#Wattpad English

[idi0tyapper1991]

Pilot: Intro for the beginning.

WARNING: this is suppose to be a xreader but I do use a name, SRRY!!! ☹️

The person saying “I, me, my, myself, ect” in the story is named Julianna C. Montoya: Female, 21, ambivert, rude but kind smtimes, soft and sentimental but tries to cover it up with a rude or strong attitude + child/ish.

Lena (friend): Female, kid/ish, kind and sweet, caring, loves pink, sentimental and soft.

Evie (friend): sarcastic, chill and calm, rude/ish, caring, and doesn’t care what others think

Episode 1: Crimson red dress with an orange bag and orange hair tie.

 A sat in the library reading a book next to the window, it was snowing softly and the room was quite, a few whispers here and there but not loud enough to make out. I heard my name in a soft yell, I look up from my book I was engrossed in and see my friends Lena and Evie, walking towards me with their backpacks hanging from their shoulders. “What’s up guys?” I asked, closing my book and shoving it in my bag. “There’s a party later on! And of course we’re going, and you should too! Please!” Lena begged with puppy dog eyes and her hands together placed on her cheek while her head leaned to the side. “Eh?” I thought for a moment. I was an extrovert but sometimes I could be introverted, right now I had no reasons to be an introvert or not come to the party “yeah, yeah why not” I said with a soft smile as Lena squealed quietly being cautious in the quite library. Evie smiled too at Lena then turn to look back at me “we should go pick out outfits to wear at the party, no?” She asked with her hand on her hip “yeah I think I got cash on me right now” I answered digging into my bag to spot the cash. “Alrighty! Let’s go!” Lena said with excitement staring to speed walk towards the library door. “Let’s catch up to her, yeah?” Evie said already walking to follow Lena. I nodded swinging my bag over my shoulder and catching up to the two girls.

           <~~-••-~~>

We entered “Americas beauty palace” a clothing store. Lena’s eyes went straight to the pink dresses while Evie and I followed behind her. “Omg this pink one is soo cute!” Lena said jumping up and down like a kid getting a new toy. “Yeah? It’s also 200 bucks? Still want it?” I said with amusement “huh!” She looked at the price and agh-ed “no fair! It’s so cute!” I looked at her with my arms crossed playing block blast on my phone   “Heh, sorry to ruin your fun, sweet cheeks” I said in a motherly voice with a playful banter. Later, Evie found a glittery black dress that went to her ankles and a slit slightly opened from the hip back down to the ankle, and it only costed 60$. Lena finally found a rosy pink sleeveless dress that went under her knee. Meanwhile I was looking between the red and orange dresses. “You need a bit help?” A boy with short dyed blue hair said with a name tag of “Sam”. “Oh! Um, actually yes please. I’m trying to find a…crimson red dress” I asked politely and he responded with “oh, yeah there is wait a sec, m’kay.” He said leaving then returning with a crimson red dress that went mid-thigh, sleeveless and came with long crimson red gloves to match . “Wow… it’s beautiful! How much?” I asked. “38$” he responded with a smile. I thought a crimson dress with a orange bag and orange hair tie would be perfect. After we purchased our dresses we headed home, and honestly I was pretty excited for this party I haven’t been to one in a while…it’s gonna bring back memories for sure.

           <~~-••-~~>

“YEAH!!! HE SAID HE’LL GIVE ME A RIDE!!” She said though our face time call, I looked at Lena with a smirk chuckling softly. “Yeah…but his friends are gonna be there~And Evie too~“ She slightly frowned her pupils looking at nothing to her side “yeah..” she murmured “But-!” “But nothing, lady!” I responded playfully annoyed before she finish, then Evie wondered “Are you gonna come with us? Like, In the car?” “Nah, I don’t mind walking to it. Gives me fresh air anyway.” I said twirling a string of hair around my index finger. “You sure?” Evie asked once again. “Ya know me I love being outside!” She nodded and smiled “anyway ima go change and you two should too don’t need you two being late!” We, me and Lena agreed and hung up the call as we started to get ready for the upcoming party.

           <~~-••-~~>

I let the water of the shower hit my face as I scrubbed the soap in my hair, my eyes closed enjoying the cold water splash on my bare body. I thought of the up coming party, my mind going a bit anxious and nervous, there we’re definitely be games…maybe group games? What if I mess up? What if…I get too drunk? Don’t drink at all then…what if I lose a game and they all laugh…don’t play any games…what if they think I’m a loser? Then play games…but I’ll get to nervous and mess up! 

