#she’s beauty she’s grace she’ll kick you in the face

[harkenizalone]

I’m sorry that instead of getting much needed help for your serious mental health issues you got sucked into a trendy genderwoo cult that erases and demonises homosexuality, is deeply racist, misogynistic and unscientific, and is completely dependant on controlling others perception of you. You’ll never ever be able to stop people from perceiving you as the sex you are, they’re just scared to admit it. And you know what, that’s fine because sex is a neutral fact and it’s impossible to change. Go develop a personality and interests outside of your obsessive navel-gazing brainwashing cult. Good luck!

1: I have 2 therapists, so I do have mental help

2: being LGBTQ+ isn’t my entire personality, I just tend to talk about it often.

3: interests you say? How about me being obsessed with Pokemon for over a decade and having a huge collection of everything Pokemon related?

4: I’m technically not cisgender, because I don’t identify as completely female, but I’m still on the feminine side of things, so people calling me a woman is fine 🤷‍♀️

5: I don’t really care how people see me, as long as they don’t harass me or anything because of how they perceive me, I’m fine.

6: how is it racist or misogynistic? Idk where you got that from.

7: I don’t demonize homosexuality, I’m literally under the bi umbrella, so it’d be impossible. Also, I don’t care about demonizing, bc I’m pretty demonic myself ٩( ᐛ )و

Anyway, imma eat breakfast now 💅

[thedeliverygod]

I love the cat just chilling with Hiyori

[harkenizalone]

As a single person who cares about being good in school: Fuck you /j

(I SEARCHED FOR THIS POST JUST TO SAY THIS)

i love cheating if you don’t cheat what the hell is wrong with you

[lulurhythm]

Broooooooo. Such good lighting practice. I was so proud of myself for this!!!!!!!

[newnlovesjennie]

op hcs: taking a shower with them!

strawhats x reader! cw: suggestive material for sanji and zoro

luffy:

will be messing around the entire time

throwing water at your face, playing with rubber ducks… you know, just being luffy

will refuse unless its a bubble bath

he doesn’t really need massages because, well, he’s made of rubber, but he’ll gladly give you one! (he will try)

you two get to role-play as war generals while your rubber ducks go to war

overall not really sexual, he’d kinda be too busy having fun 

nami:

will go ALL out, bath bombs sugar scrubs scented candles EVERYTHING

nami goes all out in general whenever she showers by herself, so why not treat her gf even better?

you will get the absolute best scalp massage of your life, and she’ll massage every part of your body until you forget what tension is

warning: it will probably be difficult to concentrate when you’re in front of her while she’s naked

afterwords you’ll braid each others hair and do face masks, just an adorable little spa day

zoro:

this man REEKS

when you get in that bathtub you come in with a MISSION

you instantly get to work and throw out his 12-in-one shampoo and clean him properly

with his back pressed against your chest and your fingers delicately threading through his scalp, he’ll mumble something about how it feels okay-ish, and you’ll know you won

argue with him to shave his armpits bc he stinks but you eventually win

he’ll insist on washing your body, with his hands lingering on some parts, inciting a playful kick to his stomach and a giggle

usopp:

he’ll be a bit worried when you ask to shower with him 

he’s a bit insecure about his body, especially as someone as beautiful and amazing as you seeing it 

his plan: absolutely covering the tub in bubbles and soap to the point its overflowing so he can just hide inside it

sadly, you’re too smart and know him too well, and after five minutes of you complaining about usopp getting out of the tub to help you clean and him staying put under his blanket of bubbles, you’re able to guess why

some reassuring hugs and kisses later, you’re back to the regularly scheduled programming and he’s showing his multi step hair care routine while you’re in awe 

you walk away knowing 10x more about hair

sanji:

…. im sure you all know how this will go

25 seconds into you walking in the tub he has a nosebleed and taints the bath water

but besides that, he’s like nami on steroids

rose petals, candles, bath bombs, wine, fairy lights, dude got it all (after all, showering with your lover is one of the greatest forms of intimacy!)

after cleaning up the bath and replacing the water, he climbs back in and tries to hold his composure as his eyes take your naked form in

he’s seen you naked before, but nonetheless its a holy experience every time

“stop gawking, perv!” you’d playfully yell, and pull him in until he’s elbows deep in the water and grinning

he will take the utmost care to your body, massaging every last corner and gracing his slender fingers through each rift, leaving a trail of delicate kisses wherever he passes

“sanji, you’re supposed to be cleaning my body, not leaving your spit!” “sorry, mon amour, but can you really blame me?

