walked over to his island and place his gift down “ is this a fine place for me to put your gift here?” he turns around from the door to look over where u placed it “ yeah that’s fine, u can come sit on the couch i’ll get u a blanket i know u said u was cold” before u could tell him you weren’t gonna be here long he is already going upstairs to his room to grab one.

once he sees you sitting on his couch he takes in your outfit and it’s so cute to him. he hands you the blanket and sits next to you. but there is an awfully huge space between you guys because he is so nervous around you. you wrap the blanket around you and it smell just like him. “ armin why haven’t you been to school?” he face turns red reminding him of why he actually skipped school “ i-..i just needed a break. i guess” you could tell he was lying “ armin please don’t lie to me.”

u look at him waiting for a response and you don’t even get a answer, he only does this when he isn’t ready to talk about something so you change the subject and get up seeing his red face as u do so, walking over to his gift. once u grab his gift you sit directly next to him legs touching and everything “ look at what i got you” he grabs the gift out of what seem like the smallest hands ever.

“thank you, you didn’t have to do this” he looks at the basket and then looks at you for 1.2 seconds and looks somewhere else “armin!” his head snaps back at you startled by the way you voice rose up at him “ y-yes..? what’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest “ i deserve a response on why you left me on ghost” you watch as he bite his bottom lip “c’mon..you know why”

you start to grow an irritated with him “ armin if i knew why you went ghost on me i wouldn’t be here” you’ve never yelled at him before but he went ghost on you and tried to wipe it off “ last phone call we had..” he doesn’t finish his sentence and you instantly remember what happened “ so you were actually getting off to my voice..??” you can’t help but smirk at his reaction. he holds his face in his palms shaking his head yes you then start to graze the nape of his neck with your acrylics “ aw my voice turns you on min?”

“ i don’t wanna talk about it..” he mumbles in his hands embarrassed. you take a good look at his frame again and you realize that he is hard. you can see his bulge slowly rising so you take it upon yourself to get off the couch and squat right between his legs. he doesn’t realize your between his legs intill you place your hands on his thighs. he removes his hands off his face and looks down at you “y/n?” he then realizes his hard wood is literally poking up right in front of your face. “ i’m s-sorry..” is all the words that he manage to say.

you press your hand on to his bulge and he leans back into the couch biting down on his lower lip to hide back the whine that almost slipped from his lips. you start gently rubbing him thru his pants “ if you can’t hold eye contact i’ll stop.” he looks down at you “ please y/n..you know how hard it is for me to-..” a whine slips from his lips once you take his cock out his boxers and it nearly slaps your face. you use both hands to grip onto his girth just to get the feel of it “ does that feel good min?” he nods his head “ imma need words armin.” you start to kiss on his thighs teasing him “y-yes ma’am” his words makes your cunt flutter

you start kissing his tip as u look up at him seeing the teasing is making him go insane, he is squirming so much “ please..! y/n..” you watch him melt into his own couch “ please what love?” you could tell the names that you are calling him are really getting to him “p-please touch me..” he whines underneath his breath. you press your lips onto his cock swirling your tongue around his tip and slowly start sucking not even half his base before gagging. you use your hands to jerk off the rest you can’t fit into your mouth looking up at him to only see him covering his eyes with his forearm and biting his lip so hard to control his moans and whines.

you remove your lips off him pouting. he realizes you stopped and looked down “look at me and stop hiding your moans from me” his breaths are shaky and he swallow his saliva before speaking “ yes ma’am..” you smile up at him “ good boy” his dick twitches and you soon come to the realization that he likes being praised.

you slide your mouth back onto him now forcing half of him into your mouth going up and down on him faster and faster “f-fuck..! y-y/n” he continues to squirm but his squirming is worse now. his voice is so whiny and high pitch and when you look up making eye contact with him, he completely loses it because he knows he has to make eye contact with you because he is so close to coming. he loses it so bad the poor guys starts sobbing “ y/nnn..fuck! i’m cu-“ dude couldn’t even finish his sentence everything went white around him and next thing you know there’s cum all over your pretty face.

“merry Christmas!” was the last thing u said before he fell asleep

(here’s a visual on what he sounded like)

#armin arlert #attack on titan #attck on titan #subby thoughts #sub men #sub armin #nerds #i love nerds #tumblr fyp #armin smut #did i do it right #did i do good #armin x reader #x reader #twt links #link #whines #whine whine whine #twt

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randombush3 · 1 month

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revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back.

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home.

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life.

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then.

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out.

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around.

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards.

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her.

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel.

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered.

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–”

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…”

“Leah.”

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?”

“Is that a question?”

You blink. “I’m not sure.”

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.”

Do you want to?

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality.

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that.

“Course not,” Leah lies.

You let it convince the both of you.

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!”

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.”

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.”

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?”

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?”

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them.

It feels… good.

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like.

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you?

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh?

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will.

She wipes her mouth.

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already).

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?”

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.”

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.”

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed.

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.”

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.”

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.”

“Well, you know that–”

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.”

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice.

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed.

She had not expected this from herself.

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30.

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows.

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It’s just like therapy.

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut.

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail.

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.”

Silence.

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into.

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?”

“Do what, my daughter?”

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be.

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.”

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.”

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else.

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice.

The realisation is crushing.

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers.

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared.

Alexia is so very lost.

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home.

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one.

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it.

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive.

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge.

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence.

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood.

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time.

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it?

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do.

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin.

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them.

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later.

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help.

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.”

“You have a lot to account for.”

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.”

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.”

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred.

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack.

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong.

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind.

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you.

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had.

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia.

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side.

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?”

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying?

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.”

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona.

You’re a busy person, after all.

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.”

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end.

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird.

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it.

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.)

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task.

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view.

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?”

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you.

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife.

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality.

“Ah, they’ve broken up.”

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.”

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing.

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.”

“I heard you were in London?”

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.”

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her.

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this.

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written).

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall.

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.)

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat.

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight.

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show.

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia.

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that.

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.”

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage.

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event.

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly.

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher.

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice.

You pray this goes well.

It does.

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces.

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers.

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?”

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.”

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger.

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.”

“Im-men-lee?”

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.”

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her.

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood.

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?”

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.”

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward.

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.”

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.”

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.”

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you.

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.”

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!”

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands.

“Hola,” you say shyly.

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.”

You try very hard not to burst into tears.

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight.

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend.

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant.

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal.

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on.

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality.

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact.

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.”

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?”

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.”

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter.

“Are you sure?”

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I don’t care.

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.”

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance.

This is a lift home.

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair.

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds.

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk.

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show?

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well.

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!)

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking.

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless.

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it.

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking.

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours.

Perhaps it never will.

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot.

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.”

“Lela, me tengo que ir.”

“Pero–”

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?”

It starts off innocently.

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’.

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it.

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought.

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside.

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?”

“Sí.”

A doorway conversation.

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up.

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass.

“We play the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.”

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober.

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?”

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.”

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company.

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop.

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.”

She opens the next bottle for you.

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult.

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa.

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?”

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.”

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.”

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.”

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.”

“In Highgate?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe.

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.”

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away.

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty.

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want.

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway.

“Please.”

And she really doesn’t make you beg.

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after.

Parted legs and soft moans.

She slots herself between your thighs.

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you.

Your fingers repay the favour.

“More,” you request just as she pulls away.

“Is it in the same place?”

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets.

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants.

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less.

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode.

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates.

You’re glad, you’re really glad.

