#strikers? i hardly know hers

[heart-shaped-pupa]

Clockblocker put on paperwork duty for a week because every time Piggot mentions a power classification he mutters “Breaker? I hardly know her!” to Kid Win

[thatstonedwriter]

Y'all it's simpin hours so I'm gonna put it in the tags to preserve what little dignity I have left

[randombush3]

love's gonna get you killed

alexia putellas x reader

summary: alexia is older, wiser, and trying to make you the best. in doing so, she loses sight of more important things.

words: 5.4k

warnings: it’s a little bit toxic and there’s an age gap

notes: the request for this can be found here. genuinely never flinched more when writing something and this is only the beginning... NEW TRILOGY TIMEEEE

p.s. it's set in two timelines and i hope you clock otherwise this will not make sense

then again, this could've been a fever dream over the past few days soooo

Morning. 

Like dawn; like the freshness of dew on the grass and a light breeze. A thousand suns and the bluest of skies. 

How do you even begin to describe it? 

A spark? 

Yes. It starts with a spark. 

Barcelona play Levante. An away match for the former, but hardly a challenge. Tough games are increasingly difficult to come by with the depth of their squad (and the failings of their league), but Alexia doesn’t mind too much. The break is welcomed with open arms, and she loves nothing more than to crush her opponent. 

She is merciless, but she is never unkind. 

The goals come flowing like an unstoppable river; white-water rapids tearing up the shitty pitch and obliterating the Levante players. Alexia runs to stay afloat, to further prove the excellence of the club she adores, and her buoyancy is mimicked by those of equal skill. 

Weirdly, an intruder survives the flood. 

What was struck off as a clean sheet is flipped on its head; tainted, stained. 

One goal. 

One magic boot, one hero. 

One player saves Levante from losing four to nil. 

The small-ish crowd wildly shouts your name, well-acquainted with screaming those syllables after seeing the swoosh of the white net and the step towards victory. 

Alexia’s eyebrows furrow, although she knows they are not going to lose. It’s frustrating for her, having failed to apprehend a pass somewhere down the line that had connected and connected until it found your feet and soared home. In her head, clouded with pride, it makes no sense. 

Who the fuck thinks they can score against the greatest club in the world? 

(Maybe, thinking about it now, Alexia is a little unkind.) 

The rallying war-cry that she roars catches your smug attention. You’re glad she thinks you’re a threat, even if your team is technically being thrashed.

Somehow, Alexia assigns herself to mark you. The fluidity of Barcelona’s formation allows for the defence to press higher than their manager’s instructions, and, as you are clearly the best Levante has, you are all over the ball; drawn deeper into the action. You almost forget the definition of ‘striker’, too engaged in the midfield. 

You’ll be bollocked for it later, you think when there’s a brief reprieve, the ball rolling out of play for a Barcelona throw-in. You look at the gap you have left in the front line and the chaos you have caused in the midfield, and you try to convince yourself to return to the game-plan. But then there’s Alexia Putellas, her hand pressed against your back, fingers gripping your shirt to stop you from intercepting the bouncing ball as it hurtles towards one of her own. 

Alexia Putellas has a decisive grip on you. She pulls you back, and she makes it seem easy. 

You take one look at her expression, jaw clenched as she concentrates on ripping your team to shreds, and feel the need to roll your eyes.

Her determination to embarrass you is admirable enough. It’s clear that Alexia can’t handle losing in any capacity. It’s clear that she cares. 

She is worried, and that is obvious too. 

She doesn’t let you get very far from her, despite the shouts for extra coverage down the middle. Alexia is clever when it comes to football, and she can smell talent like a blood-thirsty shark. Preoccupying herself with defending meaningless passes that only wind the clock down would be useless; it will always be useless when you are on the pitch. 

Because you’re good. Really good. Young, fresh, talented, and just what the Barcelona squad might need. 

The ball comes to your feet and she is ready to quell the threat. She faces you, her closed defending designed to make you feel caged. However, when the ball slips between her open legs, she is left to catch smoke in the wind, and, though it’s at her own expense, she is impressed. 

Just like that, something ignites. 

...

Alexia wakes up with a low, determined groan. Her alarm is loud and you begin to move in your sleep, distressed by its intense, relentless mission to rouse the entire world. Alexia doesn’t care if you want to sleep in. She thinks you should be foaming at the mouth to train with her today. 

It’s the day after the latest league match. 

Together, Alexia and you scored three shared goals. The connection on the pitch is undeniable, and has been since Barcelona leapt at the chance to sign you at the start of last season. 

She’s an impactful player and is lethal when her passes are fired towards you. 

Days like these are tests. You hear the alarm and know you are waking up beside your captain, not your girlfriend. 

The alarm might as well signify the start of another trial; another exam. Do you want to be good, or the best? Do you know that talent is not everything? 

Whenever the questions appear, more in her eyes than on her sharp tongue, you hold back your remark. It’s the same every time. 

Maybe I don’t want to be the best, Alexia.

Maybe I have more talent than you, Alexia.

Captain Alexia Putellas is easier to shout at than the woman you love. 

...

Levante loses but you do not seem disheartened; you’re only twenty, and there will be many more matches to win in the future. 

You wipe the sweat from your brow, laughing at how some of the Barcelona players grimace as you hold out the same hand for them to shake. They are mostly the younger ones; those you know from the national team. 

They ask you whether you’re going to celebrate your goal later. There’s no real reputation of partying attached to your name, but there is a certain standard that comes with being a young and bright star. Kick-off was early, and it would be a good day to explore Valencia’s nightlife. 

“I’m going home tonight,” you explain pointedly, just to stop them from further taking the piss. 

“No way.” 

“Yeah, we’re having dinner.” 

“You and your family are–?” 

“I’m trying to move past it,” you reply. It’s curt and a clear end to the conversation. The crowd of players disperses soon after and you are following the victors back to Barcelona before you know it. 

A sleek, black car picks you up from the station with more than the necessary fanfare. The driver’s window rolls down, revealing an unfamiliar face; dark sunglasses, starch-ironed shirt. 

“You’re new,” you mutter to the driver as you slide into the backseat. He remains silent. “Where did the last one go? It hasn’t been that long.” He couldn’t have died or anything, you’re sure of it. 

It has only been, what, four years since you were last here? 

Your parents divorced when you were seven. Like most cases, you were caught in the crossfire, but that was hardly traumatic enough. 

They were liberal and believed in your emotional capacity with slightly more vigour than it deserved. They told you all the gory details: who slept with whom; who should go to Hell. 

The most gruesome part was the debate about who should keep you. It was a bloody battle, but not a choice a seven-year-old was able to make. And your father, the pathetic man he had become, bowed out after a month, fucking right off to Munich with a new job and bitterness in his heart that led him to vow to never, ever be in contact with you again. He lost and he chose to keep on losing. 

Fatherless, it was easy to attach yourself to the man your mother began to rebuild her life with. He was caring and he made your spiralling mother happier, funding lavish shopping trips and holidays. 

You moved into his house in the most affluent part of Barcelona – that was home, even if it didn’t quite feel like it. 

But you grew older, and so did the wonderfully in-love couple. Your father’s nose moulded itself onto your face, and his eyes grew more prominent whenever your mother tried to converse with you. It haunted her, your likeness, and it was unsettling to the man who wanted a family of his own. 

There was an easy route to rid themselves of you: boarding school in the US. You cried, riddled with homesickness, every night for months, while they procreated as though they had no pre-existing child. Soon came twins; a mix of their own, a family of their own. 

So they became four, and, at sixteen, you became one; emancipated and ready to train in the Wolfsburg academy, having progressed quite well through the years at school (earning your call-up to Spain’s youth teams, winning a few medals, showing off what you considered the talent that made your existence worthwhile – the usual). 

“Hi,” you say as the door to the mansion swings open. The marble floors are vaguely familiar, but the two boys peering at you behind the housekeeper are not. “Is, um, dinner ready yet?” 

...

With the alarm still blaring, Alexia runs a warm hand down your bare back, calloused fingers pressing into the divot of your spine. It is always like this with her: one thing said by her actions, another by her mouth. The nature of the message flips and switches as she pleases, but she never seems to be entirely able to make up her mind. 

You sigh into the pillow, burnt by the flames left in the wake of her touch. “I’m tired.” The sound is muffled but clear enough to slowly tick down the seconds until the bomb explodes. “I’m tired from last night, Ale. From the match and, you know…” 

She shuts the alarm off. It’s an hour earlier than what it needs to be, but once upon a time, there was a reason for that. 

You catch a glimpse of the past behind your closed eyes as you feel her weight shift on the bed, legs straddling your hips as the sheets are pulled down to expose more of your bare skin. Her hands traverse your body, pressing into the muscles of your back with too much pressure and none at all. She is a lead weight and she is a ghost. 

She is full of contradictions. 

“You need to come with me today.” She grazes over a purpling bruise, inflicted by her own ravenous mouth. You hiss in pain, but it is forgotten the minute her lips kiss the crime scene with something almost apologetic. 

“Baby, I’m too tired to train.” 

“Your passes were sloppy.” Kisses trail across the backs of your shoulders, the base of your neck, the middle of a canvas she wants nothing more than to wreck over and over again. “And you were lucky to scrape your goal.” Her teeth sink into your flesh experimentally; the sharp pain gone before you begin to process it. “It was a beautiful goal, though. You looked beautiful scoring it.” 

You groan, your body arching involuntarily into her touch, pulled in by something stronger than your will. Alexia is intoxicating; Alexia clouds your mind. “I missed that shot,” she continues, dangerously close to anger. “Your fault.” 

“How was it–” You whimper as she targets the knots in your back. “How was it my… my fault?” 

Her fingers dig into the tightness of your muscles, unaffected by how you tense beneath her. They are sore, but it is more than that. 

Alexia has trapped you, and you are at her mercy. 

It sends shivers down your spine. 

“Because,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear, “I was too busy watching you. You’re such a fucking distraction, you know.” 

“Ale…” 

Her laughter is musical but plays a haunting melody that prickles the hairs at the back of your neck. “Don’t be so desperate,” she purrs, her hands roaming lower with a searing heat behind them. “I missed a hattrick because of you, and it was pathetic.” 

You whine. 

“Tell me what you need, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

Your breath hitches, the words caught in your throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, how to unravel you piece by piece until you’re begging for her. 

She loves it when you beg. 

“I…” You’re not a stranger to demanding things. You’re not pathetic, you’re not. “You. I need you.” 

“Good girl,” she murmurs, rewarding you with a kiss that sears your skin. Her hand slips lower, teasing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, making you gasp. “But you have to earn it. You can’t afford to make the mistakes you made yesterday again.” 

You’re no longer listening. It’s not what you want to hear.

...

Unwelcome is the word that first springs to mind.

There is a long, mahogany trench table set, looking unnatural with the five places that throw the balance off. As though to emphasise your differences, you are ushered to the head of the table by the housekeeper, your half-brothers hesitating at the open doorway of the dining room, almost afraid to be alone with you. 