[pinkbowsandprettyprose]

she’s beauty she’s grace she’ll kick you in the face

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Prologue\?)

(summarry: the second daughter of king Viserys caught the hearts of many, but none more than her dear uncle. and daemon will do everything in his power to make sure no one takes his sweet niece.)

this is my first fic and I have dylexia so do be kind and give constructive criticism! thank you!

106 ac

 Viserys POV

I stood outside the room hearing my wife scream as she gave birth to our newest child. Aemma had gone into labor that night and now it is midday. I keep praying to the gods to keep my wife and babe safe. I'm not sure which ones anymore, the seven, the fourteen, or the old gods, I suppose any that will hear me and answer. Otto walked up to me and cringed at my wife’s screams. “Your grace, your brother has arrived just now. His dragon was seen landing at the pits.” Otto says tensely. He never has liked my brother, always thought him too rash and chaotic.

“Thank you, Otto. Do be sure to get him and my daughter when the babe is born.” I say as I flinch at the bloodcurdling scream my wife makes. Otto nods and walks off to continue his duties as I wait for my newest child. After thirty minutes I hear my wife’s screams stop and a babes cries. A midwife opens the door and turns to me. “Another girl, your grace.” she says as she curtys and holds the door open to me.

“She’s perfect Viserys. Oh so perfect.” Aemma says as she looks down at the bundle in her arms. “Would you like to meet her?” She asks once she notices I’m frozen at the door. At her words I rushed over to sit next to her and kiss her sweaty brow. I reach out and take our new daughter and look down at her. “Isn’t she perfect, Viserys?” Aemma says as she touches our daughter's nose and we laugh as she scrunches her face at the action. 

“Yes, the most perfect thing I've ever seen.” I say smiling. I then remember all of the others we’ve lost and look up at the maester. “Healthy?” I asked fearfully. “Kicking like a goat, your grace.” he says and I can't help but laugh from relief. “Good, good.” I say smiling. Myself and Aemma sit there just looking at this beautiful creature we made, we’re so enthralled we don’t notice the midwives and maesters cleaning my wife, the room, the bedding or them leaving. 

When our eldest enters I smile at her. Rhaenyra rushes over to me and Aemma and climbs into the bed sitting between us. “I got my sister? Is that her? Can I hold her? What’s her name?” Rhaenyra asks us so quickly we hardly understand her, We both can't help but laugh. “Yes this is your sister, yes you can hold her, and no we haven’t picked a name yet.” Aemma responds as she strokes her hair affectionately and I set our newest in Rhaenyra’s lap.

Once Rhaenyra looks down she scrunches up her face in disgust. “She’s so boring! How am I supposed to play with her when she’s boring?” Rhaenyra says furiously as she pushes the babe off her lap, gets off the bed and storms out. Aemma thankfully had quick reflexes as she picked up our youngest before she got hurt. Aemma and I sigh in disappointment at our eldest’s attitude. “She’ll come around.” I say but from the look I’m given we both know I don't believe my own words. Nonetheless Aemma nods and smiles at my effort. 

We sit there for the next hour brainstorming names till Aemma says your name, and it’s perfect. That is when we hear a knock at the door “Come!” I say and see that it’s my brother wishing to meet his new niece. “Ah, Daemon come, come.'' I say as Aemma holds out our babe for Daemon to take. Once he does I can’t believe my eyes, it’s like he’s finally calm. I watch as my brother’s shoulders drop like all the weight has been lifted from them. And that’s when he asks your name to which we tell him, when he says your name it”s like a prayer, like he can finally breathe. This reaction is so contradictory to when he met Rhaenyra, he wanted nothing to do with her and avoided her like the plague. Although I suppose when Rhaenyra was born he was only a boy of eight, but still this reaction feels more than just him being older and wiser.

That night I went to check on my newest, but when I was about to enter the nursery I heard Daemon singing a song of old Valyrian as he held her close. “Drakari pykiros tikummo jemiros, yn lantyz bartossa saelot vāedis. Hen ñuhā elēnī, perzyssy vestretis se gēlȳn irūdaks ānogrose. Perzyro  udrȳssi ezīmptos laehossi, hārossa letagon aōt vāedan. Hae mērot gierūli, se hāros bartossi prūmȳsa sōvīli gevī dāerī.” I listen and watch, I’ve never seen my brother this way, not ever. I keep telling myself it’s cause he’s older and wiser and wishes for children of his own, but somewhere deep inside, I know I’m wrong.