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her.

And then it all comes crashing down.

Everything.

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible.

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.”

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy.

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it.

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much.

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.”

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau.

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.”

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.”

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.”

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.”

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with.

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue.

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares.

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her.

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that.

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.”

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.”

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn.

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god.

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper.

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half.

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s.

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?”

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.”

“But now you are ripped down the middle.”

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s.

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon.

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime.

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it.

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.”

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.”

“God, you are such an idiot.”

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.”

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through

“I think we are destined for each other.”

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it.

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.”

Is that an understatement?

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?”

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around.

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear.

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.”

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands.

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.”

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.”

“If you say so, Alexia.”

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply.

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt?

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes.

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all.

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay.

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso fanfics #randombush3 #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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delusionalmultifandomwriter · 2 months

Note

HiHiHi

So do can u do a Luke Castellan x Child of Persephone (or SMT Idrc)reader and She HAS THE BIGGEST DELULU EVER

Like Imagine Luke faked breaking up with her and she’s like “no no 🥰 I want my kids have that big brown eyes My dear” Or Smt in the lines of that and Luke laughs his but off and ITS JUST HER DELULU OVER COMING HER

Thank you so much for your request! <3

Luke Castellan x fem!persephone!reader fluff

Requested?: Yes!!

I hope you are all well, i love you all!! Have a nice day and enjoy!

Reader cursing at Luke is her love language

Masterlist

Luke was always struggeling to keep up relationships with people. He had Chris as the ever lasting person in his life since they first met at Camp Halfblood when they were 14 years old. After that, everyone was coming and going but noone really stayed for long.

You only joined his life later. Having spent most of your life in the Underworld with your mother, social normes and interactions with living people were a riddle to you.

Long story short, you were... a challenge for most people. Not that they didnt like you. The younger kids loved you and even Dionysus gave you a smirk whenever you left behind a slightly distressed demigod that tried to challenge you.

Maybe you weren't from this realm but that certainly did not mean that you didn't like it at the camp. You were craving the space that the Underworld couldn't offer you. It was only a matter of time that someone would fall for you.

By chance, that was a certain son of Hermes. Luke fell for you just as bad as you fell for him. You knew he was complicated. He was reaching for the stars but got disappointed over and over again since he was a baby.

Luke was in a bad headspace today. He didnt really know when the idea crept up to him. Maybe it was because the gods let him down for one too many times. He had been questioning your love for him for the last few days while he rotted away in bed, trying not to neglect too many of his tasks.

He needed proof of your love. Proof that you would not leave him behind like everyone else did. He contemplated talking to you but proud as he was, he quickly discarded that idea and stirred up a plan instead.

A fake breakup.

It would give him the opportunity to see your raw reaction. And he could find out if you were serious about him. Or even glad to get rid off him? Luke didn't want to think about that. He loved you after all.

"You entered the Hermes Cabin after sword practice this afternoon. You were a little sweaty and your clothes had dust stains on it from the sand in the arena. Luke was laying on his bed, his arm covering his eyes. You thought that maybe he was sleeping so you tiptoed over to your bed and started taking off your boots.

Luke shuffled on his bed and groaned as he sat up. He smiled tiredly as he looked up to find you watching him. "Hey." He mumbled but his expression dropped soon. You looked at him confused.

"What's up, darling?" You asked while you put your boots to the side. Luke got up and approached you. "I thought about something all day... can we talk?" He asked. You nodded. "Of course. What's bothering you?"

Luke looked around. Besides the two of you, everyone was out of the cabin running around somewhere else. The situation was perfect... He sighed. "I... there is something." He said hesitating, fiddling with his hands. This was not normal. You frowned. Your Luke was never this nervous about talking to you.

"Im breaking up with you." He whispered in a low tone, barely able to get the words over his lips. He could see your world shatter into pieces. Your expression dropped and a couple of dead moths fell from the ceiling, making Luke cringe away a little.

Finally, you broke out of your freezed and shocked state.

"What?! No, no, no, no." You said, tears dwelling up in your eyes. Luke tried to pull his gaze away from you and turned around to the cabin door. There formed a single tear in his eyes too. He hated seeing you cry.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to face you. "Why would you break up with me?" You sobbed. Luke looked at you irritated, trying to keep his sadness down. "You deserve someone better than me." He grumbled under his breath. You pushed him against the wall by his shoulders angrily.

"I wanted our kids to have your eyes." You yelled at Luke, tears streaming down your face. "What?" Luke asked, suddenly taken aback. You violently tried to whip the tears from your face, smearing some dust onto your cheeks.

"Our kids need to have your eyes!" You sobbed and suddenly Luke wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. You tried to push him away but he kept you in his embrace. After a few seconds, you stop trying to free yourself and let your head fall against his chest.

At first you thought Luke was crying too, from the way his shoulders were moving up and down in a quick, steady rhythm but soon you noticed that the bastard was actually laughing.

"I hate you." You mumbled between a few sniffs. "I know." Luke whispered, there was a light chuckled in his voice that he failed to swallow down. "Thats okay. Its what i deserve."

"Luke Castellan, i hate you so, so much. We will meet in Tartarus if you dont quit the bullshit right now." You weakly slapped his chest. "But i love you. Please, this was not real?" Your sobs died down as you leaned against his chest.

Luke swallowed heavily and finally, after a long moment, shook his head. You exhaled and sobbed again, this time because of the relief rushing through your body.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around him too, holding him close. You buried your hand in his hair and made him look at you. "You were kidding, right?" Luke nodded hesitantly, worried you would make some more dead animals fall from the sky.

You wanted to slap Luke. But that is not what you do to your boyfriend, at least not right now. Instead you rested your head on his shoulder and rubbed your tears dry on his tshirt.

"Hey." Luke complained, trying to push you off but you pressed him against the wall and continued to use him as your personal tissue paper. "That's your punishment, you idiot." Luke carassed your hair and let you go on with you drying your tears.

"Why did you do this?" You asked. Luke looked away, ashamed that he actually thought this was a good idea. You put a hand on his cheek and made him look at you. "This is not what i think about it is, is it?" You asked with a shocke expression.

Luke nodded slowly, lowering his gaze. You sighed and leaned against his forehead. "I really love you, otherwise i wouldn't keep you as my boyfriend. Luke nodded slowly, accepting.

"Luke?" "Mhh?" He hummed. "Will you be my boyfriend again?" You asked. A slight smile crept up on your face but you tried to hide it to not let Luke win just right away. Luke chuckled, his mood becoming a little better again. "If you truly want that." You groaned and bumped your head on his shoulder a few times.

"Just say yes, you morron." "Yes." He whispered. You pet his hair a little. "Good boy." You grinned at Luke, who now rolled his eyes. "But i am not having children with you until we both got a job." He argued but it ended up in a laugh. He was laughing at the absurdity of this situation.

Now it was you rolling your eyes. "Fine. Reasonable." You grumbled and pouted at him a little. Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around you extra tight. "Did you mean it? My eyes, really?" He asked. You huffed.

"I was never before this serious in my life." You stated firmly. Luke leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You scrunched your nose sweetly and peppered his face with small kisses.

"So... if i mess up you will throw dead animals at me?" Luke asked mockingly, as you pulled back. You grumbled and slapped Luke's chest again.

"If you dont cut the bullshit, i will stuff a dead rat into your pillow case."