You remember being told your mother had given birth by the housemistress at school. She’d offered to see if you could get on a flight home, but no request for your presence had come; the hint had been received loud and clear. 

If they didn’t want you, you didn’t want them. 

But you don’t miss the shirt one of the boys is wearing. 

“Where’d you get that?” you ask curiously, encouraging them to approach with a tight-lipped smile. The one dressed in a Levante shirt looks at the other. 

“It’s his,” they say at the same time. It’s a little creepy. 

“Papa wouldn’t let us get your name, but that’s what we wanted.” 

“You guys like football?” you ask, forcing a casual tone. 

They nod enthusiastically, thumbs poking into their chests as they state their positions and opinionated ranking on the local team. “We get our teammates to watch your highlights. We’re gonna see you at Barça next season!” 

“How do you know I’m going to Barça next season?” you tease. “Because I didn’t even know that.” 

“Papi’s friends with Sr. Laporta, tonta.” Frowning, you grow less amused of the tidbit. Maybe your stepfather feels guilty. Maybe he wants to give your career an unnecessary helping hand. But you’d rather be sent into the Queen’s League than sign because of your connections.

Despite the tension hanging in the air, you lean back in the chair, trying to ease the stiffness in your shoulders. The eyes of your half-brothers flicker between you and the table. You’re a stranger to them, and their apprehension is understandable. It stings, but it isn’t your fault. 

The housekeeper returns, clearing her throat to interrupt the stilted silence. “Dinner will be served shortly,” she announces, her eyes avoiding yours. You scrutinise her, trying to remember whether she was there when you were first sent away. Is she new? “Boys, why don’t you fetch your father from his study?” 

Emboldened by the prospect of their escape, the one in a Levante shirt steps forward. “Can we play after dinner?” 

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts. "Boys, give your sister some space." They are scurrying away in an instant. 

You look up to see your mother standing in the doorway, her expression stern. There's an awkward pause as she takes a seat at the other end of the table, her eyes never meeting yours.

"Good to see you," she says, her tone clipped. You nod, acknowledging her presence without offering a response. “I was surprised to hear you were coming. Have you run out of money?” 

“I have money.” 

"Then why now?" she presses, her eyes still avoiding yours. The question hangs in the air as you take your time to answer it. Past arguments seep into the room, and, despite the large windows and high ceilings, you feel trapped. 

You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I wanted to see my family," you say, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. 

Your mother's lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think she might actually say something kind. But instead, she shifts her gaze to the polished surface of the table. "Well, here we are," she says, her tone flat.

...

There is something about the soft way Alexia cares for you that keeps you by her side. She’s not a bad person, and she is sorry when she is mean. You can be worse, so, really whose fault is it? Sometimes you provoke her. 

None of that matters now, though. Not in the airy space after sex and before the world begins to turn again. The sun is beginning to rise now, bathing the room in fresh light that must unsettle your girlfriend. She is trying to calm herself down, lying beside you to regain her strength before she will haul you both up. 

If you hadn’t wanted to train, you should never have spoken this morning. 

Your fingers draw lazy patterns on her stomach, nails grazing up and down tanned skin as you trace out words you cannot bring yourself to say. In this moment, everything feels perfect. You’re not sure whether your mind is still clouded with desire, but you have to close your eyes to stop tears from falling. 

“I love you,” you whisper, voice barely audible. 

“I love you too,” she replies.

It’s easy to say it because it’s true. 

It’s true because Alexia has been there for you like no one else. 

Your whole life has felt like a terminal at an airport. Everyone around you has their own emotions about their own adventures, and the crowd rushes to various gates – various destinations – with urgency you have never sought, nor found. You often stand in the middle of the bustling, bumbling mass of people, head in your hands, wondering why they seem to know where life is taking them. 

When you signed for Barcelona, it was a surprise. You hadn’t believed your little brothers when they had let it slip, and you were certain your worth was going to be exploited in another league – maybe you’d go back to Wolfsburg, maybe you’d explore abroad. Maybe your mother sending you away was a good thing, because it proved that Spain wasn’t your home. 

Sure, you held the passport and spoke the languages, but… but maybe you didn’t belong. 

Then came Alexia, who told you the opposite of what you were starting to live by. 

Alexia – older, wiser, with a clear head on her shoulders and a drive like no other – wanted you to stay, wished you’d see yourself for what was so clearly in front of her eyes. You knew you were talented, but she knew you could be the best. 

Just like she was. 

Because Alexia was aware of the intricacies of ageing, of how experience was not going to be her saviour in the very end. She was focused on a legacy: her brilliance would live on in you. 

She loved you for it. 

She loves you still. 

You can feel her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Dawn casts shadows across Alexia’s features, hiding the dark circles under her eyes in a bath of dim grey. She smiles, and the tenderness in her gaze is reserved for you, reserved for moments like these. She reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek gently. 

“We should get up,” she murmurs. 

You nod, knowing she’s right. Alexia is always right; you’ve learnt that over the years you have been together. “Just a few more minutes,” you mumble back anyway. 

Hands slide over your waist, pulling you into her body. Her laugh is quiet and giggly, full of love and fondness for a sentence she had predicted you’d say. “Okay,” she agrees. “So we’ll do three hours today, not two. Yeah?” 

...

The dinner doesn’t last very long for you, although that may be because you make it painfully clear you want to leave after the first course. Your stepfather catches on – you question if he had been hoping for this – and jumps at the chance to drive you to a high-end restaurant in central Barcelona that he is sure you will enjoy. 

He knows the chef, he says. He’ll wave money in your face and pretend that it makes these things forgivable. 

You’re hardly arguing though, so there’s not much room for complaint. 

The restaurant welcomes you into the cocktail bar, having awaited your arrival after being enticed by the name of the credit card attached to the tab. Your stepfather is well-known around these parts, and although the notion of a fifth member of his perfect family has been obscured for a long time, there is a shared surname between you and your little brothers that offers you half a place in this small shroud of gente rica. 

Sitting alone at the bar, you order a martini. The glass is cold against your fingertips, and a shiver runs down your spine despite the warmth of the busy restaurant. It’s loud here, with every table full of happy, wealthy patrons who do both business and pleasure all at once, but you feel distant, disconnected. 

You don’t belong here. 

It’s a struggle of yours. 

You never seem to belong anywhere; always an afterthought, always an add-on. 

There is no space that is moulded to fit your body, no path that has been carved out solely for you. (Or, if there is, it is really fucking hard to find.) 

Football is sort of your thing, but the whole nature of professional sport is to fight hard so you don’t get replaced – therefore implying that no one is inherently one-of-a-kind. 

Sometimes, you convince yourself that that isn’t what you want, but that is a lie. Everyone wants to be unique. Everyone wants to be loved for who they are. 

A tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your self-damning thoughts. 

“Are you alone?” 

You turn to find Alexia Putellas standing beside you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place. It seems she is more surprised to see you here than you are to see her, but she swallows her comment to look you up and down. 

Her scrutiny is intimidating. Maybe that is how you are supposed to feel, maybe that is what she wants. After all, the intensity of the match still lingers in your aching muscles, and seeing her now, out of the context of football kits and harsh tackles, is almost surreal. 

“Alexia, hi,” you say, forcing a smile. 

She repeats her question firmly, concern knitting her brows together. She’s wearing makeup, but you decide she doesn’t need it. 

Alexia is really pretty. You get lost on your way to answer her. 

She places a hand on the same shoulder she tapped, unaware of how your skin sizzles because of her touch, fearing you will run away from her. You have a skittish look about you, she’s noticed, and, for some reason, she wants you to stay put. 

“Come, sit.” Her hand waves in the direction of her table, filled with women around her age who must be her friends. A part of you finds it unfair that Alexia appears to have friends because someone once said sacrifices are the bricks that pave the way to success, but you put it out of mind to deal with politely declining her invitation.

Your hesitation only seems to spur her on, however. 

“You remind me of me, you know.” Your martini glass is empty, and her nose wrinkles with disapproval. 

“I do?” you ask, interested in what similarity she is going to draw between you. 

She holds up two fingers to the bartender, mouthing her order with a small smirk, before looking down at you from where she stands and you sit, inspecting your face. Her fingers gently wrap around your chin, and she tilts your head upwards. “You have that look in your eyes.” 

Laughter rings out from her table, followed quickly by calls for her to return to her meal. She ignores the noise, focused entirely on you. 

Alexia tries to suppress her thoughts of how beautiful you look – how ruggedly captivating, how… enticing – and she is sure she is successful. 

Until you lick your lips and ask her to elaborate. 

She is silent for a moment. 

It’s the first time someone has made you feel like nothing and everything all at once; like the brightest star in the galaxy, like an unused lump of clay. Like you are both wondrous and plain. Exceptional and just like everyone else. 

Alexia’s and… not. 

You are completely at her mercy. 

You agree to join her and her friends for dinner. 

As you approach the table, the group welcomes you with warm smiles and a polite interest in who you are. Alexia’s introduction makes you blush as she details your goal and the success attributed to you at such a young age (she emphasises that part for her own conscience), and it is only a moment before you settle into an empty seat beside her, somehow put at ease. 

The conversation resumes its flow, light and lively, but Alexia is distracted from the discussion of their next holiday. She has questions, many of them, and she figures you are detached from the Catalan they speak in and are silently begging for a language you do understand. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Alexia murmurs in Spanish, leaning in a bit closer. “Figured you’d, you know, be licking your wounds in Valencia.” 

Two drinks are delivered to your table; one for you, one for Alexia. She watches your lips as they part to take a sip, pinching her own thigh when she catches herself. 

“I used to play for Levante,” she continues as you stoically nurse your drink. “When I was younger, Barça sent me off to get some experience. They called me back soon enough.” 

“I never played for Barça.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise, more so for your assumption of her assumption than anything else. You notice her expression. You laugh and Alexia finds she’s quite a fan of that sound. “I’m from Barcelona, Alexia. I speak Catalan and everything.” 

“You don’t sound–” 

“My stepfather has a house in Sarrià and told me to fuck off to boarding school when I was younger. So I went to America and I had to do Spanish classes, and ‘cause I’d renounced my family, it was like learning Castellano all over again.” 

“Like a madrileña,” Alexia finishes off, amused. “Boarding school, eh?” 

“Lost my parents, lost my accent. Childhood of dreams,” you respond sarcastically. “I’ve just come from a family dinner, actually. I left after the starter because… well, it fucking sucked seeing my mother pretend–” You hold your tongue, embarrassed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump it all on you. The martini’s loosened my lips.” 

Your laugh this time is self-deprecating and a little painful to hear. Alexia shakes her head and is about to encourage you to carry on, when she catches the heat rising to your cheeks and wonders whether that would be for the best. Instead, she thinks you might prefer to hear something else. “How about another drink after you’re done with that?” 

The rest of the night is a blur. 

