#like the way the world (or the only one she knows) works around her. but she also knows there isnt much they can do yk.

[randombush3]

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria, 

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial. 

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details. 

You wish you had forgotten it. 

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal. 

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now. 

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call. 

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is. 

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.” 

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts. 

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.” 

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.” 

“Childhood best friend?” 

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.” 

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.” 

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?” 

“We’re not usually doing much talking.” 

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.” 

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding. 

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease. 

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages. 

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.” 

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door. 

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget. 

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora. 

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify. 

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table. 

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table. 

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you��ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk. 

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was. 

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last. 

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room. 

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure. 

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.” 

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield. 

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.” 

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.” 

“She’s good at drifting.” 

Irene doesn’t respond to that. 

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance. 

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice. 

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.” 

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.” 

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to. 

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits. 

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?” 

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on. 

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to. 

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is. 

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement. 

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia. 

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters. 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach. 

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.” 

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break. 

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on. 

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles. 

That fucking ring. 

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt. 

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm. 

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–” 

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.” 

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume. 

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination. 

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other. 

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow. 

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time. 

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets. 

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe. 

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption. 

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you. 

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it. 

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy. 

Driving her up the wall is fun. 

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away. 

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you. 

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her. 

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether. 

She’s not going to drop this. 

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene. 

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted. 

You struggle to feel any sympathy. 

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case. 

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore. 

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring. 

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor. 

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect. 

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.” 

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.” 

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–” 

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.” 

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.” 

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it. 

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.” 

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go. 

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?” 

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.” 

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.” 

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?” 

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–” 

“Only what?” 

You gulp. 

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?” 

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting. 

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further. 

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.” 

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–” 

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.” 

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?” 

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?” 

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do. 

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been. 

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go. 

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do. 

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight. 

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to. 

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been. 

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours. 

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable. 

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now. 

And then the fog clears. 

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying. 

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.” 

It’s a death sentence. 

This time, it is Alexia who leaves. 

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up. 

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted. 

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway. 

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce. 

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap. 

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar. 

Alexia. 

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence. 

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence. 

And she’s married. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win. 

[cthulhus-curse]

Leather & Lace

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,012

Warnings: Age Difference, Breeding, Degradation, Jealousy, Mommy Kink, Nursing, Pervy!Stepmom!Wanda, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Slight fluff, Somnophilia, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After a split-second decision, Wanda finally gets what she wants from her lovely little stepdaughter.

Eyes remained emotionless as a front to the anger that lay beneath them. Watching intently, they studied the somber scene, narrowing as they watched a hand lower to a spot they had previously claimed as their own — of course not officially, but you could only dream.

You hadn’t spoken a word during the entirety of the morning. Glaring at your father was second nature at best as you hid behind the excuse of him being away for too long and never having time for you. Adulthood carried on many things, one of them being a disdain for being around him. The same couldn’t be said for your stepmother though.

Wanda laughed as the man whispered something in her ear, biting down on her bottom lip — it was a move you found to be adorable each time you feasted your eyes upon it. She was finishing off the dishes, breakfast already having been served in earlier hours. The perfect housewife was to keep you all fed, to be a submissive entity for your father to walk all over.

“We were thinking about going to the park today. Wanda wants to take the twins there,” your father piped up when turning to you. A set of twin brothers from Wanda’s previous marriage were the only ones to keep to sane as you watched the relationship between your dad and stepmom develop further for years. “Wanna come?”

“Whatever,” came your huff. The harsh gaze Wanda threw at you made you squirm, but your eyes faltered and ignored it out of fear.

“Come on, don’t be like that. We just want to have some family time-”

“Not my family,” you repeated as you had many times through the years. “I’m not a kid. I don’t need mommy,” you turned to Wanda staring daggers, “to take care of me. The only reason I haven’t moved out is because I’m waiting to finish college. Then I’m getting the fuck out of this shit town.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare talk like that,” your father warned.

“Or what? You’re not even around enough to give a shit about whether I move or not. It’s always work, work, and wo-” as you rambled on about his absence since his divorce from your mother, his phone rang. Not even a Saturday, the boys with their father for the weekend, could be spent in peace with his own family. “Speak of the devil. Are you gonna answer that?”

Without a word, your father excused himself. During the early years of having moved with him, you surely blamed him for the lack of parenting he carried out. You’d move with your mother if she wasn’t halfway across the world teaching English as a second language in various countries, living her life to the fullest as she ignored her motherly duties. All through high school you had been alone. Now in college, the one person you didn’t know you could count on was the surrogate caregiver who pranced to your side.

“Darling, that’s no way of speaking to your dad,” Wanda said in a low voice, tender as fury rose from the depths of her words. “You should apologize. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“I’m not doing jack-shit for you. You’re not my mom, you bitch.”

Surely the tone was harsher than you meant it to be, especially when the woman towered over you in the kitchen, you sitting on the stool by the island gulping down a know of fear. She tilted her head and suddenly all the years of anger, hatred, and surprising lust you felt for her vanished, let alone for the last one of course. With dark viridescent eyes dripping with need, she dropped her gaze to your lips.

Neither of you were fazed when your father ran to get an overnight bag ready. His job called for spontaneous trips across the world much like your mother, seeking out investment opportunities for this technology company, and yet most of the time you deduced he was simply using it as an excuse to fuck his secretary — same as he had done with your mother before marrying Wanda.

While he was adding the finishing touches to his bag, distracted as ever, Wanda grabbed your arm. She didn’t hesitate to use undying strength when pulling you away, the heels of her flats clicking against the hardwood floor when you made your way upstairs. Regardless of how much you attempted to twist away, she still held you in place.

“Stupid girl,” she growled. “It’s time we have a little chat about those icky moods of yours.”

You never expected to find yourself thrown over your bed, the woman locking the door as quick as she could. Many times she’d be the one to crack it open and watch as you undressed, a hand shoved between her legs as she hummed at herself. Not that you knew, but she was devoted to making you hers.

“You’ve been in a terrible mood all week, I get it, but don’t you ever dare speak to me like that,” was the first thing Wanda yelped as she towered over you, you sitting by the edge of the bed while she stood proudly. “You need to learn to behave.

“Oh shut up.”

To say her fury escalated at that would be an understatement.

“What’s gotten into you?” She frowned at you, crowing her eyes before stalking forth. As soon as Wanda tilted her head once again, a trademark move of hers, you knew you were done for. She explored your features, eventually averting her gaze down between your legs that you were rubbing against one another. “Oh I see.” A smile spread across her face as she softened up. “Does it maybe have anything to do with this?”

Eyes widened as Wanda, who was well pressed against you, heavy hot breaths falling on your face, cupped your clothed sex. She roughly pressed her fingers against you until she rubbed you, giving you pleasure even with the layers you wore. The hum she let out was all-knowing. Leave it to her to solve a mystery that to you ages to come up with an answer for.

“Wanda what are you-”

“Shhh be quiet, baby. You wouldn’t want your dad to find out, right? Don’t you want to be a good girl for mommy?” She raised her eyebrows, deep green eyes crawling into your soul and pulling out the submissiveness that lay beneath, and you couldn’t help but nod immediately. “Good. Now let me make it better. Your little pussy is all sticky and needy huh? I bet you get all hot and bothered when you see mommy. Tell me, sweetheart, have you touched yourself before? Has my pretty girl made herself cum at the thought of her mommy? I know you have, I’ve seen it. Those fingers look so cute inside your cunt.” She leaned in dangerously close. “Maybe I can show you some of the pictures I’ve taken of you like that.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted to her question, although in your hazy mind you couldn’t tell which one. Closing your eyes, you gripped the bed sheets while she rubbed your clothed cunt lazily.

“Yeah? Well, you have to remember that this is all mine. Mommy owns this pretty pussy of yours. Whenever you want to play with my property, you have to ask for permission.” Wanda sighed with relief as she allowed herself to bask in the wet noises your throbbing pussy made while she touched it. Even with your pajama pants on, she could tell you were oozing with juices. “You have no idea how long mommy’s been waiting for this. I’m glad my beautiful princess seems to like it.”

You didn’t fight back as she began tugging off your clothes until you were fully naked, her own being thrown over the floor only moments later. Being pushed back, you allowed your head to hit the mountain of pillows, the chill of the Fall coming through small gaps in your window causing you to shiver.

Seeing Wanda in her nude gloriousness made you drool. Perfection was her name. Her breasts stood perkily waiting to be played with, a toned stomach, slightly full with beautiful rolls, sitting there adorably crafted just for your enjoyment. There were stretch marks along her thighs, chest, and tummy which you urged yourself to kiss, only she hovered above you before you could so much as move.

Lips pressed against your own languidly. Numerous times you fantasized about what it would be like to kiss her, to have her naked frame brushing against your own, hard nipples on your skin, as your mouths danced to a steady rhythm.

“Touch me, please. Just fuck me or something…” you murmured as Wanda dropped a chaste kiss on your mouth. “Do it now. Fuck,” you grabbed her hand and let it fall on your pussy, humping it as you did with your pillows. “That’s good. Oh Wanda that feels so fucking amazing.”

“How pathetic,” she noted with raised eyebrows. Rather than keep touching you as you wished, Wanda slapped you harshly, brushing against your clit slightly and making you scream. “I said to stay quiet. Are you too stupid to understand? Maybe you’re just a mindless little slut for mommy. I bet there’s not a thought behind those pretty eyes of yours, huh?”

While you wished to relinquish some power, you quickly realized Wanda wouldn’t let you have any of it. After years of stressfully marrying your father, all she wished was to turn the tables, to have a submissive pet to use as a means to relieve all her stress. Watching you from afar, peeking through your door or even taking lewd pictures of you without your knowledge only enticed her madness; especially when she rummaged through your underwear drawer and stole a few pieces to wear while getting herself off at the sight of such images. Her craving for you drove her to the depths of desperation. You’d have to do as she said whether you liked it or not.

Fingers teased your entrance, a mocking laughter coming from Wanda as you squirmed beneath her. Neither of you noticed nor cared about the words of goodbye your father threw into the ghost house, the front door closing as you had a space just for yourselves. A weekend entirely devoted to her destroying you and claiming you as her own — how fun.

“I really should punish you for having such a dirty mouth. Cute princesses like you shouldn’t be saying those words, or making their mommies sad at that,” Wanda explained as she placed a kiss along your jaw, fingers making quick work to sloppily thumb at your clit. Folds were then parted, her hand coated with your slickness. When you sobbed at her words, she chuckled. “Oh but you’re just a little puppy, aren’t you? My lovebug doesn’t know any better. That’s okay. I’ll let it slide just this one time, but if you behave like a stupid whore again then I won’t hesitate to punish you.” She smacked her hand against your aching cunt. “Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, arms wrapped around her shoulders as you pulled Wanda close.

“Yes what?”

Crying, clinging to her for dear life, you gave in. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good girl.” In all the years you had known her, never did you feel so many tremors running down your body in the presence of Wanda. “Now lay back and let mommy play with you, toy. Let me see how many fingers I can fill your cute pussy with.”

Heat radiated from her body as she began easing her fingers in your tight hole. For a moment she closed her eyes and thought back to the times she had seen you in compromising positions on top of a girl she knew was a friend from college, touching herself while imagining . Kate was never liked by your stepmother, and seeing as she possessively swiftly thrust a pair of digits inside grunting ‘mine’ beneath her breath, it was clear why.

“So wet and so fucking warm for me. Oh baby you feel divine,” Wanda moaned as she pressed her thumb against your clit, the two fingers inside your sticky, aching pussy being pushed deep until her knuckles brushed upon you. “My little baby was just so fussy. Can’t think straight without mommy’s help? Now, next time your princess parts get icky like this, you tell me about it. No need to be a bad girl. Just tell mommy and she’ll make it all better.”

“Yes, mommy,” you whined. “I wanna cum.”

“Already? Oh no little one I’ve barely touched you! You can go a bit longer for mommy, right? I know you can,” she announced. The way her tits brushed with yours, nipples erect and hypnotizing enough made you want to suck harshly on them. With her newly found position as her mommy, you’d surely ask for that. “Good baby bears only cum when mama bear says so, and I know my girl is really good.”

While making out with her, Wanda nipped oh so softly on your lower lip to silently ask for permission that you gave her. Wetness coated your mouth as she swirled her tongue inside, exploring the area while devouring your own tongue, making all that was yours her own. All she desired was to own you, and without much effort she got exactly what.

“You’re such a little whore, you know that, right? I’ve seen the way you touch yourself. Do you think about me when you stretch your pussy out with two fingers, sweetheart, or is it your friend that you imagine? You don’t need her. Mommy will teach you how to be good, and I promise I will always take care of my pretty angel. I don’t think she can do that, can she?” Wanda’s jealousy was rampant, but had always remained silent and simply waited for the time to take her prey as the predator she was. “Hmm and you’re so tiny. Such a delicate doll. It’s so cute how much of you I own already.”

By no means were her movements tender. She had waited long months to have you, always coming second to the disdain you had for humanity let alone for Kate. The poor thing was nothing but a friend you had fun with at times, but Wanda wasn’t about to let you whore yourself off to someone else when she was to care for you. Daily inspections would be a must to ensure her little one was hers.

“So full,” you whispered with your heart on the line for her. All Wanda did was curl her fingers up, making you scream with her mouth hovering above your own. “I’m so full with you, mommy.”

Your velvety walls clamped down harshly against her causing Wanda to grunt. “Hmm time for my little puppy to cum. Be good and show me what I want. Show me who your rightful owner is.”

