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copper-16 · 12 hours ago

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Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow

Alexia had lost her childhood love at the last moment. Or did she?

{a/n: Hello everyone! Fair warning: I make a lot of changes about the “world” in the fics I write. Alexia grew up in Madrid in this and started out at Atlético Madrid (don’t worry she’s still the world’s biggest culer, trust), and the timing, clubs, etc are often somewhat fudged because I am lazy. If you come on here and start correcting me I’m just going to block you because this is a STORY, it’s not supposed to be accurate to real life because it isn’t real life. This starts in March of 2021, but there are a series of flashbacks. Reader is a few months younger than Alexia in this.

This story can either be: just the 1 part with an ambiguous ending if everyone is satisfied with that, 3 parts with a more solid ending, or 10 parts with a longer story structure (and I like the ending better personally but to each their own). Curious as to everyone’s thoughts are, and it’ll probably dictate how much I end up writing! I hope y’all enjoy the read! Title is from Drops of Jupiter and Spotify link can be found here!}

Dahlias.

Resilient.

Warm-hearted.

Protective.

Optimistic.

Mysterious.

Grounded.

Alexia thought of the intricate flowers often. She even went so far as to plant some in a garden box on the balcony of her apartment, just so that in the warmer months she could go out and trace the petals gently under her fingertips. A reminder of everything wonderful she had been fortunate enough to have in her life, held in her grasp for just a little bit longer out in the warm air.

She admitted it was a long time ago, but even if she tried to move on she simply couldn’t.

—

Alexia is grateful she opted to wear pants for the event, if for no other reason than the fact that she has somewhere to put her hands. The event was on the smaller side, not quite intimate but still not overwhelming either. It’s March now in Barcelona, with warmer weather and sunshine, even if the event for this evening is held indoors.

It was for Spotify, bringing together ambassadors of the brand from around Spain to interact and connect with the team. Naturally, Barcelona has sent Alexia and Robert along with a few of the staff members to represent Barcelona. The midfielder has spent the better part of the event making small talk, trying to be polite and sociable. These events are inherently exhausting for her, but she still understands the importance of them, even if there isn’t quite enough football talk for her liking.

As grateful as the blonde is for the visibility of the team and women’s football, there are still moments when she has to force herself to remain appreciative. She sometimes misses the days of kicking the football around in the dirt, where the heaviness of expectations never plagued her. She misses cozy nights on the couch laughing until her stomach hurts or having someone pull her from her work, insisting that she take a break.

The footballer struggles to remember the last time she took a break. Her life is full steam ahead, all of the time. It was rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. Even when she has a day off or a moment of peace, it never quite felt like hers.

Everyone expects something of her.

Everyone wants a part of her.

But nobody wants her in her entirety. Nobody has in a long time.

When the midfielder finally breaks away from the delegate of Barcelona members under the guise of going to the bathroom, she takes the time to just explore. The event space is lovely and spacious, with high ceilings and a gorgeous conference room

She is aiming to head toward the restroom, but she wanders aimlessly. The brunette ends up in a hallway with a gorgeous light fixture, and she finds herself looking up at it in vague awe. She catches movement in her peripheral vision, and when she glances down, her breath catches in her throat.

It can’t be?

Could it be?

After all of this time?

Your head is turned up toward the light fixture as well, your face partially obscured by the angle of your neck tilting upward to admire the beauty of it. The dress you’re wearing is a deep emerald green, a crushed velvet material with a high cut neckline. There are draped sleeves that barely hit your mid bicep, and the cut of the gown is long enough that it hides that you’re wearing loafers over more socially appropriate heels.

You’ve always claimed that a woman who spent her life stuffing her feet into uncomfortable shoes simply wasn’t doing life right.

The ceilings are tall, and the hallway is nearly empty, but Alexia is pretty sure that there is a lack of oxygen in the air.

And then you turn your head down from the lights above you, making direct eye contact with you.

Her heart stops for just a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of the moment.

But the footballer realizes at that exact moment that it’s really you.

—

When Alexia is six, her immediate family moves from the Mollet del Valles to Salamanca for her fathers job. Besides her Mami, Papi, and Alba, the rest of her family stays behind in Barcelona, a fact that Alexia both hates and struggles to understand.

Concepts of a job and moving are a little far out of her realm, but she tries her best to calm Alba when she cries quietly out of homesickness. Alexia is strong and refuses to cause trouble, so she takes the move with a silent despair as she is abruptly pulled from everything she has grown to know and placed in a new environment.

Her Mami explains to the two girls that they will return to Barcelona in the summer for a few weeks to visit family, and that they can still go to Barcelona games here in Madrid. The little brunette girl struggles to contain the disgust her face twitches with at the thought of Real Madrid, and Eli forces herself to hold in a gentle laugh.

In Alexia’s second week of living in Madrid, she meets you.

Your family lives in an apartment down the street, with your Mama and Papi alongside your two younger brothers. There’s an area between your house and Alexia’s for children which could technically be classified as a park because of the pathetic patch of grass inside a ring of concrete. It doesn’t matter for Alexia, who brings a basketball outside to play in the space after growing bored one afternoon.

You were already out there, sitting in the small grass patch and playing with the flowers, gentle in the way only a young child could be. That precarious edge where you could crush the petals at any moment, but for whatever reason don’t.

The brunette perks up, her steps quickening at the sight of you. She has yet to make a single friend here considering that school has not yet started, and now would be the perfect time.

“Hola,” she introduces herself apprehensively, soft spoken but not exactly shy. You look up at her, surprise melting into a small smile that seems to spread through the rest of your body.

“Hola,” you repeat, and Alexia sets the basketball down before sitting beside you.

“I’m Alexia, I live over there. I just moved here,” she explains as she points toward her own apartment complex. You nod in recognition, turning to the opposite side of the street to point out your own home.

“Nice to meet you Alexia,” you state resolutely, but your focus is still on the flowers underneath your hands, the caléndulas.

“Are you a big fan of la flores?” She questions, and you nod, tucking some hair behind one ear as you look over at Alexia.

“Flori loves la flores,” the brunette declares, giving you a nickname that will stay with you as she pulls you up to go play basketball with her.

—

When Alexia is seven she joins the Atlético Madrid academy, playing alongside boys her age. She also learns that you hate football with a burning passion.

After that day in the street, the two of you have become fast friends. One could not be found without the other, wandering around the streets playing imaginary games or dancing together. You could even be coaxed into a game of basketball or handball sometimes if you were in a good mood, but never football.

It’s strange to Alexia, because football comes so naturally to her. It is a part of her family, but it is not a part of your family. While you are light on your feet, graceful in dancing, other sports are not your cup of tea.

You’re smaller than Alexia is, smaller than the average girl your age, and it shows when you’re trying to play games with everyone. You never complain about it, weathering the storm of fouls and near fatal injuries from competitors twice your size without so much as a spot of negativity.

But Alexia knows that it is not your favorite, and she only asks you to play sometime.

“Come on Flori, please? I need to practice before tomorrow?” Alexia begs, and though you threw her some sass, you quickly agreed when you saw the look in her eye.

The desperate look on her face was enough to convince you that she really did need help.

While you weren’t terribly skilled at football, you weren’t horrible at it either. You agreed to help Alexia because she is your absolute best friend in the whole entire world, and when she looks at you with that face, you know she really means it.

It is all worth it when she comes home the next day, dropping her bag at home and sprinting over to your apartment. She barges past your Mama at the door to run to your room, jumping on your bed and telling you every detail of the day with excruciating detail.

You want to listen to every single minute, filled with warmth from the clear excitement on her face. You’re happy that she is happy, and you know that football brings her peace in the same way dancing does for you.

Which is why when Eli asks Alexia to stop playing football at school as a result of her joining a team outside of school, you are the one who covers for her. You easily vouch that she was pushed on the playground rather than scraping her knees playing football.

The look her Mami gives you lets you know she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide regardless, much to your relief.

—

When Alexia is eight, she learns of how fiercely protective you are.

It had only been a small thing, a disagreement on the football pitch behind the school you all attended. She was playing with some of the other girls, the few ones her age who still wanted to play football. The ones who didn’t mind getting their knees muddied and running until their lungs gave out.

Not that it mattered how much they tried, because Alexia always beat them anyways.

You had chosen not to participate, electing to teach Alba how to weave daisy chains and making sure that your little brothers weren’t getting into trouble while they played together. You had just moved Alba’s hand gently to show her how to twist the stem of the plant correctly when you heard the ruckus.

You lift your head, taking in the scene in front of you with a renewed urgency when you notice that Alexia was on the ground. One of the other girls is practically standing on top of her, she was so close to the brunette. The girl, Isabella, is practically pink in the face with her anger, yelling about some foul or dirty move on Alexia’s part.

You didn’t care though, standing up in a flash and stomping your way across the football pitch to the two girls.

Alexia is by no means a shy person, but she usually leaned toward being more reserved. She has a deep sense of justice though, and has always pressed for everything to be fair, even when it was not to her advantage.

When she played games with Alba, the brunette would hold her dominant hand behind her back or close her eyes to even the playing field. And while she never let Alba win without reason, she was never overly cruel in her celebrations either. Especially not as one would expect a bigger sister to be.

She did not have a chance to get a word in edgewise today, not when you stuff your body between the two girls and press your finger into Isabella’s chest, all but shoving her back.

You tilted your head up in defiance, a positively ferocious look on your face.

“Hey! There is no need to yell,” you argue ardently, your face twisted in complete and utter vexation at Isabella’s tone toward your best friend.

Isabella just stares down at you for a moment, probably more shocked to see you there than bothered by the words you just said to her. You were smaller than her and Alexia, and it is rare to see you get angry or irate like this.

“Right…sorry Alexia,” Isabella says after a moment, offering a sheepish smile before she turns away, walking off of the field over to a few of her other friends.

You let out a small sigh as your body language settles into something more relaxed and calm. When you look back at Alexia behind you, you find her looking up at you with a tilted head and a look of confusion on her face.

“What?” You question carefully, back to the serene best friend that the Catalan had come to know over the last two years. There is concern pooling in your eyes as she stood, brushing the dirt off her knees.

“Nothing I…” she pauses for a moment before she shakes her head, a tiny smile gracing her lips as she lets out a chuckle. “Thank you Flori.”

You smile up at her broadly before you turn and make your way back to your younger siblings, sitting down and going right back to teaching Alba how to make a daisy chain as though nothing ever happened.

—

When Alexia is nine, the two of you dance together.

You are both signed up for folk dance classes by your respective mothers, who have become powerless in trying to keep the two of you apart. The pair of you might as well be attached to one another, as if you need the other in your orbit to continue on with life.

It’s not that you both don’t have other friends, because you do. But the connection between the two of you is strong, not understood by anyone else.