Alexia is torn between wanting to impress you and wanting to protect you. She doesn’t know which to follow: the reasonable responsibility drilled into her head, captain of Barcelona, captain of Spain… or the pulse between her legs that grows stronger every time her gaze falls to the low-cut top you’re wearing. It’s this desire that must destroy her judgement, and, after you have insisted on paying for the meal with your stepfather’s credit card, Alexia finds herself having to text the younger girls at Barça to see if any of them can come get you. 

Pina’s busy, Cata’s out with her friends, and Jana claims she’s emetophobic. 

Briefly, Alexia wonders if she imagined you being friends with any of them, but, at the end of the day (or beginning – as it is rapidly approaching tomorrow), she really does have to take you somewhere. She won’t let your half-catatonic body lie on the streets of Barcelona, and so she hauls you into a taxi and waves goodbye to her friends. 

“Interesting recruitment method for the B team,” jokes one of them as they disperse. “Wait, sorry. You waxed lyrical about her tonight enough for me to know that she’d be on the first team with you.” 

“Her contract must be in the works,” Alexia agrees, choosing to ignore the saccharine tone such a compliment was voiced with. “I swear, she’s going to be the best.” 

You’re not paying attention to any of this, of course, too busy pressing your hand against the glass of the taxi’s window, giggling every time you imprint the shape of your palm. “Alexia!” you call out, wanting her to share your enjoyment. “Alexia, look!” 

She turns to look at you, her stern expression softening when she sees how your eyes have lit up. She can’t help but smile at the innocence of your little game, and if the taxi driver raises his eyebrows in the rearview mirror, Alexia chooses not to notice. 

“Very impressive,” she says, cringing at how she sounds like she is soothing a child. You seem even younger now, especially when your ears perk up as she speaks in Catalan, a picture of something you confessed to have lost years ago. 

It’s a horrible conflict to have brewing inside of her, and she shakes her head, trying to clear it. Her composure becomes harder to maintain with you being pressed up against her in the backseat, but all thoughts she has are thrown into a deep, dark ditch that she decides to deal with at a later date. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice slurred and eyes wide with curiosity.

“My place,” comes the simple reply. It’s the only option left. She knows she can make sure you’re safe, and, besides, the idea of you at her place feels comforting, as though it were not supposed to be any other way.

When the taxi finally pulls up outside her apartment building, Alexia pays the driver and helps you out of the car. You falter like a newborn foal learning to walk, and she encourages you to lean heavily on her so that the journey inside will be quicker. The walk to her door feels longer, and each step is tentative as she continues to debate her decision. 

But she’s going to care for you. That’s all. 

You marvel at her apartment, which shocks her after she has learnt about your childhood, but she takes the compliment and guides you to her bedroom under the guise of giving you a ‘tour’. The spare bedroom is unusable, seeing as the bed has become the latest storage cupboard for her boxes of awards and PR packages, so, again, this is the only option. 

You collapse unceremoniously onto her mattress with a loud sigh. 

Alexia stands there for a moment, watching as you settle into her bed. As much as responsibility and protectiveness hangs over her head, she also feels something much deeper inside of her beginning to swirl into a storm. She’s not ready to acknowledge it yet. 

Taking a deep breath, she glances at you once more. “You need to rest.” Her voice carries the authority of the woman she is; a woman who is much older and wiser and who has more power than ethical to be feeling any kind of attraction towards you. Her hand hovers over you, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. The warmth of your skin under her fingertips sends a jolt through her, but she quickly pulls her hand back, focusing on her current task.

“Thanks, Alexia,” you mumble, already half-asleep. 

After that close-call, she rights herself, looking around her room for a moment before heading to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water. She places it on the bedside table, knowing you'll need it in the morning, not wanting to wake you up to drink it now. She then finds a spare blanket and a pillow, setting up a makeshift bed for herself on the sofa in the living room.

Exhausted from the day, she expects to fall asleep quickly, but she is tortured by the same question, over and over again. 

How the fuck did she get here? 

[wileys-russo]

idk if this is really boring but could you do a leah x alessia x reader where r isn’t a footballer but has to do some charity football match for work or whatever (u can work out the details idk😭) & her gfs get competitive over teaching r how to play and prepping her for the game then they go support her at the match and r does really good IDK feel free to ignore if that’s rubbish lmfao

psa; just because i write this does not mean i ship these two irl! offence and defence II a.russo & l.williamson

"baby?"

you looked up from your book with a hum to meet alessia's raised eyebrow, leahs head in your lap as she lay down on the sofa dead asleep. "what is this?" your girlfriend questioned, turning her phone to face you as your eyes widened.

"where did you find that less?" you sighed, the snap of your book closing causing leahs eyes to flutter open as she mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, burying her face in your stomach.

"its all over your companies social media, i hardly had to go looking." alessia holding up a screenshot of a poster for an upcoming charity football day ran by the company you worked for. "i'm not doing it anyway so it doesn't matter." you rolled your eyes.

"and why not?" alessia scoffed, locking her phone and crossing her arms. "because football is your thing, not mine." you gestured between your two blonde lovers and back to yourself. "babe its for charity!" alessia pointed out and you groaned, knowing now she'd latched on there wasn't a chance she'd let it go.

"i'll still go and help out with the fundraising and the event itself, i'm just not playing." you chuckled, leah pulling her face out of your hoodie with a tired scowl. "shut up!" the blonde grumbled tiredly, fixing the two of you with a glare, annoyed at the interruption to her afternoon snooze.

"sorry lee." you apologized softly, running a hand through her hair and kissing her forehead. "no you'll wanna be awake for this, get up!" alessia smacked the back of her legs, taking a seat on the opposite end of the lounge as leah groaned.

"leave her be and drop it alessia!" you warned the striker with a firm look who only poked at the back of leahs legs repeatedly until she finally sat up with a huff. "what?" she spat toward the other blonde with an unimpressed glare as the girl handed her the phone.

"so?" leah questioned, not quite putting things together still half asleep. "she's refusing to play." alessia spoke about you as if you weren't even there as leah paused for a moment, cogs turning until it clicked.

"you're playing." she rounded on you, handing alessia back her phone and rubbing at her eyes, face still a little puffy as you exhaled deeply.

"no i am not, please just let it go!" you pleaded, your puppy dog eyes which normally worked a charm to get you whatever you wanted not working for you this time as both your girlfriends stared on unfazed.

"suddenly i feel a cramp coming on. oh this might be fatal!" you groaned, clutching your hamstring with a dramatic cry of pain, a smile tugging at alessia's lips as leahs remained pursed into a thin line.

"guess you better rest it tonight then, we start training tomorrow." "what!"

~

"come on love, training time." leah clapped the moment the three of you returned from a run as you groaned, laying down on the floor in protest.

you'd hardly ran far, only enough to keep the girls legs warm on their day off, but kicking a ball around your backyard was the last thing you felt like doing.

"i'll just watch some football games, study them. that's fine!" you waved her off as alessia watched on amused after chugging a glass of water.

"no you won't. you're dating two professional footballers babe this is our area of expertise. let us help you!" leah loomed over you, holding out her hands to help you up, wiggling her fingers impatiently.

"i didn't ask for help, thank you though." you slapped her hand in a lazy high five before they slumped back to your sides. "baby." leah now addressed alessia who raised an eyebrow. leah only clicked her fingers, pointing to you and striding off outside.

"hi gorgeous." alessia grinned down at you, blonde hair tied back in a messy bun as she chewed on gum, a habit which stressed you out to no end when she'd do it while playing or exercising.

"fine." you gave in with a sigh, knowing what came next as you held your arms up straight. alessia grabbed your wrists, hauling your body up and over her shoulder, walking the two of you out to the backyard.

"first lesson. kicking!" leah announced as alessia placed you down on your feet, leaving it to leah as she sat down on your back steps, leaning back on her elbows and watching on with a toothy grin of amusement.

"okay babe. kick the ball!" leah ordered, placing it down by your feet as you glared at her, poking the ball with your toe as it dribbled a mere thirty centimeters and stopped. "the more you fight us on it, the longer we spend out here." leah warned, tapping the ball back as it returned to your feet.

"kick it." she repeated as you wound up, this time booting it with all your force as it went sailing up and over the back fence. "oh we lost the ball...what a shame!" you shrugged, turning on heel and trying to return inside as alessia grabbed the back of your shorts.

with a shake of her head she pushed you gently back toward leah who'd already returned with another ball. "you're gonna make a perfect striker with that right foot baby." alessia smiled happily causing leah to scoff.

"she's gonna be an even better defender with that power in her kicks." leah rebutted with her hands on her hips. "okay my loves lets not-" you tried to intervene, knowing all too well where this was headed, cut off before you could even finish.

"striker." "defender." "striker!" "defender!" "she's playing offence leah!" "she'll be playing defence alessia!"

you gave up at that point as their bickering erupted, alessia jumping to her feet as you rolled your eyes and headed inside. you gave your boss a quick call, updating you were in fact available to play and wincing at he announced the only position left.

"baby you ran off." alessia appeared as you'd hung up, leah not far behind. "no! the two of you started arguing like children, so i took a leave of absence." you quipped, staring them both down as they smiled guiltily.

"doesn't matter anyway, there was only one position left." you sighed, both your girlfriends staring at you eagerly awaiting your answer. "well?" leah pushed impatiently as alessia shoved her with a look.

"goalkeeper."

~

"okay baby we're gonna start slow. lee will throw it and you'll just catch it." alessia instructed as you exhaled but nodded, readying yourself.

"see? easy love." leah smiled happily as you caught the ball, repeating the activity for a while, leah starting to throw in different directions causing you to have to move to catch it.

"now we move onto kicking and saving." you'd moved in front of the small goal which took permanent residence in your backyard. "go easy!" you warned nervously, having seen many a time just how powerful alessia could kick.

"ready?" you nodded, readying yourself as the blonde took a step back, boots hitting the ball with a thud as it came sailing toward your head and you darted out of the way.

"you're supposed to stop it not avoid it babe!" alessia lectured as you fixed her with a glare. "i will stop it when you don't kick it at my head!" you growled, booting the ball at her as hard as you could as she was now the one to dart away.

"stop laughing!" you turned your glare on leah now whose chuckles ceased, holding her hands up.

"okay! i think that's enough for today."

~

"baby think fast!" you barely had time to lift your head before alessia's trainer came flying at you, smacking you in the side of the face as leah choked on her mouthful of food beside you.

"alessia mia teresa!" you yelled, the blonde sprinting out of the room as you hauled her shoe after her. "something funny?" you challenged your other girlfriend, her smile dropping as she shook her head and you huffed, moving to the sink to wash your dishes.

"why are you so grumpy this morning my girl?" leahs arms wound round you from behind, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"why do you think? all week the two of you have been throwing things at me, kicking stuff at me, hitting me with shoes and fruit and books!" you scowled, trying to push her body away from you but the taller girl held on tightly.

"it was part of training! and hey you caught most of it...the last couple of days." leah winced at the memory, her and alessia perhaps a little too passionate in their mission to mold you into the best goalkeeper they could.