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iamyoubutcuter · 1 year

Text

keep silent // Kylian Mbappe

warning: english is not my first language, im so sorry :)

Kylian returned from training in a bad mood. It was obvious from the expression on his face. "Hey!" – you said and smiled at Kyky, he silently took your face in his hands and started kissing your lips. You didn't have time to react properly and enjoy the kiss, as he picked you up in his arms. Your legs are positioned on his waist so as not to fall. Kylian is moving towards to your bedroom, and you are thinking about how to stop him, since you had been on your period for several days, but you never told him about such things. Also, he was busy all this week, so he was really tired. Kylian always noticed a package of tampons in the bathroom, which you pulled out and put on a shelf in the closet to make it easier to take from there. You grew up in a fairly strict family where you didn't talk about natural things. But this time you decided to move the packaging to another place where it will not be visible.

Kylian put you on the bed in front of him and took off his t-shirt, but as soon as he freed his head, he saw that you weren't lying down, but standing next to him. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you, thinking about saying something. "I don't want this today, Kyky," – you looked at the floor and went to your side of the bed, where there is a nightstand. "Why?” – he was holding a t-shirt in his hand, showing with his whole appearance that he was dissatisfied. "Not today. Something happened? Why are you angry and upset?" – you sat on the bed with your back to him and you bit your lip, hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. He didn't answer you. Mbappe dropped his t-shirt to the floor with a sigh. He slammed the door behind him. You shuddered, closing your eyes.

You have already changed your clothes and were lying under the blanket. You heard your boyfriend take a shower, eat in silence. It was difficult for you to say something to him, because you needed time and an explanation of why everything happened the way it did. Kylian came, undressed and got into bed next to you. He just turned his back on you, you turned your back too, and so both fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up alone because Kylian had a football training and then a massage. Since yesterday, the burden of this situation has been on your shoulders. During the day, you went to the shower and noticed that your period was over. You were glad of that, because you couldn't keep quiet anymore, and you did whatever you wanted with Kylian.

16:50

You opened the door: "Finally at home," – you said and tried to kiss him, but he just smiled and turned away, just hugging you. You frowned, but you didn't say anything. "I'm really hungry," – he put sports bag on the floor by the door and went to the kitchen. You followed him. "I'm hungry too," – you came closer to him and put your hand on his chest. You looked into his eyes, and he understood what you needed.

"Then let's go somewhere and have a delicious dinner. Get ready." - he hugged you again with one hand and went to the shower. You didn't know if he was offended or not. After he went out and took a shower, he noticed that you were not preparing, but just lying in a nightgown and watching videos on your phone. The towel was hanging on his hips, he began to look for clothes. Suddenly you started pulling him by the towel, he grabbed it and turned to you. You were sitting on your knees on the bed. Kylian looked down at you, and you untie your silk nightgown, looking into his eyes. He saw your body in gorgeous red lace underwear and on these garters that hung around your thighs. Kylian quickly turned away from you. You didn't understand this move. Then he turned to you, coming closer, and you were already excited. He leaned into your ear and said: "Get ready, let's go eat," – and he tied your nightgown. You were just shocked by what just happened. Kylian has never given up on you. "I haven't even kissed him once today," – you thought. You are ready, wear a short black dress with long sleeves and a square neckline. You gathered your hair and applied a minimum of makeup. Kylian stared at you and smiled. You were looking in the mirror, but you felt his gaze and looked back at him with a brief smile. He didn't even take your hand when you left the house, as he did before.

You've already sat across from each other in a restaurant, although Kylian has always tried to sit next to you until today. You watched him eat, and at some point he felt something under the table. You moved your foot up and down his shin. All the while watching Kylian's expression. He was surprised, but didn't show it. Of course, there was a desire inside him to just go home and show all his feelings, but he couldn't. You decided to go further and have already touched his knee. He put his hand under the table and gently removed your leg. You looked at him, and a veil of tears began to appear in your eyes. But you decided not to show it to him, so you smiled, looking down.

You didn't say a word to each other in the car. "What happened? Are you offended by yesterday?" – you said as soon as he closed the door behind them. "No, not today," – he took off his outer clothes and went to your bedroom. "I've had enough of this," – you ran your hands through your hair, taking off your shoes. "And what? if you didn't want me to touch you anymore, you would just say so," – he said and went to the bathroom. "You didn’t understand me. And tortured me all day, Kylian," – you sighed. He rolled his eyes in the bathroom and started searching in the closet to find a replacement razor attachment, and found an open package of these tampons. Then it dawned on him this was the reason. He immediately felt guilty about you.

When you got into bed, Kylian moved closer to you, hugged you and kissed the top of your head. He covered you with short kisses all over your face. You giggling because he moved to your neck and you're always tickled. "I'm sorry about today. Yesterday I had a fight with Hakimi and sought solace in you." – he said and kissed your lips. His tongue found yours and you rolled your eyes with pleasure, because you really missed him. – "All day I just wanted to kiss those lips and touch you. I swear, today I felt like a virgin who went on a date with a girl for the first time." – you laughed together. "I should have told you right away, but we never talked about such things, so I felt ashamed," – you looked into his eyes and kissed him on the lips again. "Next time we both need to say it all at once," - Kylian really couldn't tear himself away from you, especially when you were under him.

#kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe smut #mbappe

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vampykween · 5 months

Note

hi mic :D

i just read your toxic!husband!ghost fics and would like to ask if u could write one where the reader just gives up on their relationship, maybe they finally file for divorce?

loved your writing btw! ♡

hi hi! thank u! i’m so glad y’all are enjoying toxichusband!ghost hehe

i hope i did your idea justice. i have a problem with just letting asks get away from me oops! but kiss ur brain for this idea cause i loved this! i get way too excited writing angsty stuff

you would realize you’ve had enough on the most random of days. after looking after your kids all day and finally getting your house cleaned, laundry all done. simon would come home and not even stop to greet you. he instantly strips from his fatigues and tosses them somewhere on the couch, turns on the tv to watch the game, and kicks up his feet and perches them on the clean coffee table. just the sight of him makes your blood boil. you make a mental note right then to talk to a divorce lawyer cause jesus you couldn’t take anymore of this.

you’ve been agonizing over doing this for the past week. hidden in your nightstand drawer was an envelope that was going to change your life forever, and not just yours, your children’s lives too. that thought has stifled your desire for a divorce just ever so slightly, as much as you can’t take a loveless marriage anymore you know your kids will be hurt by this.

you and simon are lounging in your bed and you’re losing your edge to serve him the papers. you’re worn out from cooking dinner and doing the usual nighttime routine with the kids. you suck in a deep breath and remind yourself that this decision is for the best; you don’t deserve to be chained down by someone who won’t appreciate you.

“simon…”

“yeah?” he doesn’t look up from whatever he’s engrossed in on his phone and you roll your eyes exasperatedly. you’re swiftly reminded why you’re in this position.

“i- um, we need to talk.” god your palms were sweaty and your heart was hammering in your chest. why was this so much harder than you thought it would be. simon still doesn’t give you his attention and you figure you should just rip the bandaid off already.

your shaky hands open the nightstand drawer and fish out the large yellow envelope you’ve been holding onto for the past week. you nudge his shoulder with enough force to get him to look up at you, and shove the envelope in his now free hand.

he quirks an eyebrow at you curiously, “the hell is this?”

you gulp painfully and whisper at him to just open it. his large digits tear open the paper easily and as he’s scanning through the lengthy paper, you can see it clear on his face the moment he realizes what’s happening. he turns his body fully towards yours and you can see the fury in his eyes.

“have you lost your fuckin’ head. why on earth would ya want a divorce?” the bass in your husband’s voice rattles his words around in your head, simon doesn’t yell often, but god do you hate it when he does.