Special thanks to my lovely friend @sugutoad for making the header! I am personally in love done know about you guys!

[ecargmura]

The Apothecary Diaries Episode 4 Review - The Emperor's Request

I think the best thing about this show is that Maomao doesn’t solve problems automatically. While she knows what to do, the time process for recovery is rather long and not immediate. I like that part about the writing. Maomao is intelligent, but she’s not a magician. It took two months for Lihua to fully recover.

I really liked how Maomao cares a lot about her job. She’s an apothecary, so it’s her duty to see her patients recover. Even if it’s a request from the emperor, she’d still do her best to help Lihua recover. She didn’t lash out when the ladies-in-waiting kept kicking her out and disregarding the meals she made for Lihua. She only lashed out when she realized not all of the face powder had been disposed of. Seeing her slap that servant and drag her by the hair to get to see her wrongdoings was so satisfying to watch. It just shows she knows when to lash out and what not. Ignore the meals she makes? That’s okay; she’ll try again. Use the poisonous face powder that killed her baby son on her face? That’s idiocy right there. Maomao was right to slap her. If it was banned because of poison, DISPOSE OF IT! Why would you want to keep it around? Just to make Lihua beautiful? Then use something else instead of a poisonous face powder! Maomao is also smart to use other methods of recovery like getting Jinshi to make a steam house for her to sweat and for her to drink tea for frequent urination. I loved seeing the progression of Lihua’s recovery from how weak and sickly she looked to having her cheeks fill up over time.

I do like how Lihua is a lot different than she initially appeared in the first episode. At first, she seemed arrogant and stubborn, which did cause her to lose her son after not heeding Gyokuyou’s advice about the poisonous face powder. Spending time under Maomao’s care showed that she’s very kind and graceful, but does have a bit of self-doubts about herself; it shows that her attitude is much better than those that work under her. I really liked the scene where she was caressing Maomao’s head after she fell asleep as a bit of a small token of gratitude for all she has done. The way she asked Maomao didn’t let her die and realizing that she still wants to live for her dead son was also quite emotional. Even if she lost her son, she still has to keep going for his sake. The fact that Maomao taught her a method to charm the emperor using her assets was funny; the fact that he stopped visiting the Jade Pavilion, where Gyokuyou lives, says it all. I hope that she gets a second pregnancy. She deserves it!

I was surprised the servants were being mean to Maomao. If she was sent to tend to Lihua under the emperor’s orders, they should’ve treated her more favorably. It was only when Jinshi arrived that the ladies allowed Maomao near Lihua. I’m also surprised that the lady that accidentally poisoned her mistress didn’t get executed or dismissed. I guess it’s because it’s anime but I’m sure that sort of stint wouldn’t be forgivable outside of animated media; I get that she had no ill will when hiding it, but still…

Anyways, I really liked this episode a lot. I hope I get to see Maomao bitchslap another person in the future. Seeing her take things seriously was a joy to watch. What are your thoughts on this episode?

[k-marzolf]

Say you love me.

warnings; blood, gore, violence, smoking, angst, blind!reader, kissing, soft dark!Billy, nudity, implied sex, fem!reader.

summary: Billy kills, and contemplates if you could love him still.

words; 800.

author’s note; title inspired by Fleetwood Mac.

The Chain masterlist.

&&&&

His fingers dropped the body in the snow, watching it color the white pristine snow, red. And he thought of you. You who always passed him chocolate candies every day he drove you to work. You who were indifferent to his beauty, and so didn’t exploit it in any way.

You were like the snow, and he was staining you with his filth, he thought, watching the blood completely cover the snow. Billy had never cared about anyone other than Frank, but you’d wormed your way in the moment you first met him on a busy street and you hit him with your cane, impressed by your confidence navigating a large city.

Your compassion for the father who blamed you for your eyesight going.

Frank looked at Billy, as the latter asked; “How does Maria view our bloodshed?”

Frank breathed out, a puff of air in the night air as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “She doesn’t know. The less her and the kids know, the better.” He paused. “Sometimes killing is necessary. Don’t let some fundamentalist tell you it isn’t. Even God killed.”