When you finally did come undone, Wanda was there kissing your pleasurable screams away, still deep in your pussy fucking your through your orgasm, not letting you catch your breath as she made you hers.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

During certain nights Wanda found her desperation growing by the second. She didn’t have trouble slipping away from her shared bed with her husband and instead waltzing into your room, a rather large toy nestled comfortably between her legs. Entering your room in the depths of darkness was nothing new, but with the hunger she felt, it would be the first time she took you without caring for what you had to say in response.

Earlier that day you had excused yourself to explore the world with friends. Weekends were the only times where you got to relax, to ignore all the workload being crammed through the week and instead find your inner peace. Since the weeks you’d been secretly seeing Wanda you’d spend extra time with her, the boys and your father away on certain occasions, so not having you around was a rather lonely task your stepmother had to get through by herself.

All Wanda had wished to do was wrap you up safely in her arms and nuzzle her face against your shoulder. After having cleaned on that day, the twins having gone away with your father on a camping trip, she entered your room. There she found a frame picture of you and her from when you finished your first year of college and were taken out to dinner as a means to celebrate. Once she undressed herself and eased down on a stuffed animal of yours, one she gave you as a birthday present the previous year, Wanda began getting herself off. Humping the plushie and teasing her clit with one hand, the other held the picture in place as she eyed your shining face, moaning your name as she came.

Now in the late hours of the night, she’d finally get her toy to play with.

When she first shifted over the bed, you slurred slightly. The last thing she’d want was to awaken you from your peaceful slumber knowing you never got enough sleep with all the stress that floated around you.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Wanda’s voice was low as she pulled at your pajama pants along with your underwear, her silk robe already pooling on the floor. “Let mommy touch you a bit. I’ve missed my little slut so much.” Laying you on your side, your cunt in full view, she ran a hand through your slick folds. “So wet already. Oh I bet you spent all day fantasizing about being fucked like the whore you are. Now be a good girl and take my cock.”

While still asleep she grabbed her strap and slid it up and down your slit, making sure to pry your legs open a bit so she could swirl it across your clit. Once fully coated with your juices, jerking herself off a bit as though it was real, Wanda began inching inside, groaning as she basked in the sloshing sounds that came as she stretched out your tight hole.

Strong hands went to grip your hips in place. Wanda pressed her faced against the back of your neck, cheeks flushed and barely visible in the dimly lit room as she fucked you nice and slow. Even in your sleep you were responsive, little noises coming from your parted lips. The deeper she moved her cock in your pussy, the more you stirred.

“Mommy?” You groggily asked, eyes fluttering open slightly. “What’s going on? I feel really weird.”

“It’s okay, princess. Mommy just missed you. Won’t you let me touch you?” Although exhausted, you nodded. “Good girl. I even brought the special toy. You can have all of mommy’s treat. Do you want it now, baby?”

Hugging you from behind, Wanda pumped her cock in and out of your puffy cunt, a hand sneaking between your legs to stimulate your clit. She had to remind you to be quiet, that only good girls would get rewards. The last thing she wished was to alert your father of the rather taboo relationship you held, especially knowing it would come to an end.

For a few moments your mommy allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of your pussy. She desperately wished to truly understand how tight you were as your walls held her faux cock, the toy sliding past your folds as you hungrily took it all. Neither of you minded the mess that formed on your sheets, Wanda being far too blissed out as she desired to take everything from you – your sanity, your freedom, and your love would be all hers.

“Whatever my baby wants she gets,” she husked out.

Wanda pulled out her cock, leaving you empty and sobbing with exhaustion. Right as she was about to squeeze her drenched length, you grabbed her wrist, turning over so you could face her. She left you with droopy eyes and drool falling down your chin.

“Mommy, inside please,” you begged. Grinding yourself down against her bulbous dildo, you threw your head back. The way in which you clung to her, hands on her shoulders with eyes drifting down to her uncovered tits made her pity for you grew. “Please, I need it.”

“Oh but honey I don’t want to get my fleshlight all dirty.” Wanda nuzzled her face against your own, her flushed cheeks brushing yours. “Maybe if you beg a little…”

“Please mommy! I promise to be such a good girl, a whore, and let you use me whenever you want to. I need you to stuff me. I can't stop thinking about you inside me filling my pussy up with your treat. You can use me even when I say I don’t want to. Please, just cum inside me. I need it so bad.”

Wanda was more than content with your response. She cupped your face with a hand, the other guiding her strap-on back inside your pussy. “Hmm such a good slut. So desperate to have her cunt pumped full with my cum. Maybe I can even give you a baby. Would you like that, sweetie? For mommy to stuff you so full that you have my pups? Oh how cute you’d look.”

The redhead didn’t waste any time squeezing her cock halfway inside you until white sticky drops began squirting in your pussy. Foreheads remained together, your lips tenderly touching down upon hers, kissing mommy innocently, as she filled you up. With cum dripping down your inner thighs, Wanda made sure to fuck all of the seed back into you.

“Mommy’s fleshlight,” Wanda breathed out as she held you in place, hips moving and turning your bodies into one. “All mine. No one can have this pussy, baby. Only I can stuff you with pretty pups. Never forget that.”

“I’m full,” you cried. Not only did you have your cunt all pumped with cum, but also Wanda’s thick cock stretching you out.

“I know baby, mommy knows.” Wanda kissed your worries away, eyelids feeling heavy as she shared her love with you. She pulled down your head so you’d press up against her chest, humming calmly. “You can use your mouth if it’ll make it better, darling. Latch on. Mama is here to help you get some more sleep, okay?”

Nodding, you did as you were told. You had yet to reach your climax, so close yet too tired to beg for more. Wrapping your lips around one of her erect nipples, you latched on quickly. Many times you spend laying on top of Wanda, your hazy mind drifting you into Sandman’s realm, as she helped you relax against her. It was one of the many ways she coaxed your stress from school away.

While you began falling asleep once again, mouth suckling on Wanda’s breast, the older woman thrust her hips. She spent the rest of the night using her fleshlight – your aching cunt – before removing the strap from her waist and riding one of your thighs. Holding you close to her chest, mouth agape over skin, Wanda moaned whenever her clit brushed against you. She was practically dripping – only a few minutes passed up until she came undone after having brought you orgasm after orgasm.

To your dismay she was gone by the time you woke up in the morning. That Sunday was spent happily dancing around each other, Wanda’s hand brushing against your ass from time to time before she pressed you against the kitchen counter from behind when no one was looking – it was the perfect opportunity to grope your tits then. Each little moment the two of you got alone, you were sure to make the most of it. And of course when you showered, your stepmother was there peeking through the curtain with a hand between your legs – at least until you invited her inside, through the week rewarding her with various texts with lewd pictures of you she’d treasure forever.

[afterglowkatie]

17 years old | a.p.

alexia putellas x teen!reader | 1.3k | you make your senior debut for barcelona

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pollito universe. i hope you enjoy it :)

Standing on the sideline, waiting for your number to be put up on the board, you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You’d been ready for this day to come since you’d been invited to train with the first team. Though it still feels like time has gone by so quickly. It felt like just yesterday you were in the stands watching your mami on this very same pitch.

But that was four years ago now. Now you were older, your siblings were older, you weren’t that 13 year old watching her mami play. You were 17 now, about to step onto the same pitch that you had only dreamt about playing on. A world of responsibility was about to unfold the minute you stepped out, you weren’t just playing in the youth teams anymore, but about to play with the same players you’d grown to idolise.

It was a surreal feeling but one you were sure you were ready for. You’d watched your mami for years and everyone knows Alexia would’ve done everything she could to make sure you were as prepared, mentally and physically, as you could be for this moment. 

You knew you’d be making your debut in this match, despite having been on the matchday squad list for a fair few matches before this one. You also knew that your mami had been told as well, considering that you’d overheard her trying to get as many people as she could to come support you today. Your Tia Alba on the phone asking your mami what was so special about this match and then your mami’s hushed whispers were a dead giveaway to anyone who was overhearing.

The club saved Alexia’s number just for you, everyone knew you would definitely make your way through the teams to the first. There was never any doubt. Your passion for the game and your work ethic was identical to Alexia’s. There was a moment where you had second thoughts about taking the number eleven. But it was your mami’s legacy and you couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else wearing that number at this club.

Standing on the sideline, the number eleven with your name this time on your back, it didn’t feel as daunting as you always imagined it would. You were nervous, yes, but you knew no matter what happened today your mami was proud of you. Your family, your teammates, your mami’s teammates, the club, they were all already proud. Yes you had some big shoes to fill, you knew the expectations of the fans were going to be high, but you are a Putellas and you know you can do it.

You almost missed your number being shown on the board, being brought back to reality when arms were wrapped around you tightly, ‘Show them what you got kid. You’ve got this,’ Whispered in your ear during the embrace. A little nod of your head and a smile plastered across your face you ran onto the pitch. 

‘Pollito! Pollito!’ You didn’t need to look back at the stands to be able to hear Mapi’s voice over everyone else's.

‘Pollito, one day they’ll be chanting like that for you here,’ Mapi leaned over, pointing at the crowd that was chanting your mami’s name, ‘And I’ll be the first one,’ 

Coming on in the 80th minute, you really didn’t expect to be able to add a whole lot of importance to the match. You were just happy to be stepping onto the pitch, getting your first senior appearance. Though whoever was in charge of your script had other plans for you. Not many 17 year olds making their first appearance would have the confidence to take a shot like you did. 

Intercepting the ball midway between the half and 18 yard box, one quick glance up to see the keeper off their line and you didn’t take a second to think about taking the shot. Everything was a massive blur, your first touch was a goal and you hardly had any time to even think about it before you were being pulled into hugs and head pats by your teammates.Finishing the match with two goals in twelve minutes, a debut that no one was going to forget. 

‘Ale, watch out our little pollito already starting her goal count. Coming to take your top spot away from you if she keeps going like this,’ Mapi slung her arm around your shoulder bringing you in for a side hug. You laughed a little, shaking your head playfully. Your mami rolled her eyes. They’d all made their way down after the match, not wasting a second to come see you. You who was still in shock and not believing everything was real and ready to wake up realising it was all a dream. Eventually it would sink in.

‘You suck at celebrating,’ You laughed at your little brother, ‘All the time you seen me and my celebrations, I’d thought you’d learn a thing from me,’ Your brother was just like you and your mami, going through his own La Masia journey now, and you’d often found yourself practicing and playing football in the backyard together. You were both quite competitive with each other and Alexia has had to break up her fair share of fights and arguments between you both. But your closeness never faltered.

‘Hermano, you gotta teach me how you backflip,’ You smirked looking mostly at Alexia when you spoke to your brother within the group. You knew that if you even thought about trying something like that it would send your mami into a slight panic, the look in her eye now and the slight falter of her smile. You liked winding her up. A backflip celebration was definitely in your future, already planning it for a match you know your mami would be at.

‘Sí, celebrate in style pollito,’ Your tía Alba encouraging it, anything to annoy her sister

‘Eh, you’ll figure it out,’ Your mami pulled you in for a hug, you could see just how proud she was of you, ‘Maybe a less dangerous one, por favor,’ You laughed but made no effort to promise your mami that.

‘Hmm, I guess can’t have you growing more grey hairs,’ You playfully squinted while looking at your mami’s hair, Alexia gently slapping your hand away before you could point any out. 

‘If any, you lot are the reason for them,’ Alexia pointed towards the entire group that surrounded you. You all laughed, and somewhere during all the banter and the teasing you realised just how lucky you were. Seeing them all here together, you wouldn’t have made it this far without them.

Your mami turned you around so you were looking at her now front on, her hands gently holding the side of your head, ‘I’m so proud of you pollito,’ Words that you often heard from your mami but this time it felt different hearing it. A good kind of different. Alexia gave you a kiss on your forehead before, reluctantly, letting you go. Your mami still wishes you were that four year old who still fell over every time you tried to kick a ball, you grew too fast for her liking but she’s excited to watch your journey. She knows you’ll go far, mother’s intuition as she likes to tell you when you call her biased. 

Your little sister tugged at your shirt and you picked her up, she was small for her age so she still sat nicely on your hip just like she always has. You eventually broke away from your family, still holding your little sister while you went back to your teammates and went to some of the fans that were trying to get your attention.

Your mami watched from afar. Her little pollito wasn’t so little anymore, ‘The world is yours pollito,’

[gh0stsp1d3r]

i love your work sm!! could i request something with nerd!rafe? like reader never normally wears her glasses, so she decides to put them on while she reads and gets insecure and rafe comforts her?

beautiful with them.

NERD!RAFE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: insecurities w/ glasses, angst to comfort

A/N: thank you sm! LOVE THIS. agh so sweet.

You flipped through the pages with anticipation, your eyes darting over the sentences. The world around you faded into the background, the rustle of the pages the only sound you heard. It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye that you realized Rafe had entered the room, leaning against the doorway.

As your gaze caught him entering the room, your eyes widened in surprise. You fumbled to remove the glasses that sat on your face, the frames slipping through your fingers as you set them aside. The suddenness of your actions caught him off guard, a look of confusion flickering across his face, but he dismissed it as he stepped toward you. A warm smile graced his lips as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

“Hi, baby.” He murmured against your lips.

“Hi.” You breathed out. “You’re home early.” You noted, him moving away, putting the briefcase on the bed as he shoved off his suit jacket.

“Meeting finished early, and I was free the rest of the day.” He replied, you nodding, glancing down at your book and your glasses. “What have you been doin’ all day?” He asked you.

“Reading, mostly.” You replied, him letting out a chuckle.

“I thought so.”

Even though he’s seen you read so many times, you always wore your contacts. He’s never really seen you with your glasses. And if he has, it’s been only a few times.

You glanced back down at the glasses, and then back at him. He was taking off his clothes, changing into sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

He sat on the bed, phone in hand. He got comfortable, settling underneath the covers as he began his scrolling.

You turned back in your seat, putting your glasses back on and making sure you were facing away from him as you began to read again.