"well i didn't ask to be trained!" you reminded firmly, placing your dishes in the drying rack and shoving leah away. "i am not a dog." you warned her seriously, poking at her chest and turning, barreling right into someone else's.

"good morning i love you?" alessia tried, holding your body tightly to hers with a guilty smile, ducking her head to repeatedly kiss the side of her face where she'd assaulted you with her shoe.

"you're lucky i love you too."

~

"baby! you did so so so so good." you laughed as alessia picked you up in a bear hug, spinning you around for a minute before leah whined it was her turn, tugging you into her body and peppering your face with kisses, mumbling how proud she was.

"okay okay i am still at a work event." you gently pushed her off, face flushed bright red both from the game you'd just won and the showering of pda.

"-then when you did the dive??" alessia gasped, the three of you now sat in her car and on your way back to your shared home. "yeah love where did you learn to dive like that?" leah asked, leaning forward with a curious frown.

"watched a bunch of videos of mary. i told you if you just left me be to study i'd have been fine! instead of assaulting me with a barrage of household objects all weeks." you rolled your eyes playfully, alessia squeezing your leg with a smile, other hand on the steering wheel.

"well we're exceptionally proud of you baby girl." leah beamed, pinching your cheek before kissing it, dropping back into her seat. "good! because do not expect that ever again, god i don't know how you do that every weekend i am exhausted." you groaned tiredly.

"not too tired i hope love, we still have to celebrate you." alessia smiled suggestively, meeting leahs eyes in her rear view mirror as the eldest blonde leaned forward again, placing a few gentle kisses to your neck.

"yeah baby, gonna make you feel like a winner. our winner!"

[alexa-fika]

Unexpected Visit, Unexpected Family (Ace xgn!child!reader x Luffy)

A/N: Here we go! I told you I was brewing something, I cooked right here child wholesomeness and brother wholesomeness?? I COOKED 👀

Nibling: Genderneutral term for niece/nephew

Dividers by @/saradika

“Sweetpea, you good down there?”

“Mmhm!”

“We’re almost there. I can see Thousand Sunny; are you having fun?”

“Yeah! Daddies Striker is the best!” The young child proclaims, playing with the passing waves as the striker moves along

“I’m glad to hear that.”

As they approach the Sunny, he glances down at them

“Come here, sweetpea. Im going to put you in my back so I can jump into the sunny, plus you can give Uncle Luffy a scare.”

“Okay!” They said, climbing into him and hugging his neck to not fall down

“Hey, daddy, what’s uncle Luffy like?”

“Uncle Luffy? He’s… He’s a handful.” He laughs

“He’s reckless, but without him, I wouldn’t have been able to come back to you.”

“He’s very carefree. You’ll love him for sure; you never have a boring moment with him around, especially with that crew of his.”

“If he saved Daddy, then I like him!”

“I know you will love him.”

As they arrive at the Sunny, he looks at them behind him

“Hold on tight, alright?”

They nod, giggling when he jumps up easily, reaching Sunny’s railings and landing in his usual low crouch

“Ace!” Luffy cheers as he sees his brother make his entrance

“Hey Luffy, I have someone you need you need to meet,” he says

“Reader giggles as they pop out from behind their dad, still holding on tightly

“Boo!”

The sudden appearance of the young child startles Luffy.

“Hah? Who’s that?”

“This is my kid.” He grins

“This is your nibling. You're an Uncle now Luffy!” he laughs

Luffy’s face lights up when he hears the words “kid” and “nibling.”

“No way!” Luffy shouts out in excitement as he jumps up and runs over, scooping the little kid up in a hug and spinning them

“How old are you?”

“Umm…im this many!” They exclaimed, showing them three roughly raised fingers

Luffy has to take a second to look at the kid’s hands and count her fingers before smiling at them.

“You’re three!”

“Ace, how come im only meeting them now?”

Ace gives him a tight smile.

“Well last time we saw each other was hardly the right time to catch up, between almost getting executed, the war, and us almost, you know….and after that, we both separated and went our own ways for two years, but I see you’ve become stronger haven’t you Luffy?”

“Shishishi, yeah, I have been getting stronger; I trained with Rayleigh for two years!”

Luffy sets Reader down and puts his arms up, posing in a fighting stance.

“I can even use Haki now! I could beat you now!”

He scoffs

“Yeah, right; you’re not the only one who trained for all that time.” He looks at his brother, smiling

“Im proud of you, Luffy.”

The Reader looks between the two brothers, confused as to what exactly they are talking about but still wanting to be a part of it

“Im proud of you, Uncle Luffy!”

Luffy turns his attention to Reader and kneels down to get on their level

“You wanna see something cool, Reader?”

“Yeah!”

Luffy raises his right arm up and takes a moment to focus. He then moves it back and forth slowly, allowing the Armament Haki to activate and cover his arm.

“Look at that!” Luffy cheers

Reader awes, poking at Luffy’s now steel-hard arm

“Daddy, it’s just like Uncle Jozu’s!”

They turn back to Luffy

“Uncle Luffy is so cool!”

Luffy smiles at Reader and lets out a laugh.

“Thank you, Reader, im happy you think so!”

“You wanna see more cool stuff, Reader?”

They nod their head vigorously in excitement.

Luffy stands up and, picks Reader up, and puts her on his shoulders, smiling up at them.

“Hold on tight.”

They give another squeal as Luffy suddenly stretches his arms, slingshotting the both of them across the ship

“Oi Luffy, be careful with them!”

“I will!” he hollers back

He smiles as he watches the two of them from the railing

“Whee!” Luffy cheers as he carries Reader around.

He stretches and throws himself from one part of the ship to another, carrying Reader as he goes.

“Ready for another?” Luffy asks as he gets ready to make a jump.

“Yeah!”

Luffy stretches out his arms and slingshots off again, this time a bit further, as he aims right back where he started.

“Shishishi!” He laughs as he carries Reader with him.

They giggle as they land quickly, running back to their dad and hugging his legs

“Daddy! I love Uncle Luffy, he’s really funny! He took me flying, did you see?!”

“I saw, and I also saw you laughing like a goofball,” He says, smiling and boosting them up and leaning them against his hip to hold them.

“Shishishishi! I’m glad you think so!” Luffy laughs.

“Hey Ace, come on, you have to meet the rest of my crew! Some people have joined since the last time you visited; we even got a singing skeleton, Shishishi.”

“A singing skeleton? You’ve always been a magnet for all types of people, Luffy.” He chuckles

“I wanna see a skeleton!” The small child cheers

“You will meet everyone soon enough, sweetpea.” He puts them on his shoulder again and smiles

“Say Luffy, you have some free time after this? What do you say we visit our dear old brother? He has yet to meet their nibling as well,” they ask, grinning

“Shishishi, guess we have a new destination!

Yeah thats right, no one is dying on my watch! No plot is sinking either! No one is taking our golden boy!

Taglist

@imaginarydreams

[totaly-obsessed]

Book Love

Alessia Russo x reader UNC

-> Alessia loves how different the two of you are, despite everyone's teasing

-> Special thanks to @babsisbakery for helping out with ideas

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Alessia Russo was hopelessly in love with her girlfriend. And it was no secret. But the blonde's popularity didn’t save her from the teasing she received on the daily.

She constantly heard ‘Why would you date someone like that?’

‘You could have anybody.’

A couple of times she was even asked if she dated you because of a bet or because she just wanted to use you. That was the first time that you saw the harsh captain that she could be – making her teammates run until they felt like vomiting blood.

Not all the teasing was bad though – a lot of it actually quite funny. At least to you. Lessi would still get mad, but when she saw you laughing, her problem vanished into thin air.

Whenever you would show up at their practice sessions, the blonde did not get a break. She was too busy staring at you to notice the girls throwing bibs at her. You did not notice it either, too deep into your book – not really being interested in the sport and just showing up for your girlfriend.

Lotte, the blonde’s best friend, loved that she was dating you. You felt like a safe place to her. A cozy blanket that could shut out the rest of the world. You always had an ear open for the half-brit so that she could rant about her latest book without having to explain why some things just annoyed her about it.

While she loved the two of you, Lotte could not stand hanging out with both of you at the same time. When Alessia was around you, you could hardly stand up without the footballer following you like a lost puppy. And the blonde would not stop looking at you until you left the room – so she just ignored her fellow lioness until you were gone.

Alessia’s favorite part of the week? The evening after a match. No matter if they won or lost, she would spend the evening the exact same way. You would join her in her room, curled up in her bed. The blonde's head heavy in your lap as you stroked her hair with one hand, the other holding the book that she picked.

She loved you, your touch, and your voice – so having you read to her after an exhausting game?

Jackpot.

Most of the time you made it two chapters deep before the striker fell asleep in your lap, and you did not dare to continue reading.

One time you had read just a couple of pages more until you realized that she had fallen asleep – but it was already too late. When you took out the book the next time, there was a pout on the blonde’s lip, as she immediately rolled off your lap.

“What is wrong Less? It’s our book!”

A deep sigh left her body, still ignoring you. “Baby, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

She did not forgive you.

She really did not.

At least until your hand had found its way into her hair. With a deep hum, her body relaxed into you. “What’s up, huh?”

“You read without me!” You could not really take the ‘anger’ in her voice seriously. Not when she was purring like a kitten, whining when your hand stilled for a second too long.

“Oh! I am sorry my girl. Promise I did not mean to.” But the blonde did not let up, still having her back turned to you. So you took to your last resort – back scratches and praises.

While she voiced her complaints that your hands left her head, she shut up really quick when she felt them creeping up her shirt You lightly scratched her back, whispering sweet nothings into your girlfriend’s ear, as she was on her way to dreamland.

You knew that the blonde had never really been mad at you for reading ahead, but it seemed that she just needed a little extra touch this evening.

Alessia was always open about her feelings, but she never wanted to cross boundaries when it came to physical touch – always letting you decide how much the two of you touched. If it was up to her there would not fit a single piece of paper between you.

While you wished that her teammates could see Alessia this way, so much softer than they were used to, you were glad that you could keep this side of hers to yourself. She was fiercely loyal and would shut anybody up who would make remarks about the differences between the two of you.

She wished it could stay like this forever. Being able to carry your books through the hallway. Seeing you on the bench for her. Laying in bed with you reading to her, falling asleep to your soothing voice.

But she knew that both of you had to grow up – even if she did not want to.

She wished for a love like the ones from your many books. A love so deep, it would need much more than different countries to break you apart.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii! so happy for you and your 500! ^_^

i really loved how you wrote isagi! could i request something like listening to music and sharing earphones with him? and while he's commenting about the music reader told him to listen, reader finds herself staring at him. and maybe isagi's friends are secretly filming them bc of how cringey (lovingly) their relationship are HSHS feel free to ignore, thank youu!!

── READ IT AND WEEP!