They stood silently, as Billy replayed the men who threatened you and Frank’s family. How Billy and Frank had gutted them, and now their intestines laid on the ground in the snow.

Frank lit up, handing Billy a cigarette after he’d puffed on it. “Sometimes I think about her, and I wonder what hell I'm doin’.” Billy said, exhaling the smoke and handing the cigarette back to Frank.

Frank inhaled, passing Billy the cigarette back. “She’s not your mother. She isn’t looking for a reason to leave you, Bill. I don’t tell Maria because I’m afraid she’ll leave me. I do it to protect her. But let’s be honest, our women ain’t stupid.”

Billy looked at the cigarette in his hand for a moment, before puffing on it. “I’d saturate these streets in blood to protect her.”

Frank stubbed the cigarette. “Exactly.”

That night Billy stepped through the door, kicking off his boots, and peeling his coat off. He moved to the bathroom, and noticed the light on. It was two in the morning.

He walked in, and there you were sitting in the bathtub, looking lonely. “Sweet pea? It’s late.”

You looked in his direction, unseeing. “I can’t sleep without you.” You murmured.

You could hear him dropping his tac gear, and undressing before he spoke; “Scoot forward, baby.”

You scooted forward, excitement tightening in your gut, feeling him slide in behind you, him pressed against your back.

“Can I wash your hair?” He husked, playing with it.

“Yes, Billy.” You never asked where he was during these late nights, but you always waited up for him.

He wetted your hair, running his fingers through it, kissing your shoulders, your back. He grabbed your shampoo, squeezing some into his hands, and gently scrubbing your hair. The same hands who had spilled blood—had taken life without remorse—touched you gently, like you were porcelain.

He loved the soft sounds of pleasure you made, the way you leaned back, closer to him. “You got pretty hair, sweet pea.” He said, breath tickling your neck.

“How’s Frank?” You asked casually.

Billy paused. “Good. We played pool, Frankie lost.” Billy chuckled. A partial truth. They’d gone to the bar afterwards, and Frank couldn’t play pool to save his life.

You giggled, feeling Billy rinse your hair. “And I bet you were a sore winner.” You teased him.

Billy smirked, running his fingers through your hair, making sure all the soap was out. “Damn right.” He paused as you turned around in his lap, facing him.

His dark eyes burned into yours, as his thumb brushed your lip.

He made you believe there was grace in the devil, without realizing he was dragging you down to the depths of hades.

“Touch me,” he said, pulling back, his voice almost desperate, watching you as you reached for him, your breasts pressing against his chest. “God, just touch me.” He said, voice thick with emotion.

He needed you, and he hated it. Wanting made him weak, because you could be used against him, a liability.

You touched him, and your tender touch was his undoing.

He abruptly pulled you out of the bathtub, carrying you to the bedroom, and laying with you on the bed, slotting himself against you.

He let himself get lost in you, the feel of your lips like velvet on his skin, your nails raking down his spine, trailing fire in their wake. Your hips slotted against his hips, legs in a tangle as he rutted into you, tasting your tears on your skin, the way you chanted his name like a prayer.

You looked at him like he was God.

For a while, he was loved.

Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Three: Subtle Dreaming

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

Chapter track: Rainbow - The Temple of the King - Algal the Bard

It has been... a rough couple weeks. But I'm back! Hope you enjoy! Your comments and questions mean the world! Special thanks to all you lovely rebloggers! I'm still trying to figure out how to respond without essentially reposting half a dozen times, but I see you, you make my week!

Subtle Dreaming

A knock on the door disturbed her work. It was an hour past midnight, when all but the youngest servants and ardent lovers had retired to their beds with heads full of dreams, a time a wandering mice and cat’s work.

But she wasn’t surprised, even less when she opened the door of her windowless chamber to find a young lady in her nightdress, wrapped in a shawl with wary hope in her eyes and a candle in her hand. Alis Everard. The youngest of a large family, and the only child still unmarried – and a child she was, barely thirteen, and of all the reasons the bard hated the king of Meiren, summoning such young suitors for his Endless guest might be the greatest. Her face hadn’t quite lost childhood’s rounded cheeks, and the seams on her nightgown had recently been let out after a growth spurt.

“I see your father is impatient,” the bard said. Wrapped in her own shawl over her own nightgown, she felt more than ever the noble’s equal. After such a long life, she understood better than most how little rank protected one from life and how much a peasant’s child was like a queen’s. She was the girl’s elder by far, but she’d been young once, and what youth didn’t go sneaking down corridors in the dark during their first trip to court?