Dancing with Alexia is different. She makes you laugh in ways you cannot quite understand, and despite being only nine years old, there is a gracefulness to her movements that the other girls do not possess. There’s an ease to your steps when you are partnered with her, almost as though you two can anticipate the movements of the other without speaking about it.

Perhaps football has helped her dance abilities, you wonder silently, but even that might be a stretch.

You aren’t sure it matters though, not when she looks at you with that wide smile that she only ever seems to give you.

—

When Alexia is ten, she finds you on her walk home from football practice. Her Mami had just started letting her walk home alone, alongside another boy from her team who lived in the area. It wasn’t a far walk by any means, but it gave the brunette a feeling of huge independence that only a ten year old could possess.

She has just turned the corner to head down her street when she hears loud, loathsome voices.

“Flori, really? That’s a stupid nickname, just like you are a stupid friend. She only hangs out with you because it is an easy option, not because she likes you.”

Alexia doesn’t even have time to consciously think before she sees red and surges forward, finding you cowering just slightly under the intense gaze of two older boys. They are in the year above you and Alexia in school, but they always hated the brunette because she was better at football than they were.

It seemed that their response to this embarrassment was to take out their anger on you.

Alexia could tell you were trying to show minimal fear, but you were a good head smaller than the boys who towered over you. Luckily for you Alexia wasn’t about to let them get away with it, and she came around the corner yelling in anger.

The boys weren’t expecting her, and they certainly weren’t expecting the vehemently angry words that flew out of her mouth.

You watched the exchange with a strange sense of detachment.

Were you a stupid friend for Alexia? She was getting better at football now, getting noticed by people and places much bigger than the little neighborhood you guys lived in. She could be popular, have any friend she wanted. No longer was she beholden to you in any way.

When Alexia grabs your arm gently, you look up to find that the boys are nowhere to be found anymore. It is just your best friend with you, her eyes scanning over every feature on your face with a furrowed brow.

You let out a tight breath as you realize that you two were alone, sinking down to sit on the curb. Alexia joins you, taking your hand and holding it tightly in her own.

“Are you alright?” She asks softly, and you don’t answer her for a long moment.

“Do you think that I am a stupid friend? Do you wish you had more popular friends?” You counter, not really answering her question. You don’t want to burden your friend with your own emotions, sticking to the facts of the case rather than the maelstrom of unease swirling in your stomach. The brunette all but flinches at the question, shaking her head fiercely. You turned to inspect her face gently, to see that there were no signs of lying in the set of her jaw or the twitch of her eyebrow.

“Why would you think that?” She prods softly, her voice only loud enough for you to just hear it. Alexia can tell that this is about more than just what the boys said. The crinkle in your brow gave away the depth of your worries, especially to the footballer.

“I am not like you Alexia. I don’t like sports, or getting dirty, or playing with the boys. I am not talented like you, I will never be the star people think you will be. I hear them whispering about you, certain that you will be great,” you insist, reticent to a fate that you have seemingly already aligned for yourself.

But then Alexia moves, crouching down in front of you instead of remaining beside you.

“I don’t care about any of that if you aren’t my best friend,” she confesses with a sharp intonation, and she means every word of it wholeheartedly.

She never thinks of herself as doing anything with football, because there is no path for a woman like her to play professionally like the men do. Even if there was, she has no clue if it is something she would want for her future.

She loves football dearly.

But she also loves you, and she tells you as much.

“I will always need you in my life, no matter what. Now that you are here, you are stuck with me and I refuse to give that up. You are my best friend, and I don’t care what I do in life or who I become, you will always be my best friend Flori.”

And despite everything that told you that you probably shouldn’t, you believe her with everything in you.

—

When Alexia is eleven, she moves in with her aunt and uncle in Barcelona for the year to train at La Masia.

You miss her terribly, even though life moves on. Your schedule every week is filled with friends and dance and time spent outside, but it’s never quite the same with Alexia. When you receive a little flip phone, your heart leaps at the thought of being able to talk to her even when she is far away.

The two of you call every day, and patiently you listen to her describe every bit of frustration and excitement about football. It’s a huge opportunity to play in La Masia but there remain huge obstacles, and the program for the girls is unorganized and frustrating at best.

You listen patiently, and Alexia is reminded all over again of how her life wouldn’t be the same without you.

Gratitude and a strange swirling feeling twist in her belly, but it fills her with a warmth all over regardless.

—

When Alexia is twelve, she returns to Madrid. The La Masia program for the girls has fallen apart, and she comes back to Atlético Madrid.

She comes back home to you.

You are unsure of when her smile started to make your stomach flutter, or when the brush of her hand against yours made your heart jump. And honestly, you don’t care. It is the most natural thing in the world to you.

When she holds your hand for the first time and glances over at you shyly, you simply knew that your heart belonged to her, and somehow hers belonged to you too.

—

When Alexia is thirteen, you ask her to be your girlfriend.

Perhaps it's silly and juvenile and you two are the only ones who believe in the seriousness of it.

She is caught by surprise at you asking, and suddenly the footballer finds herself throwing out her elaborate plan she had come up with to ask you in the following weeks.

Alexia says yes to you, unequivocally and with a soundness she has never felt before.

The first brush of your lips against hers lasts for a few seconds, but it’s exhilarating in an entirely new way.

It’s perfect, as is the way her arms wrap securely around you.

—

When Alexia is fourteen, the two of you begin to experiment a little more for the first time.

It’s awkward and bumbling sometimes, but there's a layer of comfort and ease above it all. Her lips on yours and the feel of her body next to you keeping you grounded and comfortable, ready to stop at any moment.

When she pulls away, you find yourself giggling at the tickling sensation of her eyelashes against your skin. You bury your head into her chest, holding tightly to her as you feel a laugh rumble in her chest. .

Even as she gets better at football and you grow into your own intelligence, it’s still the two of you together, taking life at your own pace.

—

When Alexia is fifteen, she begins to struggle in school.

You are the first person she talks to because she knows that you will meet her without judgement. You have always been a good student, and don’t mind spending the time patiently tutoring her. Topics that she should probably understand but do not are broken down into easily digestible ways, and for the first time in weeks her arithmetic work begins to make sense.

She is able to continue playing without any problems, and her marks improve rapidly with her focus and your dedication.

“Thank you Flori,” she sings as she walks out of the first session, and you can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice.

The footballer beams at you when you declare that your payment is a kiss for every correct answer.

She pays her pension and then some without an ounce of complaint.

—

When Alexia is sixteen, she makes her first team debut for Atlético Madrid. It’s a proud day for the whole family, and you sit squished between her father and Alba as you watch her race onto the pitch.

There’s a sharp determination on her face, and though she only plays ten minutes you can tell she is going to be good. You can’t say you’re surprised, and when she turns toward her family and you and beams as the game ends, you know that you wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here.

—

When Alexia is seventeen, she reminds you of what you mean to her.

Atlético games are never terribly well attended with how little importance is placed on women’s football. But there is still a steady crowd, and it is beginning to grow more and more.

Alongside that growth come some…interesting characters.

You’re a regular in the stands, alternating between reading your book, watching the game, and doing homework. It’s rare for you to miss a match, though you have missed a goal or two when your nose is shoved in a book. Luckily, Eli, Jaume, or Alba will nudge you if Alexia is doing something important. If they aren’t there, then one of the other players' family members will, a fact that you’re extremely grateful for.

Your commitment is unwavering, but your interest in any sort of PDA or anything is limited. Alexia is much the same, a characteristic you’ve always been grateful for.

But then a group of girls from your school start to show up at games. There’s four of them, always sitting in the front row of the stands, no matter what. They cheer Alexia on as though she is their best friend, despite the fact that she told you herself she doesn’t really know them. When the footballer comes toward the stands after games, they rush to greet her. They fawn over her easily, throwing their arms around her for hugs and pressing chaste kisses to her cheek.

You always find yourself standing awkwardly in the background, wishing to talk to your girlfriend but unable to stop staring at the scene in front of you.

At first, it’s more funny than anything. You and Alexia’s family joke about her fan club and delight in the way her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

But they never stopped coming to games. And by the time you figure out that they aren’t going to stop, you realize that perhaps you need to take a step back. Those girls are popular, sweet, they love football and seem to understand everything. You are intelligent and well liked, but nowhere near as popular or well versed in the game Alexia lives and breathes by. Trying to follow along to each whistle or hand signal is impossible for you, and your interest in learning comes and goes like an ocean tide.

“I don’t think I can come on Saturday, I have a calculus project I need to work on,” is what you tell Alexia one weekend. But the brunette didn’t buy it for a single second, raising her eyebrows suspiciously.

“You always just do it at the games – I’ve seen you in the stands with a glue stick before you were so determined to be there,” she points out, calling your bluff easily.

“Well…this is important Ale. It’s our final year of school, I need the marks to get into university,” you defend weakly, but it’s a lost cause. Your grades are extremely good, and you’ll have your pick of schools. One calculus project will not make or break that opportunity by a long shot.

“Is this about those girls from school?” Alexia questions softly, her voice careful. You glance over at her and sigh after a moment, knowing that there's really no use in lying. The brunette could read you like the back of her hand.

You don’t even need to voice your concern for Alexia to know exactly what you’re thinking, and she moves to sit down next to you on the edge of her bed.

“I promise you with everything in me that I do not care about those girls. I don’t care if you are certain that they are nicer or popular or more pretty than you are. You are perfect to me, and I don’t care about them at all. I only care about you, and I only want you. You are my peace and my life, not them,” the footballer insists, and you look over at her with a quiet resignation.

“Even if they understand football better than me?” You ask, your voice impossibly small. Alexia smiles sadly, reaching out to gently cradle your face in her hands.

“When I look at the stands, it’s you I search for. It’s you who makes my heart skip a beat when I realize that you’re there. It’s you who fills my stomach with butterflies and sets the wind into my sail. How could I even notice them when I have you, Flori?”

At the next game, Alexia politely smiles at the girls but moves straight past them to charge up the stands, still in her kit and boots. She gently lifts your calculus project off your lap so that she can press a resounding kiss to your lips, smiling into it when you gasp into her mouth with surprise.

—

When Alexia is eighteen, two things happen.

Everything somehow falls together, and falls apart all at the same time.

The first is that her father dies.

It's not unexpected, though the reality is still jarring. It feels like she is free falling, unable to find a moment of stability or rest.

She finds herself in her old bedroom in her Uncle’s house in Barcelona, avoiding the mass of people downstairs paying their respects. While the sympathy of others is heartfelt and sincere, it’s heavy.

She already feels heavy. Any more of it and she might break into a million pieces, that she is sure of. So she escapes up stairs for a moment, leaving Alba with a cousin and her Mami with an old friend.

A knock at the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks over to see that you have poked your head into the room.

“Ale?” You inquire gently, the question unspoken between the two of you. Four years of dating and endless years of friendship have left you with an innate ability to know when the brunette needs space, and that doesn’t feel like where she is right now.