I was over thinking things that could go wrong or embarrass me at the party…I always did this…why did my mind do this to me! Agh… can’t do anything About it…just have fun…

After I got out the shower I started to get into my crimson red dress wearing a black bra and black “boyshort” underwear with black shorts on top of it. After, I slowly and gently slid on my long crimson gloves looking in the mirror, I make a tiny smile across my face for once I thought…beautiful…

I put my hair up in a messy bun with a bit of hairs at the sides of my face and the rest of my short bangs all over on my forehead. I put on my crimson heels and started to walk into the dark-blue night sky.

Should I put this on Wattpad and here? It’s a story about a girl named Julianna gets swapped with some random person in My Hero Academia (just spots not bodies) and the person in mha who swapped spots with Julianna, was getting into a car crash while they were swapping. and then it will continue if I do end up posting it!

it’s short but…it’s something! :) and if I do post it I will make a episode 2 (ofc) !!!!

it will be called

”My lovers from another universe~“

(I will always post a day early here first if I do post this story)

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Things that lead to hell.

1- Editorial

--

That is the main song to the whole novel:

https://open.spotify.com/track/50VIdPGBGBsE9K4RyNf56A?si=Rpsuj4xuRsqHdvadg4k2rg&utm_source=copy-link

--

What's that gasoline smell?

--

A brown fire performer spat gasoline on the torch in his hand and then sparked fire out of his mouth.

A man had on a green suit, an orange wig, a red bow, and a clown costume. He was surrounded by happy children as he offered them balloons of all colors. In addition, there were other guys; I believe they were dressed like cartoon characters, and they danced in a humorous manner, accompanied by men, young men, and boys.

Light bulb veins adorned the narrow streets connecting various buildings. Between the buildings and the street lights, there were green and yellow lights. The colored triangle paper decorations were placed next to the light veins. It was so chilly that I was losing feeling in my nose. My father's hand was pressing harder on mine as he tried to hold me behind him in the mass of people.

Men in jilbabs-it's a traditional Arabic/Egyptian robe for men-I saw only in the ancient series that my father never got bored of. To rhythms I had never heard before, the men in rows flung their heads left and right.

They repeated, "God is alive."

These rhythms were overpowered by the sound of tambourines and chanting that I was unable to comprehend, yet I still found the tunes pleasing. Every stride I took on the filthy, muddy ground brought more dirt into my brand-new sneakers. The muddy ground didn't appear to bother anyone, so why should I care? I hoped my mother wouldn't scold me when I arrived home.

One of the elderly shouted at the children to play away from him as they ran after each other, laughing and wearing conical, colorful hats, whistling with their toys, and flinging some little fireworks on the ground.

Old men sat on a strange carpet, that seemed rough to me, and they prepared food on what appeared to be a stove, although it was low and only had one flame. They ate their food from plastic, deep plates, I thought they were eating beans.

That day, my father took me out without informing me where we were going, treating me like a young child. All of it began with an argument between myself and him over an incident that occurred at my high school on the same day. A guy bullied me, and I tried to ignore him, but he was a jerk, and I couldn't take it any longer, so I shattered a glass bottle on his head, and they called my father. After we got home, he got into a fight with me and made me accompany him to this strange event.

The windows of the buildings were long and made of wood, the stairways were old and corroded, the doors were wooden and narrow, and some of them were partially underground.

Most houses looked old-older than my ancestors.

My ancestors had died, but the houses remained standing.

I yelled to my father so he could hear me through the sound of tambourines and low-quality microphones, "Dad, where are we?"

He answered in a loud voice, "We're at the festival of the birth of Fatma the Nabawiya."

"Who?"

He didn't answer me. He shot me a sidelong glance, and I could feel the disappointment. He decided to lead me like a donkey to what appeared to be an exquisite tent. The tent was on the pavement, affixed to the body of an ancient, massive structure. Two men dressed in black stood in front of the tent, while across the street, men were moving to strange rhythms in front of a little stage. Men were chanting while musicians played the rhythms on stage.

The tent had red and blue colors, and a thin white curtain closed it. My father stood in front of the curtain and talked to one of the men in black with words I couldn't hear. The man, who didn't suit the place we were at, smiled. My father pressed on my hand more, leading me into the tent after him.

I noticed a lone lightbulb hanging on a long wire inside the tent. The wire surrounded the tent and went out of the tent to the unknown. Three men were seated on the big, wide cushions that were spread out on the ground for people to use. Two of those men were on the side of the tent, talking about religion, I guessed. The man stood out the most; he was sitting by himself in a white jilbab, holding an Arabic rosary between his long fingers, and wearing a white scarf over his head. The ground was carpeted with the same kind of rough green carpet.