“He bid me seek your counsel. May I come in?”

Stepping back, she ushered the girl into her sparse little room. “Of course.”

Once the girl was through, she moved to close the door, but a slippered foot darted through the gap to block it. “Not so quicky!”

The foot neatly kicked the door back open as the bard released it, and a young woman – who was, at least, properly a woman – swept by in a dressing gown of satin and a riot of chestnut curls. “I enjoy midnight jaunts, but not being spied on one.”

The bard did her very best not to smile, but failed entirely. She knew this late guest as well. Eilwyn Alder. The third generation in her family the bard had befriended, and she sat next to little Alis on the bed with the casual grace of someone entitled to it.

“My grandmother sent me for your thoughts, though I’m sure she’ll collect them for herself tomorrow. But I am a dutiful granddaughter, so here I am.” She blinked doe eyes as the door finally fell shut, poised and perfect coquettish grace. “So, what news? Or will I lose my beauty sleep for nothing?”

Pulling out a stool from beneath her tiny desk, the bard said, “I haven’t spent an hour in his presence, and I’ve had a long ride, so forgive me if I haven’t yet taken the full measure of the king’s guest and his schemes.”

Alis wriggled on the bed, twisting her hands up in her shawl. Her eyes bounced between shadows, looking for threats like the Dream Lord’s nightmares might crawl out of the walls to exact vengeance for some imagined slight. Not that they couldn’t, but the bard assumed Lord Morpheus had better things to do with his time than torment one overwrought teenager who didn’t want to marry him.

“What if he eats his bride on the wedding night? Like the Lindworm?”

Eilwyn scoffed, and the bard donned a gentle smile, even if she couldn’t keep the laugher from her voice.

“He’s Endless, not a dragon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means you’d be better off with a dragon.”

The child curled into the corner of the bed, sinking into the blankets with her shawl swallowing the lower half of her face. Looking for comfort where her companions’ mirth had failed. The bard reached over to pat her knee, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “Honestly dragons aren’t so bad. One of my patrons is a dragon, you know. I was attending my yearly visit to his lair when your great, worried, noble parents called for me.”

A whisper of a promised story lured Alis’s eyes away from visions of doom. She glanced at Eilwyn, like she’d confirm the tale. The older girl gladly took up the role of expert.

“Everyone knows that,” she sniffed.

“Is it…” Alis mulled over the idea, confusing herself with her own bevy of questions. “Is it a… nice dragon?”

“These days he is. But he wasn’t always.”

The hook snared Alis’s attention, and her posture softened, though she didn’t leave the corner of the little bed. In fact, she made herself more comfortable, settling like a kitten, and a stab of rage that anyone thought this little girl ought to be considered as a wife seared through the gathering strands of the bard’s story.

She took a blanket and settled it over the child as she began to speak, shielding her from a king’s machinations, a world too big for little hands, and prying eyes.

.O.O.O.

Dream of the Endless retired to the chambers the King set aside for his use, though he had little use for them at all. He would not sleep. He had no intention of entertaining in the parlor, or writing missives at the richly appointed desk. There was no book on the shelves he did not already possess, and he left the food prepared for him to grow cold and stale on the table.

He did sip the wine, and in the darkest hours he found his amusement in wandered the sleeping minds of the castle. Boredom drove him. Cruelty, even. Vengeance called for the king to atone for his wounded pride, and the decade since the human’s error only gave Dream time to image new and wondrous torments. He wanted to watch the king’s schemes crumble in the dread nightmares prowling the would-be suitors’ dreams. He enjoyed the seeds of hate planted in parents’ hearts, the doubt in subjects who’d been nothing but loyal until this gathering.

The king’s story would be a horror, a kind of tragedy that left wounds in his lands and subjects the turn of generations would not heal. These seven days would be the fuse, a prologue to terror and loss. A lesson none would soon forget, lest they bring such punishment on their own loves.

He drifted, savoring the fears he would shape to his own ends. Until words snared his attention. A half-heard tale of a dragon spinning through recent memories of a soft touch and a smile in the face of inescapable dread.

He found a young mind loosely tethered to the Dreaming, caught in the tides running between the conscious and subconscious, where words and images of the Waking cast strange reflections in the fading thoughts before sleep. She led him to a plain, simple room deep in the castle. A place for high-ranking members of staff, perhaps. Utilitarian and uninspiring. Not a place this noble child belonged. But she was not alone, and as she dozed, Dream borrowed her senses.