“simon, i just can’t anymore.” his eyes bulge incredulously at your words, but you ignore his idiotic look and continue. “i’m constantly bending over backwards to do everything for this family and you don’t even appreciate it. hell it doesn’t feel like you love me at all.”

“fuckin’ hell. you think you’re the only one putting in work for this family. what do you think i’m doing all day? and when i’m deployed? ya think i’m just fuckin’ around for fun?”

“oh my- are you serious?! of course i know that you work hard to provide for this family. did you even listen to a word i just said? i have to nag you to clean, to do laundry, to stop giving the kids all the things i tell them they can’t have. i have to literally beg you to kiss me and take me on dates! you never tell me you love me anymore simon!”

the rage behind simon’s eyes dims and he grasps both your hands in his. “love. baby, please you can’t leave me. you’re right, you do so much for us all and i know im shit about saying thank you, but who’s going to do all the stuff ya do if you leave?”

your face starts to grow hot as you begin to boil over with anger. you rip your hands from his hold forcibly. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! you can’t even convince me to stay because you love me. you want me here so i can do everything for you. you know what? fuck you! i’m so sorry your poor mommy is gone and you need someone to fill that void, and i was stupid enough to play that role for this long, but i’m not doing it anymore.”

“oh you’re a fuckin’ cunt for that. bringing up my mum, you’re fucked in the head!” simon barks at you. you should feel bad, it was a low blow, but you couldn’t care less.

you scramble out of the bed, storming around the room looking for a pen. you’re throwing open drawers with so much force they’re just a hair from ripping straight out. when you eventually find one, you thrust it into simon’s large hand.

“don’t fucking care. you’re an absolute piece of shit. sign the fucking papers, please, so i no longer have to hold back the urge to kill you with my bare hands.”

“what about the kids? you’re just gonna take them away from me?! if you do, i’ll spend every day trying to remind them they’ve got a right bitch for a mum,” simon sneers at you.

all the love you had for simon has vanished, but hearing him say he’d spend eternity making sure your kids hated you? that tore your heart in two. your throat begins to constrict as tears begin to build behind your eyes. you really didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you were suddenly hit with the realization that the life you dreamed of was never going to be real.

you think back to your wedding day, your husband had written the most beautiful vows, which shocked you as you hadn’t expected him to be able to express his love for you that way. he had promised to always make you feel like you deserved the world. suddenly you woke up one day and the man you once loved was gone, replaced by a shitty, co-dependent, workaholic who sucked out all the life in you.

in this moment, you simply prayed that one day, you wouldn’t feel like every choice you made lead to this terrible life you have now.

#mic answers #simon ghost riley x reader #toxichusband!ghost #i hope you know i spent my entire shift drumming up ideas for this so thank you hehe

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yelshin · 1 year

Text

♡ EXPERIMENT GONE WRONG !⠀

Masterlist

An: guess whos back (i speed run my projects real) | Wc: 1k+

Tags: Scaramouche(Wanderer) taking care of kitten [Name], mentions of: Cyno, Kaveh, Al haitham, Tighnari Jealous Scaramouche maybe?, cursing

"You what?" Scaramouche glared too harsh on Albedo, "i said im gonna have to borrow [Name] for some test... Don't worry they won't leave you" an irk mark appeared on the wanderer's forehead while you sat beside Kaveh who's busy teasing you on how the wanderer is overprotective towards you

"Oh shut it Kaveh we're just 'friends' nothing much" Cyno suspiciously eyed you; lowkey wanna plant another joke. And Al haitham doesn't really care about what's happening i mean he has his own world over there, "So [Name] will you-"

"Absolutely not." Scaramouche hissed towards Albedo's offering, You heard Kaveh saying 'oohh~' which you quickly hit him with your book, 'theres no way they would go to dragonspine just to do the stupid experime-' "sure, ill go" "WAIT WHAT"

"Listen this will only happen once in the lifetime so ill grab this opportunity to go to Dragonspine" Scaramouche looked pissed-no annoyed, i mean he doesn't wanna control your decisions but what IF something happened to you? But its not like he would give a single care- okay maybe he does BUT a little because you're his friend aren't you?

"Fine. Better come back early, also wear this" he hands you a fluffy coat— that is probably the one he used back in his fatui days at Snezhnaya, the coat was rather big to your figure but you knew it could keep you warm when traveling Sumeru to Dragonspine

After days of travel you finally arrived at the cold place of Dragonspine, but wearing the coat that Scara gave you made you feel warm, stepping a foot on Albedo's laboratory you wander your eyes everywhere in the room; admiring.

"So [Name] for this ahem—test, you just needed to drink this potion, worry not it won't hurt you" sweating a little you nervously took the potion from Albedo's hands; gulping it down. It actually doesn't taste bad, but suddenly you felt like shrinking, but before you could ask Albedo what the hell is happening you heard

A meow instead.

Feeling your ears twitch you suddenly realized that—

Albedo had turned you into a cat.

trying to find an exit to the big coat, Albedo picked you up along with the coat, taking a closer examination to you he sighs while you worry that you might stay like this forever, "don't worry [Name] a few weeks or days you'll be normal again"

'FEW WEEKS?!' you let out a loud meow but Albedo can read it on your face, he let out a light chuckle and place you on the table "don't worry, im sure the others will be..glad if they see you in this state"

'yeah except the fact someone will kill you once you go back to Sumeru.' "Haha well let's just hope i won't die yet"

"YOU FUCKING WHAT?!" Scaramouche gripped on Albedo's collars tightly while shaking him; on the other hand Kaveh are busy petting your hand while Cyno being Cyno,, making jokes as usual...

"Is there any paw-sible way [Name] could go back to their normal state?" Tighnari look so done at Cyno, "please for the love of God's please stop..."

"Well few weeks they will turn back to normal again...i guess" "WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN I GUESS??" After very VERY long commotion between Scaramouche and Albedo, here you are. Sitting on his lap, i mean who could ignore your cuteness? You remind him of his cat-self once

"Can we borrow them now—" "No." Scaramouche's face turned sour when Kaveh's trying his very best to borrow you from him, which will always be unsuccessful.

And the rest of your kitten days all you ever see is Scaramouche having you on his lap everytime

He feeds you normal food with the help of Nahida

When he's going somewhere Nahida will take care of you while your friends took this chance to take you somewhere

We dont talk about what happened to Albedo. No.

And if he's on mood he would put you on his shoulder/or on top of his hat while he's chilling,

Secretly likes cuddling with you while sleeping- you knew that he like you, he just dont wanna admit it but not like you will force him tho

An: planning to change the discords server theme to Kokomi,, and STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BCS OF SCHOOL SHI. And scarameow series will be hiatus for now, thats all thank you!

#🐚 —﹐☆ published:: genshin impact #genshin Impact #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #scaramouche genshin x reader

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lewisvinga · 1 year

Text

fight in the stands | neymar jr x fem! reader

requested; yes !

request; Neymar and gf where maybe she gets harrassed in the stands because she’s you know famous

note; im so bad at titles lol , but my requests are closed, meaning i won’t take any rn😩😩guys😩😩 i have a lot rn n i wanna work on them before accepting anymore 😔😔🙏🙏

masterlist !

You regretted getting a normal seat at the stadium instead of taking Neymar’s offer of premium seatings. At first, everything seemed fine. You had a blast cheering for Neymar and PSG. They were winning 2-0. By the end of the first half, there were already arguments starting between the fans.

The arguments continued well into the second half. The other team managed to catch up as time passed. In the last 2 minutes, Neymar manages to score again, securing their win. At first, you were ecstatic for your boyfriend but that feeling ended when you hear more arguments.