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend listen to some music together, while an unlikely trio of strikers watches in disgust/fascination/apathy at the scene before them.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: fluffy to a corny extent tbh but it’s okay it’s cute, chigiri and bachira are dumbasses (affectionate), nagi is an unwilling accomplice, karasu converts nagi into a subway surfers kid offscreen

A/N: anonnnn i’m so glad to hear you liked pathways isagi!! and tysm for the congrats 💖 i hope you didn’t think i ignored this, i’m sorry it took me a bit to get to! i did incorporate your suggestion at the end hehe i love a good opportunity to write shenanigans…i wasn’t sure which characters to pick but for some reason the three i chose were calling to me HAHA they just felt like they would be the ones to do smth like that!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

“It reminds me of you,” you explained as Isagi made a face at the bright pink album cover of the song you were trying to convince him to listen to. “Stop trying to be all macho and cool! It’s not like your friends are around to judge you for listening to basic pop music instead of your normal stuff. Come on, I know you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Let me read the lyrics first.”

“What kind of spoiler is that? Just listen to the song!” you said.

“I can’t understand the lyrics if I just listen to the song, and you said that it reminds you of me, so I want to know what you mean by that,” he said.

“How about you read the lyrics afterwards?” you bargained. He shook his head resolutely.

“No, because then the listening experience won’t be as strong,” he said. Sighing, you looked up the song’s lyrics and handed him your phone, holding onto his bicep and reading over his shoulder as he scrolled through the singer’s downright over-the-top articulations about how much she loved her boyfriend.

“It doesn’t sound as crazy when she’s singing it,” you muttered when Isagi’s ears turned red.

“No, no, this is sweet,” he said, pretending to cough in an attempt to disguise his laughter. “I can’t believe you think so highly of me.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “You’re my one and only boyfriend. You’re not the only one who gets to be cheesy, you know. I do as well — though only sometimes. Certainly not anywhere near as often as you are.”

“Right, being cheesy is my role,” he said, his cheek resting against your hair as you slumped into him. “Okay, since this is your way of showing affection, and since the lyrics are so charming, I guess I should probably listen to it. Give me one of your earbuds.”

“Gross, you didn’t bring your own?” you teased even as you handed one over to him. He rolled his eyes, shoving it into his ear, kissing your forehead as he did so.

“Super gross, I know,” he said. “You can play it whenever you’re ready.”

The familiar notes of the intro played, but you had played the song a million times before, so you hardly paid attention. Instead, you focused on Isagi, the way he frowned slightly as the first verse began, like he was concentrating very hard. It was endearing, that he was putting so much effort into the simple task; you knew it would’ve been much easier for him to pretend to be interested so he could get it over with, but he had never been like that. If you asked him to do something, he would put a hundred percent into it, a hundred percent or sometimes more, just so that he could make you happy.

You noticed, idly at first and then on purpose, that his body was different, his face angular in a way that it hadn’t been when he had left for Blue Lock. It was these changes you took stock of as he sat in peace, eyes shut as he listened to the music. He looked less like a boy and closer to the man he would one day become. You wondered how much he would change the next time he left, if you would even recognize him when he came back again.

In the end, though, you concluded that no matter how he had grown and how he was yet to grow, he was still at his core your Isagi. Isagi who listened to your music and gave piggyback rides to your younger siblings. Isagi who stopped in convenience stores so he could buy snacks for the stray cats and helped you pick what clothes you should wear for any given event. Isagi who loved you and who you loved in return.

“It’s really good,” he said, startling you out of your daze. “I liked it more than I thought I would! She has a really good voice, and you’re right — it does all sound much more natural when she’s singing it.”

“Is it getting added to the playlist?” you said.

“Hm,” he said. “Maybe the one I listen to at home, but I don’t know what the others would say if I was on speaker duty during one of our workouts and that started blasting. I think Barou and Raichi would probably die.”

You didn’t know that much about either of those two, but from what little Isagi had told you, that sounded in character enough, so you nodded in agreement.

“Good enough for me. It’s okay, I’m not mad! See, I have different playlists for different occasions, too, so it only makes sense that you would as well,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re not upset. I really do like it, just so you know. Send me more songs like it when you get home — I want to make a playlist of ones that remind me of you,” he said. 

“Why, so you can play it during your group workouts and make your single teammates jealous?” you said, elbowing him in the side. He chuckled.

“Nah, that would be cruel. I think I’ll bring my own pair of headphones to Blue Lock — I’ve definitely scored enough goals that they’ll let me keep them at this point — and whenever I miss you, I’ll listen to it,” he said.

“Oh,” you said, swallowing, taken aback at the casual way he always said such romantic things. “Um, well, if you have your phone, you could also just text me…”

It was his turn to be taken aback. “Oh, right. I guess I could do that too…but if you’re asleep, then I’ll listen to it! We get up pretty early, you know, and I don’t want to wake you when you should be resting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. “But let’s not talk about you leaving right now. For the moment, I’m glad you’re on break and can spend time with me.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Just as much as that singer loves her boyfriend. Actually, more.”

“I love you, too,” you said. “More than that singer could ever love anyone. Way more.”

He exhaled through his nose, and then he wrapped his arm around your waist, scooting impossibly closer to you on the park bench the two of you were sharing and humming the melody of the song as you watched people walk by. 

“Nagi!” Chigiri hissed from where he, Bachira, and Nagi were hiding in a bush — or at least, they were trying to. It was somewhat difficult to hide the towering Nagi, who was also not exactly cooperating in their covert mission or participating in their attempt at masterful disguise. “Did you get it?”

“What?” Nagi said with a yawn, still holding his phone up, pointed towards where Isagi and his girlfriend — the girlfriend whose existence they had all been convinced was a myth or tall tale — were sitting together. “Get what? Why are we even here? You guys told me that we were leaving the bowling arena to get snacks.”

“Give me that!” Chigiri said, snatching the phone from Nagi, who whined in protest. Bachira hushed him, reaching up to pat him on the head, though that only made Nagi pout like a child. “What? Why is this open to Subway Surfers?”

“Oh, Karasu downloaded it on my phone while we were all in the arcade, and I’ve been playing it ever since,” Nagi explained. “It’s kind of fun. I’m trying to get the national high score.”

“You were supposed to be filming Isagi and The Girlfriend!” Bachira said, emphasizing the words ‘the girlfriend’ as if she was some kind of legendary being. “That’s why we brought you along! You’re always playing on your phone, so it wouldn’t be suspicious for you to have it out, but you were secretly supposed to be taking videos as blackmail, not actually playing on it!”

“You guys didn’t tell me that,” Nagi said. “You told me that we were all going to buy chips and fruit jellies together.”

“We literally told you,” Chigiri said, face-palming. “We said when we got here, ‘look, Nagi, that’s Isagi and his girlfriend. Take a video of them.’ Anyways, why else would we be standing in a bush so creepily if we weren’t doing reconnaissance?”

Nagi shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s a common hobby or something.”

Chigiri narrowed his eyes at him, unable to discern if he was being serious or not. He decided to err on the side of caution, given how genuinely strange most of his Blue Lock peers were. “It’s not.”

“Okay, you know what? It’s fine. They’re still there, so we can get some footage now!” Bachira said, taking Nagi’s phone from Chigiri and using it to take pictures of Isagi and his girlfriend as they curled up with one another on the park bench.

“Use your own phone,” Nagi said, though he didn’t try to take the device back by force — it would be a hassle, and he was pretty sure that Bachira would give it back soon.

True to form, Bachira sent the photos to a group chat he created with himself, Nagi, and Chigiri, and then he gave Nagi his phone back, earning him a quiet cheer as Nagi was finally able to return to Subway Surfers.

“These are perfect,” Chigiri said. Nagi, whose little avatar had just been caught by the policeman, scowled slightly.

“By the way, why do you guys think that these are worthy of being used as blackmail?” he said.

“Uh, because it’s embarrassing that Isagi of all people is so lovey-dovey?” Bachira said.

“Exactly,” Chigiri said.

“I think it’s more embarrassing that he has a girlfriend and no one else does,” Nagi said conversationally, without even looking up from the screen. Bachira and Chigiri exchanged horrified looks and then, in unison, whipped out their phones to delete the offending material, Chigiri also taking the liberty of doing the same on Nagi’s.

“I can’t believe we didn’t consider that angle,” Bachira said, shaking his head. “Nagi, man, you’re a lifesaver.”

Nagi grunted, obviously uninterested in Bachira’s praise. 

“This is why they call him the lazy genius,” Chigiri said in approval. “Listen, the three of us are the only ones who can confirm the existence of Isagi’s girlfriend. That means that the next time he brings her up, we have to double down on denying it. You guys in?”

“Yup, sounds like fun!” Bachira said. “Nagi?”

Nagi looked up at them. “Will you guys pay for my chips and fruit jellies like you said you would?”

Chigiri and Bachira glanced at one another before nodding, silently agreeing to split the bill. 

“Sure, we got it!” Bachira said.

“Just don’t expect anything on the same level as whatever Reo buys you. We’re not that rich!” Chigiri said. Nagi shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said. 

“Then it’s a deal!” Chigiri said.

“Deal!” Bachira said.

“Deal,” Nagi agreed, shoving his phone in his pocket as the three of them traipsed towards the closest convenience store, leaving Isagi and Y/N blissfully alone and unaware that they had ever been there in the first place.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— earbuds, my love + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — third fic queued for aali's away time, one of my many isagi wips! he's literally ceo of friends to lovers ngl !! i love him so bad... enjoy my lurvs - m.list ✩

“this song makes me feel like i’m falling in love with someone.”

isagi glances up at you from his phone, no longer shuffling the playlist that you’re both listening to. you’re looking out of the window, your feet propped up on the back of the seat in front of you, your head resting on your closed fist. you miss the way he flushes red.

“do you want to keep listening to it then?” he mumbles softly, thumb hovering over the slip button and his voice just barely above a whisper. you almost don’t hear you despite the fact that you’re sharing headphones and only have one ear-bud in while he takes the other.

this time, you tilt your head away from the window and the scenery passing by to lock eyes with your childhood best friend. “no, s’okay,” you say, your voice equally as low. “you can change it if you’d like.” your facial expression is tranquil, the swell of your lips pressed into an appreciative smile and your eyes sparkling with the sunlight that glitters outside of your moving train.

isagi’s nerves quickly get the better of him and he breaks eye contact, swallowing thickly before looking away with his own smile (mostly for himself).

“i think we’ll keep listening to it.”

you’re both on the train from the bustling city of tokyo back to the tiny town you both grew up in. with the off-season approaching, japan’s beloved striker had finally managed to get some time away from the blue lock team to visit his parents, and you were off on your university’s allotted spring-break.

this was the first time, in what felt like forever, that your calendars were synced up.

your bond with isagi had always been strong — from the very first moment you’d met, back in middle school when he’d kicked a soccer ball straight into your lunch and then instantly offered to buy you a new one. impossible to separate, you were joined at the hip right up until he left for blue lock. these days, your paths rarely cross and while isagi’s career in soccer bloomed like you always knew it would �� you went the more traditional route of life and found passion in your own university degree.

after some moments of quiet, aside from the children crying in their mother’s arms, teenagers gossiping on their way home from junior high and the calls from the attendant manning the snack cart — isagi speaks up, shyly. “who…who would you be in love with? yanno…because of this song…”

“some guy, i’ve known him for years.”

“does he know…how you feel about him?” you shake your head and isagi presses you again. “have you tried telling him?”

“gods no, yoichi!” you wave him off almost too quickly — curling in on yourself like a highschool girl handing her crush a confession letter or chocolates on white day. perhaps because this is exactly like that. you’ve liked him, loved him, for as long as you can remember. he makes your skin hot and your thoughts a mess and when isagi’s nearby you hardly remember who you are.

and he hardly realises how lovesick you’ve been for him over the years. it would be too embarrassing to admit that you have a raging crush on one of japan’s favourite athletes.

“why not?”

“because…if he felt the same he would have noticed by now.” you answer, trying to shut down the conversation. “i’ve been obvious with my feelings. the ball’s been in his court for a while.”

“maybe he’s just oblivious.” isagi keeps going and in the cramped space of your train seats you feel hot under the collar — your nerves shaking under the pressure.

you’re given a brief moment of relief when the attendant on the snack cart stops for the couple seated opposite you. they seem happy and in love, it makes your heart twist.

the train jolts, pushing the attendant into isagi, who then topples into you — invading your space once more, causing heat to build up under your skin.

“h-he’s a way too smart for that.”

“maybe…he’s unsure? maybe he doesn’t understand your signals?”

the song you’re listening too changes as you pull into the next station.

“or maybe he doesn’t love me, yoichi!” you snap, turning your head away so fast that the ear-bud slips from your ears and the wires are left dangling between the warmth of isagi’s body and your own. you try to sit still, fighting off burning, frustrated tears — lucky that no one’s heard your outburst over the busy ambience of the train. “believe me, i’ve held out hope for it.”

“but i do love you.” he snaps back, grabbing you by the wrist so that you’re forced to look at him. isagi’s eyes are wide and deep, swirling in their hypnotising shade of blue with an emotion you don’t recognise seeing on him. love. “maybe you’re the one who’s dumb enough not to have noticed. maybe i’ve been too shy or too caught up with soccer to say so. but i love you. i want that song to make you feel like you’re in love with me.”

“o-oh…yoichi i—“ your eyes widen, then soften all at once and you feel yourself melting fast — as if all of your dreams have come true. “i don’t know what to say…”

the tips of his ears are bright pink, the hue blooming across his cheeks like they’re roses in bloom. yoichi chews on his lower lip nervously before shoving the right bud of the headphones back into your ear. “just say you like me back ‘nd we’ll leave it at that for now, okay?” he mumbles like a teenager, very much unlike the confident, cocky isagi who everyone fears on the pitch.

wisps of a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you reach out and grab his larger hand with yours — giving it a squeeze. “alright then, yoichi,” you say, leaning over to kiss the warmth of his cheeks. “i like you too.” his eyes go wide.

this is all silly and new for the both of you — having been in love with one another for years without saying. you’ll have a lot to talk about once you reach his parents’ house, how you’ll make this work with his soccer career and your new life in the big city, what you want this to be, who you’ll tell. but for now you try not to dwell on it, letting your head flop to isagi’s shoulder and his on top of yours, sharing headphones and listening to songs that made him fall in love with you.

[spotlightlowlife]

Writing for Millie should be hella easy

Stereotypes and cliches can work.

Right infront of us we have a tought southern farm girl, already a half written character. Millie's family, the first full family we meet, who don't even get to say much were actually crucial for her character building, they're a big family who are set in their ways, they're loving but not supportive of Millie's choices in a very passive aggressive way.

All these episodes later, these points are barely touched upon.

We would learn the Millie likes attention, she enjoyed playing a character who was the coolest person on the scene who could show off

which makes sense if you look at her rowdy upbringing, which could also explains why she is giddy at Moxxie's grand gestures and adoration of her.

Yet why did she have to play a role and take herself out of her usual setting in order to enjoy herself? This made sense for Moxxie who's sensibilities and hesitations aren't heard and is constantly frustrated, but why give Millie a similar storyline (not the first time a couples stories were awkwardly and disproportionately merged)? Having moved far from her family, having a supply of attention on tap from her biggest fan of a husband, working with a coworker she gets along fine with Loona and Mille worked together just fine when Blitzø and Moxxie got snatched, there were no differences between them, they actually appear to have hardly engaged with eachother?

and a boss who she's on excellent terms with in their small company, a boss who's intrusive ways she sees no issues with

which could also go back to having a big, noisy, busy body family who are slack with respect and boundaries something many people can relate to, why exactly did she need this moment in the spotlight?

Perhaps she's phased by being friendless?

Loona is

I she even friendless? Who knows. Her relations don't matter outside being a plot device, she even got sidelined in her families episode several times because it served to introduce Striker and show how much of an outsider Moxxie is.

On the topic of relations

Why do Millie and Moxxie have the same ex?

Why did neither of them know this?

What difference did it make?

Why such hostility?

No reason, nothing matters, none and ?

An ex would have been yet another person needed to give her some content but it would have been character building none the less.

Where did they meet and what would have been the mutual setting that lead to this guy being in both their lives then them coming together?

Has Millie had a life away from the farm as a single woman or did she leave home for Chaz? So many possibilities. Being that she is the stereotype rough and tumble country girl, she could have consciously decided to go to the city to hang about in places where those supposedly unlike her are so that she could stand out and be appreciated without having to compete with anyone. She would have her own thing going on and this would be a good way to meet hipster Chaz and thespian Moxxie.

Of course, Millie could have shown up one day and met Moxxie on the job.

Blitzø and Moxxie being the buddy cop type lead characters is fine, it's clearly the dynamic that's intended and on the few occasions we see them working together this is what we get.

The lack of characters doing the jobs we are told they do is an issue that affects all characters.

Being a side character should offer a load of flexibility, not having to carry the story offers room to be busy doing irrelevant stuff, or serve as a voice of reason or scepticism to help move the plot forward, side characters can wrap up side plots writers can't be bothered with, but side characters being ignored serves nothing.

There have been shows that have a leader and their more competent sidekick who quietly does the work and never shares in the credit.

This could work for Mille, however dispite her lack of content, she is not the quiet sidekick. We are sold a praised and admired bruiser whose performance isn't up for criticism, someone not always clued up when faced with a challenge but that's fine, challenges are rare and she's someone we have no reason to believe is a pushover, she is also someone happy to have more of a say but also fine with how things are. OK, what next?

Neutral.

Why not commit and tone her up?

Play on that country bumpkin casting. So far Millie is the fun and violent scrapper which fits but this role is also totally appropriate, someone is going to fill it, other than that she's, just there, with no say.

In and out of work, why not have her behaviour be socially neurotic, inappropriate, possessive and apathetic?

Why doesn't she stand up for Moxxie more? Is the casual workplace bullying something she's used to, comparable to the regular fun mockery that circulates throughout the family home/town banter etc? Is she used to not being heard? Growing up not having her own things, having to answer to someone, ignorance, comparassion and lack of personal space could result in someone who doesn't like being challenged or ignored, doesn't like a lack of control but has been sheltered enough to not take consequences too seriously? Anything goes after all.

It works for Blitzø, whose modest and tragic past, isolation, guilt and loneliness has lead to a sympathetic, overbearing and desperate hustler

I actually think Millie's character is fine but is she just a decent side character who is only 'fine' because she's underutilised? I'm not sure?

[biggestchuggus]

*Before Raz had become so corrupted, and before Triage had gotten awfully injured, Ava was at peace for once, taking a stroll around the island.*

*It was pleasant. Therapeutic even with how stressful things had been lately, especially with Frost. This was exactly what she needed, and hardly anything could ruin this for her...*

*At least... until she saw him.*

*This... should be impossible. He wasn't supposed to even- This isn't-*

*God, she couldn't even think straight seeing him. As much as she wanted to react in anger, she could only just...stare. Stare in horror that this wasn't just some awful nightmare.*

*What the hell was he doing here?*

- @ava-fortnite

*Where was he exactly? Oh right, bothering the peace and being loud as always to anyone nearby. It'd be impossible to not spot him eventually, not while he was busy completely disassembling and reassembling a striker AR in record time. *

*It was mostly just to see if he could still do it, hands uncommonly more uncoordinated than he remembered but whatever--*

*He paused midway through screwing the bolts back in to the feeling of eyes on him and he turned to find himself in some sort of staredown. [REDACTED] blinked in thought as he tried to register just what she was looking at, initially his ego assumed it was his muscles but he recognized the look in her eyes and it pissed him off. *

*He knew her face from somewhere. Somehow. *

*So, he stands and crosses the distance easily with his height and speed and whether she tries to walk away or not he still shouts out.*

'Ey, chick don't think I don't see ya lookin'! Ya don't look like the muscle-type an' I know yer face from somewhere.

'EY! Don't ignore me-!

[feldsparite]

finally playing my favourite* game for the first time* REAL!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm so excited!!!!!!

*not technically true

[butterscotch-brigade]

at long last she is FINALLY finished!!! i redesigned my old sonic self insert oc from when i was 12!!! this is the new and improved ava the hedgehog, now an epic wannabe adventurer/hero who always gets into Wacky Hijinks despite her admittedly impressive abilities. more info/sketches/explanations abt her below!!!

[like my art? c0mmissions r open!!]

SO!! as mentioned before she has crystallokinesis. while she can summon and control crystals of her own (as shown here), she cannot control actual real crystals, so ig its more like Fake Crystallokinesis. she can form these crystals into whatever shape she wants. she thinks these powers r pretty cool, but she hardly ever gets the chance 2 use them ASKJFDKFLJDS

these r some sketches of her using her powers that i drew up just for fun; wanted to go for a more sketchy mario strikers-inspired look for these lol

and here is her old design!!! i wanted to draw her for fun and to show how far shes come since i was a kid. ik it looks like im making fun of her but shes just rly silly SKLJKDJLKJ (also she is no longer a sonamy fankid anymore in case it wasnt obvious SKLJFLKJF) im thinking this could also work as her "classic" design, at least for now SKLJFSKD

aaaand here she is meeting her future self :)

shes come a long way!! i hope you like her, i know i had fun designing her and drawing her old design again after all these years :)

[defire]

Chapter 27: Clever Lies

Content: post-beating injuries, mention of child abuse, beating, interrogation, minor whumpee, slavery

Kit sat in Caboodle's chair, in Caboodle's room, and eyed his little brother, who sat hugging his knees and staring wide-eyed at the wall like he was being re-traumatized.

"And I don't know why you even had to say that crazy crap about Aunt Wry." Caboodle said. "No one will take us seriously."

"Meanwhile, our father fought in the war." Kit sighed. "Even if we did fight in a war... we'd lose."

Caboodle didn't respond, going back to staring. The black eye on the left bulged with swelling. Kit still wanted to just... bite his father's face off for that. As for himself, he had a cracked rib, and could hardly walk. 

Their father had taken them home, then had beaten the two of them till they couldn't get up off the floor. Then he came back and whipped them with the leather razor strop like he'd promised last time Nife's name came up. No more Druids.

Kit’s back still oozed from broken welts under the bandages their servant had sullenly applied, and every time the wounds broke open, a fresh sting and burn reawakened and made him want to cry out. He had to keep it in for Caboodle’s sake. The poor kid still had tear tracks down his eyes, even though it had been hours since the punishment.

"I mean, you were kind of cool." Caboodle admitted after a long pause, still addressing the wall. "But you gotta be careful what you say when you're wearing that bracelet."

"Are you blaming the bracelet now?"

"Everything happened because you tipped your cup over, then you said that thing, then..." Caboodle stopped, swallowed and glanced at Kit finally.

Like always happened, his little brother's gaze flitted around his various injuries like he could sense them under his clothes.

"Maybe they're just all assholes." Kit said.

“They might be.” Caboodle said softly. “Is Nife… Did you see how she’s doing?”

Kit closed his eyes. The tidbits had been awful–a flash of intense anguish as she faced the wall and something whacked against her back over and over. Nife’s hands bandaging Iridiss’ ripped-up back. Striker’s face, much too close, with a predatory glint in his eyes as he pressed his fingers into a bruise on her neck. She was so… afraid. The bastard.

“It’s… horrifying. It’s way worse than I ever imagined.”

“Wait–what do you mean?” Caboodle looked alarmed.

“They… They beat and torture the slaves…” Kit shuddered, fidgeting with the bracelet. “You don’t want to know.”

Caboodle winced as he rubbed his arm. Glen had targeted it brutally with the leather strop. When he saw Kit’s stormy expression, he put on a smile.

"Here, let me see that." Caboodle snapped his fingers at the bracelet. "I have an idea."

When Kit gave it to him, he slipped it on and closed his eyes.

"I have this really bad feeling, and usually I can't put my finger on it, but maybe this bracelet..." He faded out as he started to concentrate. Kit felt another tremor shake the city and the floor creak as he waited for Caboodle to stop. It was boring. He looked out the window and saw, far away, several towers falling deeper into the rot, sinking toward each other somewhat, and pulling down the nearby buildings, from what he could tell.

"...Oh, no." Caboodle raised his head and looked at Kit. "I think Striker wants to get Nife killed."

"Yeah, that's no big surprise. He thinks she's inciting rebellion."

"No, Kit... He has a plan."

"What plan?" Kit stood up. 

They weren't supposed to leave, but if there was a plan to kill Nife, to hell with that.

"I don't know..." Caboodle said. "I just heard him say 'two birds' and then sort of... felt like he was thinking of Nife. There was a plan. I could feel it."

He shuddered, taking off the bracelet.

"Here." He said, practically throwing it at Kit. "I don't... I don't like how he thinks of her."

"Horizons..." Kit groaned, picking up the bracelet and putting it back on. "We have to do something."

Caboodle shook his head.

"There's literally nothing we can do."

"No–fuck that." Kit hurried to the window and slapped a hand down on the sill, looking out over the dark miasma in the street below. "We'll do something. We can't not do something."

Nife watched as Striker stepped into the small room, maneuvering around Enimee with that signature Bane respect for about three whole feet of personal space. Nife ducked her head behind her arm, using it to shield her ribs, which she worried were broken after all the kicking.

Striker bent forward over her.

"Stand up."

Nife shivered.

"Your lordship, I–"

His kick smashed into her upper arm with terrifying strength. With that one strike, she felt how easy it would be for the man to break every bone in her body.

"Stand–up." Striker twisted a hand into the beads, wrapping them so tightly they choked around Nife's neck, yanked her back, and as she struggled to stand, caught her under the chin with the web of his hand and slammed her back into the plaster wall.

She screamed through her teeth as the impact jostled the injuries in her back. At least she was getting a little support to stand.

"Now you're going to answer every question I ask." Striker said. His calm, almost expressionless face was dark because of the backlight, but Nife could see the heat of his tongue running over his teeth inside his mouth, something he often did when he was calculating what to say, it seemed. "Do you understand me?" He said.

Nife attempted to nod, then choked out,

"Yes, your lordship."

"First. Why did you choose that moment to mouth off to my sister?"

"...Well, it's not like I choose when she decides to be extra stup--"

Striker punched her in the stomach. Nife cursed and grimaced.

"For every question you refuse to answer, I'll punch you again." Striker said.

At that, Nife could see Enimee opening and closing her mouth to object, but she didn't dare. There was not a single member of the household that wasn't afraid of Lord Striker.

"Now answer the question." Striker said.

"I... I don't know." Nife lied, and from the shaking in her voice, she did it well. She couldn't possibly tell Striker how much her friends meant to her. That would just put them in more danger.

Striker didn't move, but with her nightsight, Nife watched his fist slowly unclench, and breathed a little.

"The second question." Striker said. "You Druids can see behind yourselves, can't you?"

Nife froze for a moment, breaking herself of it with a small tremor. She shook her head slowly.

"I've been watching you." Striker said. "You saw me unclench my fist just now, without being able to turn to look. How?"

"I–I didn't." Nife lied again. "I don't know how you Banes can't see as well as we can–maybe we have better eyesight. You can see better in the daytime, though."

"That's commonly known." Striker said. "I'm asking you to tell me how you saw my hand just now."

Nife shook her head, blinking at tears of apprehension as she felt the fingers around her throat tighten a little. Not quite choking, but enough to heighten the pitch of her voice just a touch if she were to speak.

"You'd better not be lying." Striker said.

Nife didn't answer, staring at the ground. There was no kind of defense for this kind of thing. His grip slowly tightened until she couldn’t take a breath. She shook her head, opening her eyes wide with a strangled,

“Not–”

And he loosened his grip so she could breathe.

"...Last question." Striker said, stepping so close their chests touched. Nife was panting, struggling to hold herself up on one leg. "And you'd better have something more than 'I don't know', because we all saw you."

Nife glanced at Enimee, who was standing there with a hand on the handle of her cane. Right, no friends here.

"You pushed Creack's magic back." Striker said.

A weight like a heavy rock dropped into Nife's gut. She couldn't respond to this one satisfactorily, no matter how well she tried to obscure it.

"You stood up in the middle of what should've felt like an outright flogging, judging from the welts you received." Striker said. "Despite all three of them attempting to punish you at once. You counteracted the magic, and Creack can't tell me what happened. So you tell me. How did you do it?"

Nife lifted her chin.

“Guess I’m just that tough.”

Striker let go and slapped her. It had almost become reflexive not to block the blows at this point–blocking only got Nife a full on beating.

"You liar!" Striker said. "I saw the magic on your arm fade and flicker. How!"

Nife widened her eyes and gave Striker a glance in the eyes, then hastily looked back down at the ground, grinding her teeth.

"I..."

Another slap stung across her cheek, sending her staggering sideways. She caught herself on the wall, clenching her fists against a defensive reaction.

"Answer the question, Nife."

Nife wouldn't answer that. It was the fucking key to her escape. She'd take whatever she had to, but she wouldn't answer that question.

She crumpled backward, crouching in the corner, shielding her face with her bruised arm. She said nothing, preparing herself for the beating as Striker walked toward her.

He stared down at her for a full minute as she shuffled around, her protective squat getting tighter and tighter as she tried to get ready for broken bones and agony.

"Enimee," Striker said. "Leave me alone with her."

First chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria @bamber344 per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version, but you can find the canon Dance of Death on Amazon and ao3 (which I'm updating shabbily as fast as I can). Also if you want, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review or comment while you're there.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[dervaaas]

You broke up, but you still attend his matches

Character: Kenyu Yukimiya

wn: Hint at moments before blue lock, match with U-20

Part 1 with Kenyu Yukimiya!

the following: Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Yo Hiori, Meguru Bachira, Shoei Baro

P.S. This is a small problem in translation from my language. Lock translates quite differently, it would be better to say as castle, so we use prison for the most part. So Blue Lock will in fact be translated as a Blue Prison. I'm sorry if I explained it badly!

He himself does not understand the reason why he decided so. And it was right after he learned quite unpleasant news. Perhaps it happened on emotions that, by the way, he did not try to restrain.

— Can we break up?

Not to say that she had a good relationship with his parents, but they were quite friendly, so she learned information about his stay in Blue Lock from them. Quite a mixed feeling, yes, he said that he wanted to become a better striker and this is his best option for becoming one, but at the same time there was some kind of offense. Although she herself could not understand why.

Soon it will probably be a year since they last saw each other. And the news about the Blue Lock match against U-20 has already spread all over Japan. The funny thing is that his parents gave her a ticket, with the words: "Go, he may be stubborn, but he definitely still loves you." It's not that don't want to trust these words, rather on the contrary, she knows perfectly well what Yukimiya is.

A place in a not so busy place as the same fans. At the break of the first half, nearby I heard a woman shouting to her son to play better, apparently he is also from Blue Lock, nothing more than an assumption. Yukimiya is talking to one of her teammates. And now she doesn't even know if it's worth shouting his name, although as a fan it should hardly stop her.

— Yukimiya! — She didn't shout too much, but perhaps closer to the stands from the field she should have been heard. The guy looked a little confused in the direction where his name is, of course there are a lot of his fans here, but the voice was much different from everyone. The voice he was used to hearing.

— Oh, is someone playing with you, too? The three adults stared at her with interested faces.

— Oh, yes, mine.. an acquaintance," she was taken aback by this, I would like to say that "ex-boyfriend", but it's better if they ask even more questions.

— Oh, and who is he playing for? — A younger-looking woman asked.

— For Blue Lock, number five, I'm probably not sure what I saw correctly..

— What good news, we need to thank him, since he is playing with our boys! — the woman is already older, she babbled excitedly.

— I'll tell him somehow, — the girl thanked them for their words.

There was still the same commotion on the field, little did she know that her scream had reached the guy, well, not only him. Perhaps they started teasing him and asking who it was. According to their assumption, either a fan, or he still has a girlfriend, and he was silent! A particularly interesting point is that he was excited by her presence, if he says that he didn't miss her, he will lie.

The match ended with the victory of Blue Lock. Seriously, this was probably the most exciting game she's been on in a while.

He learned about the meeting from his parents, for some reason, according to them, the girl could not transmit the information herself. Place, time and possible options if he cannot be present on that day. I have provided for most of it.

— Hello.

— Hi, it was a great game, I haven't seen you play for a long time, — the girl sipping a cocktail from a straw, looked at the guy in front of her. Still handsome, tastefully dressed.

— Why did you come? — without much ceremony, without asking how things are going for her now. Nothing, just an interesting question, why all this, if they have long given a reason to abandon this relationship.

— Can't I watch football? — the girl bowed her head, there was an interesting note in her voice, — although you know, I just want to talk. You still haven't told me the reason for the breakup, I need to know what I did wrong.

"It's not your fault. — After mumbling thoughtfully, I thought for a while and decided to say: — I have vision problems due to fatigue, my visibility decreases, and if I continue to play football as a professional, I will lose my sight altogether. When I found out, something came over me and I started to get into trouble about it, - the guy put his hand on the table, rubbed her weight, thinking, was it worth talking at all?

Yes, he knows how understanding she is, but she does not forgive mistakes, and if this is his mistake? He did not say the reason for his actions. Why is he so worried about this? It seems like I've been buying my feelings for a long time, but still somehow uncomfortable.

— That's it? Yuki, it's not even a problem if you ever can't see me or the surroundings. At least I can tell you what it all looks like. — The girl stretched out the words in a puzzled way, not understanding at all what can be said about it. Support him? But he seems to have resigned himself, support is unlikely to change anything now. — And yet I was offended!

The girl turned away from the guy with a sulky look. Which caused Yukimiya to be surprised. She plays with him, which becomes clear when she smiles and laughs at him. He'd really be lying if he said he didn't miss her. Does the thought of how he lived this year at all slip through?

— Well.. you have every right.

"That's stupid, especially on your part.

— That's right. I don't know how to say it, it was too much for me, and I should have been alone and not say such words. — Kenyu sighed heavily, realizing that he had seriously screwed up so much. — And by the way, I didn't want this, he says, on emotion or something..

— Yeah, I know, I just didn't think it would last a year and plus you'd go to some kind of prison*.

"This is the Blue Prison, Blue Lock*," Yukimiya points at her with her finger and corrects her.

— I don't care at all. And I've also come up with a way to redeem you! We're going on a date right now! The girl spread her arms out to the sides, completely proud of herself. — And don't you dare leave, you wrote yourself that you are free all day. Yukimiya only laughs at her a little. But he is clearly not going to leave, although honestly there was an idea to talk and leave if everything goes wrong, which is what he was waiting for most of all. — By the way, thank you from some women.

"Who are they?" Yukimiya was genuinely surprised. Moreover, these are women, not girls, as is usually the case.

— Honestly, no idea at all; it turns out we met during the match, — the girl shook her head, making a shocked face, as if saying: "I experienced such horror from the conversation!". — Apparently they also had someone playing for Blue Lock. — The guy just grinned, and Y/N looked at him puzzled, expecting some explanation, but got nothing. Kenyu changed the subject.

Needless to say, she was really able to get him out on a date that wasn't even in her plans at all? But in any case, this is what they both needed. After a year, they realized that they were too attached to each other, to such an extent that it was difficult to maintain self-control over their actions. Yes, my God, Yukimiya had a place in his notes where he writes to her while she was using his account from which he lost his password a long time ago.

How many words were there about their love for each other? Uhm... A difficult question.

[wileys-russo]

I'm not sure if you listened, if not you should it's so funny!

but could you do the reader on Jill's scotts coffee club podcast with georgia, leah and keira when leah whips out the cake? x

decided to make this a lowkey stanners x williamson!reader cause i love gee and she's underrated

colin the caterpillar II g.stanway

"-williamson i see you loitering about! get in here!" you looked up as you heard the ever familiar booming voice of one jill scott gesture you over. you caught georgia's eye as her and keira swiveled their heads, furiously waving you over to join them on the sofa, the set for jills podcast randomly plonked in the middle of the indoor training pitch.

"have you still got media duties babe?" your girlfriend asked, moving the microphone away from her mouth and you shook your head. "right in you come then!" keira moved over and patted the space in between her and georgia.

"is this live?" you asked as you took a seat, flashing a grin at jill and ben as you settled yourself on the sofa, your girlfriends spare arm coming to settle on your shoulders. "-and now we are joined by one of the worlds greatest strikers!" jill started, doing a drum roll on her knees.

"-but unfortunately alessia russo has been dodging my calls so we've had to settle for y/n williamson, round of applause please!" jill joked as you playfully rolled your eyes at the dig, showered in claps from the small crowd around you.

"you know you've never asked me on this show jilly, what happened to being your favourite williamson?" you tutted, one of the production assistants hurrying over to give you a mic.

"i had to keep that under wraps, had to suck up to the captain you know!" jill winked as you grinned, leaning a little more into georgia and crossing your legs. "jill might be the best suck up with the worst success rate we've ever met." keira announced as you and georgia hummed in agreement, ben egging you on to continue.

"she sucked up to sarina and the training team so much during the euros man. she'd be getting drinks, recounting plays, grabbing everyone gels-" you laughed at the memory. "-but then georgia could be on her death bed with cramp and jill would still stay on the bench." keira finished, jill agreeing as you all laughed along.

"oh no sorry interruption cause leah's just bought a colin the caterpillar!" keira gasped as she spotted your sister wandering close by with her birthday cake in hand. "go on birthday girl in you come!" you called out as she came closer, jill eagerly agreeing she sit down.

"cmere love." georgias hands found your waist, tugging you up to sit sideways on her lap as keira shuffled across and leah plonked herself down on the end, your legs half draped over keira as georgias hands wound themselves round your waist protectively and she softly kissed the back of your neck.

you were aware parts of the podcast were filmed but neither of you were bothered, it had hardly been the worlds best kept secret the two of you were seeing one another.

georgias instagram was almost like a shrine to you at this point. the two of you both playing for bayern, much to your north london blooded sisters disgust, you spent everyday together and only fell more and more in love as time passed.

"can we eat it?" georgia asked with a gasp as leah nodded, cracking open the box and gently sliding out the childhood favourite. "i think surely i win best sister for gettin her that?" you clapped for yourself, everyone joining in but leah who rolled her eyes.

"no cause you gave it to me after you smashed a cupcake in my literal eye at breakfast!" leah huffed, handing over the cake to keira after she took a large. "it was your forehead leah honestly! you win most dramatic." you countered, the blonde leaning over to smack your leg for the comment as you grinned.

"now now girls play nice play nice!" jill laughed, re-directing the conversation as keira snapped you off a section of cake which you accepted, happily smashing a large portion into your mouth before holding it over your shoulder for your girlfriend to do the same.

"ah i've never been so happy." georgia sighed contently as the two of you took turns munching away at the chocolate cake. "babe thats my finger!" you smacked her with a yelp as the girl got a little too eager and bit your finger among the cake.

"sorry love, no one's safe when there's a colin round." georgia kissed your cheek in apology, happily accepting more of the cake from keira as your sister offered you her piece, grinning as you snapped off the ears with your teeth just like you'd both been brought up to.

"well this is definitely a highlight of the season. four of englands finest just sat here eating a caterpillar like an apple." ben sighed jokingly as the four of you giggled to yourselves, you leaning back into georgia and clutching your stomach as keira took a large bite right from the middle without a care in the world.

"lee five second rule!" you pointed, voice muffled by the large mouthful of cake shoved in it as your sister scrambled to pick up the piece which fell on the floor, blowing on it and popping it into her mouth with a grin.

"now i know this is audio but for the listeners at home they are literally just picking this cake up and shoving it in their mouth!" jill recounted, shaking her head at the sight. "they're eating it like its a hotdog or something!" ben added on as georgia fed you one of the legs with a giggle.

"that foot was incredible." you mumbled out with a happy sigh, still chewing on it as keira smacked your leg in agreement, opening her mouth to show you she also had one in her mouth as your head fell onto georgias shoulder, again clutching your stomach in laughter.

"imagine if sarina see's this that would be so good. we're over here talking about elite performance-" "-elite performance and now we're just picking up a caterpillar without a care-" "-yeah thats it girls, just shove it in your mush!"

"i eat a kitkat before every game anyway." you shrugged, bending down and snapping off another foot from the half in keiras hands. "do you really?" ben asked in surprise.

"she does! she's done it since she was little, used to throw tantrums like you wouldn't believe when our mum tried to stop her." leah smirked at the memory. "i really did. i'd just find out where she hid them and steal one, i'm too fast to catch anyway once she realised." you grinned once you'd swallowed your mouthful of cake.

"i always leave one in her boots for her to find when she's getting ready now at bayern. you should have seen how much crap she copped her first game, no one could believe she was eating a kitkat before her debut." georgia laughed as you fondly patted her knee.

"i run faster when i've had chocolate!" you shrugged, shovelling another mouthful of cake in as everyone laughed. "i mean the proofs in the pudding there wasn't a euros match i didn't see you not have one and you scored about ten goals!" jill laughed.

"could probablys run a 10K marathon right now, light work!" you teased with cake mushed in your mouth and a cheeky grin, georgia kissing your cheek with a smile as you used your thumb to wipe away some loose chocolate from the corner of her mouth before licking it off your finger with a wink.

"right i'm off!" leah announced a short moment later, standing to her feet and brushing the crumbs off her knee's. "am i taking it?" she gestured to the few small pieces left, packing it up at her friends nods.

"well. he were bloody lovely weren't he!"

[justanotherhh]

What if Striker got a redemption arc?

Hello Hello!

it's a funny sort of question that, because so far neither of the Hellaverse shows are at a point where they've gotten into questions about villain redemption, so it's pure speculation

the closest is characters like Alastor being involved with the hotel (meaning redemption arc questions are built in), Blitzo+Stolas sucking at relationships, which is hardly villain behaviour (the killing people is the show operating on other morality levels/people just go to heaven or hell anyway and alive-people don't seem to be the focus, understandably), and possibly Mimzy who isn't a villain so much as an antagonist with a big ol' question mark over her, and Lillith, likewise, big ol' ???????

out of all the out-and-out villains we have in Hazbin the Vees, Adam, Lute, and arguably Sera, and in Helluva Mammon, Paimon, Crimson, Striker, Stella&Andrealphus, the DHORKS, the CHERUBs... maaaybe Satan, but we have yet to find out

out of that list, I feel like Adam and possibly Lute are the most likely to have some kind of redemption arc in Hazbin

and in Helluva.... yeah, I'd say Striker couuuld. I don't know if he would, because he's a foil and mirror to Blitzo, the person who's figuring shit like this out while Striker is firmly entrenched in his (much more extreme) beliefs, but there's plenty of reasons (thematic and narrative) why he could shift

what could a redemption arc look like? well, he's had a string of failures, although with Stella it was under order, and with Crimson it was really more his own guards. There's potentially a wall he'd have to hit in terms of failure, because I doubt he'd change his mind without being forced into a corner. the question is whether he would choose to die rather than do things like idk. accept help. make amends. even talk about his past

I think it'll come around to his past, how it's presented on the show (if it's ever fully shared), and whether it prompts his narrative in another direction. does it garner him some sympathy, sure, but mainly, does it introduce some wriggle room for him to look at things from a different perspective than he does

2. if he did have a redemption arc, I'm not entirely sure atm what the details of it would look like: my main thought is that he doesn't seem like someone who would want to get close to others, even if he didn't want to actively kill them, but maybe it's just the choice at some point to go off and be a lone ranger, but for good......