About thirty minutes passed when he stood up, making his way to the door. You moved your hand, resting your head on your palms as an attempt to hide the frames on your face.

He came back in with two cups of water in his hand, coming back over to your desk with them. He leaned against the desk, offering one of the cups to you.

You took off your glasses, looking back at him for a moment. You gave him a small smile, and he gave you one back.

“You know,” he rasped out. “I like you with your glasses on.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, smile faltering.

He picked them up in his hands, going to put them over your face when you gently grabbed his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it.

You plucked them from his hands, him quirking an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” You replied quietly, setting them back onto the desk.

“Why don’t you wear them?” He asked you, and you knew he was gonna keep pressing until he found out, because that’s just how he is.

You hesitated before answering, “I just… I don’t like how they look on me.” You admitted softly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s why I wear the contacts.”

There was a flicker of sadness on his face, watching you with a visible frown. He knows how you felt, because he’s thought the same thing about his own when he was younger.

“Well, I think they look good on you. You wear them better than me.” He spoke honestly, you letting out a chuckle, thinking he was joking.

“Stop.” You told him, but he didn’t, instead, he reached for your face.

He gently grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him. With his other hand, he grabbed your glasses.

He let go of your jaw, and put both hands on the glasses, before moving your hair, putting the lens over your eyes, and tucking the tips of the glasses behind your ears.

“I’m serious. Maybe you can’t see it, but you really do look beautiful with them on. You were beautiful without them, and you’re beautiful with them.” He told you, holding your face in his hands.

“You really think so?” You asked him quietly, to which he nodded, removing his hands from your face.

“I think, that you should wear them more, if anything.”

He watched the corners of your lips quirk up, small smile making its way onto your face. He leaned down again, and cupped your face once more, pressing his lips softly against yours, both of your glasses clashing as he did so, causing him to look at you, both of you beginning to laugh together.

You settled for putting your foreheads together, soft giggles still escaping your mouth as he smiled at you.

“Thank you.” You told him quietly.

“Course.” He responded in the same quiet volume, “If I didn’t say something, what kind of fiancée would I be, hm?” He hummed out.

Taglist:

@10ava01 @mileyraes @moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0 @wintertxt @teenwolfbitches28

[moody-alcoholic]

CW: Death, funeral, angst.

___

It’s not easy. 

Christ why did he think it would be easy.

The room is mainly empty, only a few close friends and family. There’s no coffin, just flowers, lilies and forget-me-nots, some of your favourites. There’s a priest reading words that Simon’s not listening to, there's hushed sniffles and silent tears.

It was what you wanted, something small, simple, quiet. A stark difference from the way you really left the world. 

Johnny reaches over and takes his hand, Simon lets him lacing their fingers together. They exchange a glance, Johnny’s face is puffy from all the tears he’s shed for you. Simon has to keep it together, at least here. You made him promise not to cry for you, to be there for the team, especially Johnny. 

Simon squeezes his hand and Johnny turns away, his head focusing on his feet as the priest finishes up. Kyle is sat next to him and John is on the end, their hands resting on their knees, heads dipped, jaws clenched. 

No one gets to mourn now, they’ll all do it later in the privacy of their own homes. After this they will go to the pub, raise a glass for you. Talk about their favourite memories, smiling and laughing. That’s what you would have wanted. 

It’s not easy. 

Music plays and Simon looks up to see the priest going over to your weeping mother, arms wrapped around her by your sister and friends. He bends down to pray with her, her sniffles cutting through the soft music. When he’s done he turns to leave through a door by the stage. 

Johnny squeezes Simon’s hand, he looks over at him. Johnny brings Simon’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it, Simon quickly smiles at him. 

“You worked with my daughter?” Your mum asks. Simon turns to see her and her entourage stood at the end of their row of seats. 

“Yes, Captain Price.” John says standing up and extending his arm. She shakes his hand.

“She used to talk about you alot.” Your mum sniffs again trying to keep it together. “She loved her job.” 

Simon feels the pit form in his stomach. Yeah you did, gave your life for it. All for the greater good. 

“I need to know. The army didn’t tell me much.” A louder sob comes out her throat, she chokes it back. “Did she suffer?” 

It’s like a knife to the heart. Simon looks away. He hears Johnny let out a breath, he can almost hear the quiver in his lip. 

“No. She didn’t suffer.” John says keeping his voice level. He’s so good at remaining calm under pressure, so good at lying to people’s faces too. Simon doesnt think he could do it, not about you. 

Guilt starts to eat away at him as your mother sobs, Simon sneaks a glance seeing John’s arms wrapped around her. 

Why is it never fucking easy?

He looks away squeezing his eyes closed, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

He’ll mourn later, later when he and Johnny will go home after a few pints and cry in each other's arms, in the bed they shared with you. It will hurt, it’s going to hurt for a long time. 

That’s just what happens when love dies.

___

I have writers block bad. I'm just writing anything to get rid of it. (send help)

[archangeldyke-all]

ANGEEEEEEL DO A LITTLE FUCKER AND ISHA FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🫵🫵🫵

okay okay okay long awaited but let's do it finally ehheehehe

as always with these fics, don't ask me the logistics of how the pregnancy happened. it's yuri magic. have some fun.

men and minors dni

jinx is twenty when she decides to go to college. after a few years of taking care of herself-- through therapy, moving in with you and sevika, isha's good influence, and vi and ekko's support-- jinx finally felt ready to look to her future.

she got into a good school in piltover; full scholarship, because she's a fucking genius.

you don't worry about the workload overwhelming her, though she's decided to enroll in a dual degree program, studying chemistry and engineering at the same time.

you don't worry that her demons will catch up to her; she'll be living with cait and vi, and she'll be within walking distance of her therapist. plus, she's done a lot of good work for herself.

the only thing you worry about is isha.

though the girl is older now, around eight years old and much more used to you and sevika than she was when you first met, isha's favorite person in the entire world is still jinx. and the feeling is mutual. so, while jinx will spend her weeks with cait and vi up top, on weekends she'll come back to zaun to catch up with isha.

it's still a rough adjustment.

isha's just... lonely. you miss the giggles that used to fill your home-- isha entertained endlessly by her older sister's shenanigans. and despite all you and sevika have done to keep her occupied-- buying her new games and pets and books-- you can tell that isha's bored all alone.

"what if we had a baby?" sevika asks one night after you've turned off the lights and cuddled into her arms.

"another cat?" you mumble. sevika laughs.

"i was thinking a human baby, but we could get another cat if you want."

you sit up in bed, reaching out to flick a light on and stare down at your wife. "where the fuck is this coming from!?" you squeal.

sevika shrugs. "isha's lonely! we should give her a little sibling."

"wh-- like our own baby?! like one of us gets pregnant!?"

"well unless isha drags home a stray kid i don't see how else we'll get one." sevika chuckles.

you gawk at her. sevika smiles up at you. "s-sevika, we already have two to five children, depending on the day." you say.

sevika snorts. "ekko, cait and vi are ours only in spirit, love, they won't ever need us in the way jinx and isha do." she says. you pout. sevika snorts. "and jinx is all grown up, now." she reminds you.

tears well up in your eyes. "no she's not." you say, your pout worsening. sevika giggles and swipes your tears away.

"look; i know we said no kids when we started dating. but we said a lot of shit back then. remember when we thought we'd go hiking every saturday? we were crazy." sevika says. you giggle. "shit happened between then and now baby. life happened. deaths and marriage and adoptions and moves-- that kinda shit changes people. you changed me. and... we bought this big ass house for our family. might as well fill it up."

"well fuck, sevika, how many babies are you planning on giving me!?" you ask through a sob of happy tears. sevika laughs.

"as many as you'll let me." she says with a shrug.

you go to the doctor to talk about pregnancy the next week, only to find out that you're already a month into your first trimester.

"wh-- i'm-- but--" you sputter.

"she's already pregnant!?" sevika squeals.

the doctor laughs. "it would seem so. good timing."

sevika bursts into laughter and scoops you out of the doctor's paper covered seat, spinning you around her office and sobbing into your shoulder as you blink in shock.

"what the fuck?" you ask. sevika cackles.

on your drive home, you look over at your wife with a suspicious glare. "did you plan this?"

sevika laughs. "you think i'm that diabolical?"

"no, i just-- you decide you want a baby and boom, i'm magically already pregnant?!"

"i can probably smell it on you or somethin'-- my instincts could sense it. like how i can smell when you're ovulating."

you giggle. "that's probably how you knocked me up in the first place."

sevika grins. "fuck yeah it is. i did the math. i think it was the weekend we sent isha up to spend with the girls."

at the mention of your girls it hits you. you're about to have a baby. another one. your own-- one that you know from the first shit it takes.

you burst into tears, and sevika laughs. "there you go, i was waiting for that to happen."

"we're having a baby." you cry, scrambling to grab the hand she reaches across the console. "oh, janna, sev-- i don't know how to change diapers! all our other kids came to us potty trained!"

"i'll change all the diapers in the world, for you, love." sevika promises, kissing your knuckles. you laugh.

"you're such a liar."

isha's one smart little shit. you and sevika decide not to tell her until the second trimester, when it's less likely that you'll miscarry.

she figures it out within a week of you and sevika getting the news.

it could be the way sevika keeps touching your stomach, or the giddy kisses the pair of you keep exchanging when you think isha's not looking-- but something tips her off.

she sits you and sevika down one evening with a frown and her arms folded in front of her chest.

is there a baby in your belly? she signs. you sputter. sevika gasps. isha's suspicious glare melts into an excited smile. is there!? she asks with a gasp.

you burst into laughter and sevika shrugs. "we thought you might wanna be a big sister." isha grins, tears welling up in her eyes as she launches herself at you and sevika, laughing and crying.

i do. isha signs. i'm gonna be the best big sister ever. don't tell jinx. or violet.

you spend your pregnancy being waited on hand and foot by all your girls. vi, cait, and jinx all come to visit once or twice a week-- all three of them enchanted with your swollen stomach and always bringing baby supplies in tow.

isha makes a count-down to your due-date, bedazzles it and hangs it on the fridge so she can keep perfect track of how much longer she has to wait before meeting the baby.

isha's also started to call the baby her baby.

how many more doctors visits do you have before you have my baby? isha signs to you one afternoon as you wait in your doctor's office. you burst into laughter.

"your baby, huh?"

isha nods. i'm her sister! she signs, before gently reaching out and rubbing your stomach.

"what makes you think it's a girl?"

isha shrugs. most of your other babies are girls.

you cackle.

isha must be psychic, because your little girl comes into the world kicking and screaming in the middle of a family potluck.

it's horrible. violet passes out. surprisingly, ekko is the most helpful, giving everyone instructions and calling an ambulance for you while you wail on the living room floor.

isha's watching with a disgusted fascination the entire time, her lips curled in horror and shock, her eyes big and sparkling as she witnesses the miracle of birth.

powder and cait help keep you propped up-- both of them toweling up all your... fluids... while sevika holds your hand and kisses your head.

one baby, a ruined rug, and an ambulance ride to the hospital later, and your family finally gets to see you in better condition, and they get to meet your little girl under better circumstances.

"aweee." your four grown kids coo as they shove into the hospital room.

"hey, no shoving around the baby!" sevika whisper scolds.

isha pushes her way through all her older siblings, crawling up in sevika's lap to look down at her little sister.

she gasps in wonder. she looks like big mama. isha signs.

cait chuckles. "she does."

"what a little fucker, comin' out lookin' like the parent that did nothin..." vi teases. sevika scoffs and you giggle in agreement.

"she really is a little fucker. ruined our dinner." jinx huffs. "i was looking forward to that potroast, y'know."

isha giggles, pinching her fingers together, then flipping off the baby and pointing at her. little fucker.

you all burst into laughter. little fucker's silver eyes pop open, and she bursts into tears.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[pixiekiwi]

love your works! How about lokixreader (friends to lover). Where the reader decides to try to get over loki by going on a date because she thing loki doesn’t like her like that. So how loki finds out about her going out on a date and I’ll leave the rest up to you!

You Mischievous Little Thing | Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Reader

HELLOO!!! Thank you so much for this ask :3 I may have not written exactly what you were imagining, however I had a lottt of fun adding to this prompt. I also... wrote quite a bit more than I was expecting, the words just kept coming!! I hope you enjoy!! :D Reminder, asks are still open <3

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Description: Loki finds you on a date, with another man, wearing his colors.

Warnings: Slight NSFW content, no set timeline, jealous Loki ;), feminine reader, no use of (Y/N), slight knife play.

Word count: 3.8k

mea columba: my dove

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

All Mother Frigga was not only known for being one of the smartest and beautiful women of Asgard, but also for the grand soirée’s hosted almost every other week. Typically they were hosted for events, however Frigga also loved to host gatherings, this being one of those times.

Usually you loved the grand events, however, this time you dreaded going. You had actually managed to get a date for this ball. It wasn’t an accident, you were trying your best to move on. To get your mind away from your childhood best friend. The Young Prince, Loki of Asgard.

You had recently come to the realization you had feelings for the man. You noticed your heartbeat would speed up at the littlest of glances, the smallest of smiles, the sweetest of looks.

How you had come to this conclusion was finding your cheeks the brightest of red in the mirror while allowing your mind to fall to the idea of the Prince. You cursed yourself that day, and cursed the God of Mischief for fooling you into these feelings.

You couldn’t help it however, his bashful smiles, his bright blue eyes that seemed to just do things to you - you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

And you knew, he did not feel the same way. I mean, he was Loki of Asgard, and you were you, of… Well, nothing really.

You had met him in the gardens when you were young. Your father was a nobleman on the war council and you had been visiting the castle for a few weeks when you had bumped into the boy. Immediately the two of you clicked, it was easy. You had the same curiosity for the world, the same mischievous and playful spirit, the same yearning to know more, to be more.