You suddenly hear multiple people call your name. They recognized you. Of course they would, you’re a famous model and the girlfriend of Neymar. You knew that it was time to leave so you quickly collect your stuff. You tried to make your way out of your row but people kept blocking you. They seemed to be mad at you for Neymar scoring PSG’s winning goal.

You started to panic as you exited the row. You only had to make it up the stairs to get to the exit and all of it was over.

Neymar was watching from the field. He saw how worried you were and quickly makes his way to where you were, ignoring security calling for him.

“Fuck you and fuck Neymar!” Someone shouts. You felt someone tug on your hair and you tripped down on the stairs. Sharp pain shoots up through your arm. The pain was so unbearable that you couldn’t help but start to cry.

Neymar heard your cries of pain and ran even faster to you “Hey! Get away from her!” He shouted as he pushes people away. He quickly helps you stand up and holds you by your non injured arm. “Come on, meu amor, we have to get out of here.” He whispers to your ear. He holds you close to his chest as he leads you to the exit. Security helped escort the both of you to somewhere safe.

Neymar tried to comfort you, but you couldn’t pay attention due to how much your arm was hurting. He rushes to the hospital knowing that your arm was most likely broken.

You finally made it to the hospital and the doctors had checked up on your arm, confirming that it was indeed broken. They put a cast on it and left the room, leaving you and Neymar alone.

“What were you doing in those seats?” He asks, running a hand through his curls. “Meu amor, I told you that you should take premium seatings.”

You let out a deep sigh, keeping your eyes on the cast covering your arm. “Didn’t think a fight was gonna break out. It was so scary, Ney.” Tears filled your eyes as you remember the events that happened a few hours before.

Neymar quickly sits by your side. He gently grabs your chin, making you look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, amor. Next time, you’ll get premium seatings. Don’t fight with me on this.” He chuckles as you pout and nod in reply. “I was scared something happened. I’m glad you’re safe now.”

He leans over and pulls you in close, giving you a loving kiss on your lips. “I’ll be there to protect you next time, but let’s hope there is no next time.”

You let out a small chuckle as you rest your forehead against his. “My protector.”

#football imagines #football scenarios #footballer x reader #neymar x reader #neymar headcanon #neymar x you #neymar one shot #neymar jr x you #neymar jr x reader #neymar jr imagine #neymar scenarios #football one shot

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carols-writting · 7 months

Note

EEEE AM HAPPY YOU DID MY REQUEST!!!

I also hope your doing well!

If you dont kind if I could request again. I would like to request Macaque, Wukong and Redson (separately not sure if I have to say that but I will just incase) So the they are busy and working on what ever they have they do and Reader quietly walks in the room and just leaves a origami bird (either on a desk or just right by them) when they arent looking quietly leave and doesnt say anything but comes back a bit later with another one and just leaves it by them and when they ask the reader about the birds the reader says something along the line of "well I was bored and wanted to do something for you and did this and the bird needed a friend so that's why I made two"

-🖍 anon

HOW SUN WUKONG, MACAQUE AND REDSON REACT TO A READER WHO GIVES THEM TWO ORIGAMI BIRDS

fluffy + romantic

•---------••---------••---------••---------••---------•

scenario: reader silently and secretly walks in the room the character is, places a origami bird somewhere and leave. after some minutes they come back again and leave another origami next to the last one. when asked about their behaviour they explain that the first origami was a gift, but they made a second one so the first one dont feel alone

reader: they/them pronouns used, no physical appearance established, a request

warnings: no warnings

authors note: hai!!1! im glad you liked my last request i did for u! im doing well, just a bit stressed cause i did a math test and i felt very stupid :T im literally starting to forget it anyways (pro of having serious memory issues) (update: i already forgot about that). ty for the request >w<

•---------••---------••---------••---------••---------•

SUN WUKONG

MACAQUE

- you walk so silently and in the right time, when he was very busy with his novela, so he didnt noticed you enter or leave. especially putting the origami bird on the couch seat next to him. he continues to scream "NO! MARIANA! DONT ACCEPT HIS PURPOSE!!!1! HES A FUCKING HORE!!1! HE FUCKED YOUR MOM!!1!" at the tv, watching his mexican novela

- but then he notices you entering and putting the second origami bird close to his seat, he looks at the two birds then look at you with a puzzled expression "... what are you doing?" his eyes was wide in curiosity "well... i was bored and wanted to do something for you, so i made this little guy but he needed a friend, so i made a little guy for the little guy"

- he just looks at you without emotion, trying to process your logical reasoning. then he starts to laugh, getting up and walking closely to you "YOU ARE SUCH A CUTIE!!1!" he say loudly and pinching your cheeks, you noticed that he was slightly blushing and you figured out his tail was in a heart shape "... thank you, my love" his face had a big smile while he tightly hug you

- he loves it!!1! he even asked you to make a little paper home to the birds so they can be safe from cold, saying that they are married and pointing out that "they are like us fr fr" (he says "fr fr" because of Mei and MK). he also sometimes make the birds kiss and point at them saying "us", then point at his lips, asking for a kiss

REDSON

- he was on the kitchen, he noticed you because of his shadow controlling powers, but he was too into his thing (cleaning the dishes and contemplating about his life choices) to give any further thoughts. so you successfully secretly left a origami on the kitchen banker

- the second time he finished his task, so he noticed you putting a new origami bird close to the other and he just stares at you, curiously "... what are you doing?" he ask with his tail switching sides, showing his curiosity "well... i was bored and wanted to do something for you, so i made this little guy but he needed a friend, so i made a little guy for the little guy"

- he made a 'o' with his mouth and just stare at you for more seconds "... thats cute" he say, finally smilling a bit "you are cute" he comes closer to you and pinch your cheeks "thanks, my dear" he whisper, touching yall foreheads together and then backing away "anyway, i was thinking and-"

- he gets you, hes autistic and he also somehow thinks that objects have feelings, he gets overly attached to them and protective. he actually would ask you to make a friend to the first origami bird anyway, leave these little guys alone feels wrong and bother him (ofc not projecting haha)

- he loves it too!!1! he keeps them in a space inside his desk with the others gifts you made for him. me thinks hes a writter, so sometimes he makes the birds kiss and pretend its his two characters. just to be able to imagine better the scene or have a better dialogue (not because its fun... ofc not...)

- btw, yes, Macaques and Wukongs headcanons are similar, its on purpose cause me thinks they are the same word on a diferrent font

- he is working on a new type of robot in his "work office", as Mei call it. hes so focused that he dosent hear you putting a origami bird on a desk next to him. also, you notice that his tongue is slightly out in concentration >w<

- the second time you put a origami bird hes more aware of his surroundings and quickly notices you. he looks at you curiously "... what- whats going on?" he ask fixated on the origamis "well... i was bored and wanted to do something for you, so i made this little guy but he needed a friend, so i made a little guy for the little guy"

- he looks at you for some seconds, until his hair flames gets suddenly stronger. you recognise it as a reaction to strong emotions. he stay silent for more seconds and you patiently wait for his next reaction, you learned that he needs a extra time to word his feelings "i- ... thanks." he say coming closer and holding your cheek with one hand, you are able to feel his body warmth because it was pretty hot "my royalty" he kisses your forehead and immediately backs off "ANyway- im making this robot who-"

- he "secretly" loves it!!1! he waits you to leave, then he keeps the origamis in his room closet, checking if they are "hurt" everyday along with your others gifts. sometimes he plays with them like barbies, remembering how he didnt played as a kid because he thought he was "too growned up for that". he have a lot of fun!!1!