Voices. One he recognized. The bard the king so detested. He knew her as he knew all dreamers, and he sensed his sister’s touch upon her.

She spoke of him.

“He’s the Prince of Stories. A bride market is beneath him. This is how political unions for picky lords looking for pretty faces are arranged, not how one of the most powerful creatures to ever live seeks a partner,” the bard said.

She was not wrong, of course. The story weaver spied the loose strings in the tale, the ragged ends that did not match, though she had yet to understand the pattern he wove.

“Whatever he wants, it isn’t love or a warm body in his bed. There’s something else. I just have to figure out if that something is a danger to any of you.”

So, loyalty did grow in the king’s court. Just not to the monarch. Dream felt the peace the bard’s presence brought the dreamer half-snared in her sleep. A quiet, sure thing. The confidence children had in oak trees their parents and grandparents climbed when they were young.

The other voice in the room did not speak as a child. This one was old enough for caution, and it worried for the old oak as well as those who sheltered beneath.

“To us, I should think.”

Did the bard not fear him? Had she stood outside as the storyteller for so long she’d forgotten she could be part of them as well?

“Whatever happens, dear, I’ll survive it.” Her only worry was for those she perceived as in her care. The children of children she’d watched grow. A touch carried through the dreamer’s skin and into their subconscious, a kind voice leading her back to the Waking. “It isn’t time to sleep yet. You must return to your room…”

The fragile link collapsed, and the bridge between the servants’ quarters and the noble guest room dissolved.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, sat in his darkened chambers in the court of a damned king, and thought as he sipped from his wine that he would enjoy seeing the bard at work. He must amuse himself for seven days, after all, until the time of the agreement ran out, and she was a surprising creature.

The most surprising he’d seen in some time.

[harkenizalone]

Whenever I have dreams that should technically be nightmares (full of gore psychological torture) I just go with the plot because I know it’s a dream but I’m really curious.

HOWEVER!

In my most recent nightmare that I was going along with: the evil entity tried to make me kill my own cat.. I get extremely violent IN REAL LIFE if someone even JOKES about hurting her…

So I proceeded to summon a metal pole and beat the shit out of eldritch demon Vanny.

Me when Eldritch demon Vanny tries to make me hurt my cat:

[nicolesainz]

Secret love song (MØ 8)

Martin Ødegaard x f!reader

Warnings: fluff to its core

A/N: It will be the first time I write a one shot from the male perspective and first time I write about Martin, so hope I don’t disappoint

Summary: First times are difficult. Even if that means saying three powerful words

“Come on Martin. What’s wrong with you? Just say it!” I say to myself, shaking my head, wanting to get my shit straight.

“What’s wrong man? Everything alright. You seem stressed” Ben White’s voice echoes in my ears, as I feel his arm on my shoulder.

“So it’s that apparent, huh?”

“You always are stressed but this time it looks like you’ve reached its peak. If I can help anyhow, tell me Martin”

My palms are sweaty and my throat is drying as minutes go by. This feels like torture and as I keep to myself those three little words, the more they haunt me in my sleep.

Tonight, Y/N, finally had time to attend a home game with Manchester City, as we battle for the first place in the league. The excitement I had when she broke the news, blasted all over the room.

Seeing her in the grandstands, wearing an Arsenal shirt, with my name plastered on its back, with her mesmerizing being brighter than every light in the stadium, gives me strength.

“Y/N is here today. And I think it’s finally time, Ben”

Not a lot boys from the team knew about Y/N. Only Ben, Bukayo, Aaron and Kieran. Besides Kieran, the other three had interacted with her many times whenever the England squad gathered.

And the reason I say England squad, is because she is Aaron’s sister. He was the one who introduced us at first place and from the very first night, she absolutely took my breath away.

“So that’s why you’ve been sweating as if you’ve been walking on hot sand at the Sahara.” Ben let out a small laugh, but seeing how worried I was he instantly stopped.

“Dra til helvete, rasshøl” (Fuck off, asshole) I say as I give him a slight kick.

“At this point, I know when you talk shit about me, Ødegaard. So, instead of insulting my grace, go talk to her!” He jokes around, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but clearly doesn’t.

“It’s not that easy. She’ll hate and avoid me if something goes sideways. How will I ever face her again if she shows up at more games?” I go back and forth, trying to reason myself in order to calm down.