My father took a seat beside the secluded man, dropped my hand, and struck up a conversation. I could barely see the man's face with that scarf.

"I miss you. I'm sorry I didn't come earlier." My father said that to the man. His tone of voice was one he used only with women.

Was that a woman? Had my father gone mad? Was he cheating on my mother? I thought.

"How's everything with you? Do you need anything?" Again, my father asked.

The man-or woman, I didn't know at the time-raised his head. His face was so strangely white-whiteness I'd never seen before. His eyes were the color of the ocean, with dark bags under them. Despite his stunning appearance, his beauty was somewhat neutral. His fingers, which held the rosary, were lengthy and resembled those of ladies. The cold had made his cheeks crimson and his lips parched.

His appearance was very endearing, but I had no idea what he was.

He took my father's hand, patted his shoulder with the other, and replied in a voice I couldn't make out if it belonged to a man or a woman, "You're asking about me, and that's all I need. Your crazy wife, how's she? Did that rabbit of a woman give birth again?"

"No, we've had enough. She asked about you, even wanted to come visit you, but I told her she could come on another day; the big night of the festival would be too much for her." My father said this, chuckling.

"You're right, the big night is too crowded for her, she's always been a softie. How're your kids?"

"All of them are alright. I want you to come over to see them; I want them to know you."

Sighing, she answered, "When God wants."

"Seliem, come say hi." My father addressed me.

"Who's this guy?" I asked, still standing in front of them like a statue.

The man or lady chuckled, not even giving me the slightest look, as if I were a ghost who had just cracked a joke.

"Sit next to her, and she'll tell you." My father answered after giving me a look, which I knew very well.

"No, don't sit next to me! Sit next to me on the hasira." She orders.

Note: A hasira is a kind of rough carpet used in some communities in Egypt.

"What's a Hasira?" I foolishly asked my father.

"It's the carpet here in front of her." He answered me, pointing at the carpet.

"For God's sake, your father was born on a hasira." She mocked me and my father in one line.

Curious, I sat down on the ground in front of her and asked, "Who are you, ma'am?"

"What did that little bugger do?" She asked my father, not giving me the slightest attention.

"He hurt a boy today at school. The worst part is that he doesn't seem to care that anything happened, even though the situation got out of hand and they wanted to contact the police." My father answered as if he was Mr. Know-It-All.

"That's good, Batrawishi needs buggers to work for him."

"Who is that Batrawishi? Dad, I wanna leave." Panicking, I said this.

Her eyes met mine; they were sleepy, but I saw a mix of confrontation and sympathy. Never before in my life had a pair of eyes confronted me.

"Do you know what's your name?" She asked.

"What's that question? My name's Seliem." Mocking, I answered.

"Wrong. I named you Salim. Seleim is an empty Turkish name. Your name is Salim; Salim means well and healthy." Without smiling, she said.

"You named me?"

"I did. Your father and I are siblings."

"No, how is that possible? My aunt's name is Maha."

"It's because I'm not your father's sister by that meaning."

"How so?"

"Do you want to know?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you, but first tell me why did you hurt the guy at the school?"

"Nothing, he's a bully, he keeps making fun of me all the time. He talks bad about me, he makes fun of my hair and glasses."

Her eyes moved to the other two men in the tent, so they excused themselves and left. Along with the tambourines, tones, and some dancing lights surrounding us, only the three of us remained.

Her eyes came back to me, "Continue."

"That's all. I want to know who you are." I said, curiously.

"I'll tell you, but a question for a question. Why didn't you tell one of the teachers?"

"Because I won't wait for them. I can take revenge by myself."

"I don't know if I want to laugh or punish him." My father chuckled, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Right, were you happy when you hit him?" She asked me, not giving my father any attention.

"Very much, because he deserved it."

"Right, but weren't you supposed to wait till he started hitting you first?"

"He can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because he knows I'm stronger than him."

"Wrong, Salim. He's stronger."

"Of course not! How so?"

"He made you make a mistake. He made you the one in the wrong, though he was the one in the wrong. You apologized, though he made you sad and bullied you."

I furrowed my eyebrows when I remembered that I really did apologize to that bastard.

"I didn't want to apologize." I said, explaining myself.

How did she know I apologized?

"But you did, though it was him who did you wrong." With an interesting and interested face, she said.