And now, centuries later, you lived in the castle. You had moved to the castle at Loki’s request, to help him with his studies to become the Crown Prince for when his brother finally was crowned. Now, you had a rightful seat at the war council - just as your father had.

It had been years of the two of you being side by side, you had become inseparable. Everyone knew it, everyone saw it.

You had both dated others, but nothing ever stuck for either of you. You didn’t mind, until you realized you had feelings for the Young Prince.

So now there you were, down in the Ball Room as hundreds of other Asgardians danced around you all the while awkwardly standing next to your date. Ironically, the only dress you had at the moment to wear was a dark green gown, laced with gold ribbon.

The man you stood beside wasn’t terrible, he was sweet, but just… Boring. It was nothing against him, he was handsome, but he didn’t get your jokes, your sarcasm, or even your compliments. It seemed he truly didn’t have a brain.

You smiled at him as he spoke about battle, in a dramatic fashion - explaining something about decapitating an enemy. You had stopped listening minutes ago, but yet you sipped your drink politely, letting your eyes wander slightly, looking for… Well you know who you were looking for. To your dismay, you had yet to see the blue eyed man.

So you moved your eyes back over to your date, whose name, you actually could not remember for the life of you. He had seemed to now be distracted by one of his friends who had come to speak to him. Seeing as they were now enthralled in a conversation, you took this as the best moment to step away.

You moved quickly, giving a quick muttered excuse to leave and moving carefully to the large banquet table. The foods and deserts upon the table made your mouth water. You reached for a rosatum, thankful for the sweetness that dissolved upon your tongue.

You let your eyes wander again, you watched as couples danced happily upon the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s. Your heart panged in an odd manner, was that jealousy? Yearning?

You didn’t know, and preferably, you didn’t want to.

As you were finishing one off of the many drinks you had tonight, you felt a pair of eyes studying you from afar. Your own eyes snapped to them immediately.

You could sense him from what felt like miles away. You were not one for magic, but his magic you could feel. You didn’t know why, you assumed it had something to do with the time you had spent together. However you didn’t mind, he wasn’t able to sneak up on you anymore - he had done it enough.

As your eyes found his, a velvety feeling filled your lungs. A small smile crept up upon your face as you gave him a small curtsey, a running inside joke between you two.

You could see a smile creep up his expression as he bowed his head to you.

You could almost see his eyes graze your figure, but he was too far away to truly tell. Standing the upon golden steps across the room his aura bled confidence, something you could tell from hundreds of feet away. He was wearing a beautiful dark green and gold suit plated with golden armor, a show of his status.

You wanted to wave him over, and you almost did - until your date grabbed your shoulder.

“You disappeared back there,” he smiled politely, pulling your attention, albeit begrudgingly, away from the Young Prince across the hall.

You didn’t see how his face fell.

“I apologize,” you smiled half-heartedly.

“I was just getting to the best part,” He laughed, his face red and flushed from alcohol, “I hadn't told you about the beheading!”

He did, a thousand times already.

You hoped your true emotions were not showing upon your face, as that would be quite rude. But truly, you could not stand to be around this man anymore. You had already listened to enough battle re-telling while on the council. You wanted to come up with some excuse to leave, maybe that you had fallen ill - but before you could even get another word out, the hairs on the back of your neck stood.

“Would you care to dance My Lady?”

You spun to the side, unaware of your date’s narrowing eyes upon the man now in front of you both.

“Loki.” you had almost gasped out in relief, he was finally here to rescue you from this horrid date.

His sharp features seemed to soften as they took you in, admiring the gown you had put yourself in. Loki’s eyes met yours again and his feathery gaze fell into a stoic wall you could not not break through. He smiled politely at your date before holding out his arm for you to grab.

You took it willingly, wrapping your arm with his.

You didn’t even glance back to your date as Loki took you through the crowd, finding a perfect spot for the two of you to dance. You felt yourself become relaxed at the mere presence of him. His familiar oaky and leathery cologne invaded your senses, sending your heart into a frenzy of beats. His hold upon your arm was sturdy and powerful, almost as if proving something. You didn’t question it, happy you now had space between you and the man you were just with.

“A date?” The black haired man finally spoke out. His voice was solid, there was a strong lack of emotions behind his question, throwing you off.

You nodded.

“Y’know, Adrián is one of the stupidest Asgardians I’ve ever met.” He quipped. His tone was void of the typical teasing you were used to, but you smiled and laughed anyway, moving your body with his as you turned to dance with him.

“I realize that now, I actually didn’t even remember his name. I’m not sure he does either, he’s had enough mead for a lifetime.” You smiled, a genuine smile as you gazed up to Loki. Truly taking in his striking features. You had danced together time and time again before, however you always jumped at the chance to admire him. His hair was slicked back and styled, and his blue eyes almost looked green from the reflection of your clothing. “I think I could only handle the same story twice, and I have heard it enough already for a millenia.”

A small smile crept up to Loki’s face at your comment, but yet his stoic facade still stood between you and him. He spun you around once, stepping into place with the others dancing around you.

There was an odd silence between you two at this moment, it made you uneasy. Quiet was normal between you two - time spent together reading by the fire, studying in the archives, or even just spending time going on walks in and around the palace - but this quiet, it was different.

You kept your eyes on him as he failed to meet yours, “Is there something wrong?” You finally asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. You wanted to reach and brush the stray hair from his cheek back behind his ear, but you refrained.

Loki shook his head, licking his lips as he danced your body with his own. His eyes finally falling upon yours as he spoke, “It’s insulting for you to parade yourself out here in my colors, with your arm around another man.”

His words held a certain… frustration, that you could not decipher.

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, your eyes staying upon his as your eyebrows raised, “What?” A small nervous laugh escaping you.

His own eyebrow perked up, spinning you around with him as he scanned the crowd of people beside the group dancing, “Did you do it on purpose?” The irritation in his voice was certain as his eyes met yours again.

You had seen Loki frustrated before, angry even. However this was different - it was an emotion you had not seen upon the man. Your mouth went dry at the accusation, you were confused as to what he was implying - had you understood, you’d probably faint.

“I’m sorry?” You asked again, your voice still holding the nervous laugh from before. Avoiding his gaze you spoke again, “I do not understand what you are insinuating.”

While you failed to meet his gaze, you didn’t fail to notice the pink that seemed to climb up upon his neck. His own eyes flickering away from you to the crowd that surrounded you, he seemed… Nervous.

Suddenly, as if seeing something in the crowd - his eyes glowed with frustration once more before snapping to you again. He spun you around again, your gown glittering under the soft light from the chandeliers. Before pulling you close to his body, leading you two into a gentle waltz. The dancing had now become the background of your focus, giving Loki the authority to lead you was easy.

“Look at you, mea columba. You are adorned in gold and green.” Loki’s eyes scanned you up and down, a dangerous emotion flickering through his blue eyes. “You’re practically mine in those colors.”

Your eyes snapped to his blue ones in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but you had nothing on your mind to respond with, you were still mulling over his words in your mind.

Practically his.

You gulped as you closed your mouth, your eyes flitting from his eyes down to his lips, where a small smirk had begun to form upon them. Of course, he was playing a game with you, it seemed he always was. As your eyes met his again, you found the wall that was once there was now broken. You could see his frustration now melt into something different, confidence.

You hadn’t noticed Loki had led you both near one of the many exits of the ballroom. You now had stopped dancing, his arm still leading you two wherever he pleased. You looked around finally, seeing you had stepped past the beautiful archway leading you both down a quiet hall. You didn’t mind, the music was becoming overwhelming.

“It was the only gown that was decent enough for the ball.” The words tumbled from your lips haphazardly, it was the first response you could manage. You cursed yourself internally for drinking as much as you had. Deep down you knew that wasn’t the key to your flustered state, however it was easier to blame.

Loki’s eyebrow perked again at the excuse, leading you to an open isolated balcony looking upon the beautiful Gardens lit under the moonlight below. He turned to you, his arm unlacing with yours and taking a few steps away - keeping his eyes trained to your figure he spoke, “I thought you wore those colors for me.”

You froze, the soft chill of the wind sending shivers up your spine, or was that from him? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing thickly you moved to the edge of the balcony, looking down upon the gardens. Your nerves were on high alert, feeling his gaze upon you as you attempted to ignore him.

You couldn’t, his presence overwhelmed you in a way you couldn’t properly comprehend.

Wearing colors for him? Why would he care? Has he ever cared before?

You couldn’t recall a time where he had.

The silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound being the laughter from the ball room and the soft melody of music that echoed down the hall. Loki’s eyes fixated on you, and your own refusing to meet his. It was a silent battle of push and pull - a simple game which you knew you were losing.

You didn’t notice him pulling nervously at his fingers behind his back.

Knowing you couldn’t just let yourself lose, you pushed back. You felt confidence consume you, as you had played this game with him many times before. Straightening your posture you turned to him, your eyes finding his already upon your form.

They hadn’t left.

And finally - you spoke, bringing the silence to an end.

“I hadn’t realized you laid claim upon a color.”

As the jest fell from your lips, excitement flashed through the prince’s blue eyes. His hands falling to his sides as he moved closer. His body was now mere inches away from yours, you could feel the unusual cold chill from his body that you had grown to find comfort within. His hand reached to lift your chin, his eyes meeting yours.

It seemed as if lightning struck as they connected, your body tensed as the confidence you had just felt faltered for a moment.

A knowing smirk slowly made its way upon Loki’s face. “And anyone that wears it.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, your eyes flicking down his figure before meeting his eyes once again. You gazed at him through your eyelashes, your teeth finding your bottom lip as you returned his playful, smirk.

“Well,” You paused, taking your time to mull over your words as a certain heat rose in your lower half, “If I must, I may just have to - take it off?” You glanced away briefly, “If that pleases you,” you met his blue eyes again, “Your Highness.”

You lowered yourself into a curtsey, your head now below his abdomen. Before you could sink any lower, his cold hand grabbed your upper arm - pulling you back up to him. He was leaning over now, your faces just threads apart.

You could feel Loki’s breath upon your lips as he spoke, “Oh you mischievous little thing,” his tone low and rasping.

Lifting you and setting you upon the bench like railing of the balcony, one hand finding your lower back, his grasp the only thing between you and the gardens below sending a wave of adrenaline through you. His other hand - crawling up your leg under the flurry of skirts you adorned, your own hands finding his neck. He whispered finally, leaning over so that his lips now at your “You know I would like to do that myself.”

Stunned by his sudden actions, his declaration, and the closeness of the two of you - it had seemed as if you had suddenly lost the ability to speak. Your lips parted in surprise, his strong grasp steadying you just enough.

Your nervous gaze fell upon him - his attention fixated upon you. Your lungs shook as you took in a shuddering beeath, searching for the words to say, to continue this game.

But you couldn’t find those words, in fact, he didn’t even give you the chance to - as his lips were now on yours.

Your heart skipped eight beats at once and a small gasp escaped you. His kiss was hesitant at first, but when your eyes fluttered closed, and your hands found his hair, pulling him closer - as if giving him permission - he didn’t restrain himself any longer.

Loki’s hand on your lower back was now moving up to your shoulder blades, moving your body flush to his. The hand that resided within your skirts gripped your thigh tightly - as if he could sink claws into your warm flesh.

As he leaned closer, you broke away - your nervousness from being mere inches to the edge causing your momentous pause. Breathless and shamelessly warm, your lips parted, ready to warn him of your anxieties. His hungry eyes met yours and he spoke for you.

“You think I'd be so foolish as to let you fall?” He clicked his tongue teasingly as he spoke, “The only foolish thing I’ve done is let you be seen in this dress while not by my side.”

A wild glimmer flickered through his icy blue gaze, desperation clawed through them as they trailed down to your gown. As they flicked back up, the mischievous smirk you were used to took hold of his expression. You could see the gears turning in his mind - you knew his next actions would be bad news.

You felt yourself flush with amorous excitement.

Loki’s hand upon your back lowered once more - all the while still holding you sturdy - and his other hand loosened from your thigh. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong message now,” his eyebrow perked as he cocked his head to the side slightly, his tone low and commanding, but yet far from his usual Prince-like-regality, “Would we?”

You felt a cold sharp object graze where Loki’s hand once was. Your breath hitched as you heard the sharp ripping of fabrics.

Your eyes snapped down, your skirts now cut away, revealing your bare legs and a dagger gripped between Loki’s palm. As he conjured the dagger away in a fluff of green particles, feathery gasp escaped your lips at the sudden coolness of the breeze against your skin. His hand found your thigh once more - however much higher than he had before.

“Much better now,”, he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his lower half. His dangerous gaze never seemed to falter.

“Don’t you agree?”

You wanted to disagree, in fact you wanted to yell at him for cutting up such a beautiful gown. But hungry excitement flooded your veins.

“Loki…” You whispered out a warning. You wanted to say more, tell him that this game had gone too far - but the yearning for more clawed through your chest and down through your lower half. Something else told you this wasn’t a game anymore. Your tongue flitted over your lips - Loki’s eyes falling to them - watching as you bit back the words you truly wanted to say.

“Oh mea columba,” He practically groaned out - his voice coated with desperation, “As much as I love seeing you in gold and green, I think I’d much prefer you with nothing on.” As he spoke, his hand on your upper thigh crawled farther up - reaching the hem of your panties.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his cold fingers played with the hem “If that pleases you, My Prince.”

As the words left you, his gaze shot to yours. His eyes glowed with hunger, so much so that even you could see that he was starving.

“What would please me, is the idea of you never wearing another man's arm -” He paused, his fingers slipping under the hem, his hand grasping the side of your hips. He lowered, his lips finding your jaw - you stretching your neck to give him access. The kisses started slowly, giving you time to move your hands around to his neck and lowering them further down his chest.