“Hey hey hey! Look at me!” Ben held me still and shook me so I looked him in the eyes.

“From the way she talks about you, I believe that everything will be alright” Wait…what way? And how does Ben know? Does she talk about me to her brother or someone else?

“What do you mean? Spill or I’ll kick your leg even harder” I wouldn’t actually do it. It was my nerves talking. I was even more flushed and anxious right now.

“Whenever the squad meets, she always asks where you are, as if she doesn’t know that it’s only the England boys. We all tease her and then Aaron calls you out of nowhere”

That explains everything now. I’ve been receiving calls from the boys over a few Saturdays after the games, with all of them laughing and a woman’s voice in the back. It was her!

Flashback, to Valentines Day, a few months ago…

I was home alone after practice, with no one, but Netflix playing a stupid movie Erling had suggested me.

I just needed it to get my mind off. I was a coward once again. Today I had a great chance at telling Y/N how I feel and I blew it. I chickened out and left the very moment with a lame ass excuse.

“I’m so sorry. I need to rush home. My dad fell off the stairs”

My dad was in Norway, miles away from here. And was probably fishing. But she didn’t know that.

When I was almost falling asleep, my phone rings and wakes me up abruptly.

It was Aaron.

“Everything okay mate?” I say, looking at the time. It was 11 pm.

“Surely my guy. What about you? Happen to have any beautiful girl over there?” Aaron voice was dubbed by the yelling and laughing of the other England players. They were definitely all drunk.

“If he doesn’t, let’s give her to him. I’m sure they’ll get busy with one another.” Ben Chilwell screamed from the background and a woman’s voice followed.

“Find a girl first and then talk about me, Chilwell” she replied snarkily, although I couldn't understand who she was in between the loud music and shouting.

"Do you want me to pick up any of you guys? Seems like you've had a fair share of drinks, huh?" I say letting a soft sigh escape my mouth.

"Nahhh, we are just fine. Although someone definitely would want to be picked up. Hey-" and Aaron's sentence was cut in the middle as he hung up.

I shook my head disappointingly and went to bed that day, with the biggest heartache and three words ghosting over my head.

I love you

End of flashback

"Let's go out there and win this. If you score a goal, dedicate a celebration to her. I am sure she will appreciate this afterwards" Ben hit me a few times on the back and pushed me forward, as the Captain of the team had to go out first.

My nerves were all over the place and very clear to everyone else too. Okay Martin. Dype åndedrag (deep breaths), like Ben said, alt kommer til å ordne seg (everything will be alright).

The fans went wild as the game started very strong with the side of City, immediately going full on attack with all their defenders marking us.

They had a few chances of scoring but thankfully Aaron deflected all of them perfectly. So far, things were going okay, but the score still was nil-nil, with the ball possession being in favour of City.

It was now a few minutes before the end of the first half and the ball was around Erling's feet. When he is about to reach the net, I kick the ball in the air and Haaland ended up falling messily on my leg.

I let out a massive yelp, holding my leg with my hands, somehow wanting to ease the pain. The referee doesn't blow the whistle, which means the game still goes on with me and Erling helping each other get up.

"Beklager, men dette kunne ikke ha skjedd på noen annen måte" (Sorry, but this couldn't have happened any other way), he says to me, reaching for my hand and picking me up.

"Been through worse. It's okay", I say back and run as fast as I can towards my teammates, who were trying to steal the ball from Walker's 'embrace'.

The first half whistle blows and it's still nil-nil. Fuck, we need to do better. I need to do better. I raise my head and my eyes immediately fall on Y/N, who has been caught staring at me, with her cheeks fully flushed and a worried look in her eyes.

To her disappointment, she can't come down to the changing rooms, so instead, in order to check on me, she points at her leg and gives me a thumbs up and down signal.

I smile shyly, with my heart fluttering, as I give her a thumbs up and a small wave, before heading back to the rooms. If only I could hug her right now and tell her that even if we lost, all I cared about was not loosing her.

"Martin, how is your leg? Can you continue or do you want me to sub? Your call." Arteta asks me looking one time in my eyes and the other down to my leg.

"I can do it, boss. No problem here" I reply to him, with a stern look taking over me.

"Please, don't gamble with your health. If you are not feeling okay, tell me." he says one more time, wanting to make sure I was fully agreeing with what I said.