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #six eared macaque #macaque x reader #lmk macaque #red son #lmk red son #red son x reader #lego monkie king #headcanon #x reader

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lunajay33 · 2 months

Text

New World🍂Part.3

Summary:You’ve made it to the cdc and a drunken night changes things between you and Daryl, but will it change your friendship for the better or worse?

Part.2

•Masterlist•

The CDC was our last resort and after screaming and beginning we got in and everything finally felt secure, Jenner showed us to the rooms and even said there was hot water

You threw your bag on the bed as Daryl was setting up the spare couch in the room

“What are you doing?” You asked confused

“Settin up the bed, I ain’ sleepin on the floor”

“And you’re not sleeping in the couch, after sharing a sleeping bag for weeks I think we can share a bed Daryl” you laughed

“Fine” he huffed as he threw himself on the bed, putting his arms behind his head

“Do you wanna take a shower first?”

“Nah go ahead imma look around this place, maybe find us somethin ta drink” he said

So you got some clothes and hopped in the shower and god did it feel good, to finally get all the builds up dirt and grime of your skin. You finished up quickly not wanting to hog all the water and saw Daryl back on the bed with a bottle of what looked like to be some kind of liquor

“Ya want some?” He asked after he took a gulp of it

Usually you’d decline but why not, you found somewhere and you needed a night of relaxation, so you jumped on the bed next to him and took the bottle

You tipped it back and the liquid burned going down

“Ugh that’s awful” you whined handing it back over

~~~~~~~~

Dinner came around so you both went down and enjoyed a fun night with the group, you could feel the alcohol kicking it and it helped you unwind

You could see Daryl was too, he was a definite chatter box when he got tipsy and you always thought it was cute, but I mean he was always kinda like that with you but seeing him open up around others was nice

“Drink up Glenn I wanna see how red yer face’ll get” he said making you laugh

As everyone slowly dispersed you took Daryl’s hand stopping him from his conversation with T.dog

“Wanna go to our room D?” You asked a little bit slurred

“Sure sunshine” he said taking your hand and leading you up to the room with the bottle still in his hand

He plopped down on the bed and put the bottle on the night stand as you stripped from you pants leaving you in one of Daryl’s night shirts and climbed in bed

You turned on your side as he did and you both just looked at each other

“Daryl why are you so beautiful?” You said making him laugh

“I think yer drunk peach” he said putting his hand on you hip

“I know I am, but that doesn’t make me a liar, you really are gorgeous, makes me wish I was one of those lucky ladies you’d hang out with back in school” you were too drunk your filter was gone

“Ya know I never did anything other than make out with them”

“Well they were lucky enough to get atleast some action from The Daryl Dixon” you could see the blush reach his ears and cheeks

“Are ya serious right now?” He asked as you put you hand through his hair

“Of course i think I’ve always had feelings for you, just think they’ve grown as we got older”

“Yer gonna regret all this tomorrow”

“No im not, im just hoping you won’t look at me any different, i still need you Daryl even if you don’t feel the same”

“Ya know why I never went further with any of em?”

“Whys that?” You mumbled

“Cuz they weren’ you”

You knew this was hard for him to say he wasn’t very vocal about his feelings

“I’m glad I decided to have lunch with you that day”

“I am to sunshine, lucky every day” he said as he pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as you both feel asleep feeling the alcohol take over

~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the sun shining in your eyes and a pounding headache, you sat up rubbing your eyes hoping this headache will go away soon, looking beside you when you heard a groan to see a tired Daryl

“How’re you feeling D?” You asked as he sat up beside you

“ ‘bout as good as I look”

“So amazing” you joked then remembering everything that happened last night

“Stop that” he groaned as he got up and put on his shoes

Maybe he didn’t remember everything, maybe that was a good thing last thing you’d want is for him to be awkward around you and distance himself

You both went down and thankfully breakfast was already made and you were desperate for food to heal this hangover

The day went on and all of a sudden the lights shut off, you ran downstairs to the room Jenner first showed you seeing everyone freaking out

Daryl came over with his chest heaving

“Daryl what’s going on” you asked placing your hand on his arm

“Place is gonna explode, runnin out of energy and the place is locked down”

“What? There has to be a way out, we’ve come so far we can’t die here” you said feeling the panic rise as your eyes started to water

He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you back against his chest as you slide to the floor crying

“I’m scared D, I don’t wanna die”

“Shhh ya ain’ dyin today, imma get us outta here, imma try” he said squeezing me tight

He got up and took an axe slamming it against the door

After everything happened, the grenade helping you get you, Daryl took your arm dragging you quickly to his truck the building was gonna explode enough second

He pushed you down and covered you with his own body against the seat

The explosion boomed making your ears ring as Daryl sat you up trying to shake you out of your trance

“Hey can ya hear me?” He snapped his fingers in front of you

Your hearing slowly came back as you focused on him

“Daryl……I love you” the rush of a near death experience showed you, you couldn’t waste your precious time with Daryl anymore, he needed to know

He didn’t say anything he held my hand as we all drove away to our next location, your heart felt like it was gonna either, you knew he didn’t like this stuff but god at least I thought he’d say something, you’ve told him you’ve loved him before but in a light hearted way because he was your best friend, but you knew he knew this was different

But at least he knew now, you loved him that’s all he needed to know

—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.4<-

Guys I’m in my depression era, I feel like crap ever day but I hope you’re liking the story

Taglist: @deansapplepie @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @ghostboneswrites

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd rick #twd michonne #twd negan #daryl dixon fluff #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl imagines #maggie greene #glenn rhee #rick grimes x y/n

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Note

i’n asking too many of these dndhdhdhd (it’s there same anon from the pixel empire + brekafast hc) but i noticed that i think you havent done a kai and reader one yet????

so like i am gonna ask if you can do kai being comforted by reader post seabound ???thanks again sorry kf im asking for too many

YAY welcome back anon!!! I literally love your requests, you could never ask for too many <33 anywho I hope this is okay!

Word count: 815

Ninjago - Comforting Kai After Seabound

You brought your body against the door, bringing your ear close to listen for any noise. Nothing.

“Kai?” You called quietly, hoping not to startle him.

You heard a muffled hum. Pushing inside, you were immediately struck with the darkness of the room.

You scanned the area as your eyes adjusted, finally landing on Kai seated on the ground, his back pressed against his bed. He was looking at you with his deep brown eyes, void of the usual life they gleamed with.

You made an effort to smile as you made your way across the room. You sank down next to him, spotting a picture frame in his hands that you hadn’t noticed before.

It didn’t matter that it was dark. You didn’t need to see to know that it was the picture of him and his sister, taken many years ago, when Nya was still training to be a ninja.

You brought your shoulder against his, looking at him with concern lacing your expression. You hoped he’d look over and see, prompting him to speak, but his eyes remained locked on the photo.

As it turned out, he didn’t need prompting to speak. After a second he spoke, his voice betraying none of his anguish.

“Do you think I should’ve stopped her?”

“Kai…”

“Yeah, yeah, it was a necessary sacrifice. I know. That’s what you guys keep saying.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

He ignored you, lapsing into another bout of silence.

“It’s so quiet,” he began, almost whispering now. “I think back and all I can hear is her voice. All I can see is her face. What am I supposed to do now?”

You reached up, taking one of his hands away from the frame and interlacing your fingers with his. “You remember.”

“Remember..?”

“When people… leave, they’re never really gone. They gifted us with memories to keep, little things to think of that make you smile. Things that they did, words they said, ways they’ve looked.”

Kai blinked slowly. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. His voice wavered as he said: “I remember when she used to wear a lot of red. It was totally her color.”

“She looked good in every color,” you murmured, squeezing his hand with a smile.

He chuckled, but a tear twinkled in the dim light as it streaked down his cheek. He put the picture in his lap and leaned on your shoulder.

“I just miss her. I want to see her again.”

“I know, I know,” you whispered, running a hand through his hair.

He began to quiver as a crying fit overtook him. You pulled him closer, allowing him to fully lean against you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. He gripped the fabric of your clothing with shaking fists.

The picture had fallen to the floor. You looked at it, your eyes finally adjusted enough to the darkness that you could make out Nya’s face. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked at your eyes at the mere sight.

You couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she was your sister. The one you’d been with your whole life. The one who you could always count on to be there, even in darkness. To have someone like that ripped away from you… that would be brutal.

You brought your arms tighter about Kai, rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’ve got you,” you breathed.

Kai sniffled, pulling away. His puffy eyes were filled with emotion again; half anguish, half gratitude, with a sprinkle of that old fire stirring somewhere in the depths.

“I think you’re right. I’m glad she gave me things to remember. Memories. Things that make me smile.”

A sad smirk made its way onto his face. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll ever stop missing her.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, taking his hand and bringing it to your lips. “You don’t have to.”

He nodded. Wiped the last tears from his eyes. “You know what I just remembered?”

“Hm?”

“She used to make a mean ham sandwich.”

“She did.” Your mouth watered at the mere thought. You don’t know what she did to those things, but there was something magical about the way she’d be able to put so few ingredients together and make an absolutely smacking meal. “Now I want one.”

“Let’s go make some,” Kai suggested, standing up. “It won’t be the same, but… I want to keep talking about her. And I’m hungry.”

You worked together to make the sandwiches. They weren’t anywhere near as scrumptious as hers (despite using the exact same ingredients), but they somehow helped you remember other little things about her.

You grinned at each memory you discussed. There was pain somewhere deep in you, but for now it was overshadowed by your memories. The things she gifted you to make you smile.

Thank you anon for your request!! And thanks for reading, have a good one darlings <3

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #kai smith #kai smith x reader #kai x reader #kai ninjago

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zaimta · 1 year

Text

彡 STRAW HAT PIRATES SPORTS AU

parings: straw hats x gn!reader, chopper x platonic!reader

zai says: my best idea ever brain funk lasted me a good 2 days and im FREE (im probably lying) i wanna split this into parts for the one shots but for now hcs!! no brook bc i literally couldn’t think of a sport for him maybe i’ll fit him in later idk 🧍🏾‍♀️

ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

˗ˏˋMONKEY D. LUFFY- football (soccer) player

the type of person to just randomly meet his s/o somewhere, he’s either completely drunk or just extremely sober but he’s just crazy asf as is

when he meets you n you have no idea who he is he doesn’t remind you but he sees no reason to, he just introduces himself like normal and rolls with it

and if you don’t keep up with sports whatsoever you would have no idea you’re dating a football player and his friends would think it’s absolutely hilarious

he would teach you all about football and he even plays it with you from time to time, lots of pitty goals coming your way

i don’t think he’ll make a big deal out of telling you who he is he just randomly says it when he has a game/match and he asks you to come if you’re free

you kissing him after his games would be his favorite thing ever, he hoists you up by your thighs n smiles into the kiss

he gives you the biggest smile when you say that you’re proud of him when he wins, and even if he lost you would still be proud of him

˗ˏˋRORONOA ZORO- fencing

i don't see him falling in love with a rival i fear he would be too focused on climbing the ranks

au where kuina is alive bc i said so, but zoro still aspires to chase after her she is the best there is period and when he beats her he knows that he made it so far he has yet to beat her but he swears he’ll get there

he probably meets you at a fencing match or at a bar, either way where he meets you he doesn’t really flirt at first he just acknowledges you n it becomes something from there

peak situationship, you have no idea what you are when he actually does start flirting with you and takes you out on dates, and don’t let him talk about fencing either he can talk about it for hours and it manages to put a smile on his face

he always asks when you’re free whenever he has a match, he wants you to be there whether he wins or loses

there would be one crushing loss that gets to him and he holds you close to him and you stay like that for a while and you can tell he’s clearly upset, he pulls away from you mumbling something about getting his stuff

kuina passes by him and simply ruffles his hair saying how you’re a keeper and he brushes her off

kuina actually adores you she likes how you keep him grounded and encourages him to keep going, she sees him as a little brother and she’s glad he found someone like you

˗ˏˋNAMI- tennis player

totally played in college on a full-ride scholarship, the girl had to get her money's worth!!

richest tennis player simply because of her skill

au where belle-mère is alive because i said so, but nami often talks about her and nojiko in her interviews, belle-mère is so proud of her she’s always bragging about nami to anyone who will listen (literally anyone who stops by her tangerine farm bc she forces them to)

i see her falling in love with an opponent on the court, the bickering the two of you would have would go from a rivalry to slight flirtatious interactions to just straight flirting and everyone can see it

the tension would be at its peak during a championship game, the two of y’all would be in the finals, winner takes all type shit

nami says “i’ll take you out when i win, you know to help you get over your loss”

if she wins you let her take you out, if you win you let her take you out regardless which just intensifies her crush on you when you actually agree to go in the date

tennis power couple, the moment y’all debut in a doubles match it’s over for the world

˗ˏˋUSOPP- track and field

oh he’s totally a track star ik y’all see the way he be running

i see him running the 100, 200, and dabbling in long jump

he probably meet you while out on the town or at a meet, if you’re competing for another team and he ends up running against you or your teammate he shows off to impress you, if he meets you while he’s out and a bout he just tells you about himself casually

he would love going on little artistic dates, or he’ll buy the paint stuff and y’all can paint at his house while binging y’all’s favorite show

meet days are long asf for him once he gets back he’s immediately asleep, he tries (emphasis on tries) to text you when he gets home but once he brushes his teeth and puts his bonnet on, and his head hits that pillow oh he’s out like a light

he will never shut up about the 4 x 4 and how much he despises it, and if you don’t get it he takes you to a track and has you run a full 400m y’all now hate it together it’s a couples thing <3

if you’re there to cheer him in at his meets he actually falls in love with you like he wants to marry you and would propose to you on the spot if he could

the days after his meets he loves having lazy days with you and doing absolutely nothing, just holding you in his arms and relaxing is all he needs

˗ˏˋSANJI VINSMOKE- baseball player

he’s totally a baseball player i mean look at that waist ( we gon ignore the fact that he refuses to use his hands for anything besides cooking)

he’s totally a flirtatious player half of the time it’s unintentional bc that’s just how he is a natural gentleman

i see him asking a sports reporter for their number while they’re interviewing him, i see him enjoying the chase so if they brush him off he would be persistent flirting with you

him making sure you see his games, and he would flirt with you constantly if you’re there to recap the games

when he somehow gets you to agree to go out with him he’s actually over the moon, he treats you so well i’m talkin pressin a kiss to the back of your hand, opening doors for you all that jazz

when y’all start dating he’s still the same person, he flirts with you like he hasn’t won the chase a terrible romantic trulay

˗ˏˋTONY TONY CHOPPER [platonic]- athletic trainer student aide

student aide to an athletic trainer, he would probably be a prodigy too so they sitting here thinking he in college and he is but he’s like fucking 15

the team sees him as a little brother they all adore him and if they get scolded by him bc they wasn’t doing what they was supposed to do to let their injuries heal they so sad they disappointed him

you’re probably on the sports team he’s an aide too n he just naturally floated to you, he hangs out with you outside of the sports team and he sees you as an older sibling

if you need any help training he’d love to help you but if you make him work out with you he’s tapping and switching to moral support

if you get an injury he’s even harsher with you when you don’t listen he’s like “im not above putting my hands on people” whole time he not but he on the verge of slapping you so hard you gon have to be back in his office bc of the slap

makes you buy him lunch all thee time, for an athletic trainer aide he’s in love with sweets and you find it strange

˗ˏˋNICO ROBIN- volleyball player

#team mom

her volleyball team actually adores her

she’s been player of the year for her team, her conference, and in her league

i see her being the ace of her team, bringing them points home and someone her team can depend on to carry em home

but her practicing late one night and you walkin into the gym to do whatever maybe set up for media day or clean up, anyways you would catch her mid jump serve and it’s totally love at first sight for you i mean it’s robin like

she would smile at you and ask if you play volleyball

if you do she’ll hit some serves to you and if you’re down for it she’ll have a 1v1 practice match against you

if not she’ll be happy to teach you, hits you with the engulfing you and guiding your body with her hands

y’all would play together around the same time for the next few days and she asks you on a date and you ofc agree

˗ˏˋCYBORG FRANKY - athletic trainer for a hockey team

his team actually adores him like “big bro” franky in effect

i see him as an athletic trainer for a college team but he could also work for pros too!

if he works for a college team he totally cries when the seniors graduate, and if they go pro he makes sure to at least go to one of their games if he can

they’re always in his office even if they aren’t injured, when they don’t have class ( or anything to do ) some of his athletes just go to his office and talk to him about whatever

i see franky as a blind date guy nami probably sets one up for him and he meets you, he talks to you for a little while and he knows he’s into you

he could be in his office talking to you on the phone when his athletes catch him smiling at his phone too hard, or they notice how he’s in a better mood they totally tease him for it (he got that good team chemistry)

he’s so blindly in love with you too, if you don’t know anything about hockey he teaches you and if he has to teach you how to skate as well he literally never leaves your side he got his body around you as he shows you how to hit the puck with the stick

he also gives the best massages like any sore spots you had will be immediately gone

˗ˏˋJINBE - karate fighter

he screams olympian he truly do don’t he

anyways he’s well respected in his craft, it’s clear he loves what he does and he puts his all into karate

he’s such a smooth gentleman too, his flirt attempts would be subtle but they would be able to knock you off your feet like damn

him flirting with you while you wrap his wounds and it’s like this man?? and he’s so sweet with it

he’s the old timer with the lovey partner who was supporting him from the beginning, you was there when he had nothing to when he was winning championship titles

even though he’s gotten older he’s still got it, people love meeting him bc he’s such a sweetheart and he gives the best hugs ever, runs his own dojo maybe and he teaches people karate

when you stop by because he “forgot his lunch” he always thanks you with a kiss, you know he leaves it on purpose and he knows that you know but he keeps doing it anyways for a kiss

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justkennadi · 6 months

Text

Happy Halloween…🧡🖤🧡🖤

Notes: Special post for halloween 😍🤗 this is what the poll was for too btw. Not a continuation of my mini series either. Not proof read.

Content: Nerd!Armin x blk!fem reader, mentions of drinking and one sorta nsfw joke at the end

It’s halloween night and this time it wasn’t Eren throwing a party but Reiner. You didn’t like him that much but a party’s a party and it’s halloween!!

You decided on a vampire like fit since it was last minute. You were going with Mikasa and Eren who just decided to be thing one and thing two.

The party wasn’t far so the three of you decided to walk. Eren and Mikasa went to your house to pick you up so you alll could walk together.

“You’ll finally get to meet Armin!” Mikasa exclaimed as you three walked to the party.

From what you knew Armin was their 3rd friend before you and was realll nerdy now so he was often caught up with homework or studying. You went sure how Eren or Mikasa convinced him to put the book down for a party but you were a bit glad tbh. You really wanted to meet him especially since you had a thing for nerdy guys maybe he was cute…

It was obvious which house the party was behind held at. The music was so loud you could faintly hear it at your own house!

Once inside you, Eren and Mikasa push through a sea of dancing monsters, fake celebrities and other goofy dressed people. Eren got distracted somewhere in that sea but you and mikasa made it to a kitchen area. Mikasa yells she’s going to get a drink but you barely hear her so you just nod while still walking.

You weren’t really sure where to go or what to. You thought about getting a drink or two yourself but before you can finish that thought you bump into a slightly tall ghostface.

“Oh, sorry, my fault.” You say quickly looking at him.

He just stands there a bit and you were about to question it until Mikasa catches up to you.

“Im back- Oh hey Armin!”

Oh, so this was Armin?

He just waves and you both look at each other. Mikasa notices and tries to further introduce you two.

It’s still kinda awkward and also kinda hard to hear so Mikasa pulls you two outside where there were let people.

“Guys loosen up! It’s a party!” Mikasa exclaimed taking a sip from here drink. “Y’know what? You two just need a drink too, wait right here!”

And just like that she was off. You were starting to think she was an extreme lightweight.

“Soooo..” You said breaking the ice. “What made you not wanna nerd out tonight?”

Armin shrugged and looked down then away.

“What’s your major?” You ask.

He mutters something that has science at the end of it.

Smirking you say, “Can you take your mask off? I cant hear you..”

He slowly takes the mask off and you’re baffled.

He has the rosiest cheeks right now but he also had gorgeous blue eyes and soft looking lips. Also the curliest looking blonde hair. Adorable.

“Hey handsome..” You said playfully poking him. He just smiled and looked away.

Clearly he was shy but you found that cute as hell.

Mikasa comes back with two cups and hands them to you both.

“He’s so shy, Kasa..” You whisper in her ear.

“He’s just like that at first just give it time.” She says. “I’m gonna go dance and find Eren you two have fun out here ok?”

“Sureee..” You say sipping from the cup.

She runs off and you look back at the blushing blonde boy in front of you.

“Comeon, talk to me Min.” You say playfully.

His face reddens at the nickname and he says, “I like your costume..”

“Thankssss!” You twirl for him. “I liked yours too.”

He smiled.

The two of you talked outside for a bit longer. Armin finally started to open up more especially with the drink in his system. He even accidentally slipped he thought you were stunning and hot.

“Aw, thank you minniee!!” You say giddy.

He looks very embarrassed because of that but still smiles at your reaction.

“Hey, so i gotta go but…can i get your number?” Armin asks.

You smile big and quickly write your number on a candy wrapper and hand it to him saying, “Happy Halloween!”

He chuckled at this and turned to leave.

You were sad to see him go but once he did the party started dying down and here comes Mikasa again. This time Eren is with her.

“She partied too hard so times up, y/n.” Eren laughed.

“Nuh uh.” Mikasa says wobbling a bit.

You laughed and started walking with them. Eren asks about armin and how he missed him and you tell him he’s fine.

“He was dressed as ghost head!” Mikasa exclaimed.

“Ghostface.” You corrected.

“Well so was Connie and Marco.” Eren says. “I couldn’t tell who was who!”

Just then you get a buzz in your pocket from your phone. As Mikasa and Eren talk about party and read the text you got from and unknown sender.

- Hey, It’s Armin…

- I know vampires suck blood but i’d love to know if you’re down to suck something else ;)

You smile big at your phone as you demand an address. Did you just score a cute boy who happens to be intelligent as well??

Oh happy halloween to you….

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