“However,” he began again - his lips now lowering down to your neck “You can wear my colors-” He stopped again, his teeth now grazing your collarbone, unbeknownst to you his piercing gaze stared up at you, “As long as I get to claim you as mine.”

You shuddered at his words, realizing this was not a game anymore. This was desire. Your hands found the back of his head once more, his once styled and slicked back hair was now a mess - his natural curls now showing through.

The goosebumps that raised on your flesh was telling enough for Loki, he smirked against your skin. Straightening himself into a stand, all the while kissing you feverishly up your neck and collarbone.

Tightening his grip upon your hip - hovering his lips just breaths away from yours he spoke, “Should we take this to my bed chambers then,” he paused, his sensual gaze now upon yours, “My lady?”

You gazed up at him through your lashes - your body warm with desperation, with the want - no - the need, for more.

“Please-” the plea was barely a word, but instead a hushed moan that you couldn’t control.

At the sound Loki’s eyes flashed - both hands now at your hips, lifting you from the railing. His arms wrapped around you, flushing you against him. You barely had time to register the green particles that surrounded you both, before your head was upon a pillow and soft silk sheets beneath you. Loki’s arm released you gently as he leaned back, now straddling you.

He whipped his hair back, brushing it away from his face as he took a steadying breath, his eyes finding yours again. You noticed he no longer wore gold armour, but just his shite undershirt and black pants that he wore underneath.

Your heart seemed to stutter as you watched him, his biceps flexing as he moved to unbutton half of his shirt. His sensual gaze looking you up and down, sending shivers through your spine, and velvet through you.

“Now,” He spoke finally, pulling your hands that laid at your sides up, above your head onto the headboard. His face now inches from yours once more, “Let’s get this torn gown off of you.”

[impala-dreamer]

The Devil On Stage

A Short Story

~Lonely during his solo panel, Jensen calls Y/N out to join him on stage. Having nothing much to say, she lets her mind wander a little too far while watching him regaled the audience with stories from the old days on set.~

Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

1,432 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Oral. A little Dom!Jensen. Lovely. Just lovely... | Originally published to Patreon December 2022

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The devil was on stage, sitting just a few feet away.

God, he looked delicious. Truly better than any man had the right to, especially clad in double denim. Y/N narrowed her eyes on him, her mouth watering as he gestured to the audience, animatedly recalling some stunt he’d pulled on set.

The crowd ate it up and he looked back at Y/N over his shoulder, giving her a wink.

She had no clue what he was saying, no idea what the question had been. There was only one thing on her mind, only one thing she could focus on.

Jensen.

Jensen, Jensen, Jensen… The devil in her mind, the monster in her sheets, the rocket between her thighs.

A flood of warmth washed down her body and Y/N shut her legs, squeezing them together tightly. She bit her lip as Jensen laughed, his voice booming through the speakers and her head.

“That’s a great question,” he said, licking his lips slowly and turning to look at Y/N. He smiled, all perfect teeth beneath a clipped, sexy beard. “You wanna take this one?”

She startled, nearly dropping the microphone in her hand. “Uh…” Sitting up quickly, she struggled to remember the question, but nothing was coming to her. She laughed lightly and shrugged. “Nah, you’re better at this than I am. Go on.”

He grinned at the crowd. “She’s right. I am.”

Y/N rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and the audience laughed.

Jensen turned away and all Y/N could see was his plump little ass, stretching the denim tight. She had warned him not to wear those jeans, nearly pulling him back into bed that morning as he got dressed.

He never listened to her.

And now she was in trouble.

The crowd clapped at some answer Jensen had given and he spun on his heel, turning towards the next fan in line.

“How are ya? What’s your name? What do you want from me?”

Y/N laughed. “How do you know she’s not here for me?” she asked, perking up so the world couldn’t see just how lost in lust she truly was.

Jensen shook his head and puffed out his chest. The thin black tee struggled beneath his jacket and her eyes shot right to his pert nipples, standing up and begging to be licked.

“No way,” he countered, nodding at the fan. “She’s all mine.”

The young woman nearly fainted and Y/N hid her face in her hands, pretending to be embarrassed for everyone in the room.

“Come on now… I’m waiting.”

Jensen cocked a brow and a hush fell over the crowd as many an erotically minded fan began tweeting the dominant exposition.

Y/N was right there with them, melting into herself as arousal spread. She felt her pulse quicken, her nipples harden. Her clit throbbed as Jensen cleared his throat and it took everything inside of her not to moan right there on stage.

Absently, she rubbed the microphone, her thumb and index finger circled tight around the black plastic.

Jensen leaned in, listening with a stern expression as the flustered fan asked her question.

Y/N heard none of it, staring at the thick rope of muscle on the side of his freckled throat and remembering what it felt like to feel his heartbeat throb against her lips. She shivered and bit down hard on her bottom lip, hopelessly distracted.

“Interesting…” Jensen straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, thinking up a safe answer. “Well…”

Y/N could feel the wetness pooling in her panties and she locked her knees together, sure that everyone could see the dampness seeping through her jeans.

Green eyes flickered over her face and plump lips lifted in a half grin.

He was the devil.

He knew exactly what was on her mind.

The lights warmed her cheeks but Jensen was warming everything else. With his eyes slyly on her, he fisted the hem of his tee and lifted it high, flashing his stomach to a needy world and a desperate Y/N. It was a tiny bit of skin, just a quick flap of dark fabric against smooth, creamy skin, but it was the last straw.

The microphone fell from her hand with a deafening thud.

Mindlessly aroused, Y/N slid off of her stool and moved towards him. Like a zombie, she dropped to her knees at his feet and looked up with wide, hazy eyes.

Stunned, Jensen’s jaw dropped an inch and his brow lifted again as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, cheeks reddening as her hands lifted to frame his hips.

“I think you know,” she answered softly, running her fingers along the edge of his jeans, caressing the soft patch of skin.

His breath quickened and she could see the outline of his cock as it lengthened in his shorts. She smirked and chewed her lip, moving her fingers down to the buckle of his belt.

With a gasp, he grabbed her wrists. His eyes flickered from hers to the crowd, unsure of what to do.

“We… Y/N… what the hell?”

She chanced a peek at the audience and then shrugged. Not a soul was moving, every fan shocked into silence and staring.

Y/N licked her lips slowly and tugged leather from metal. “Just relax,” she whispered.

His grip loosened. “But…”

The zipper fell slowly, the cool metal tight between her fingers. Y/N held his gaze, teasing with her ruby painted lips and pink tongue. “Let them watch…”

She tugged the denim from his hips, shoved his shorts down to his knees, and kissed her way up his inner thigh. Jensen hissed as her lips grazed the tip of his cock and the audience buzzed in a low voice, stunned.

Y/N dug her nails into his thighs and used her tongue to massage his cock, humming as it grew against her mouth. The taste of him drove her insane and she wiggled on her knees, stuck her ass out, moaned desperate and loud.

Jensen dropped his microphone and the thud echoed through the sound system. Y/N couldn’t hear a thing but his groans, her mind too clouded with lust and purpose.

“Fuck, baby…” He rocked against her face, nudging his cock against her lips. “Please…”

She obliged, fitting the soft circle of her mouth around him and sucking him deep inside. He stumbled on his feet, unsteady as he hit the back of her throat.

“Jesus!”

His hand found the back of her head and he pushed down, forcing her to take him deeper. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto the stage floor.

Giving in, Jensen thrust his hips, fucking her face with abandon. She swallowed what she could, caressed his shaft with her tongue, dug her fingers into his skin. Her eyes rolled back, lids fluttering as he used her mouth like a fuck toy. His thick fingers tugged through her hair, moving her, sliding her back and forth over himself. He moaned loudly, his edging growl filling the auditorium.

“This what you wanted?” Jensen grunted. “Wanted me to use you while everyone watched?”

Y/N whimpered in reply as tears sprang to her pretty eyes.

Camera flashes lit her face and Jensen stared down at her, locking his gaze into hers.

“That’s it,” he sneered, “let me see it in your eyes…”

She struggled to keep her eyes wide even as her vision blurred with tears.

“Good girl.”

He exhaled heavily and quickened his pace. His upper lip twitched with effort and his shoulders curled inwards.

The rumble of the crowd grew louder as he pulled his cock from her mouth and wrapped his fist around it, jerking quickly.

“Open up.”

He grit his command and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Her tongue fell out and she tipped her head back, waiting for her reward.

Jensen growled deeply as he came, spurting his seed onto her tongue and across her flushed cheeks. He sprayed her face and she trembled with happiness, her cunt pulsing and dripping.

The fans erupted into thunderous applause and Y/N startled, gasping as the daydream faded away. She shook herself and shifted on her chair, still seated and clean.

Jensen waved a hand in front of her face, looking quite concerned. “You OK over there?”

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded. Her voice was high and tight with lust when she answered.

“Yeah… just a little… distracted…”

2025 Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @caplanbuckybarnes @cevenasdove-baby @cosicas-cuquis @deanwinchesterswitch

@feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @illicithallways @jackles010378 @k-slla

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@somebrokeartstudent @the-wounded-healer05 @zepskies

Add Yourself To The List

[delusion-is-back]

supernatural but Sam and Dean find out there's a quite popular true crime podcast about their "crimes" all over the states, being referred to as the Demon Brothers — the irony is not lost of them — they are in the top most wanted criminals of America.

At first Dean is getting a kick out of it of course, he plays it in the radio of Baby while they're on the road to Sam's annoyance. He thinks it makes them sound badass being the criminals that have eluded police for so long, but he quickly sides with Sam that this podcast sucks ass when the girl narrating their lives —or at least, the public records available of them— starts to get it all wrong, accusing their father of somehow bring involved in the mysterious death of his wife, saying that the traumatic experience of losing their mother and being raised by an abusive alcoholic may have contributed to their depravity and devil worshiping, Dean refused to keep listening after that and just mumbled that it's a stupid podcast, Sam doesn't fight it on that.

You'd think that would be it right? Of course not, nothing is that easy for the Winchesters.

Some supernatural shenanigans make it so Sam and Dean are called over to a case in a nearby city, and oh how irony works that the girl being tormented by a vengeful ghost is none other than the author of their podcast.

They don't recognize her at first since she uses a fake name online, but she definitely recognized them when they came knocking at her down dresses as a repair man to check on a "gas leak" at her house, because had they listened a couple more episodes of the pod they may have heard were she went into detail about their MO of pretending to be government / city workers to get into the houses of their victims.

So she, understandably, freaks the fuck out.

She screams bloody murder and starts throwing things at them like her life depends on it — because it kinda does — until the commotion is so big the neighbors get involved and the brothers are forced to flee.

Now the brothers have to regroup and think of how they're going to solve this case when the authorities have already been informed that these extremely dangerous criminals are lurking around.

Dean feels tempted for a second to just leave and let her deal with this on her own, since she's made a living out of shit talking them online, painting them as these horrible sadistic murders when all they've done — all they've sacrificed — has been to protect the innocent. Sam and Dean always knew theirs was a thankless job but this time it was hitting closer to home than before.

In the end the brothers decide to do the right thing and find a way to help this girl whether she wants it or not, and it takes them sneaking into her house in the middle of the night, when they know the vengeful spirit of going to strike, and almost getting shot at by the girl —because america, she for a gun— and Sam being tossed around like a rag doll by said spirit before the girl starts to understand they're not what she needs to be worried about in this situation.

By the next day there's one vengeful spirit less to be worried about, another case solved, another live saved and maybe even a friend and ally.

The girl apologizes profusely once she understands the nature of their job and the reality of their actions, the brothers laugh about it a little, they can't blame her for being afraid, they know how it looks like from the outside, they only ask her to get her facts right before she starts misinforming the public about them in her podcast.

They know they can't change the way the world sees them and they're made peace with it, but it's still a nice surprise when a couple weeks later they can't find that true crime podcast of them online anymore, instead the girl starts a new series about supernatural beings and how to handle them. It's labeled as 'fantasy' as not to be taken too seriously but it seems to be an even bigger success than the true crime stories and it gets a laugh out of Sam, specially because this time she actually got her facts right.

[an0nwr1tes]

DP x DC idea, post AGIT

So, Bad ending Parent route for Danny when his foks find out he’s phantom which triggers the usual OH ANCIENTS YOU HAVE TO DIP NOW DANNY but, instead of it being Danny revealing it to his parents or his parents finding out by accident it’s Vlad who’s revealed it, completely by accident mind you, so now it’s Danny and Vlad who are on the run and have to jump dimensions because the Fentons definitely went to the GIW after finding out that not only is their SON a ghost but so is their oldest friend?

The GIW proceed to reclaim all of Vlad’s business’s and property’s meaning they find out about the clones and sure Vlad might have stuff set up to blow should someone who isn’t a halfa or already in the know find out about it but there’s no way Vlad just ignored Dani after AGIT and what about Dan? Those were his fail safe body’s but he can’t just kill the GIW because he’s not just recovered so suddenly the Government and fentons find out that there are TWO MORE HALFA’s or ghosts puppeting human corpses as far as their concerned which means all four halfa’s are on the run!

So one thing leads to another and they decide as a group to just jump ship, they get to the ghost zone but as nothing can ever go right for them they get attacked and after months/weeks? Of constantly fighting the GIW and having their names and faces plastered on very screen in the world they’re all too weak to properly fight back and so they run again.

Danny finds a portal and decides that anywhere is better than here and dives in the others following, now their are in the DCU.

So where do they end up in? Gotham of course, and no this isn’t just because I want the Bats to go; who are these skrunkaly children and feral raccoon man?? But because objectively Gotham is one of the best places for them to be when none of them have ID’s or social security numbers or like….anything at all.

So they arrive but nothings going right, Dan and Dani’s clone body’s haven’t stabilised, Danny’s powers are on the fitzs and Vlad just flat out can’t go ghost after he took some really bad hits form the GIW and Fentons to keep the younger less durable Halfa’s safe.

Now here’s where the fun starts, Vlad isn’t willing to live in poverty but he doesn’t have enough powers to properly build back his empire, Danny refuses on principle to overshadow people and do the other morally incorrect things Vlad does for fun, Dan would do it he’s destabilising so there’s no way he can survive overshadowing someone with this body melting and him being stuck out of time line again and Dani’s just too weak at the moment to really understand what’s happening.

For the Dani bit it’s because the other Halfa’s are all complete, Dan is a full ghost so even if his body melts they just need to get a storage device to keep him till they can make another, Danny and Vlad are weaker but their body’s are fine as true Halfa’s can be so Dani is the first priority.

Now I see this going two ways, Vlad uses persuasion(using the power of suggesting, literally he just went: you want to give us this apartment, the guy: I want to give you this apartment) and then Dani and Danny stay at home so Danny can try and start stabilising her while Dan and Vlad get to work on their criminal empire.

Eventually this gets back to the bats and they decide that Vlad and Dan are the main perpetrators and are keeping Danny and Dani prisoner and forcing Danny to make them weapons and machines by threatening her sister, which would make it hilarious if after they’ve stabilised Dani she takes one look at the bats and goes: I am SO going to mess with them! and goes full super villain.

The second way (AKA; the funnier way) is if Danny has to help stabiles Dani and Dan so Vlad is the one left to go about things but he’s weaker so they don’t get an apartment and Danny is stuck feeding their cores his own ectoplasm in whatever abandoned building they’ve squatted in for the night while Vlad grumbles and runs around attempting to steal things and not doing a very good job at it.

The reason I think this is the funnier option is because in my head, Dani and Dan make themselves look smaller, kinda de-age but their both still them, so that Danny doesn’t have to expend as much energy meaning that the Bats chance upon this group of what looks like a father and his trans-son (because Jazz SO gave that idiot enough thearapy that he isn’t as easily misunderstood as he used to be) and like two very young children and the whole family kinda goes; ….we have to help them

This is also funnier(and this is the main point) because the way that help would definitely be trying to convince Vlad to get a job at WE after Danny let’s it slip that Vlad’s an engineer, which he is case and point the GIANT LAB UNDER HIS CASTLE, and Vlad will be suffering because he DOES NOT want to work for some billionaire but they also need stuff to stabilise Dani and Dan and Danny can’t keep doing it because he’s so weak after expending this much energy that Vlad genuinely thinks he could die, ghost self and all and has to reluctantly agree.

Feel free to use this however, just tag me if you do ok?

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have like, some nice words?

Like I’m just so tired of how constant tme/tma speak is on my dash. Posts about how transfems should leave friend groups of “tmes” because they will inevitably be bigots

Why are half the popular transfems on this site horribly transphobic in their own right the moment a transmasc dares exist in their vicinity

Sorry I’m basically just venting in your inbox, thank you for being a breath of fresh air

i'm sorry you're dealing with this. it's natural to be worn down by this behavior, it's literal transphobia and intersexism and people just don't seem to care.

the tme/tma (transmisogyny exempt/transmisogyny affected) binary doesn't work. the issue is that in real life, most queerphobes you come across are assuming you are a trans woman. the average person associates the concept of transness with transfemininity on average, unless they personally know some transmascs or trans men, or are one. it's very rare to find a stranger who gets it. every time i come out to a stranger, they immediately switch to she/her pronouns, call me ma'am/miss/girl/etc., and ask what my "real" name is. it's really weird

transmasculine invisibility is a genuine issue offline. certain pockets of the internet are obsessed with hating trans men but that doesn't mean that the vast majority of people in the offline world know a damn thing about any of this. i do not ever have anyone understand that i mean i'm transmasculine when i say im trans. as i'm transmasc and transfem i don't really challenge it, but it sucks that people have one assumption and one only.

it happens with other queers. i moved in with a bunch of perisex trans femmes and was dating one for a while and flirting with a few others. my other roommate was a perisex cis gay man. i was the only intersex person who was there at the time, and i think a very small handful of others were around regularly, so there was a high chance that people should've been pretty informed about the existence of intersex identities. i know some people who came around pretty often were intersex, at least from my memory

the second people found out about my physical anatomy, they switched how they treated me. everyone thought i had a penis for some reason? and were made wildly uncomfortable upon finding out about it. when i revealed that i'm intersex & genderqueer, and that i'm bigender: a trans man, and a trans woman all hell broke loose suddenly nobody knew what to think or feel or anything.

people honest to god just defaulted to misgendering me.

and treating me like i was stupid as fuck.

this was the hardest part. i was being treated like i was dumb as HELL and it frustrated me to no end.

my emotions were "too much". i kept getting told i was too needy or whiny or possessive or that i needed too much of sometimes time or that i was touching the wrong things around the house. i kept being criticized for moving objects that impacted an environment i was allowed to work at. i was criticized for organizing a bookshelf i was asked to organize. i was ridiculed and insulted. my roommate and a girl who was flirting with me questioned my dissociative identity disorder, which i have plenty of medical records spanning back to 2017 from various doctors in various states and hospitals showing my diagnostic history with dissociation and dissociative disorders, and he also questioned my schizophrenia when i have records dating back to 2015 showing my history with severe psychotic episodes and the development of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type

i was no longer the arbiter of my own lived experience because everyone found out i didn't have a penis. i'm a vagina haver so i'm stupid. i'm dumb. i'm a cis woman. i'm faking. i'm not actually a man. well i am a man. i'm evil.

i'm breaking this silence on this garbage. it's time stop treating trans men and mascs this way. we're real people. we have real experiences. we are also being talked over. it really is possible to speak over us. it's happening right now. it doesn't need to. trans men talking about how we don't need to be seen this way isn't hurting trans women. we're being misgendered. we're being hurt by transandrophobic and misogynstic behavior. one does not need to hurt trans men in order to heal from one's own trauma with manhood. it won't help. it doesn't do anything

this is such a goddamn long ask but i wanted to thank you for this because your honesty and bluntness is what's needed right now. thank you to every trans man and transmasc speaking up about this right now. please feel free to send your own experiences with this because it's over. i'm not humoring it. i'm going to keep talking about it until people calm down and understand that conversations have multiple participants

i now more than ever want to actually focus on uplifting transmasculinity and trans men. i have been forcing myself to try to focus on a broader range of topics to avoid backlash but let's not start 2025 thinking we have to do this anymore. we literally don't. it's over. trans women are allowed to talk about the struggles we face. always and forever. but a trans man talking about their own experience is not an attack on you. and sometimes a trans man will give you criticism. and sometimes... you have to take it.

sometimes you have to take a trans man's criticism.

you really, really do.

and it's not the end of the world.

if a trans man tells you you're talking over them, you really should actually stop and step backwards and reassess what you said to them. you may have done it on accident. actually listen before you keep talking. if a trans man tells you they have a health condition, listen. don't participate in this behavior. there's literally no reason to think that trans men and mascs are too stupid to articulate our own experiences. it's ridiculous. that's how society treats women- you don't want to be treated that way! please don't do it to other people, especially people you view as women...

anyway i hope that this helps in any way. i'm just tired of this shit. i'm happy to start 2025 by completely and totally breaking the silence on transmasculine and trans male erasure. join me. we're not doing this shit anymore. we're starting this year off being more compassionate. we're starting off this year accepting that manhood isn't what has traumatized any of us, it's toxic masculinity, it's patriarchy, it's specific men. let's ditch this shit

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Question...?

This is part one, here's part two, part three, part four, and part five (Completed Story)

✯ pairing:  Jenson Button x pop star!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

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They met in a very convoluted way, at a Grand Prix she had been invited to. His reputation was to uphold, a playboy, a player, and she could not blame him, not with that unreal face, that dreamy aura he had. She felt almost lucky to talk to him, his sweet words, suave smiles, made her feel so important somehow.

The champagne buzzed in her veins, the music thrummed against her chest, and then Jenson was there, his arm brushing hers, his lips close enough that her breath caught. She did not expect it to happen—she was not supposed to care—but when his hand cupped her face, and he kissed her, the world faded to nothing but him and his soft lips.

The moment shattered when laughter erupted around them. His friends—they were watching, clapping, teasing, making it all feel like a game. For a moment, she flushed with embarrassment. Then, as if on cue, everyone cheered. They were clapping for them.

But Jenson pulled back too quickly, his smile, that almost resembled a smirk, more of a mask than anything else. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, but the look in his eyes lingered.

They saw each other after that, but only in stolen moments, their busy lifestyles not allowing much more. She didn’t know what they were, and Jenson was not one to define anything. He would call when he was in town, and she would pretend she was not waiting, as if he had not been the fuel to her fire, the muse of her works. Sometimes, he was sweet—bringing her flowers, laughing at her terrible jokes—but other times, he felt distant, like a dream she was trying too hard to hold onto.

The next time they met, it was at her apartment. He had come over late, his face tired but still so beautiful it made her chest ache. 

When it was over, he held her. It was in instants like that she felt his, she felt the luckiest person, almost as if the self-doubt she had been carrying for years was now a mere feather, and much more important than when fans cheered for her.

But that sweet dream, that idyllic feeling only lasted a few hours, as he left, he just left in the middle of the night. Something she only discovered the very next morning while the early sun rays cast through the big windows. She could not blame him, they were nothing really, and she knew exactly who he was.

One night, at a party in London, she spotted him across the room. He was surrounded by his usual crowd, his golden smile lighting up the space. She wanted to go to him, but why?. And then a man she barely knew, some DJ, sidled up to her. Very popular, very famous, and a very big ego—a dickhead, her friends would later call him—but he was there, and Jenson was not, and more important, he seemed interested in her, Jenson did not.

She let the guy flirt with her, let him buy her a drink, let him place a hand on her waist. All the while, she felt Jenson’s eyes on her, burning across the room. For a fleeting second, she thought, she wished, he might come over, pull her aside, say something—anything—to show her he cared.

But he did not. He just turned away, his expression unreadable.

That night, she went home, not alone yet lonely.

For so long, she just wanted to call him, to demand answers, to ask why he could not just tell her what he wanted. But she didn’t, maybe because she was embarrassed, maybe because she knew the answer would hurt her. Instead, she would find herself, more often than she would like to admit, stare at the ceiling, replaying every glance gosh, his blue eyes, every word, gosh, that English accent, every kiss, gosh, his soft, almost soothing, lips I wished I could call mine.

It was always like this: him holding her at arm’s length, just close enough to keep her hoping, and she did, she always hoped. He was the only one who was able to have her hoping, to make her feel so much, almost as he was a color she had never seen before.

Weeks turned into months. She threw herself into her work, her music, other meaningless relationships, anything to distract from the way he lingered in her mind. But sporadically, she’d catch his name in a headline or hear his voice in an interview, and the ache would come rushing back like her blood would do when he was around.

She wondered if he ever thought about her, she craved it. If he ever regretted not fighting for her. If he wished he’d stayed, not only that damn night, but forever.

One night, at another party, she saw him again. He was with someone new. She tried not to stare, tried not to care, not to instantly curse and hate that innocent woman, but when their eyes met across the room, her heart clenched.

She turned away, pretending to laugh at something her friends said, but all she could think about was him.

Later, alone in her hotel room, she couldn’t stop herself from asking the questions that haunted her.

Did he wish he’d put up more of a fight? Did he miss her the way she missed him? Did he ever think about that kiss in the crowded room, when for just a moment, it felt like the world was theirs? It felt like the world, him, was mine.

It was just a question.

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✯ authors note: I will do part two ASAP. English is not my first language. I hope you liked it <333

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 34/42? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN (interlude) ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY (interlude) TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE TWENTYSIX TWENTYSEVEN TWENTYEIGHT TWENTYNINE THIRTY (interlude) THIRTYONE THIRTYTWO THRTYTHREE

Family tree if you need/want it.

CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR

                When he opens Tartaruga Violet he asks Leandro and Silvia to come and oversee Tartaruga Blu while he’s gone. It’s the only solution that feel right, and he knows he’s being  a little bit of a control freak but it’s also hisreputation that is on the line. Fortunately Leandro understands that better than anyone, and having drilled Bradley to his own exacting standards he’s one of the few people he trusts explicitly. There are a few others he’s worked with, his sous chefs after months of him watching, but still. Doubling the number of restaurants is stressful and he’s glad the Jake is deployed and away from the worst of him. Not that he thinks Jake would care but a little part of him is anxious about it.

                Coupled with all that, Leandro and Silvia sit him down and insist on going through their last will and testament. They’re leaving him the restaurant, and they’ve already spoken to everyone else in the family. It was a unanimous decision. He knows he’s a fully grown adult but facing the idea that he will one day lose more people close to him makes him feel sick, is glad that Leandro and Silvia are both whole and healthy.

…            …            …

                It’s an absolute flurry of activity after Vi drops the bombshell. Jake calls his sisters, and those that can head over. There’s an immediate Facetime call; he’s used to talking to Leandro and Silvia in his almost fluent Italian, Leo there to translate any words he stumbles over. His entire family stares at him though, like he’s sprouted an additional head and he pulls a face at them while Leandro and his dad just look at each other. His dad’s Italian isn’t the greatest, not used as often as Jake uses his. He expects that’s going to change soon enough though. Leandro just slips into English and Jake watches as his dad just blinks in surprise.

                Then Leo is starting a second video call, because he can see Silvia getting impatient in the background. Her English is more heavily accented, makes her self-conscious which Jake secretly thinks is ridiculous because she definitely speaks better English than any of his sisters speak Italian. Leo however takes on the translation duties, although Vi soon takes over and Leo is there, wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder and just holding him.

                “Pretty fucking wild huh?”

                “Yeah. She didn’t give you a heads up?”

                “No she fucking didn’t. Probably thought I’d spill the beans.”