"I can play. It was just at the spur of the moment. Doesn't hurt" I assure him as the ref comes up to call us back on the pitch.

He nods at me and the squad goes out for a final time this evening. We need to score. We can't give up. I shouldn't give up. I need to fight.

The only thing helping me carry on was the sweetheart going by the name Y/N, watching us from the grandstands and having every bit of her faith lying on us. Lying on me.

And the game is back on. We do better than the first half, with the possession of the ball being at our advantage. Everything is going from better to best as Martineli assist Bukayo and he scores the first goal of the night!

We all go around and hug him, as happiness can't be contained. The fans roar and wave their flags in honour of this amazing goal and Saka.

Unfortunately, City equalised a few moments later around the 83 minute, with Grealish being the surprise scorer of the match, as he avoids the defence of Saliba, Ben and Kieran and sends the ball right on the net, with Aaron being unable to react.

My eyes land on the time board. 88 minute. Shit.

I wave at Jesus to pass me the ball as I was the only one unmarked by the City players and closer to the net. There was a fifty-fifty chance I would catch the ball and be able to score. This time, I gambled and proved myself right.

I manage to get the ball my way and with a hard headshot I send the ball in the net, making it a 2-1 at exactly the end of the game! The whole stadium got up and started yelling from the explosion of happy emotions and we had won a massive derby against our biggest rivals of the season.

"You, fucking Captain Ødegaard, did this! Thank you" Ben says with a huge smile on his face turning me around and pointing towards Y/N's way, who was jumping up and down filming the whole moment. I take my chance once more and shape with my fingers a heart at her.

She pays me back with another heart, as the filming stops, whilst pointing at my name on her back, signing the number one. This, was my sign to tell her how I feel. It was now or I would forever hold peace.

After the celebration with the team, we all dress with dry clothes and head outside the stadium now that it had emptied from the crowds. Every player, run to either their family or girlfriend.

Aaron looked at me and mouthed "go talk to her", as he was walking towards his fiancée.

For some reason, I didn't feel nervous or scared. I felt confident and sure about what I was about to do. It was surely risky but I had a gut feeling, this would work out perfectly.

She looked at me as if it was only the two of us, surrounded by no one else, with her embrace fully open for me to land in. How I wish this would become my permanent safe place.

I ran up to her and gave her the biggest possible hug, I have ever shared with someone. I could feel her heart beating in sync with mine and I instantly knew, why I did love her.

I love her because she can turn ones day from bad to extremely amazing. She can make you laugh, without trying too much. Only with her wit and charm. She can create a feeling of safety with a simple touch. But most importantly, she can make you fall in love with her, with a single smile.

She doesn't have time to react after the hug, as my lips fall on hers softly. My one hand cups her cheek whilst the other is tangled up with hers. She doesn't fight me back as the kiss gets deeper and more passionate, as it was a way of saying how we both felt this entire time.

She pulls my hand and places it on the side of her heart, so I could feel how fast it beat. How fast it was beating, only for me. My lips form into a smile as we break apart and look at each other with full adoration. If I could, she would be the only person I looked at for the rest of my life.

I didn't care about any trophy or championship. If my career ended now, I wouldn't care, if it meant having her by my side.

"I love you. More than you can possibly imagine. Day and night, this was all I wanted to say but the fear of losing you, held me back" I admit to her, trying to catch my breath.

"Jeg elsker deg, Martin. And honestly, I can't love anyone more than you. It feels impossible. But I am glad it is. I never want this to change" she lands into my arms once again, this time with a soft feeling caving into my heart.

[dilemmadraws]

She’s beauty, she’s Grace, she’ll kick you in the face 💕

My new DnD character Aneska, ex-beauty queen, current barbarian trying to rehabilitate her image after “accidentally” throwing a judge across an auditorium. She had her reasons okay! 💋

[when-emma-falls-apart]

She’s beauty she’s grace she’ll kick you in the face

color of love

[paxpaxdraws]

[rinkitaymybeloveds]

«There. A clear opening. Rin raised a leg and kicked out, hard.

Her leg caught Nezha in midair with a satisfying whoomph.

Nezha uttered an unnatural shriek and clutched his crotch, whimpering.

The entire studio fell silent as all heads swiveled in their direction.

Nezha clambered to his feet, scarlet-faced. “You—how dare you—”

“Just as you said.” Rin dipped her head into a mocking bow. “I only know one kick.” »

-The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang