#was loud and said that it was cause she was a morning person and an extrovert which like cool. but lower your VOLUME

[starsinthesky5]

With the schedule dropping, it got me thinking about how songbird and Joe go about having a game on either one's birthday? Do they celebrate before or after? What happens if they lose and vibes are down? Does Joe ever feel guilty? Cause maybe he has to be away the day before the game and won't come back until the day after. Inlight us queen

a/n: i got carried away with this one :)

wc: 1.5k

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

when her or joe’s birthday falls near a game—especially during the season—it changes things. not in a bad way, just…different. nothing about their lives is simple anymore. birthdays used to mean slow mornings, last-minute plans, surprise dinners just because. now, they’re careful and quiet, gently wrapped around travel schedules, practices, walkthroughs, and media. everything gets penciled in. spontaneity becomes a luxury. and sometimes, the day drifts by like any other, soft and unannounced. but neither of them ever minded. because it was never really about the day—it was about each other. and they always found time for that.

if it’s her birthday close to game day, joe goes into overdrive trying to make her feel like she’s the most important person in the world—even when everything else is demanding his time. it’s not always easy, but he refuses to let her feel like she’s second to the schedule. he plans ahead, sometimes marking a celebration on the calendar a full week early, just to make sure she gets a day that’s hers. he wakes up before the sun, even if it means losing sleep, just to tiptoe around the kitchen in his sweatpants, making her breakfast. he lights a little candle and sticks it into a warm croissant from her favorite bakery—the one across town with no parking and early hours, the one he knows she always craves but never makes time to go to. he gets it before meetings, weaving through traffic in the dark like it’s part of the job.

his gifts are wrapped with the same messy charm every year. he never buys wrapping paper, it’s always whatever was left over from holidays past, shoved in the bottom of his locker by some intern. it’s usually covered in cartoon characters or way-too-festive glitter. he folds the edges wrong, uses too much tape, forgets the card half the time. but she loves it. sometimes he lays everything out in the living room before she even comes downstairs—boxes stacked neatly, favorite candles lit, music humming from the speaker. other times he keeps them hidden, wanting to save the moment until he can give her his full attention, no film study, no playbook in his lap, no buzzing phone. just them.

if he has to be on the road the night before, he doesn’t let the distance dull the day. he calls her from the hotel bed, curled up in stiff white sheets, whispering like she’s beside him. she’s usually on the other end of the screen wrapped in a throw blanket, face bare, hair a little tangled, a candle flickering behind her. and even though the light’s bad and the connection’s spotty, he watches her like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he always wishes he could reach through the screen, press a kiss to her forehead.

if the game falls on her birthday and she’s at the stadium? he finds her in the stands like a magnet. his eyes are always searching the crowd. her outfit always nods to him—maybe it’s subtle, like her earrings, or loud, like a jacket with his number stitched on the back. and when he makes a big play—something that swings momentum, something that makes the crowd roar—he looks for her. he needs her to have seen it. not because it’s about him, but because it’s her day. he wants to give her something to cheer for.

if they win, he finds her after. always. sometimes she’s in the tunnel, pacing to stay warm, hands stuffed in her pockets. sometimes she’s waiting behind the security line, heart in her throat. but he always gets to her, wraps her up still sweaty and breathless, muttering “happy birthday, baby” like it’s the most important sentence he’s said all day. it’s soft. reverent. a thank-you disguised as a wish. like she’s a miracle he can’t believe is his.

but if they lose? it guts him. joe spirals hard. he stays in his uniform too long, sits in the corner of the locker room with his cleats still on, towel draped around his neck, staring at the floor like he’s failed at something bigger than football. he replays every snap, every misstep, and thinks about how it bled into her day. thinks, you should’ve made it special. you should’ve done better. he texts her even when she’s a hallway away—short things, sad things, “i’m sorry” or “you deserved more,” but she’s already waiting. she’s always waiting.

she sits on the tailgate of her car in the garage, legs swinging, a cupcake she was given by one of the wags balanced in her lap. her coat’s zipped to her chin, cheeks pink from the cold, and she smiles when she sees him—not disappointed, not bitter. just happy he’s coming home. she hugs him before she says anything, tucks herself under his arm like she’s reminding him that he’s hers, win or lose. he hides in her shoulder, breath stuttering, hands cold. and she just holds him. no words, no pressure. just love. like that’s the only thing that matters.

if it’s his birthday, she treats it like a quiet holiday. not because he doesn’t deserve the world, but because she knows he’d never want all the fuss. she’s studied him long enough to know the kind of celebration he’d never ask for but always remember—the small stuff, the thoughtful stuff.