                Jake snorts, because that does track. If it’s good news Leo can barely contain it, starts thrumming with nervous energy before he just blurts it out. He’ll never be able to surprise Jake, which is kind of reassuring, he’s okay with his life being a little predictable. Leo disappears to the kitchen to talk with his mom, and probably bake something. He has a way with her that Jake envies but is so grateful for at the same time. Then they’re talking plane tickets and Leo is offering his house for them all to stay and he is never going to give Leo shit about his decision to buy the big-ass house ever again. He’d thought six bedrooms was overkill, but it’s going to be bursting at the seams.

                Silvia and Leandro already have flights booked, waving away Jake’s protests that they won’t be there to see them for very long. Apparently they don’t need to spend time with Jake and Leo, they want to meet everyone else. Leandro is bringing his sister Rosa, Vi’s mom, and his brother Guilliano. They’re all of a similar age to his own mom and dad, and then there are all of the other Gallo family members and Jake has never thought of his family as small before, not when he’s always had five older sisters. But now… he’s sitting beside Vi and hearing a whole lot of stories for a second time but this time Vi is showing photos and saying things like this is your third cousin, adding commentary or funny anecdotes and he catches his sisters that have made it all looking seemingly shell-shocked. Both their parents are only children, they’ve never had any cousins before. And now they have… dozens.

…            …            …

                Bradley hadn’t ever thought he’d officially be part of Leandro and Silvia’s family. It hasn’t mattered, he’s felt like part of their family for well over a decade, but now he has Leandro clasping him in a tight hug and thanking him and Vi for finding the long-lost branch of the Seresin family. Bradley’s not quite sure how to take that, because it’s not like he set out to do it, and he didn’t even know the important of the name Seresin until very recently. He prefers the name Gallo, says as much and gets kisses to both his cheeks from Leandro and Silvia both.

                So he’s not officially part of their family, but he has a ring that travels with him whenever he knows he’s going to be seeing Jake. Has done for over a year. Leandro and Silvia both know about the ring, and they were happy for him before they had even met Jake. Now that this has all come out of the woodwork he suspects that they’re overjoyed. He’s going to use it when the moment feels right; then he’ll actually be miraculously be marrying into the family, families, who have opened their homes and hearts to him. He just has to find the right moment. Along with talking to Jake about Ice and Mav, who he’s now communicating with almost every other day, wanting updates on Ice’s treatment. Silvia asks about him every time they speak and Bradley’s glad that she approves.

…            …            …

                Jake’s time left with his family and Leo is numbered in single days now and he hates how fast this time has gone. He’s off to Fallon for some training, won’t even be gone that long, but he has some things he’d like to take care of before he leaves.

                “You call him Leo. It’s good to hear. My son called by the name I gave him.”

                “Sì,” Jake nods, because he knows this. Knows as well that there are people who also used to fill that roll and Leo has never talked about them, still only mentions his Uncle Tom in passing. They’re so long ago that he supposes Leo simply doesn’t think they’re important. It doesn’t matter, Jake knows anyway, and he doesn’t want to hurt Leo by making him dig through it all.

                “You know his name… Leonardo?” Leandro asks him, and Jake nods, grateful the older man is speaking slowly, clearly wants Jake to understand what he is saying. He knows they could switch to English just as easily, but Leandro must have his reasons. “When he comes to us, all he eats is pizza pizza pizza. I say he is like hungry teenage turtle.”

                “Adolescent mutante ninja tartaruga?” Jake asks, grinning widely and turning his head to look at Leo, who is busy talking with Maria and Silvia, something about pasta he thinks, from the hand gestures and words he can hear.

                “Sì. Tartaruga ninja mutante adolescente,” Leandro corrects, but Jake impressed he got it as correct as he did the first time.

                “Tartaruga blu… Leonardo.”

                “Oh… certo certo,” Jake says, because it is of course obvious once it’s spelled out like that. Leonardo being the ninja turtle with the blue mask. He wonders why it sounds so familiar though and then realizes it’s the name of Leo’s restaurant. The blue turtle. Sneaky fucker. He did name it after himself. Jake laughs and shakes his head, accepts the hugs and kisses from Leandro and basks in the fact that his life is pretty fucking good right now.

…            …            …

                Leo has taken all of his family away to Tartaruga Violet, and now that he knows it’s named after both Vi and the ninja turtles he can’t help grinning every time he thinks of it. He’s having a family dinner, just him and his sisters for once, something they haven’t managed in quite a while but he’d really pushed for it this time and Leo had been more than accommodating, helping prepare some food that they could eat. They’ve still got about a day and a half before he has to leave, and he knows Leo is getting anxious to get back to his own work. But he needs to tell his sisters something first.

                “I’m going to ask him to marry me,” Jake says, and all five of his sisters jerk around to stare at him like his words have electrocuted them. “What? We’ve been together for over three years. This shouldn’t be, like, a surprise…”

                “Uh. But… you. Um.”

                “What?” Jake snaps, can see his sisters all exchanging looks, and he’s suddenly worried that they’ve been pretending to like Leo all along. “Do you suddenly not like him? Think… I don’t fucking know. Why do you all look like it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had?”

                “You know he’s on TV right?”

                “Yeah. He has some new kind of cooking show. And he’s published a cookbook. I care that he loves his job, I don’t need to know all the ins and outs… His restaurant keeps him busy. Especially now he has two. He said he’d still love me if he was rich and famous.”

                For some reason that makes Maria choke and cough on her glass of water and Jake frowns. Maybe Leo is a bit more well known than he thought, but he doesn’t think his sisters are a good gauge, they were fans of his three years ago so probably think he’s everywhere.

                “That’s great Jake. We’re all really happy for you…”

                “Oh wow, he’s going to be my actual brother-in-law. That’s going to be really fucking cool.”

                “You think he’ll say yes?”

                All five of them look at him with a variety of expression and then as one seem to break into laughter simultaneously and Jake wonders what, exactly, is so funny.

                “You’re an idiot.”

                “Of course he’ll say yes. That man is so gone on you.”

                “If he doesn’t pull out a ring for you I will honestly be so shocked.”

                “He’ll say yes. He probably would have said yes a couple of years ago…”

                “You could be down on bended knee doing up your shoelace and he’d say yes…”

                “Yeah yeah, okay, I get the picture… thanks for the votes of confidence.”

                “You don’t need them. Seriously.”

                “Now… how are you going to do it?”

                “I’ve got a couple of ideas…”

…            …            …

                It’s been a crazy ten days, feeling both not long enough and too-long all at once. He loves his family. And Jake’s family. But he’s also more than ready to return to his routine and the bustle and noise of his kitchen. He just wishes he could take Jake with him. Right now though it’s nice, just him and Jake walking through the empty park where the farmers market is usually held. It’s dark, but it’s warm enough, the air not quite turning crisp with the coming fall. The sky is clear and the stars are putting on a show.

                “You know, if I could I’d take you back to where we first met, if I could even remember where it was. You probably remember it.”

                “Uh… yeah. I think it’s a barber shop now.”

                “Huh. Then this is definitely the best place. Where we met again and started proper and I don’t ever want to think about my life without you in it.”

                He shouldn’t be surprised, they’ve talked about their future together, a one-day future that they’re both certain of the other being a part of. However it’s still a little overwhelming knowing that Jake really wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Overwhelming in a good way and he can feel the happy tears already trickling down his cheeks.

                “Will you marry me?”

                “Yes. Yes. Nothing would make me happier…”

                “Really? Nothing at all? Because I can think of a few things…”

                “Jake…”

                “Say my name again…”

                “Jake…”

                “Yeah baby… just like that…”

[flowersforthemachines]

Wip Wednesday (featuring post-canon Rookanis divorcees)

Recently got into thinking about all the ways Rook and Lucanis could burn and crash post-canon. And also of Lucanis's banter about putting Wardens out of their misery at the end of their Calling at their requests. And so the idea of him agreeing to do the same for Rook despite them not seeing each other for a while was born.

(Bellara is there because I have a headcanon of blighted!Bellara joining the Wardens after the events of the game. if you get it you get it)

“How did you know I was there?” he asked. “In the Eluvian room.” “Oh, I didn't know it was you, precisely," Bellara replied. "But I felt the Eluvian’s magic so I knew there'd have to be someone. Like a guest.” “Or an assassin.”  “We haven't had those in a few years,” she laughed. “Which is good. I don't miss almost getting stabbed. Or poisoned.” Lucanis, if I can have one last request: please make our break-up at least somewhat public among the Crows. I've had too many dealings with assassins who want to get at the First Talon through me.  “And they kept spooking the griffons.” Bellara scoffed.  “How are the griffons these days, by the way?” he asked.  Why. Won't you. Ask about. Rook?  “Good. Better. Bigger. You can't believe how big they can grow until you see it. I'm not sure if even I believe that, and I've been here the entire time.” He couldn't pay any mind to the halls they walked through — his concentration worked only to keep himself together. All he could do was walk forward. It felt like the tiniest slip could be his undoing.   “And how are the Crows?” Bellara asked in a way that begged to fill the silence.  “Betrayal, succession feuds, assassination. You know, the usual.” “I don't think it's usual,” she mused. “Not for most of the world anyway.” Ask. Her. About— “How’s Rook?” The words burst out of him like a dog breaking off a leash.  Bellara stopped.  “Bad.” Back turned towards him, she continued, “I almost said that you can imagine, but you can't, I guess. Not like I can. The Blight, it's… It's a lot. Too much by now. When it's over, it's… It will be a relief. For her.” She let out a shaky breath and turned around. “So thank you. For coming.” We. Will. Help.  “Death is my calling, after all,” he said. “It’s what I do best.”

[loki-licious-945ad]

Summary: Reader has been in a conservative family her whole life. Innocent, always nice, never spoke out of line. What will happen when she bumps into the prince in the royal library?

Pairing: Loki x innocent!reader

Word count: 2059

Warnings: It's literally just fluff. Reader and Loki being cute. Cringe maybe? Loki being a flirt and a tease. Like a kiss or two. ANY AND ALL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN!

MUSIC INSPO (If it doesn't work lmk)

A/N: This is part of an anons ask but i wanted to put it in 2 parts. The next chapter will probably be out tmr or in 2 days! I really loved writing this. I hope my five followers like it. Much love to you guys!

~~~

Loki had always seen you work in the royal library. You were one of the more conservative people in Asgard, because of your family. You were one of the nobles’ children, your parents wanted to keep you away from the harsh world and reality. They’d always keep you busy with your studies. You were always working hard in the library. Always quiet, only spoke when spoken to. When you were in the library Loki would always watch you secretly while you did your studies or the many other things you do. He loved the look of concentration on your face while you worked. Your eyebrows were always frowning when you didn’t understand something. He found it endearing. 

Today you were reading a new book and taking notes. Your eyebrows frown and you groan in frustration. Where is the librarian? You think to yourself as you get up from your seat to wander around the huge library. Of course she is nowhere to be found when I need her! You’re too busy focusing on finding the librarian for help with the book that you hadn’t realized that you were about to walk right into one of the princes.

Bump. Drop. Waist.

You bump into something quite solid. Damn it, I was too distracted. That’s when you notice that the prince has caught you by your waist. One of his strong arms keeps you from falling. His hand is on my lower back! Your thoughts are interrupted, “You dropped your book, love.” He holds up the other hand which has the book in it, “Good thing I caught it… Ah! Anatomy?” He looks between you and the book.

All you can do is stare at the prince who is holding you so… intimately? “You can speak. I don’t bite darling… only if you want me to,” He smiles down at you as your face turns white.

“Why would you bite me!? Why would I even want that!?” You look at him confused and Loki’s face drops, “What? It was a joke… You know haha joke?”

“Your majesty, how was that supposed to be funny..? Biting is no joke,” Dumbfounded. That’s what Loki felt. Did she not get that it was a dirty joke? “My apologies, I didn’t realize you wouldn’t get the joke… Anyways… you seemed distracted, do you need help with something?” God’s this was embarrassing. That’s what you both thought.

“Well… I am a bit confused about this book… I was trying to find the librarian for help… then I bumped into you,” you stare at Loki wide eyed as you explain the situation.

~~~

The rest of your study session is Loki helping you on human anatomy. Answering any and all questions that you have. As you’re about to flip the page to the reproduction section the grandfather clock nearby strikes 8. “Oh it’s already dinner!” You hurry and pack your books in your small satchel, then there is a hand on your wrist stopping you, “Would you like to study with me more often? I can teach you way more than these books.”