You’re nothing if not respectful though, aware that as much as you sympathize, you really might not have the answer here. Nothing this big had ever happened in your relationship before, or in either of your lives before. There was no book or manual to prepare on how to deal with a grief so complete and overwhelming as this.

Alexia loved her father deeply, and no amount of time to anticipate or process her thoughts of his illness actually prepared her from the shock of him being gone.

You had loved Jaume too, how he passed out love like it was free to give, how he laughed without inhibition, how he welcomed you into the Putellas family with ease. But it wasn’t the same, and you were aware. You knew that you felt only a slice of what your girlfriend did, and even just this amount of grief was unbearable.

You didn’t know how the footballer was even standing.

Alexia’s eye’s silently pleaded with you to come in, so you did. You moved across the room before laying down on the bed next to her until the two of you were laying parallel, staring up at the ceiling together. You’re exhausted as well with all the stress and worry, but your first thought is always her.

It always has been.

No words are exchanged between the two of you for a long stretch of time.

What is there to say?

Your heart aches for her, and for her loss, for her family. Alexia screws her eyes shut, trying to regulate her own breathing. Everything about her feels erratic and out of control.

The footballer turns to her side, tucking herself into your body. She clutches to your arm tightly, forcing herself to copy your steady, dependable breathing.

As much as she needs her Mami and Alba in this time, she has to work to be strong for them. She was the person they looked to, the decision maker, the leader. They need her, and she would kill herself before she neglected that need.

But you are her strength, you always have been. You are the one who protects her, whose only thought is her. You have always been constant and steadfast for her through anything, a pillar of strength. She relies on you, and it scares the hell out of her.

And yet you’re right there, and you seem to take it with a practiced ease that makes Alexia want to sob with gratitude.

Loss engulfs her and brings her back, your steady hand in hers the entire time. There is rarely a moment when she needs you and you are not there for her, always attuned to her moods and thoughts.

But then a huge curveball is thrown in Alexia’s way.

Two weeks after her father passes away, Barcelona calls her. They are creating a women’s team, and though it is not professionalized, it is a team.

Alexia accepts the request on the spot, not even stopping to consider the consequences.

It doesn’t matter, the answer would still be yes. Her Mami and Alba are thrilled, quickly deciding that they all should move back to Barcelona together. It was time, and as much as they had built a community here in Madrid, Barcelona would always be home for them.

Alexia goes to you that night and asks you to move with her. She explains her plan vividly, how you can go to school, she will play football, and you both can get part time jobs. You’ll get a little apartment together, actually start the beginning of your lives together.

There was never a world in which you were not together, not with how happy you both were together. It was a no-brainer, an easy solution to a problem that had never existed. Life for her didn’t exist without you in it.

Alexia would move first, and you would follow her in two months once you had received your university acceptance letter. It was a fool proof plan in the Catalans mind.

At least, it had been a fool proof plan.

The night before Alexia was scheduled to leave, you arrived at her door. The surprise and excitement on her face quickly gave way to intense concern when she saw the trepidation on your face.

“Can I come in?” You asked gingerly, stepping inside as the Catalan made way for you to come into her house.

“Yes, of course you can,” she replied, following you into her kitchen and taking a seat across from you at the table. For several moments there is silence as you seem to work up the courage to finally choke out the words you need to say.

“I…I can’t come to Madrid with you Alexia,” you finally stated, your hands folded neatly in your lap

“What?” Alexia isn’t sure she heard you correctly, because certainly you couldn’t be saying what she thought you had said.

“I have to stay here with my Mama, to help her with the boys and the house and everything. I’ll get a job for a year before going to school, I think,” you explained slowly.

“I…okay. Are you sure Flori?” You nodded with clear reservation, but the brunette continued forward regardless.

“Well then…we can call. And take the train to one another when possible, and then maybe when the boys are older you can come to – what is it?” Alexia’s voice grinded to a halt when she finally seemed to notice your despondent expression

“I cannot come Alexia, and I don’t know when I will be able to. I will be very busy, and I am sure you will be as well, so perhaps it’s for the best if–” You were cut off, unsurprisingly.

“If what?” Alexia challenged, her anger flaring. It’s not really anger, it’s fear, and you see right through her. But still you do not yield, your expression entirely unreadable to the midfielder.

It only makes her more and more mad that she cannot tell what is going on.

“Are you just going to give all of this up? I don’t even know what life is like without you, and what – now it gets a little hard and you call it quits? Did you ever even care about me? Did you ever even love me, or has this whole time just been a huge li–” Alexia yelled from across the table, her hands slamming down to splay on the wood in front of her.

“Enough!” You yelled, standing suddenly. Alexia seemed surprised at your outburst, but there was nothing other than a quiet resignation across your expression. There was no anger or outrage or fury on your face, but rather a strange form of acceptance mixed with defeat.

When you spoke again, it was with softness and finality as the footballer looked up at you.

“I love you Alexia. And I am very excited about this new journey you are going on, even if it is not with me.”

You walked over to her side of the table before bending down to press a kiss to her temple. You slipped out the door in a flash. Alexia was so completely thrown off that she didn’t have an answer or a response, she didn’t even have time to stop you.

She had never sobbed so hard in her entire life than she did at the dining room table that night. Grief had become her shadow, but this was an entirely new kind of grief. It poured over her, consuming her, and she for once found herself completely lost in it.

When she arrives in Barcelona, it is with red rimmed eyes and a renewed resolve to make something of herself.

If it meant losing you, it had to be important.

—

Alexia left Madrid when she was eighteen.

Barcelona Femeni wasn’t even a professional team, and she was a nobody who had come into the system with promise and drive but nothing to her name.

Throughout the past nine years, so much had happened to her both personally and professionally. Barcelona was not the same team at all, having been professionalized a few years after she arrived. They were taken somewhat seriously now, with titles and dominance in the domestic league. Though the Champions League eluded them, Alexia knew it was coming.

She was in the prime of her career, playing better football than she had ever expected herself. The brunette was achieving everything that she had wanted, and she remained hungry and focused toward the future. It was never enough for her, and she always thought she could be doing better.

There were times though…when she stopped and wondered.

Was it worth it?

She wanted so badly to say yes instantly. Football was her passion, her purpose, it had always been her goal to be the best she could be. It had driven every decision she had made in her entire life, and she wanted so desperately to believe in it wholeheartedly.

But there had always been a flicker of doubt. She held it closely to her heart, never sharing it with anyone, not even Alba or Eli. She did not want to seem weak or doubtful of her decision.

Her apartment was empty, devoid of practically any women, and that had been her choice. Even after all of these years, she couldn’t bring herself to commit to anyone long term.

The brunette wanted to be angry at you for staying behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to really mean it. She loved you far too much, and the ache of missing you only seemed to strengthen as the years bled on. She had other women, she really tried, but never did she feel the same connection that she had with you.

Alexia had admittedly tried to look for you, when her initial hurt had bled away in an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were a ghost.

The footballer wasn’t surprised, considering that you had never been a big social media person. She found some of your relatives online but their accounts were mostly private and rarely were you photographed. When she returned to Madrid for games, your family was gone from the home you had been raised in, and she wasn’t shameless enough to start banging on neighbors doors to find out more.

Your phone number had seemingly changed by the time she worked up the nerve to call you, and eventually it just seemed wrong. You never reached out to her, at least not that Alexia was aware of.

She had simply been forced to accept the fact that she had lost you, for reasons she still did not comprehend or understand. All it took was one singular month to lose both her father and her…to lose you, and that thought gnawed away at a piece of her soul relentlessly.

But suddenly here you were.

Nine years later, and here you stood right in front of her.

“Hello Alexia,” you stated, your face a veil of carefully constructed neutrality, even if your heart beat was erratic beneath your dress. The sound of your voice seemed to bring Alexia back from wherever in her mind she had been.

“Hi…hi there,” the brunette stuttered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. She couldn’t quite get herself to believe that you were standing in front of her. .

“I know it’s been awhile but it’s…it's good to see you. Congratulations on your team's success these last few years,” you commented gently, a true smile on your lips.

“Oh, yes, thank you very much. You…you follow the team?” Alexia inquired, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion. You had always been so apathetic to football, she never could have imagined you sitting in front of the television watching games.

“Ever since you moved to Barcelona,” you confirmed with a nod of the head. Alexia felt her perplexity only ballon in size.

If you still cared, why did you let her leave in the first place? Why did you give up so easily?

A silence lapped over the two of you, but it was filled with so many unsaid words, so much tension that had never existed before.

Alexia and you both looked the same, and yet somehow completely different. You could tell how much the footballer had grown into herself given the ease at which she stood, her hands tucked in her pants pockets loosely. There was an air of elegance and power to her, hazel eyes piercing into you with purpose.

She looked at you as though she never wanted to look away again, and selfishly, you felt hope in your heart that perhaps…

“Are you with anyone?” You asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the forwardness. It could be interpreted as for the event specifically, but the potential broader implication suffocated you despite the fact that you were the one to ask the question.

“No, I am not with anyone Flor–” Alexia cut herself off, seemingly realizing her mistake.

It didn’t feel like much of a mistake to you, and you longed to hear the word come out of her mouth, just once more. If this was the end for the two of you, you would have sold anything you owned to hear her say it just once more.

You nodded slowly, before replying that you were here alone as well.

“Perhaps…perhaps we could go on a walk?” Alexia suggested, and you allowed her to set the pace of whatever you guys did together. After all, it had been you that had left in the first place, a fact that you would never forget.

You nodded in affirmation, explaining that you needed to grab your clutch before you could meet her at the door.

It was divine timing as well, considering that your boss had just let you off for the evening and you were planning to go home soon anyways. This was a more welcome surprise than whatever you had been planning in your mind.

—

There was a wave of relief that rushed through Alexia when you appeared in the door frame a few minutes later, almost as though she was positive you were not going to arrive. But there you were, a light jacket thrown over your dress and a small purse in your hand.

You both walked out of the event space together, silence lapping between the two of you as you continued forward. Alexia was struggling to organize her thoughts in any sort of productive way. She was so caught off guard by everything.

She thought she would never see you again.

“How long are you in Barcelona? Just for the weekend?” She questioned, her voice soft. You shook your head, your posture straight and somewhat tense.

“No actually, I live here now. I moved a few years back,” you replied, voice unwavering.

Alexia couldn’t help the stab of hurt that ran through her heart at that piece of information. She had always wondered deep down what she had done to cause all of this, why you had let her go. At first the distance was the only thing in Alexia’s mind to explain the break up, but now she knew you had been here for years. She didn’t understand it, even after nine years. Every piece of logical information told her that you had loved her, and yet here you were.

Was any of this even salvageable?

Did she want it to be?

“Oh…I see,” her voice was flat, but in a way that oozed grief rather than true apathy.