she’ll wake up first, even if it’s early, slipping out of bed just to light a candle and press a kiss to his shoulder before he stirs. she makes his morning shake exactly the way he likes it—creamy, a dash of vanilla—and brings it back to him while he’s still tucked under the covers, hair messy and bed-head like. “happy birthday, sleepyhead,” she’ll whisper, brushing her thumb over the curve of his cheek. he mumbles something back, drowsy and gravel-voiced, tugging her back down beside him like he doesn’t care about anything else yet.

he doesn’t like extravagance, but she still makes it special. if he’s got a home game, she’ll plan something sweet and celebratory for the night before—maybe his favorite dinner, candles flickering low on the table, soft jazz humming from the speaker, and her bare feet tucked under his thigh while they eat. she bakes him a tiny chai-spiced cake, the same way she always has, and he eats it right out of the pan with his fork while she leans against the counter, watching him like she’s storing every little moment away.

if he’s on the road, she gets creative. a handwritten letter in his toiletry bag, sealed with a kiss in his favorite shade of her lipsticks. a polaroid of them tucked into the sleeve of his tablet case. a playlist titled for the birthday boy, filled with songs that remind her of late nights in the car and lazy sunday mornings. she doesn’t tell anyone about it. doesn’t really blast it online. it’s all private, sacred. something that belongs just to him.

and if there’s a game on his birthday? she’s there, no matter what. she gets to the stadium early, takes the same seat, watches the tunnel until she sees him run out. she never demands his attention, but he always finds her in the stands, eyes softening just a little when he sees her. if they win, he comes out of the locker room with damp hair and a half-smile, looking around for her like he always does. and when he spots her? the way he melts, just a little—it’s like that’s when his birthday starts. not the clock striking midnight. not the touchdown he threw. but her. she lets him rest his forehead against hers, breathe her in. “happy birthday, my love,” she murmurs, and he kisses her like she’s the wish he made when he blew out the candle.

but if they lose—if it’s a bad one—he doesn’t want cake or gifts. he just wants her. he walks off the field slow, jaw tight, heart heavy. he doesn’t talk to anyone. doesn’t take his pads off right away. by the time she sees him, he looks like he’s holding the weight of the world across his shoulders. but she’s patient. she waits for the tunnel to clear, then walks straight into his arms. no cameras. no pressure. just him and her. he doesn’t say much on those nights. just clings to her like she’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. and she doesn’t push—just rubs his back, lets him breathe, lets him feel. maybe they drive home in silence, hands laced on the console. maybe she hums softly, filling the space between them with warmth.

there’s no big party. no shouting surprise. but she gives him something better. she gives him peace. a place to land. someone to come home to. and year after year, he’ll quietly admit that it’s the best gift he’s ever been given.

they’ve learned that birthdays can’t always be perfect. sometimes they’re postponed, sometimes they’re barely celebrated at all. but they’ve got this unspoken agreement: no matter what happens on the field, they come home to each other. and somehow, that’s enough. sometimes, that’s everything.

[wolfwarrior142]

Wait shit so THAT is The Book in the Aaravos posters and why they were all themed after the 6 sources?? And why the Key was there and glowing?

[autumnmatt]

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

taglist: @stayingstromboli @conspiracy-ash

respond to this post to be apart of my taglist!

[inseobts]

HAII, I heard your request is now open again and I wanted to request this!

wherein the reader has feelings for (any character you want!) and they friend zone her, and she gets the hanahaki disease!😁 they don't tell anyone until they're almost at the brink of death. well, you can choose if the reader lives or not but the character you choose will happen to realize they do have feelings for the reader and they were only confused at the beginning!

it's kinda like angst sorry😅 But I really want to see something like this from you, since you are an excellent writer! ty smmm

Petals in Silence

zoro x fem!reader

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

a/n: wrote about this for one of my old kpop fanfics so I got really exciting to write this again for a different media

words count: 4.0k

tags: illness, angst and fluff, chopper and law being good doctors, unrequited love, slow burn, emotional hurt

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The first time you cough up a petal, it’s early morning.

You’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom when something tickles your throat. You cough once, then harder.

A soft, white petal drops into the sink.

You blink. Stare. It’s delicate. Real.

“What the hell…?”

You look up at the mirror. Your reflection stares back, pale and confused.

You cough again.

Another petal.

“No. No, no, no.”

You quickly wash the sink, flush the petals, and press a trembling hand to your mouth. You’re breathing fast now.

“What is this?” you whisper.

You sneak into the library on the ship when no one’s around. Robin might be there later, but right now it’s quiet.

You pull out an old medical book. Then another.

Finally, you find it.

Hanahaki Disease: A rare, fatal illness caused by unrequited love. The infected cough up flower petals as feelings deepen. The only cures are returned love… or surgery that erases all memory of the beloved person.

You reread it five times.

Then you sit back, stunned.

“No way...” you say out loud “That’s not real.”

But the pain in your chest disagrees.