You look up from the prince's hand to his face, giving him a small smile, “Of course your majesty… I’m honored that you even want to teach me.”

~~~ 

Weeks pass by with Loki teaching you things. Everyday is a new day. Magic, science, math, so many things. Even the other realms. Today is like many other days you’ve spent with the prince. Today is a nice day out. Loki had asked you if you’d like to study outside in the sun instead of that dim library. He wore his typical Asgardian leather. Lighter than usual, because of the warmth of the day. You come waltzing up the small hill where Loki is. Basket in hand. Probably some pie. I love her baking. You’d been baking for him as a way to pay him back. Your dress flows around you as you walk. Lavender dress that could only fit you just right, hair done perfectly as always, and always wearing that cute little smile when you weren’t studying. Her frown was cute. Everything about her was cute. The most adorable woman I have ever seen.

You giggle as you set yourself and the basket beside Loki on the picnic blanket, “You’re starring, your majesty.”

Loki wants to glare at you, but your giggle is everything, “How many times am I going to tell you, you can call me Loki.”

“It feels so wrong… I feel like I should show you more respect,” Loki can’t help but roll his eyes playfully. Does she always have to be so respectful? “Did you bring your books, love?” Loki watches as all the color drains from your face. I forgot my books! 

Why is her face so white? Did I say something wrong!?

“I may have forgotten them… I was so focused on making the key lime pie that I totally forgot to grab my books…” Loki can’t help but burst out into a laughing fit. “Loki! It’s not funny! How am I going to study!?” You stick your tongue out at him.

Between the laughs Loki gets out, “Careful darling that’s treason!” You can’t help but laugh with Loki. His laughs are always so contagious. I love his laugh. He looks so handsome and so loose. His hair falls around his face perfectly. His smile is so bright. I love when he’s carefree around me.

You feel a hand on your face. The hand brings you back to reality, “Now look who’s starring? I thought I was going to have to kiss you to wake you up from your daydreaming.” You roll your eyes at Loki, “Don’t be silly Loki. You can’t kiss me. I am not your wife.”

As Loki continues to stare you, you explain your reasoning, “My parents always told me that I can never kiss until I am wed,” you smile at Loki then continue, “They said something like ‘You’ll have a baby if you do that.’”

“Oh! We need to eat the pie while it is fresh,” you interrupt yourself to grab the basket with the pie in it, already placed in a container nicely. You run the pie under Loki’s nose so he can smell it, “Specially made for the Prince of Asgard.”

Loki decides not to ask any questions on the kiss-baby thing. I swore I taught her the reproduction process. That’s when it hits Loki. The clock had struck 8 o’clock, before he could teach you that. Damn it. It’s fine. A problem for another day.

You and Loki spent the next few hours doing other activities since you forgot your books. You both ate the pie, laid on the picnic blanket looking up at the clouds making silly descriptions of what they could be, making flower crowns.

~~~

“Darling, I have no idea how to make a flower crown…” you smiled at him, getting up from the picnic blanket, and yanking him up off the ground by his hand, “Then i should teach you! Come on, let’s go pick out some flowers, Lo!” She called me Lo… This woman is everything.

You had drug Loki up and down the hill for some flowers. He picked lavender, daisies, and lilies of the valley. He then heard you yell for his help, calling him ‘Lo’ again. As he walks by the blanket he lays his flowers down then heads to where you’re standing. You were trying to reach a flower that hung in a tree just out of reach. He stands behind you to pluck it from the tree. Once he’s plucked it he holds it up to your face, “Beautiful. Just like you, darling.” Loki can tell you’re blushing even if he can’t see your face. Your ears are red. You quickly take the flower and all the others you had collected back to the picnic blanket. Loki follows behind with a small grin. She is so adorable.

You start to weave your flower crown. Loki watches intently as you do so. Your fingers work fast and smoothly. He watches your fingers then your face. There is that little frown between her eyebrows again. She’s so focused. 

“So do you understand how to make one now?” He was so focused on you, but not at the same time. He was admiring your beauty as you concentrated. She always looks pretty.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you scoot closer to him so you can help him. You take his hands in yours. I hope she can’t feel my pulse. Why the Hel am I even worried? This damn woman makes me flustered. Your hands on his remind him that you are helping him make a flower crown. Your hands guide him through the weaving process. His hands are rough against your soft ones. Together you both make a flower crown. As you both finish it you lay it on his head, “Perfect.”

“Not yet,” he then places the flower crown you made on your head, “Now it’s perfect.”

“Will-you-be-my-boyfriend,” it came out of your mouth so fast that not even you registered what you said. You hide your face in your hands. Why am I so embarrassed!? He’s gonna say no! He’s literally the prince! “Can you repeat that? You said it too fast,” you cringe against your hands. Parting your fingers to look at Loki, he gives you a small encouraging smile, but you just hide behind your hands again. He pulls your hands from your face softly, “Now, what did you say, love?”

You repeat yourself once again. “Love, you need to slow down,” he moves to kiss your forehead softly, your hands still in his. He pulls back to look into your eyes, he waits patiently for you to speak. He can feel your heartbeat near your wrist, “Will you be my boyfriend… you can say no… I know that I am just a nobles daughter and you are a princ-”

Loki’s smile widens as you continue to speak. He has to cut you off, because of your overthinking, “Of course darling. I’ll be your boyfriend. I just think you have some things to learn,” he kisses your forehead once more. 

“I need to learn things, Lo?” You look at Loki so confused, “I know everything.”

Loki kisses your lips slowly. You gasp and try to pull away, but now one of Loki’s hands is on the back of your neck. Loki pulls away. Look at her. Her face is so red. My pretty girl.

“Why would you do that, Lo!? What if I get pregnant!?” Loki chuckles at your confusion, “Darling. You can’t get pregnant from a kiss. Your parents lied to you.” You fall back on the picnic blanket, looking at the sky, embarrassed to the end of every realm. He has to be lying! Did my parents really lie to me!? Oh god! Then how do I actually get pregnant!?

“Darling it looks like it’s about to rain… Odin's beard we must have been out here a long time,” Loki stands making sure not to let his flower crown fall. He looks down at you with a smile. He holds a hand out for you to take. As you start to stand the rain starts to fall.

You grab the basket from earlier then grab the blanket as it pores. Loki chuckles as you try to hurry, “Hurry-hurry! We can use the blanket as a shield from the rain!”

You giggle with him. You shove the blanket in his hands playfully. He holds it above you both as you two run back to the palace. The basket swings as you run with Loki. Gods is this a dream?

You both laugh uncontrollably as you run. Your lavender dress now a deeper purple from the rain drenching it. Even with the blanket above you shielding you from the rain you both are still getting wet. The rain soaks Loki’s hair, face, his clothes too. He looks so handsome. No he looks ethereal. And he’s my boyfriend. 

Loki can’t help, but stare at you too. She looks gorgeous. Your hair is a sopping mess, but you somehow pull it off. Your flower crown is lopsided from the running. Your lavender dress gets even deeper as it gets more wet. Gods he loved the way lavender looked on her.

~~~

I may make a tag list!

@sofilaufeysonn

(if you dont wanna be tagged please lmk)

[jechristine]

Hi! I know we’ve probably all moved on, but I am only now getting to all the engagement confirmations and wanted to investigate what details we actually learned and where we likely learned them from.

I think these were all the firsthand reportings. Let me know if I missed any.

First to confirm was TMZ:

TMZ 1/6/2025 8:27 AM PT

Sources close to the couple tell TMZ ... the "Spider Man" star popped the question between Christmas and New Year's ... dropping to one knee in a very intimate setting in one of Zendaya's family homes in the United States.

We're told Tom didn't make a huge show of the engagement -- it wasn't a big, over-the-top proposal -- instead, it was very romantic and intimate.

Our sources say the family wasn't there ... it was just a sweet moment between Tom and Zendaya.

We get the rough timing (between Christmas and New Years), details about the place (one of Zendaya’s family homes in Cali), info about who was present (just Tom and Zendaya), and details about what the engagement was like (very romantic and intimate).

TMZ lists “sources close to the couple.” These were among the most concrete details we got.

———

TMZ 1/6/2025 9:45 AM PT

Sources close to the couple tell TMZ ... the 'Spider-Man' star met with the "Euphoria" actress' dad, Kazembe Ajamu Coleman, "months ago" in order to ask for Zendaya's hand in marriage.

We're told this was an important step for Tom ... as he's very traditional and felt it was important to secure Kazembe's blessing first.

Kazembe, obviously, accepted ... and we're told Zendaya’s family is very excited for this next chapter in her relationship with Tom. In fact, sources say Zendaya's family just loves Tom ... and thinks he's "a class act."

For those wondering, we're told Tom waited months to actually propose as he was waiting for the right moment.

We learn a concrete detail that Tom asked Kaz’s permission a while ago and then a bit about Tom’s traditional mindset. We get a direct quotation about Tom: “a class act.” I think this had to have come from Kaz, right?

———

PEOPLE Published on January 6, 2025 01:32PM EST

After news of the couple's engagement broke, a source told PEOPLE that the Crowded Room star, 28, had been "wanting to propose [to the Challengers actress] for a while now."

"He's always been crazy about her. He always knew she was the one," the source said, adding, "They have something very special.

The source said "everyone close to them knew the engagement was happening," just not when. After Holland got down on one knee over the holidays and asked Zendaya to marry him, he was eager to share the news, telling friends about the engagement around New Year's.

As for their future wedding plans, the source said the two want to take some time to simply enjoy their engagement first.

"They will just enjoy things for now and won't rush a wedding. They are both busy with work projects," the insider explained.

The source said Holland could not be happier, noting, "Tom's always had this sweet way of letting the world know that Zendaya is his. Now, it's official — she really is!"

Most of the details here are what I would consider fluff. There’s nothing new about timing, setting, or the actual proposal. The article gestures to “over the holidays,” but that detail is not inside the quotation marks and seems to mimic the wording of the TMZ article, suggesting it’s transposed from there. We get something about not rushing the wedding, but that sounds kind of vague and generic to me. Most of the rest of details are about Tom’s mindset (what he’s been wanting, what he’s known), which could have been sourced to Tom’s previous interviews or just like, observation. They’re generic and not really verifiable. They list “a source.”

What we learn from People here is that Tom told friends over New Year’s.

Then People revised a bit:

PEOPLE Updated on January 6, 2025 01:33PM EST

The Spider-Man costars, both 28, are engaged, a family source confirmed to PEOPLE. TMZ was first to report the news. According to the outlet, Holland proposed at one of Zendaya's family homes over the holidays.

A separate source told PEOPLE that "everyone close to them knew an engagement was happening" — just not when. The source said Holland had been keen to propose to Zendaya "for a while."

“He's always been crazy about her. He always knew she was the one. They have something very special," the source said, noting that Holland shared the happy news with friends around New Year's.

In the meantime, the pair are soaking up the special moment. "Tom's always had this sweet way of letting the world know that Zendaya is his. Now, it's official — she really is!" the source told PEOPLE.

It sounds to me that People has a second source now, “a family source,” who simply confirmed the news of the engagement. I have to mention that the vague comments about the future wedding are omitted, the only other detail to have been changed in this update (👀).

———

US Weekly January 6, 2025

“Tom figured the holidays were the best time to propose in a very low-key way,” a source exclusively told Us Weekly shortly after news of the couple’s engagement broke on Monday, January 6. “She didn’t want anything over the top.”

According to the insider, “Zendaya tried to keep it a secret but was very excited to show off her ring. She didn’t think people would notice but didn’t care either way.”

The source went on to note that both felt the timing was right. “Tom wanted to propose because he feels he is at the right time in his life and feels ready to settle down.” The insider said. “They had many conversations over the years, but there was never any pressure. Zendaya is giddy and excited. She knew it might have been coming but never put pressure on it.”

Here we get a bit of Zendaya’s mindset (what she wanted the proposal to be like, that she wanted to keep it a secret, and that she was excited to show off the ring but DiDn’T thInK aNyOnE woULd NoTiCe.) We also get the same info about Tom’s mindset, and we learn that Tom & Zendaya have had many conversations without pressure. This is another set of “details” that are super fluffy and generic. They apply to just about every engaged couple who’s dated for years prior to their engagement.

———

ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT January 6, 2025

Tom Holland and Zendaya are engaged to be married and are “ready and excited for this next chapter,” a source tells ET.

“Tom wanted to propose to her over the holidays, says the source,” adding that the 28-year old actor is looking to start a family with his ‘Spider-Man’ co-star. “He really wants to have kids and to settle down.”

First bit is fluffy, generic padding. Everyone who gets engaged is “ready and excited.” Second part is more on Tom’s mindset that could have been sourced to previous interviews he’s done.

———

PAGE SIX Published Jan. 6, 2025, 3:39 p.m. ET

Tom Holland managed to surprise Zendaya when he popped the question, a source tells Page Six exclusively.

“Tom and Zendaya had discussed marriage over the years, but Zendaya had no idea he was planning to propose,” the insider says.

“They both value their privacy, so the proposal was something Tom wanted to keep private as well.”

The “Spider-Man” star “asked Zendaya’s dad for permission to marry her, but also asked her mom as well,” according to our source.

“Tom and Zendaya’s families are ecstatic,” the insider tells Page Six. “Zendaya’s mom and sisters can’t wait to start planning with her.”

We’re told “there is no wedding date or plans set yet,” with the source adding, “It’s far too soon to start thinking about any of that yet. They’re still celebrating the exciting news.”

More details re: privacy, now from Tom’s mindset. We learn that Tom asked Claire for permission, too, and how Claire and “Zendaya’s sisters” feel, albeit the fact that they’re excited is fluffy and generic, too. This is sounding to me like it came from Claire?

———

DAILY MAIL UPDATED: 17:25 EST, 7 January 2025

When reached for comment about his reaction to Zendaya, 28, getting engaged to Tom, Kazembe told DailyMail.com that it was 'a bunch of crap' that was reported.

That was a bunch of crap dealt out by TMZ,' he said before adding, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

When pried by a DailyMail.com reporter for more answers, he refused to comment further.

All we get here is that Kaz refutes TMZ’s reporting, and the Daily Mail implies with its headline that Kaz is refuting the part about Tom asking dad’s permission. But if you look at the actual quotation, it sounds like Kaz is just saying “TMZ is full of shit. Bye,” with an emphasis more on the fact that TMZ didn’t have insider info rather than on the content of the story itself.

———

What do you all think?

I think that there were three “sources” total. First one was Amy Pascal or someone like her/from her team, going around to the tabloids to push out the engagement story to gin up interest in her cash cows. She didn’t have many concrete details, so she just said some generic, obvious stuff from previous Tom Holland interviews. She may have thought the engagement just happened, or was told as much, so that’s what she passed on.

I think the second, “family source” was some combination of Kaz and Claire. Kaz confirms the engagement to TMZ and gave some details that he thought he had. Kaz or Claire confirms to People. Claire tells P6 that Tom discussed the proposal ahead of time with her, too, because Kaz isnt the only special parent or whatever. And Kaz refutes TMZ on the record to the DM so that he can save face or rectify his mistake after Zendaya told him he was acting like a fool with his initial leaks.