“I come to your games sometimes, once I moved out here,” you admitted, thinking of all the times you had sat up in the stands watching her play. The brunette glanced at you in clear shock, and you shrugged, unable to conjure an appropriate answer to explain yourself further.

Things were…things had been so complicated. By the time all of it had cleared and the world made sense to you again, she was gone. You knew you had lost your opportunity to be with her, to be a part of her life.

As much as it haunted you, it was the reality of your life. You never could have changed what happened, but that didn’t mean it cut you just as deep as it did Alexia.

But perhaps there was hope for the two of you, here and now. Maybe it would be messy and complicated and painful, but it would be real. There was so much left unsaid between the two of you, and whether the two of you could face it headfirst or not would make or break the whole situation.

“Where did we go wrong? How did all of this fall apart?”

The question was sudden, a shock but not a surprise.

You took a deep breath, stopping and looking back at Alexia. The Catalan had stopped walking when she had spoken, as though she was unable to move forward even an inch. Her hands were balled into fists, and everything about her body language communicated her discomfort.

“Did I do something to make you stop loving me? Where did I mess up?” She questioned, nearly begged.

Was her career worth losing this, losing you?

Had she lost you?

“Alexia, you did nothing wrong. You were perfect, you are perfect,” you promised, summoning every last bit of strength to imbue into your words. You walked back to her, reaching out carefully to place the backs of your fingers to her cheek, just barely touching the warm skin there. She closed her eyes at the feeling as tears burned in your eyes.

“I lost you,” she whispered, both startled and settled that you still smelled the same, your perfume unchanged after all these years.

“I know, I know. But I’m right here now, I’m right here,” you vowed, still unsure and desperate of what to say.

“I know that this is fucked up, and complicated, and it’s been years. I might as well be a stranger to you, but I need you to trust me when I say that nothing that happened was your fault. I made the decisions I did because it was what I had to do, but don’t for a minute think it didn’t kill me inside. Don’t you dare think I didn’t spend the last decade of my life missing you,” implored, almost as if trying to force her to understand the depth of your love, even after all this time. You turned your hand to cradle her cheek gently, your thumb stroking across the skin there as you spoke again. Your voice was barely audible, crackling with emotion.

“Maybe this is crazy for me to say, but I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. And if I never see you after this, I want you to know how much I loved you. How much I still love you. ”

She reached her hand up to grasp at your wrist, holding your hand in place against her cheek.

“Please don’t leave,” she murmured, and you nodded insistently.

“I’m right here. I’m right here Ale.”

The look of relief on her face at hearing you call her that was palpable.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, lost in one another. It could have been a minute or a year, and you didn’t care. You would have stood there forever, content to ignore the rest of the world if Alexia remained this close to you.

But eventually the telltale signs of rain began to stir, drops of water falling onto your jacket and in your hair. You pulled back, taking Alexia’s hand and squeezing it before you reached for your clutch. Opening the bag, you pulled out a business card and a pen, writing your personal number on the back of the card.

“The number on this is my office, but the back is my cell. If you still want to…if you decide you want to talk more, call me,” you insisted lightly, placing the card in her hand.

“I promise I’ll pick up,” you soothed after a moment, your words gentle.

Alexia stared down at the card, at your loopy handwriting, for far too long. It reminded her of being fifteen, watching you write equations on the wall for tutoring. It was jarring, and it stirred up emotions she didn’t realize she had buried.

When she looked up again you were gone, and yet not a single ounce of her felt alone as she stood on the sidewalk.

She had a new possibility. The chance to return to who she was in her youth and understand the past. Or the option to continue forward in her career, focusing solely on football and her dedication to the sport while leaving the past behind.

She had no idea what she would do, but at least for once she had the choice to decide.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #barcelona femeni #woso #woso x reader #woso community #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics

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hitomisuzuya · 3 days ago

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hello dear suzu, hope your day’s going well.

I wanted to ask for a Scara x reader, but the reader is obsessed with Scara’s hands and always staring at them.. thinking he didn’t notice. But he actually did and wants to ‘reward’ us after a bad, long day of work.

I hope it’s clear, and I’m sorry if it’s not..!🫰

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. fingersucking. squirting. smutty appreciation for scara's gorgeous fingers. soft!dom scara.

scara's fingers are beautiful. and i am weak for them. he is ambidextrous, and it doesn't which hand he uses cause you are always guaranteed to-ahem😳

today sucks. no scratch that shit, this whole week has been bad for you. even right now, right this second, you feel like you are failing at something. sighing, you put your elbow on scaramouche's on your knee and rest your chin in your palm.

your eyes drift to his fingers, and wonder not for the first time if scaramouche knows how beautiful his fingers are. the elegant bend, the precision with which he moves them, the beautiful length. he is only doing something as simple as writing and still you are captivated by them.

you definitely couldn't fail admiring his fingers.

from his place on the bed, scaramouche can more than tell how stressed you are. you have been quiet nearly the whole day. you look tired, and you need to sleep. he could practically feel you staring longingly at his fingers. "hm?" he hums, glancing up from his paper.

you look a little forlorn for a second. of course you didn't think he ever notices how often you admire his hands. you knew sometimes things like this were hit or miss with him. "i was just wondering if you knew how beautiful your hands are? your fingers in particular?" you reply, curling a lock of hair around your finger as you look away shyly.

his fingers sure would make you feel better. this much you knew. his hands are capable of doing so so much.

scaramouche has to admit, he felt his ego stretch (more than) a little. "i know," pure egoism talking, "you have this habit of eye fucking them any chance you get. it amuses me," he smirks seeing the blush on your cheeks suddenly darken.

"i..i didn't think you noticed," you reply, drawn to looking at his fingers again as he twirls his pen between them. you swear he is teasing you because your mouth practically waters.

he waited for the question he could practically see forming on your lips. "can i suck on them? just for a little while?" your heart flutters in anticipation watching him put down his pen.

"here," he offers you his fingers, grazing his thumb over your lower lip. he may make you beg often, but he is always going to give his precious exactly what you need.

"thank you, this week has been really awful," there is nothing but utter sincerity in your tone. scaramouche sighed as his cock pulsed. fuck if it didn't turn him on knowing something so lewd as sucking on his fingers would make you feel better.

he shivers as your tongue licks across his thumb. "open," he commands, taping his index finger on your lips. you open your mouth, oh so eager to please him.

"mmm," you moan softly as his finger is pushed into your mouth. you glide and swirl your tongue, immediately sucking in appreciation as he pumps his index finger slowly in and out of your mouth. your pussy clenches feeling him explore your mouth, pressing his finger down on your tongue.

you moan again. it is erotically exhilarating for you. how much control he has over whether or not he makes you gag. your tongue tingles at the thought. and as if he could read your mind, he did exactly that.

"open again," the gentle press on your tongue makes you gag and open your mouth for his middle finger. you muffle a moan on his fingers, flattening your tongue on them. drool pools from one corner of your mouth as you suck, your hand stroking his wrist in appreciation.

scaramouche always watches you with complete fascination when you suck on his fingers. he never thought someone could get so easily aroused from just merely choking a little on his fingers. he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth sucking in worship.

"take off your clothes and lie down," he pushes his fingers into your throat, smirking seeing your eyes water as you happily gag, going back to sucking without missing a beat. "gives me better access to your body."

your tongue lingers on scaramouche's fingers as he takes from out your mouth. a string of saliva connects your tongue to them, and you marvel at how beautiful they look shiny with your saliva. more than feeling the absence of his fingers in your mouth, you hastily remove your clothes.

he licks his lips seeing the submissive way you put your arms above your head, like you are offering your entire body to him. moving next to you, scaramouche trails his fingers featherlight over your throat. your body practically purrs inside as he grazes them down to your chest.

you move your chest into his hand, a sigh that bled into moan met his ears as he circles each of your nipples. "so responsive," he approves, pinching your nipples in reward.

an sharp jolt of pleasure zapping straight to your clit. your nipples harden, sensitive under the pads of his skilled fingers. your pussy throbs, your walls clenching around nothing as he teases and pinches your nipples. he knows your body and can play it like an instrument.

"i can see the tense desperation in your whole body," you gasp in pleasure as scaramouche delivers one final pinch to your nipples before moving down to your drooling cunt. "it looks very becoming on you. my needy little doll."

your cheeks flush hearing such sweet praise. your pussy soaks so well on his fingers as he dips them between your folds. your hole clenches around the tip as he circles it, teasing as he traces the shape of your pussy.

"keep your legs spread," he commands shakily, wanting a good view of your creamy cunt sucking his fingers in. you nod, moaning as he pushes his index finger inside you. your hips rock up to meet his hand, feeling his finger graze across every sensitive nerve inside you before he slowly bullies your sweet spot.

it wasn't long before you are falling apart in the delicious pleasure only a single finger was providing you. your cunt clenches, begging him for a second finger. "more. more please," you whimper, unable to stand the throbbing in your clit anymore. your eyes look just as desperate as your pussy feels.

scaramouche chuckles at your sweet plea, his cock aching in the confines on his shorts. he always gets hard when you beg. your back arches off the bed as he abruptly thrusts a second finger inside you, scissoring your walls apart.

with his free hand, he sets to work rubbing your clit. a string of louder moans tears from you as his wags his fingers over the swollen, throbbing nub. your hips buck up to grind your clit on them. "that's a good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers," watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly is exhilarating to him.

you get wetter with every pump and scissor, pleasure humming through you and consuming you as he expertly built up your orgasm. all the stress melts away a little more every time he kisses your sweet spot, his fingers relentless on your clit.

a certain look flashes through your eyes then. one scaramouche knows very well. with how close you are to cumming, you realize then that you are going squirt all over his fingers. "how cute," he taunts, increasing his pace. he only gets harder knowing he is capable of this.

your orgasm came fast and sudden, your pussy gushing on his fingers. you are dazed and drooling, your body trembling as you cum hard in a fit of uncontrollable moans. "let's see if you got another one in you, shall we?" his smirk more than said he wasn't entirely finished with you yet. spoiling you is a kink for him, after all.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

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Hello my dear!

Sooo, I'm a huge fan of reading (especially reading fantasy books). And I can't get the headcanon out of my head. Where Viktor x Reader having a cozy evening in their shared apartment. And out of the sudden, Viktor is showing interests for Readers book. With every question he is asking, she feels, like she's falling in love with him all over again. And feels loved and appreciated for his interest in her hobby. So she just wants to cuddle and kiss him so badly.

Like, seriously....I would be on my knees for a moment like this in rl! ;---;

ꜰᴀꜱᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 2352 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ. ᴍʏ. ɢᴏᴅ! ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ… ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ. ɪꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ, ɪ'ᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙᴇᴀᴛ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

It was one of those peaceful evenings in their shared apartment, the kind that only came after a long day of work, filled with little moments of quiet bliss. The soft hum of the city outside mingled with the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth. Viktor had finally set aside his cane for the evening, resting in a comfortable armchair, his back relaxed but his gaze still filled with a quiet intensity. Y/N sat beside him on the couch, a book open in her lap. Her fingers gently turned the pages as she found herself fully immersed in the world of myths and legends, a world far removed from the realities of Piltover.

Viktor, however, had been restless, his mind working over a small project on the table. The sound of gears clicking and metal pieces shifting filled the air, but it wasn’t the usual mechanical rhythm that usually filled their home. Tonight, there was something else in Viktor’s eyes. It wasn’t his usual focused intensity, but something gentler, more present. She noticed him glance over at her a few times, his gaze soft, almost as if he were seeing her in a new light.

"Y/N," Viktor’s voice broke the quiet, soft but full of curiosity. "What is it you're reading, Lásko?" (Love)

Y/N smiled up at him, a warmth spreading through her chest at the sound of his voice, always so attentive. She couldn’t help but feel special when he asked. “It’s a novel about myths and legends from the Vastaya people,” she explained. “A collection of stories that weave together history, magic, and forgotten realms. It’s one of my favourites.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, resting his cane against the side, his focus shifting from his project to her. “The Vastaya… I know them in passing, but I’ve never had the chance to truly learn much about their myths. Why does this particular book resonate with you?”

Y/N closed the book and looked over at him, her heart swelling slightly at the genuine interest he showed. "I think it’s because these myths remind me of where I come from,” she said, her voice softening with the emotion she carried. “They tell stories of things I feel in my bones, things I can't always explain. There's a connection to my roots in them, something deeper than what words can fully capture.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his eyes taking on a more tender look as he processed her words. “That’s… beautiful, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I can understand why it would be so meaningful to you. You have such a deep connection to your heritage. It’s truly a part of who you are.”

Y/N smiled, feeling both grounded and uplifted by Viktor’s words. It wasn’t often that he opened up about how he saw her, and when he did, it left her feeling cherished in a way she couldn’t quite describe. She glanced at the book in her lap, then back at him, her gaze lingering for a moment.

“Tell me more about the myths,” Viktor urged, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “What’s your favourite story from this book? I want to know everything.”

Her heart fluttered at his genuine interest. Every question he asked made her feel more seen, more understood. She leaned back into the couch, her fingers tracing the edge of the book, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she began to describe one of the legends, about the ancient guardians of her people. Her voice grew more animated as she spoke, the passion in her words unmistakable. Viktor’s gaze never wavered, and his attention was unwavering. He was completely absorbed in her every word, hanging on to each syllable as if it held an entirely new world for him.

When she finished, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and full of admiration. “It sounds… enchanting,” Viktor said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The way you describe it, it’s as if the myths come alive through your words. I’d love to see more of what inspires you."

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she felt as though her entire being was being pulled towards him. Viktor had always been brilliant, focused, but right now, he was utterly absorbed in her, in her stories, in the things that mattered to her. It wasn’t just about the myths; it was the way he made her feel—deeply valued, loved for the parts of herself she often kept hidden.

Unable to stop herself, Y/N moved closer to him, her hand gently resting on his, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “Viktor…” she whispered, her voice trembling just a little with emotion. “You make me feel so… seen. So loved.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, a tenderness flickering across his features. He reached out to pull her gently into his arms, the warmth of his embrace enveloping her in a way that felt like coming home. He kissed the top of her head, his voice soothing, filled with care. “You are loved, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know. More than I could ever put into words.”

Y/N felt a wave of affection rush through her, and as the minutes passed, the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft glow on their faces. The quiet hum of the city outside was barely audible, and in that peaceful stillness, Viktor placed his project aside completely, giving her his undivided attention. His hands moved to gently tug her closer, and with a soft, inviting smile, he whispered, “Come here. Let me hold you for a while. Just let me listen.”

Y/N’s heart skipped once more as he offered her the chance to simply be, to share not only her thoughts but herself with him in the most simple and intimate way. She shifted in his arms, settling against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder. Viktor’s arms wrapped around her, his warmth seeping into her as if he were offering not just his body, but his very soul.

She let out a soft sigh of contentment, feeling her body relax into him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing over the fabric of his shirt. He gently kissed the top of her head again, his voice low and filled with affection. “Would you… read to me, Miláčku?” Viktor asked, his words barely more than a whisper. (Darling)

The request, so tender and personal, caused her heart to swell. She smiled, feeling the deep love and appreciation he had for her. She picked up the book once more, and as her voice filled the quiet room, she felt a warmth spread through her chest. As she read aloud, the words seemed to come to life, her voice dancing in the air as Viktor listened with rapt attention, his hands gently running through her hair. She could feel the deep connection between them, the way they both shared this small, perfect moment in time.

And as she continued to read, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that she was falling in love with Viktor all over again. It wasn’t the grand gestures or the loud proclamations of affection, but these quiet, intimate moments that spoke volumes. He had always been so focused on his work, so absorbed in his genius. But tonight, it was as if he were completely absorbed in her.

The fire crackled softly, and as the evening deepened, Y/N closed the book, setting it aside. She looked up at Viktor, her heart full, her thoughts scattered in the best way. She kissed him softly, slowly, as though to show him just how much she loved him in return.

“I love you, Viktor,” she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his words steady and sincere. “More than you could ever know.”

And in that moment, as the fire flickered and the world outside faded away, Y/N felt completely at peace. Wrapped in Viktor’s arms, with his love surrounding her, she knew there was no place she’d rather be.

The days drifted by, each one marked by their quiet routines and the bond that seemed to grow deeper with every passing moment. After that peaceful evening, where Viktor had so thoroughly captured her heart with his quiet attention and affection, something began to shift in the way they spent their time together.

Every time Y/N finished reading one of her beloved books, she would set it down on the small coffee table beside the couch and stretch, content with the peaceful moments she shared with Viktor. But soon, she began to notice something strange.

The next day, after finishing a particularly captivating myth about the ancient spirits of the Vastaya, Y/N placed the book on the table, intending to return to it later. When she stood up and turned around, she noticed a small package resting on the table. It wasn’t there the moment before—she would have noticed it, surely.

Curious, she reached for it and carefully unwrapped the soft leather cover. Inside was a new book, its pages crisp and untouched. She turned it over in her hands, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she read the title—Legends of Lost Civilisations. It was exactly the kind of book she would love, filled with ancient stories and hidden histories.

Before she could even process it, Viktor appeared beside her, his expression warm and a little playful. “I thought you might enjoy something new,” he said, his voice low, almost shy, as though he wasn’t sure how she would react. But there was a tenderness in his gaze that made her heart flutter.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips curving into a smile. “You—Viktor, this is... I don’t even know what to say.”

“I noticed how much you enjoy your reading,” Viktor continued, his voice soft, “and I thought you might appreciate a new one to add to your collection.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I hope it’s to your liking.”

She pulled him into a tight hug without thinking, overcome by the warmth of his gesture. “I love it,” she whispered, holding him close. “Thank you. You always know exactly what to do to make me feel so cared for.”

Viktor’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, his voice rumbling with affection. “I pay attention,” he murmured. “I want you to feel loved, Lásko. And I’ve noticed the joy you get when you dive into your stories.”

Over the next few weeks, it became a small but cherished tradition. Every time Y/N finished one of her books, a new one would appear on the table—sometimes wrapped in soft fabric, sometimes simply resting there, waiting for her to discover it. Viktor had an uncanny ability to choose books that fit perfectly with her interests, each one a little more special than the last.

One day, Y/N had just finished the latest one—a beautifully written account of the starry skies and the constellations that were said to guide the Vastaya when they first arrived on Runeterra. She placed it down, ready to settle in for another quiet evening, when, to her surprise, a new book was waiting for her on the table.

This time, it was an older volume, its edges slightly worn, and its leather cover embossed with intricate designs. As she picked it up, she noticed the weight of it, and the delicate gold leafing on the spine. The title was faint but readable: The Heart of the Wilds: A History of the Vastaya’s Ancients.

Her heart skipped. This was a book that her grandmother had once spoken of, a rare and treasured work from generations before her. It was a history she thought she might never find. She looked up at Viktor, who had been standing by the fire, watching her with that same quiet smile.

“How… where did you find this?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

Viktor stepped closer, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. “I asked around, did some research,” he said, his tone nonchalant but with a glint of pride in his eyes. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back, overcome by the thoughtfulness of his gesture. “This means so much to me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You always go above and beyond for me. I can’t… I can’t even put it into words.”

Viktor’s hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the softest of tears that had slipped down her face. “You don’t need to. You never need to explain how you feel, love. I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”

In that moment, Y/N leaned up and kissed him, softly at first, then deeper as the emotions between them swirled and tangled. She felt the weight of his affection, the tenderness in every action, and it made her feel loved in a way she hadn’t known was possible. When they finally pulled away, breathless, she smiled up at him.

“You know, I think you’ve spoiled me, Viktor,” she said, her voice playful yet sincere. “I may never want to read another book that doesn’t come from you.”

Viktor chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And if it means you feel special, then it’s worth it.”

That night, as she sat down to read the new book Viktor had so thoughtfully given her, she felt as though she were falling in love with him all over again. With every turn of the page, every word of affection, and every shared moment, Y/N realised just how deeply Viktor cared for her—and how lucky she was to have him by her side.

And so, with each new book that arrived, her love for Viktor only grew, filling their home with a quiet kind of magic—a magic that had nothing to do with spells or machines, but with the simple, profound ways they made each other feel truly seen and cherished.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #Fluff #Reader Insert #viktor x you

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1186 · 2 days ago

Text

TAROT GAME

status: closed

hello! i'm opening a free tarot reading to practice my intuition! i'll be using my rider waite deck pulling one card per question. this is my first time doing this with other people, so im hoping for a feedback with the readings! pls be nice

rules:

- one question per person. you can ask again once i answered your previous one

- like, reblog, and follow me!

- provide something about yourself (favorites, zodiac sign, or anything that happened to u lately)

- i'll really appreciate a feedback

xoxo

#tarot reading #free tarot reading #tarot game #tarot cards #tarot

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pixiedurango · 3 days ago

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Hello! When your time allows, may I request: A series of written 'friendly reminders' by Lucanis to the rest of the Veilguard on what they should and should not do in the kitchen. (i.e do not wash the cast iron, do not put out grease fires with water, do not let Assan into the pantry unsupervised, do not let Manfred climb into the oven, any others etc) Thank you for your consideration :3 (bonus points if the notes successively get more agitated in tone or are directed towards specific people)

Ding Dong, Antivan Postal Service with a special delivery.

It's more like an open letter to the team this time. And I hope you are ok with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Transcript:

To whom it may concern. That means everybody at the Lighthose! I kindly ask you to (in no particular order):

Put things back to the spot where you took them from (I use to have a system designed for efficiency)

Don’t throw away the used coffee grounds. (They are natural fertilizer for Harding’s plants. Collect in the pot next to the coffee station)

Don’t let Assan roam free in the kitchen.

In fact, don’t let Assan into the kitchen at all.

Same goes for Manfred. (Not for hygienical reasons, but we don’t want him to climb into the kindled oven again)

Don’t leave mushy, half rotten fruits in the baskets if you happen to find one (Fruit flies are a menace to get rid of)

Don’t leave food uncovered (same reason)

Don’t cut meats on the vegetable board and vice versa (Out of respect for Emmrich and because its gross and unhygienic) The boards are labeled!

You are very welcome to drop by and study, discuss and write at the kitchen table (as long as you don’t leave and forget your things there. Looking at you Bel and Emmrich)

May I suggest, that we agree on storing the new bought goods BEHIND the ones we already have in the pantry? Otherwise the older things will never be used and it would be a shame to waste good food

We don’t make out in the kitchen! (Looking at you, Taash and Harding! Give a man some peace, I beg you!)

No mixing poisons in the kitchen! (It’s an honorable craft, but please, Rook, just don’t)

Carving is a fine hobby, but please clean up after yourself (That means you, Davrin)

Yes, my kitchen knives ARE sharp. Always! I tend to them. You don’t have to test before using them. You’ll end up hurting yourself.

On the same note: Don’t throw used knives into the sink with soapy water. Remember they are sharp and you can’t see them under the foam. You’ll get hurt.

I appreciate your help, Taash, but please refrain from kindling the fires like this… (you know what I mean…)

Wash your hands after chopping Chillies. Especially BEFORE using the BATHROOM. (I will explain if I must, but try to use your imagination before asking.)

It is never a good idea, to pour water into hot oil. (Ask Harding, she knows!)

Never cook bacon naked. (1. For obvious reasons 2.The flaming hot grease drizzles might seriously hurt you)

The RED cloth is for drying dishes

The GREEN cloth is for drying fruit and vegetables (you wash your fruits and vegs before eating and cooking them, right? RIGHT?)

The BLUE cloth is for cleaning surfaces.

DON’T MIX THOSE CLOTHS!

Don’t eat anything that has grown a white or green fur! (That goes for you, too, Rook! No discussion about toxins and immunity.)

Cookie dough and cake batter is not a treat. Don’t eat it raw. You will end up sick. Wait for the baked goods. (Looking at you, Bellara, Neve, Harding and Rook!)

I noticed, some of you use the same oil for everything. Don’t do that. You can’t heat the Antivan cold pressed extra virgin olive oil the way you need in order to grill meat or fry chips. I will label the oil-carafes accordingly.

Thank you! Sincerely, your friend - Lucanis

Read the other letters here

#Lucanis Dellamorte #The Veilguard #The Veilguard Team #Rook #Taash #Lace Harding #Emmrich Volkarin #Davrin #Neve Gallus #Bellara Lutare #assan the griffon #manfred the skeleton #Dragon Age the Veilguard #Antivan Postal Service #Letters from the Crows #Letters for the crows #letterbox game

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 days ago

Note

hello, just want to say I just finished reading through all your comics (unless there’s more stuff not listed on the pinned post in which case i haven’t read it all yet) and I just want to say I adore it all so much. Can’t even express how much it made my day reading through that. also I looked through your redbubble shop, the great tits shirt is amazing, fully intend to buy it whenever it’s in my budget. Also reminds me a bit of an art piece I’ve been working on which is a collection of “unfortunately named birds” woodcocks, tits, boobys, etc (all very wonderful and adorable birds)

anyway yeah, just wanted to like send out my appreciation for your art and stuff

Thank you so much! The pinned post has all the ones I’m pleased with- technically the cat key and the witches had earlier versions that float around occasionally but I don’t keep them linked cause. The new ones are better.

As a bit of a note for you and the huge influx of followers I’ve had because a lovely soul decided to blaze Seal the Deal- and then because Tumblr boosted it further- my blog is… a bit eclectic. The Tapas is there if you’d like to keep up with comics but aren’t necessarily on board for sex toy advice, life shenanigans, or pillow talk.

#ask ffs #I know most people don’t scan blogs before they follow #so I’m bracing for a new round of ‘wait why did I follow you’#and ‘OH! you’re the comic person??’

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neodymiumcuilz · 3 days ago

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Hi,

I am safaa, a mother from Gaza 🇵🇸🍉, writing to you with a heavy heart and great worries in this harsh winter. ❄️ We are in dire need of 2 tents, blankets and clothes to keep my children warm and safe. 🏕️ I sent this message to only 40 people, and if each of them donates just 30 euros, I will be able to achieve my first goal: to provide clothes for my children and family and keep them alive. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💔 Verified by: 📌 @90-ghost 📌 @gazavetters, #53) 📌 @gaza-eviction-funds (@el-shab-hussein - @nabuls).

"1. Two tents: 2000 euros- One tent for each family, strong and weather-resistant, to provide shelter and protect my children from the bitter cold.

2. Simple bathroom: 1000 euros- To meet our basic needs and restore some of our dignity.

3. Bed covers and blankets: 1200 euros- To provide warmth to our children and the elderly during the harsh winter nights.

4. Winter clothes: 800 euros - Includes jackets, shoes and wool socks to protect my family from the cold. "

These are words from Safaa, from Gaza, who is asking for our help.

If you could share or donate, please do so.

Donations are greatly appreciated and needed. These a names, not numbers begging for help. Please put yourself in their shoes, just once. You can change lives! Please show your compassion here;

To share, visit @safa-sh, share the account/posts, share their story and campaign.

Thank you.

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beloveds-embrace · 45 minutes ago

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(a series in which you are a witch living in the woods, and a group of knights have decided to keep you safe and sound in exchange for kisses and charms.)

Johnny’s arrival was always a joyous affair, heralded by the lilting whistle that preceded him through the trees, hung up bells tinkling through the breeze. You recognized the tune before you even saw him, a signal of his approach as familiar as the rustling leaves and the delighted the hum of your wards.

“Hello, bonnie lass!” he called, stepping into view with his usual bright grin. He strode up to your door with an armful of wildflowers, their petals slightly crushed but still vibrant. “Brought these for you. Dinnae ask what they are- I just grabbed the prettiest ones I could find.”

You laughed, reaching out to accept the bouquet. The mix of blooms, some medicinal, some purely ornamental, spoke of his eager hands plucking whatever caught his eye. But you didn’t mind- the thought was appreciated regardless. “They’re beautiful, Johnny. Thank you.”

“Ah, well. Pretty flowers for a pretty lass.”

You shook your head fondly and stepped aside to let him in. Johnny’s presence was like a burst of sunlight through the dense canopy, and the magic in your cottage reacted to him like ivy reaching for warmth. The air inside seemed lighter when he was near, the flickering candle flames burning just a little steadier, the herbs hanging from the rafters swaying as if drawn to his energy. Even the floorboards, which creaked under every step but yours, barely made a sound when he moved- perhaps the house itself leaned into his presence, unwilling to startle the warmth he carried

As you arranged the flowers in a ceramic vase, he leaned against your wooden table, arms crossed, grin never fading. “You’ll never believe what happened today!” He began, and without any prompting began retellinh you of his day.

You listened with rapt attention as he spoke of training exercises gone awry, not unusual, of weapons misfiring, and- his personal favorite- Gaz slipping face-first into the mud.

“And then wham! Right into the muck, poor bastard! I swear, he was swimming in it!” Johnny cackled, slapping a hand against the table. He kept in mind not too slap too hard, and away from your little bottles.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Poor Gaz. You’re terrible for finding it so funny.”

“He’ll live,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. His face softened as he watched you place the flowers in the vase, the firelight catching in your hair. “Got anything for me today, lass?”

You reached for a small leather cord, from which dangled a small, hand-carved wooden charm, smoothed by your touch and etched with runes only you could read.

“For speed and sure footing,” you tied it around his wrist, your touch sure and gentle. “You’re quick enough already, but this should help in a chase- or when dodging.”

Johnny turned his hand, studying the charm with quiet admiration. His fingers brushed against the carvings, tempered by something more serious and came. “Aye, that’ll come in handy.”

He flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the charm- or perhaps the weight of the thought behind it. When he looked back at you, his smile was different. Softer.

“Cheers, lass. You are a delight.” He murmured, and it was almost reverent.

As he turned to leave after stealing some cookies, you tugged him down for a quick, fleeting kiss on the cheek.

He winked at you, and his grin returned. “Careful, hen. I might get used to this.”

“As if you already aren’t… but anyways. Thank you for dropping by!”

You loved his visits, truly. They were always so… carefree. But little did you know, his visits weren’t always as untroubled as they seemed.

Earlier that day, before his cheerful whistle cut through the trees, Johnny had dealt with a different kind of visitor- one he would never tell you about.

No need to worry your pretty head, after all.

A small group of the crown’s men had wandered too close to your woods, their voices carrying through the underbrush. Johnny had been returning from a patrol, then on hisbway to you, when he spotted them, their armor glinting brightly in the midday light. They spoke in hushed tones, movements cautious as they studied the ancient trees around them for any traces that could lead them to you.

“Reckon she’s real?” one of them muttered.

“Don’t be daft. ‘Course she is. Locals swear by it.” Another replied. “A witch, hidden out here, practicing magic. If the king knew- ”

“Shut it,” the third man snapped. “We get caught sniffing around lile this with no evidence, we’ll have bigger problems than a witch’s curse.”

Johnny had heard enough.

With the ease of a man who moved like he belonged in the wild, he circled behind them, steps silent. By the time they realized they weren’t alone, he was already there.

The first man barely had time to turn before Soap grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back, slamming him against a tree. The others froze, their hands inching toward their weapons. In the face of a knight like him, they couldn’t even pretend to hold a little respect. Nothing more than fear.

“Now, now,” Johnny crooned, deceptively light. “What are you fine gentlemen doin’ in these woods?”

The man in his grasp stammered. “We- we were just-“

“Just stickin’ your noses where they don’t belong?” Johnny interrupted, his grip tightening. “Bad idea, lads. Very bad idea.”

One of the soldiers shifted on his feet. “We- we meant no harm. Just heard stories-“

“Aye, you heard stories,” Soap repeated darkly. “And I suggest you keep ’em as stories. ‘Cause if you so much as breathe a word about these woods to the wrong folk, I’ll make sure you don’t leave ’em.”

The threat hung heavy in the air. None of them doubted he meant it.

“You understand me?” Soap asked, bright blue eyes- you often likened them to the ocean- now cold and sharp.

They nodded, their confidence crumbling under the weight of his presence.

“Good lads.” Johnny laughed, finally releasing the man in his grasp. He clapped a hand against the soldier’s shoulder, grin returning- but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now, off you go. And remember: some places aren’t meant to be found.”

The men didn’t need to be told twice. They turned and fled, disappearing into the underbrush without a second glance.

Soap waited until their footsteps faded before letting out a slow breath. He rolled his shoulders, casting a glance toward the distant outline of your cottage, hidden safely within the forest’s embrace.

You’d never know.

He wouldn’t let you.

By the time he reached you, his usual mirth had returned, and the only thing he carried with him was a bouquet of wildflowers and the promise of laughter.

The flower field did so nicely to mask and wash away the scent of blood clinging to him, after all.

Witch of the Wood Masterlist || Simon “Ghost” Riley

#noona.posts #noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #johnny soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x you #soap s reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap imagine #johnny soap mctavish x reader

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comatosebunny09 · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! First off I wanted to thank you for posting fhe latest chapter of Carpe Noctem. Writing take so much effort and I want you to know that you are very much appreciated! I am sorry to hear about the copying thing. I haven’t come across it yet but it must have sucked especially when you have put so much effort into the concept.

I wanted to yell more about the recent chapter because the diner scene especially made me scream - it captures the reader and Sylus’s dynamic so well! And it was just. So. Cool!! And then and then and then with them in the safe house finally! Everything was so well-written!

And because I’m a sucker for angst what if his phone suddenly rings and it’s her she’s back early and he forgets where he was for 2 seconds so he pulls away from you and answers out of muscle memory because of course, why wouldn’t he, right. You’re so dumb, this was just to fill the absence and she’s your friend how could you do this so you slip out quietly, as you should, disappearing into the night so he could focus on her. It was only for a few seconds, he hurries a “sorry sweetie, I’ll call you back” out of his lips and turns and you’re gone. For days. And he’s out his mind with worry.

Sorry for the word vomit, your stories and concepts are so, so incredible and I hope you continue and keep the passion burning. have a great day!!

Hello, sug!

Thank you for being so supportive and taking the time to read carpe noctem. I’m blessed that you liked it. I was afraid to post the latest chapter because I feared it wouldn’t live up to the first few parts I shared. But I am grateful for the amount of feedback I’ve received on it. 🥹🥹🥹

It’s a shitty feeling. I tried to sleep on it last night and allow myself time to calm down before I reached out to the person who duplicated my work. I poured my experiences, feelings, and thoughts into carpe noctem and limerence, so it was very disheartening to see someone take something I’ve been working on for months that is l literally a part of me pass it off as their own.

But enough of that.

I’m glad you enjoyed the diner scene. 😭😭😭 I was so afraid to incorporate that because I was thinking, “Is this really necessary? Is this cringe?” But I wanted to provide more insight into Sylus and the reader’s relationship, as they’ve been thick as thieves since she began working more closely with him.

Sylus’ Night of Secrecy card heavily influenced the safe house scene. I wanted to write something similar but with my own twist. Again, I was terrified to incorporate this, but I feel that it was somewhat of a turning point for their relationship. Some progress where they’ve spent four years dancing around each other.

I’ve been watching so many C-Dramas these days where right before two love interests kiss, a phone rings, and one of them is compelled to answer it. It drives me insane! Like, does no one silence their phones anymore?!

But, I did consider implementing that idea for carpe noctem, where Luke or Kieran call right before things get too heated, alerting Sylus that everything following the reader’s mission has been cleaned up. And right after, the spell between them is broken, and the reader realizes what a mistake she made after retreating to one of the guest rooms. I didn’t think to have MC on the phone. 🤔🤔🤔 That’s not a terrible idea, actually. For the reader to hear her friend’s voice on the speaker and, it snaps her back into reality.

Sylus would drive himself sick with worry, wondering if he had crossed a line, if he had misread things and pushed her too far. This is the kind of pain I ache for. I will be thinking about this for days.

Again, thank you so much for reaching out to me and feeding my brain worms! Once I get out of this funk, I’ll definitely consider your suggestions for the updates. I hope you have a lovely day!

#carpe noctem series #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus angst

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transseawizard · 19 hours ago

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🙶 may this sea wizard get a promo? 🙷

hello, land dwellers! my name is norma. i'm new to making graphics (my graphics might be a bit unpleasing, but i'm new and practicing!) i'm starting to have a special interest of making graphics. i go by xe/she/they.

my requests are open, if you want a short little blurb of stuff i do, look under the cut!

promo tags: @hrlyqueen, @lawslinger, @floraeth, @toletoles, @cutelvr, @llocket, @bydollita, @moemiji, @chokingonchairs.

dm to be removed! i did all of the rentry people i'm following that don't have homestuck in their blacklist for obvious reasons, but if you wanna help (even if you have homestuck in your blacklist) you can still reblog! reblogs are always appreciated.

❥ what i do:

rentry graphics, rentry templates, tumblr layouts, resource requests, icons/pfps, reply-icons, NPTs (though no fictional characters, only themes), stamps, moodboards, and stimboards.

❥ what i don't do:

mogai stuff, discord/twitter layouts, pixels, buttons.

♥︎ whitelist:

homestuck, scott Pilgrim, monster prom, dandy's world, roblox myths, rocky horror picture show, heathers, most roblox games, the walten files, shaye saint john, fnaf, scooby doo, steven universe, tdi, beetlejuice, aesthetics/themes/subcultures.

♥︎ blacklist:

dsmp/mcyt, helluva boss/hazbin hotel, countryhumans, pr0sh1p/c0msh1p.

if you wanna request, please read my pinned! this is just a surface view of what I have.

notes:

i love to talk to people and interact! but if i like your post, it's likely on my main account!

apologies if this doesn't look good, i've been doing this doing the layout and details for this blog whilst sick, i'm a perfectionist and im not 100% proud of this, but i'll improve slowly but surely!

breathes in and breathes out, hits post button

#✧✧ promo #rentry #editblr #rentryblr #rentry graphics #rentry decor #rentry resources #stimboard

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mj-iza-writer · 1 day ago

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This is another Russian character story. I am attempting to learn as much of the language as I can. I am also working on something within the SP Special Containment storyline. So this is some much needed practice. -MJ

Whumpee shyly stood outside of Caretaker's office.

They practiced what they were going to ask for internally. They gulped nervously.

"Hello Whumpee", Caretaker had turned already, they reached for their communication tablet to help translate.

Whumpee fidgetted with their fingers awkwardly as they watched the screen turn on.

Caretaker smiled as Whumpee typed what they needed.

"Простите за беспокойство (I'm sorry to bother you)", the computer spoke for Whumpee.

Caretaker smiled, "you're no bother."

"Ты не беспокоишьсг", Whumpee listened to the computer as it spoke what Caretaker had said, Я могу вам помочь?" (can I help you?)

"Можно мне воды?" (May I have water?), Whumpee looked at Caretaker wishfully, "пожалуйста" (please).

Caretaker quickly nodded and stood, "yes, you absolutely can."

Whumpee quickly followed, they fumbled with the communication tablet for a moment before Caretaker realized and took it.

"Izvini" (Извини, sorry), Caretaker sighed. Something they had gotten use to saying to Whumpee.

Whumpee had come from a rescue situation about a month ago. Caretaker was trying to make do with the communication board and other techniques for communication. The language barrier was making it very difficult for both of them.

Caretaker could tell Whumpee appreciated the care they were receiving, but they often felt that they were not giving adequate care to Whumpee. Whumpee was very quiet. Too afraid to ask or bother anyone.

"Would you like a snack? (Хотите перекусить?), Caretaker watched as Whumpee thirstedly sucked down the water.

Whumpee gasped for breath for a moment before nodding, "please", Whumpee whispered.

Caretaker smiled. Once in a while, Whumpee would be able to say a word in English.

Caretaker set a few snack items out for Whumpee to pick what they wanted. They also had pre-written note cards for needs.

They set out a few food related request: "I would like to eat" (Я хотел бы съесть). Breakfast (завтрак), lunch (обед), dinner (ужин), or a meal (еда).

Whumpee smiled widely as they reached for the bars they lovingly called "Syrok".

Caretaker had ordered a shipment of Russian goodies when Whumpee first came into the home. That way Whumpee could have some home comforts to help their recovery.

"It gives them some sense of normalcy", Caretaker told a friend of there's after being questioned about the necessity of ordering international food, "we don't even know what they've gone through yet. They are now in a stranger's house. The last stranger they knew hurt them. This stranger", Caretaker pointed to themself, "doesn't speak their language either. They are living through a strange situation. If I can give them a little comfort, even if it is just food and a few things from their home country... I'm gonna do it."

Whumpee happily chews on their snack.

"Thankyou", they whisper as they watch Caretaker refill their water.

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiles as they sit down at the table, "I'm glad you're here."

Whumpee cocked their head to the side questioningly, then went back to their snack.

Caretaker smiled as they cleaned up the cards from the table.

'I know that you are uncertain of so many things right now. I hope I'm able to settle at least some of your nerves', Caretaker thought to themself, 'you deserve that.'

Ps. I wrote this after 10 pm, while making and eating dinner. I had an itch to write. Of course, halfway though, I got sleepy, which is why this is an extra short story. It is now after 11:30. Mj is sleepy. If you see any mistakes in my English or Russian, please kindly ignore... I'm kidding, I'll fix the mistakes if needed. Just not now... almost sleepy time. Thankyou for reading. You all are awesome. Mj 😴

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

#whump community #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump #language barrier #language barrier whump #russian character #russian whumpee #whumpee #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #whumper #caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #caretaking #oc #for thing

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barneysbigstompers · 2 days ago

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Who the hell is Void and why are they allegedly. ykw. not even allegedly atp. I literally went all detective for a bit 😭😭…

Its just. The fact that you’re interacting with a 12-13 year old on your NSFW blog where you interact with a radqueer pro shipper is just kind of… 😬.

I can’t be 100% sure with the other claims on whether or not they’re true but I can infer that Sugary is an odd person and Void can be looped in with that because they’re mutuals with them 😬… Or this all could be utter bs and I’m gonna get sent death threats 🤷 but whatever I dont care if I do. I do not want people who interact with people like Sugary interacting with Lane or any of their friends because thats gross and just whew…

Also, I do not support the way Sadie went about this. If Sadie wanted to make awareness about this, harassment isn’t the answer. It never is. 😐

Here’s some screenshots lol :

Sugary posting NSFW not even that long ago + the radqueer (i had to look up the definition to this…wdym yall support pedos… 😺..)

and if anyone can decipher what the FUCK i just read in that persons intro post it’d be appreciated bc wdf do you mean transraped…nigga what???? ybc??? yeah you need to be packed up 😭

Yeah Uhhh Void/Woes whatever the fuck. Moots list and their dni list which… contradicts that one mutual but 🤷🤷

i still cant get over it. Fym Trans-sh?? Transmap?? Hello??

tags ; (Lane doesn’t want you guys looped in with this and I don’t either)

@lxdyst4rzzz

@xx-evilestyuri-xx

#im literally gonna puke bc the other accusations are just gross

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grogusmum · 3 days ago

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hello, my dearest Hazel 💚

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

Oh my sweet! I'm sorry it took ages to get to this! Thanks so much for the ask with our Dornish muse. (You can smooch me any old time!)