I couldn't find words to say, but after some moments of silence, I asked again, "Who are you?"

"You want to know who I am?" She smiled, asking.

"Yes, and how do you know mom and dad?"

"What's your name first?"

"I told you. It's Seliem."

"Salim." She corrected me; her smile faded, but her face remained bright-eyed.

"Everyone calls me Seliem."

"I named you Salim." She said it obstinately.

"Named me how?"

"I chose your name." Axiomatically, she answered.

"What's your name then? Why do you look like men?"

My father's mouth twisted as if he were embarrassed, but she answered my question, "God created me like this, and my father raised me this way."

"How could he do that when you're a girl?" I asked.

"You know, I should have asked him this question before he died."

"Then, what's your name?"

She gave me a beautiful smile and ordered my father, without leaving me with her eyes,

"Get out."

He did leave.

That was an unforgettable day. It was due to the conflict I had with my schoolmate that I saw a different kind of people for the first time in my life. Perhaps my strength propelled me to strike him with the glass bottle, but I resolved that day to never allow it to do so again. It was true that my father and I shared a lot of similarities and that I was strong, but I never witnessed him using his powerful arms for violence. Maybe this was what made people respect him. Contrary to what I believed, my father possessed a strength that he chose not to utilize in order to protect others from the evil within him. That day, when I walked out with my father and saw unusual people for the first time, I discovered the truth. I learned the truth. The truth of strength and mightiness. I didn't know what strength was until that time I was in the tent with a woman who looked more like a man than a woman. I thought men were the only gender that had mightiness, strength, and courage.

But, the best of what I learned that day was why I was named Salim.

[aphrmoosun]

MASTERLIST

Fandoms. POTA, KOTPOTA, HOTD, GOT, ETC.

[Kingdom of the] planet of the apes

NOMAE.

No words. [Two-shot]

Apes and humans lived in peace for more than half a century, the war only brought internal conflicts between the sides and although peace was the later consequence, they finally lived together and peacefully.

But it was still not well seen that humans and apes had relationships, each one lived in their area, both separated by borders and policies.

Noa son of the leader of the eagle clan. And Mae daughter of an important senator. Ape and human had set their eyes on each other, unable to ignore the other’s presence when they saw each other. The tension between the two ends in a nighttime escapade with consequences for the future.

Noa and the beast. [One-shot]

Noa is the new leader of the clan, his responsibility was to his own. But an Echo enters their lives and they decide to kill her due to the ancient writings that defined her as dangerous. But when Noa has her in front of him, his world changes completely…

You & Me. [Fanfic]

“Mae embarks on a mission to try to shed a ray of light on humanity in the face of the apes. Regardless of who stood in her way, she had to carry out this mission.

But although her mind constantly grappled with good and evil, her heart always leaned towards a certain ape who seemed not to be indifferent to her.

Attachment, sympathy, empathy, affection, or even love. These were not emotions she had learned to give to her enemy, but he always stood in her way and through his actions once again showed her that Noa was far from being classified as an enemy.

To a certain extent, she had to choose between her humanity and those feelings that interfered with her mission.”

House of the dragon

HELAEGON.

An heir. [One shot]

Aegon and Helaena have just lost their first son, the heir and after days of trying to breathe or eat to continue their lives, Helaena starts having those dreams again now seeing a new baby body in her arms. But how could they have another son if they haven't spoken for days.

HELAEMOND.

The Shadow of Passion. [Fanfic]

Helaena accidentally overhears a conversation between her two brothers right after her engagement to Aegon is announced and decides it's time to teach them a lesson. One that she would learn through a forbidden book called "The Shadow of Passion" and with which she would take practical classes with her younger brother.

His Queen and Goddess. [One-shot X Aegon]

Aemond takes everything that belongs to Aegon when he becomes King Regent, including Queen Helaena Targaryen. As revenge, Aemond fucks the queen in front of the king and in a position that Aegon had previously mocked him for in a brothel. However, the queen would always see the good side of the king, and he would eventually join them in the only way he could, with his mouth.

King Regent and the Queen [one shot]

Aemond had taken his brother's place, before the court as king regent, and he stood before his now throne, where he received the visit of the queen, the only one he needed to take as king now.

JACELAENA.

The Green Queen. [Fanfic]

Helaena returns to a point in her life where she can change everything she had lived, questioning whether to leave behind the bad but also the good she had experienced. Alongside her, she finds allies she didn't think she had, but most importantly, an old feeling is reborn between her and her nephew Jacaerys.

Puedes encontrar también los fanfics en español en mis perfiles.

AO3 | Wattpad 

[maihonhassan]

“Compliments about your appearance are nice‚ but when somebody compliments you as a person, the way you think‚ your laugh‚your personality‚ how genuine your heart is‚ that hits different.”

[bagelfyre]

Deep in the heart of the human lands, past the walls no Fae have crossed in centuries, tucked away in the royal gardens of one kingdom, lies a statue.

A relic from many generations ago, it has survived remarkably well. They— the studious groundskeepers and few nobles who come upon it— say that little is known about the curious monument with no known names or titles. Most suspect it to be a statement to the near-immortal race the humans had fought and won their freedom from in the War. Some even boasting that they knew it to be stolen from the Fae before the Wall went up. A trophy with a message carved into the stone should those cursed creatures ever set sight upon it again.

But it was none of those things.

A secret commission by Queen Andromache shortly after returning home from victory, the task went largely unnoticed during the extensive reconstruction period in the kingdom. Only she knew what her intent behind the memorial had been and only one other could ever understand— was the only one who ever had.

When choosing what words, if any, should be engraved, many titles came to mind: warrior, ally, queen in her own right, ambassador, friend, love. They all fit, but none encompassed her unresolved feelings or the person at the root of them.

So these words spilled forth as a silent-yet-defiant declaration to the world (to her) and a reassurance to herself as the years passed.

Maybe she wasn’t blessed or cursed with immortality, but this… this memory will remain.

@morweekofficial

[daniswoso]

I hate the way I can’t hate you.

Ona Batlle x Reader.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, verbal arguments.

******

When you played for Levante, you met a girl. The most perfect girl in the world, to you, at least. Ona Batlle. She was kind, caring, considerate; her eyes were brown and reminded you of quiet fall nights. Her jaw was sharp and her mousy brown hair was always tied back in a plait.

Her personality was one of the best you had ever seen. She had the ability to care so fiercely for others while also keeping a level head, she was always soft spoken and polite but also charismatic and humorous. She was possibly the most humble person you had ever met, too.

You may have been young, but you were sure as hell in love.

And you don't think you've been able to love quite right ever since she broke your heart.

You started out at Levante together, you played football together, studied for school together. You trained together, lived together, ate together, went to the gym together. You were attached at the hip. So when her departure to Manchester United was announced, it was saddening. But you made your peace with it.

You had both decided you were going to make it work. You had too.

Ona, for a long time, was the only constant in your life. Your family and home life had never been particularly stable or good. You hadn't come from riches or fame. You had to work hard to get where you were today. And you continued to.

When you first went pro, you promised yourself you weren't going to let relationships get in the way of your career, but somehow Ona managed to break down your walls and your tough facade. Simply by being her.

She was a part of your heart. So when she suddenly ended things half way into her first season at United, a part of your heart died.

She did it over text.

Text.

To say you were heartbroken was an understatement. It felt as though a piece of you had fallen away, crumbled as you read those words. The words you had hoped to never hear. The words you never thought you would hear.

And so you needed to get away, from everything Ona. From anything that reminded you of her. And that meant leaving the only other constant in your life, Levante.

Plenty of things have changed recently, you thought, what's one more?

And it was difficult, but eventually you settled into Real Madrid. Content with only seeing her at Champions League matches, or in national friendlies where you would have to play alongside her.

You were content, but never quite happy.

You had had many failed talking stages and one night stands, often random women from bars. You always left before they even got the chance to stirr awake, leaving their bed cold and empty. Although you always felt guilty after, you continued with it. It was what worked.

You didn't fall in love, you weren't sure you could. And leaving before they could wake was the best way to get away from the situation, preventing yourself from catching even the slightest hint of feeling for them. Wether it was because you were still holding out some hope she'd come back, or because you simply didn't want a relationship; you weren't sure.

You couldn't truly love anyone again. You couldn't let yourself truly love anyone again. Ona had broken you, and wether it was for the better or the worse you didn't know. But you had a strong feeling it wasn't for the better.

A piece of you left with Ona the day she broke things off. You were confused, young and alone at the time. In a way you still were, you hadn't quite shed yourself of your previous naïvety.

But you were content at Real now.

Until Ona's transfer to Barcelona was announced.

It was something Ona had always dreamed about, going back to Barcelona. She’d tell you, “That club made me. They’re my home. And I promise you one day I’ll go back, with you,”

She'd say it with a smirk so charming and sweet you couldn't resist but to play into her fantasies. You would stay up all night talking to each other about everything you would do at Barcelona, how you would revolutionise the defending line.

Obviously that fell through. You went to Real Madrid instead, and you had always told yourself it was out of the need to leave; but you're fairly convinced you did it out of spite.

You felt your newly constructed life crumble around you the day you saw the news on instagram. You knew she was going to come back to Spain eventually, just like she had always planned. But you didn't think it would be this soon. She seemed happy at United.

Just your luck though, right?

Although the feelings you experienced when you saw the news alone at home was nothing compared to what you felt when you shook hands with her and met those beautiful brown eyes you thought were in your past again.

The same soft hands that had held you after harsh losses or great wins at Levante.

You never thought you'd hear her voice again. See her more often than you had to.

That match you kept your head down and did your job. And it paid off, Madrid won 3-2. Immediately after, you left for the locker rooms. But you heard the clacking of studs behind you and immediately knew who it was.

Ona. The love of your life Ona. The one who broke up with you without an explanation and over text Ona. The girl who you met when you were just a naïve young adult and had fallen in love with, was there. Stood before you, her big brown eyes glistening with unshed tears while yours were already streaming down your cheeks.

"Y/N." Her voice cracked. You winced and more tears fell, it took everything in you to not turn into a fit of sobs and cries right there and then.

"Batlle." You replied. Your voice was harsh and cold, albeit a little shaky and a tear fell down her cheek and her lip quivered as she sniffed. You fought back the urge to reach out and wipe her tears away.

"Y/N I need to explain myself, por favor." She pleaded. You felt like a giant dick for what you said next, but you said it anyway.

"Not a fucking chance. You broke me the day you left me, Ona. And to make matters worse? You did it over text with no fucking explanation," you paused, tears streaming faster, your voice trembling. You studied her face, searching for any sign of guilt or remorse, instead you were met with the sight of her looking to the ground.

"I need an explanation. Why, Ona? Why?" You said, your voice probably sounding needy now but you couldn't care less. Your mean facade had faded now and you shakily exhaled.

"I didn't want to hold you back," She said, her voice quiet and timid, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she held back her sobs.

"You didn't want to hold me back?" You repeat, she nods. Your sadness was replaced with a fiery hot rage that had been burning deep within you ever since that fateful day.

"You weren't fucking holding me back Ona! You never were! We had a system! We were fine!" You yelled, she flinched but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Too overcome with rage and anger to feel anything else.

"Y/N, please trust me when I say I didn't want to, but I knew I was holding you back, you were holding out for an offer from United, or Barca. I could tell-" you cut her off

"Did you ever fucking consider I was just happy at Levante?! I was captain for fucks sakes, Ona! I didn't want to leave that! I left because of you, I needed to get away from everything you!" You yelled, tears streaming down your face as Ona tilted her head back, wiping at her eyes.

"Y/N, I was right to do what I did. I mean, look at you! You're a star player for Madrid.." her voice broke again as she gestured to your grass stained Real kit.

"Right to do what you did?!" you screamed, she tilted her head to the side and shut her eyes, her lip quivering and her breathing shaky.

"I loved you, Ona! I still fucking do! I think I always will! Could you not have at least spoken to me first? Asked me if I needed space? Rather than breaking my heart and leaving me confused and trying to pick up the pieces for years?!" your anger had faded, the rage inside you simmering down now. Your upset and disappointment replacing the fury.

"Y/N-" she was cut off by you again.

"I hated you, you know?" you got out through gritted teeth, meeting her eyes as they widen and she stifled a choked sob, "Sometimes I think I still do. I hated the way everything reminded me of you. I hate the way I can't view fall the same as I used to anymore because it reminds me of your fucking eyes. But most of all, Ona?"

She looks at you, her brows furrowed and her lips tightly pressed together as they trembled while her shoulders shook ever so subtly as she suppressed her sobs.

"I hate the way I can't ever truly hate you."

And that was all it took, she broke down, mumbling apologies. But it was too late. You had retreated into your locker room, leaving Ona's Barcelona teammates to collect her.

You needed to heal. And now you had an explanation and closure, you finally could.

And the first step in that is letting go of the thing that hurt you the most. And for you, that just so happened to be the love of your goddamn life.

But it didn't matter. You would get through it.

***

Hi! Sorry. This was very sad, I was just in an angsty kinda mood haha. Also! English is not my first language so please feel free to correct my grammar lol. Hope you're all having a good day, night or afternoon and staying hydrated.

Yours truly,

author :)

[5sosprincess]

English love affair

Just so we all are on the same page, yes, my username is after the iconic english love affair from 5sos.

THANK YOU GEMMA STYLES FOR UR SERVICE 🫡🙌

I also wonder how Harry reacted to them (Gemma & Ashton) dating and the song they released also 1d weren't at that point 5sos bosses?hahah

[idkwh0y0uare-haha]

if someone ever tells me not to read a my chem fanfic that i've never heard of that's titled "the [insert random object] fic," i should just listen to them

[multiverse--wanderer]

Merry Christmas // Oneshot - Ghost x König (CoD) -- ENG

[Oneshot based on the OTP between Ghost and König from Call Of Duty. This full Oneshot on patreon has +18 content, read at your own risk. ] This is a Patreon exclusive text, take a look at the different memberships and what each one can offer you!

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

The cabin rested at the heart of a forest buried under a white mantle, where silence stretched like an eternal whisper. Alexander had chosen this forgotten corner to spend Christmas, insisting with the same stubbornness with which he faced orders on the battlefield. He knew Simon, from whom he could sometimes only guess thoughts behind that impenetrable mask, hated crowds as much as he did. But beyond the words that were never spoken, there was a latent truth: they both longed for stillness like an oasis after hell, though they rarely allowed themselves to admit it, not even to themselves.

The forest, covered in snow falling leisurely, seemed to envelop them in a bubble, isolating them from time and the world. The cabin, rustic and modest, was a refuge that smelled of old wood and the warmth of the freshly lit fire. Inside, the fireplace roared softly, filling the air with orange flashes and the faint crackling of the logs. Alexander stood by the window, his tall frame nearly swallowing the frame, his clear eyes following the swaying of the snowflakes dancing in the wind. There was something hypnotic in this scene, as if winter spoke a language he understood better than any human word.

The room, austere yet cozy, had the simplicity of one who lives without pretensions. The wooden furniture, rough and full of history, shared the space with a small Christmas tree Alexander had decorated that very morning. The lights, flickering like trembling stars, cast playful shadows on the bare walls. He had tried to wrap a couple of gifts, and although his clumsy hands barely managed to tame the paper and ribbon, the effort imbued the room with something genuine, almost vulnerable.

Simon sat on the sofa, a stoic figure even in stillness. His mask remained on, like an extension of his skin, a reminder that some things are never left behind. But his clothes, a simple black sweater and wool pants, betrayed a hint of comfort. His large, calloused hands held a steaming cup of tea between his fingers, though his eyes didn’t look at the hot liquid. They were fixed on Alexander, attentive, as if searching for something beyond the figure of the man watching the snow.

Finally, Alexander turned. The firelight played on his face, highlighting the grooves of his features and the melancholic gleam in his eyes. He walked toward the sofa with heavy, but measured steps, and as he sat next to Simon, the furniture groaned under his weight, though neither of them seemed to notice.

—I was thinking —he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself—. How strange it is to be here. So... peaceful.

His gaze drifted to the tree, where the poorly wrapped, somewhat uneven gifts waited patiently. The tree lights reflected off the packages, giving the scene a warm, almost childlike intimacy, which contrasted with the visible and invisible scars both men carried. Alexander nodded toward the gifts.

—Do you want to open them now? —He asked, pointing at the packages with his chin, his deep voice strangely soft, as if afraid to break the stillness of the moment.

Simon didn’t respond immediately. His dark eyes, unalterable under the shadow of the mask, first scanned the gifts, then the tree, and finally returned to Alexander. There was something in his posture, in the way his shoulders seemed to relax just a little, that said more than any word could.

In that lost cabin, amid the snow that covered everything and the fire that promised warmth in a cold world, time seemed to stop. Two men, marked by a shared past of war and death, found in the silence of winter something they never expected to find: a glimpse of peace.

The older one felt strangely serene in that atmosphere. There was something in the cold winter air, in the whisper of the falling snow, and in the warmth that enveloped the cabin, that made him feel as if the world had stopped. Everything seemed in place, as if every element, from the gentle roar of the fireplace to the faint glow of the tree lights, had been arranged to offer them this moment of calm.

He was aware that he was no longer a young man, not completely, but neither old. Still, the scars—the visible ones and the ones inside—sometimes reminded him that there were things more important than the constant pursuit of battle. And on days like this, he realized there was something deeply comforting about being away from it all. Away from the noise, away from the blinding lights, and the pressure of civilization. Here, with him, everything was different.

He looked at the boy sitting across from him, whose energy had once been a contrast to his own shadow, but in this moment reflected the same peace. He knew him well enough to understand that he enjoyed these moments of simplicity just as much as he did. The cabin’s decorations, though humble and a bit messy, spoke of a genuine effort on his part, an effort to make him feel comfortable, calm, at home. And he had succeeded. Oh, how he had succeeded.

—Hm.

The sound was barely a murmur, more a thought escaping his lips than a word. But the boy, always attentive, noticed it. He turned his head, his clear eyes sparkling with a flash of curiosity. The masked man followed the direction of his gaze, where the poorly wrapped, uneven packages rested under the tree.

He smiled, though that smile remained hidden behind his mask. It was strange, he thought, how such a small gesture could carry so much weight in a moment like this. He wasn’t accustomed to these things, to these traditions that seemed to belong to another life, another world. But here he was, sitting in front of a decorated tree, with gifts waiting to be opened, and the warm presence of someone who, in some way, had managed to penetrate his defenses.

—Is it time for that? —He finally asked, his voice deep but soft, tinged with a mixture of curiosity and awkwardness that he rarely showed.

The boy didn’t respond immediately. His eyes wandered between the tree, the gifts, and his figure, as if considering the question with more seriousness than it really required. But in that pause, in the silence they shared, there was something deeper, something that spoke of a mutual understanding that didn’t need words.

Winter continued outside, covering the forest in an embrace of ice and snow. But inside the cabin, between the warmth of the fire and the silent connection they shared, a moment was being formed that would remain etched in both of them. It wasn’t about the gifts or the decorations, but the simple yet powerful truth of being together, away from it all, but close enough to each other.

Alexander let out a soft laugh, barely a whisper that was lost among the crackling of the fireplace and the murmur of the wind outside. It was a strange sound, intimate, that barely seemed to fit with the imposing figure he projected. There was something almost magical in that cabin; perhaps it was the warmth of the fire or the tranquility enveloping the snowy forest, but in that moment, even a man like Alexander could afford to let his guard down.

His eyes stopped on Simon, as they often did more than he would admit. The mask remained on, an impenetrable shield, but Alexander had learned to read the little nuances that Simon unintentionally let slip. A slight change in the tilt of his head, a barely perceptible relaxation in the tension of his shoulders, or even the subtle rhythm of his breathing. And this time, he felt it: Simon was comfortable. Maybe not happy in the full sense of the word, but comfortable, and that was enough for Alexander.

—Well —He said finally, his voice warm, with that soft accent that made the words seem to roll with an almost charming awkwardness—. I don’t think there’s a ‘right time’ to open gifts here.

It was rare for him to feel so relaxed, so human. But there was something in Simon’s presence that always managed to disarm him in a way the battlefield never had. It made him want to be something more than a soldier, even if just for one night.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

[rini-descartes]

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."

— John Milton

[my-names-angel-but-im-not-one]

Looking back at the Wattpad stories I wrote , me and my 14 y.o readers fucking loved whatever garbage I wrote.

I wanna delete it so bad , but it have 2M views , like if someone blackmailed me with my stories, I would literally sign a contract with the devil.

THE EMBARRASSMENT IS REAL-

[escespace]

Lucerys: *sneeze*

Laenys: May The Old bless you

Jacaerys: I'm standing right next to him, it's more than blessing enough

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Things that lead to HELL (On Wattpad)

'Merritt was one of a kind. She was a woman that was raised to be a man, to hold guns, to be a dangerous individual and to kill. What do you think was the only thing that could make her fear something? I think the answer to that is quite hard, as she feared nothing and no one. She does all things that lead to hell.'

--

Hello, girlies.

This is a short novel I wrote in Arabic and now am translating it to English. This novel is about a lot of things. You can expect feminism and violence most of all. And since this is a novel and a work of fiction, do not expect the characters to be all cutie and accepting each other. There are characters that are abusive, racist, misogynistic, and homophobic.

This story is about a woman called Merritt, who is violent and is raised as a man. Please read it and give me your feedback.

Thank you in advance.

--

https://www.wattpad.com/story/366079196-things-that-lead-to-hell?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=hagatbetwdienar

[m4kinthebed]

james "i'm famous and you're the first who don't know me" potter

regulus "i listen the music, not the artist" black

coming soon: wattpad / ao3

[maihonhassan]

"I love calm people. The ones choosing their words wisely, never raising their voice. Not living to show off, but to exist in a quiet and harmonic way, trying to at least not harm anyone. I find those people inspiring."

[mysmuttyy]

DRACO MALFOY