I've been thinking about Oberyn in my Wheel of the Year fic Quiet Moon a lot, and this dimly lit smirking Oberyn makes me think of him all the more...

Quiet Moon: part 2 Behind the Chamber Door

OBERYN MARTELL X f!READER

WARNING: 18+ ultimatley fade to black but not before nudity and foreplay (see something say something, if I missed something, let me know in my DMs)

Oberyn slowly closes the dark, heavy wooden door, smiling like the cat that's got the cream with one hand, while his other holds you to him. You welcome his kiss, and there is a spark in the meeting of your lips.

Oberyn wastes no time pulling at the brooch holding your cloak around you, and with a soft thmp, it drops to the floor. You toe at the heels of your boots, leaving them in a trail as you make your way toward the large hearth. Then you work that the sash and fasteners of his long intricate coat of golden wool. Oberyn has gotten his boots off and pulls his long arms out of the coat, letting it join the rest of the clothing piling on the stone floor. Leaving him in only his mustard trousers, a linen tunic of russet with a large amulet at his chest.

Oberyn's dark eyes greedily take you in, again in your white linen shift with the firelight illuminating the curves of your figure through it.

"Are you still cold, my lord?" You smile.

"I am warming up quite nicely, in fact, my enchantress," Oberyn murmurs in your ear as a large hand brings up the skirt of your gown as he gets a good handful of your backside.

His hands are warm despite the time spent outside and rougher than you'd expect for a prince, but they ignite a fire within as they drag over your skin.

The fire sings in snaps and hisses as it consumes its fuel; your mouths, just as hot, consume each other, in a chorus of moans and gasps. When you break away for a moment, it's to hook a finger on his shirt and pull him to the bed shrouded in heavy curtains. Opening them, you climb onto the tall nest-like bed, giving a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the prince, his delighted chuckle doesn't hide how his coal black eyes ignite, as he climbs in after you. Eyes steady, crawling like a lithe jungle cat.

Cocooned within, Oberyn lifts your shift over your head to see you bare, at last. And you are, except for your fine woolen stockings, that reach your thigh.

Momentarily, you think perhaps you should be embarrassed, but Oberyn lays you back into your feather mattress and lifts your leg, and with a carress to you inner thigh that has slick pooling at their apex, he begins to roll them slowly one at a time.

"Oberyn," you gasp in a whisper.

The prince looks hungrily at your form and shucks himself out of his tunic and trousers. Your eyes follow the trail of dark hair at his navel, leading down to his loins. Oberyn's impressive cock bobs invitingly.

You look up to meet his eyes, and he is on you. Oberyn's trim waist settling firmly between your legs, his length hard and silky pressing tantalizingly against your mound, and with a single roll of his hips, the little pearl hidden between your folds begins to throb.

You let out a needy little moan.

"Oh, my enchantress makes such pretty little sounds?"

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! If you would care to read more Oberyn or any of my works, see my masterlist.

#saddie sending me inspiration #quiet moon continuance #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn martel x reader

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raccoonfallsharder · 2 days ago

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hello, friends! i wanted to give you a quick update. i am certainly on the mend right now. i feel better than i have in probably a week or more, and though i am still not clear of pneumonia and all its complications in my life lol, i am hoping to be almost completely back to normal by the end of this week, if all goes well.

i also wanted to thank you all for your kindness and also your threats and affectionate insults. thank you, so much, for caring. the world can be a hard place to live, and we are encouraged in so many ways to live these small atomized lives. but no matter how tenuous or fleeting our internet-interactions are, they are still real, and i appreciate you reaching out to tell me to rest, and to send me your well-wishes. it truly does mean so much, not only as a moment of connection, but also as a reminder of how well people can care for each other, even those they barely know or never met. you all inspire and uplift me, and i am grateful for it.

for those of you more curious about the details (and the absolutely absurdity of my friday night this week), you can read on. i tend to fall into irreverent medical narrative monologuing (as i do with everything else lol) but i will try to keep it brief.

content warnings for doctors, medical stuff, pain and illness, emergencies, and hospitals.

here's the basic timeline of my week lol:

on tuesday, i got really sick. i tend to not have a lot of normal symptoms for things (i have only had a fever once in my life, and it was NOT the time i had appendicitis, a ruptured intestine, or kidney stones), and figuring out when i don't feel well takes a lot of conscious effort on my part. plus i gaslight myself hard. these are all things i'm working on and have gotten a lot better at - which is probably the only reason why i went to urgent care instead of convincing myself this was "just a flu" and trying to take care of myself at home. i had been having side pain as well, which i had attributed to a pulled muscle, but something in me was afraid i had maybe done something else and caused an injury that got infected or something. i don't know, it just felt connected.

urgent care diagnosed me with probable pneumonia (they couldn't find it with the stethoscope, but they were confident it was there) and started treating that. they believed the strained muscle was not related but told me to come back on friday with an x-ray if my other symptoms didn't improve.

on friday morning, we went to get an x-ray done at 7am and hit up urgentcare on the way back. the x-ray said i was clear on pneumonia, but my cough was worse and my nausea had returned (no fever anymore though, thank goodness). my muscle pain in my back was also so much worse, presumably because of all my coughing, so they gave me some meds for my lungs and for my muscle pain.

now we get to friday evening, probably 5pm. i have a coughing fit with an unsupported back - and i scream. i think i blacked out for a second. my partner came in running. i couldn't move. i've never been in so much pain in my life, and i have a stupid-high pain tolerance. (this is another part of my issue with figuring out when i don't feel well). at this point, the pain had suddenly migrated. it felt like it was grinding down through my flank and into my groin. the location felt very similar to a kidney stone but it was unlike anything i had ever experienced before. i was sweating, trying to walk to the car and then up through the hospital doors. the guard at the front was like "get this woman a wheelchair" lollol.

it was a pretty crowded night so when we were admitted, we were stuck in the hall, which was fine by me. the doctors and nurses were all lovely (my partner believes we were the favorites on the floor because we are very easy-going and also funny lol. i think he has a slightly-inflated view of us but whatever, one of us is wrong and i'm happy if it's me). anyway, the med staff all seemed to think - like me - that perhaps all my symptoms had actually been a kidney stone, and that it was the cough that was unrelated, rather than the muscle pain. so eventually i go back a CT. The scan comes back an hour or so later and, surprise, it is still pneumonia (of course it was able to pick up what an x-ray couldn't). What it also noticed is that the pneumonia had inflamed my entire diaphragm. i do not remember learning much about the diaphragm in school but i knew from logic that it had something to do with respiration because of my choir- and stage-inclined friends. but it does a lot of other things as well (like puppeteering the bladder) and impacts a lot of systems and also, apparently, causes a lot of fucking pain when inflamed.

so. they had already given me some pretty hefty anti-inflammatories. they tell me they'd actually like to replace the seven other drugs the urgent care doctors have me on with one different one. it should totally knock out the pneumonia, especially since i will be starting with a full course of the medication after already tackling the pneumonia with the other antibiotics since tuesday. this sounds great to me, and i say sure. they give me the new drug and discharge me, more quickly than i have ever seen a discharge take place, and i was on my way - already feeling better than i had in days thanks to the antiinflammatory they'd given me before.

here's where the night gets spicy

we get in the car, i'm feeling better than i have in days, it's all good. we hit the freeway and i'm like. huh. my face feels funny.

my partner's like.... what.

i'm like, i don't know? my face feels funny? not itchy or anything, but like.... weird?

he says, should we go back?

i'm like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i genuinely cannot identify this sensation.

then something switches, and i'm like... oh yeah, okay. my mouth and face all feel like... not itchy, but fuzzy. staticky. and while i have not had this kind of reaction before (like everything else, my allergies show up weirdly), i have heard about it. so i say, yeah.... i think we should go back. my throat's a little tight, but there's no swelling on my face, no hives - because again, i am weirdly symptomatic. and because i'm aces at gaslighting myself, i say, maybe i'm overreacting?

which is when i realize that at some point, my partner has called 911. i answer some questions but it's definitely hard to keep my eyes open. and then the car is pulled over, and there are EMTs. and my partner tells them i've been passing out at thirty second intervals. i tell them i'm just being a drama queen and i'm probably overreacting. they apparently think that's some bullshit and i get my very first ambulance ride. i'm phasing in and out - pretty badly hypotensive with really low blood pressure, but still - no visible swelling. my throat is tight enough that my voice sounds like that of a ninety-year-old who's been smoking four packs a day her entire life, but there's nothing they can SEE, other than that i'm "cold and clammy" (rude, lol). still, they stick me with epinephrine and give me some O2 and take me right back to where i come from.

one of the nurses from earlier sees me being wheeled in (to a room, this time - no hallways for repeat customers, i guess) and she is like, "NO! miss dae! why are you back?!!" and i say, "because i missed you. and i wanted the room upgrade."

and then i start giggling hysterically.

and the registering nurse asks me if i consent to have my insurance billed and i say, "FUCK YEAH. fuck those guys" and giggle some more. i don't know if that was the epinephrine or just pure delirium at that point.

then i start crying because i feel so bad about coming back, again. all my self-gaslighting really coming out to the forefront. and they're like, NO, you did absolutely what you should have done, don't be silly.

they get me all settled and are shooting me up with a ton of antihistamines, and finally let me partner back, and my voice still sounds like rocks going through a meat grinder but you know what? you know what antihistimines do? THEY DECREASE INFLAMMATION. so my diaphragm is feeling better than it has in like, a week.

my doctor from earlier comes in, and he clearly felt so bad about everything. he tells me to return to my previous course of drugs, and puts this one in my file as another allergen. after about an hour of fluids and watching me, they release us. we get home at 3:30am and crawl into bed, safe as houses.

now, i can't really say "the end." the pneumonia's not gone yet, and i still have some ongoing pain from my diaphragm. additionally, a coughing fit that happened later that night does seem to have damaged an old surgery site (probably because of the diaphragm muscle, actually), so i need to get that checked out this week too. BUT. i am feeling so much better than i have all week. i am privileged to have decent insurance and while we do have to live pretty frugally, we make ends meet. we're lucky that we will be able to take care of these bills when they come.

and honestly? that shit is FUNNY. (i mean, for me. definitely not for my poor partner who probably lost twenty-seven years off his life; pray for him). i can't wait to really perfect the way i tell this story because it's HILARIOUS. like. what the fuck

anyway if you actually read all this, first of all, wow. second of all. i appreciate you. thank you for worrying about me, for wondering about me, and for caring in general. i'm so grateful, and i hope that you have everything you need, today and every day moving forward.

#personal #cw medical #tw medical #cw hospital #tw hospital #cw medication #tw medication #cw doctors #tw doctors

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