You press your hand over your heart. It feels like something is blooming. Slowly. Cruelly.

You whisper the name you’ve been hiding in your heart for so long “…Zoro.”

You try to act normal during dinner. You sit beside Luffy and across from Zoro. You talk with Nami, laugh with Usopp. But you keep sneaking glances at him.

Zoro’s sipping sake, listening to Sanji rant about proper cooking technique. He doesn’t even look your way.

That tiny ache in your chest grows just a bit stronger.

You excuse yourself early and go to bed.

Later that night, Zoro finds you on the deck. You’re alone, staring at the sea. You don’t notice him until he speaks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You flinch a little “Oh yeah. Just thinking.”

He steps beside you. Arms crossed “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m fine” you say quickly.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine,” he says, tone flat “I said you’ve been quiet.”

You don’t answer. You look away, afraid you’ll start coughing again.

“Anyway,” he says after a moment, “don’t push yourself too hard. You get weird when you're tired.”

You smile, small and sad “Thanks, Zoro.”

He nods and walks away, like nothing’s wrong. Like your heart isn’t trying to kill you.

You start avoiding him.

Not in a big, obvious way. Just enough to keep the pain small. Manageable.

You leave the room when he enters. You sit farther away at meals. You laugh at his jokes less. You pretend you’re busy when he trains, even though you used to watch him every day.

Still, he notices.

“You mad at me or something?” Zoro asks one afternoon.

You blink “What? No.”

He raises an eyebrow “You’ve been weird. Distant.”

You shrug “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He watches you, arms crossed “You’ve said that a lot lately.”

You force a smile “Guess I’m always tired.”

You walk away before you start coughing again.

Later that night, you’re alone again on the deck. Same spot. Same stars. Same sea.

Your chest feels heavy tonight. Your throat burns.

You cough hard. Petals. So many.

They spill from your mouth, red and white, soft and cruel.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stop the sound, trying not to cry.

This is getting worse.

You fall to your knees.

It’s too late to stop it now.

The next morning, you can’t take it anymore.

You find Chopper in the infirmary. You pull him aside, whispering.

“Can I ask you something… privately?”

He looks up at you, curious “Of course. What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard “Do you know anything about… Hanahaki disease?”

His eyes widen.

“What?” he says “Why? Who—who has it?”

You don’t answer. Just pull a crumpled petal from your pocket and place it in his hand.

His face falls.

“Oh no… Y/N...” he whispers.

You don’t speak.

He looks at you with tears in his eyes “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

You give him the weakest smile “I didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not him.”

Zoro finds you the next day.

“You’ve been ignoring me” he says bluntly.

You sigh “I haven’t.”

“You have. What’s going on?”

You look at him. Really look at him.

Strong. Focused. Brave. And not yours.

You take a deep breath.

“Zoro,” you say softly, “do you see me as… anything more than a friend?”

He frowns “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer.”

He looks confused for a second, then says, “You’re a great friend. You know that.”

Your heart cracks right there “I see.”

He tilts his head “Why?”

You shake your head and step back “No reason.”

“Wait—”

“I have to go” you whisper, already walking away.

You cough again as you turn the corner. This time, petals fall from your hands like snow.

You visit Chopper again the next day. This time, you don’t bother hiding the blood on your sleeve.

He panics the moment he sees you.

“Y/N, sit down, right now.”

You do.

He shines a light in your throat, listens to your breathing, checks your heartbeat. His hooves are trembling.

“Your lungs…” he says quietly “the flowers are growing faster.”

“I know.”

“You’re in the second stage. If this keeps up—”

“I know, Chopper.”

Silence.

You break it first.

“Is there any way to slow it down?” you ask, voice thin “Just a little?”

Chopper hesitates “I can give you medicine to ease the pain. But it won’t stop the petals.”

You nod. That’s enough. For now.

He wraps your wrist where you’d scratched it raw from coughing.

“You need to tell the others” he says softly.

“I can’t.”

“Y/N—”

“No.”

He looks at you, torn between doctor and friend. But he nods.

For now, he’ll keep your secret.

At lunch, you barely touch your food. Sanji notices right away.

“You feelin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asks, kneeling beside your chair with a plate in hand.

You blink “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Nami says across the table “You look like a ghost.”

Usopp leans in “Have you been throwing up or something?”

Your grip tightens on your fork “Just tired.”

“You keep saying that,” Luffy mumbles with food in his mouth “You said that yesterday, and the day before that, and the—”

“I said I’m fine!” you snap.

Silence falls.

You don’t look at anyone. You stand quickly, chair scraping back.

“I’m sorry. I just... I need some air.”

You rush out before they see your hand fly to your mouth.

You cough behind a crate on the lower deck. Violet petals. Tiny thorns. Blood.

You shake as they fall into your palm.

Someone walks by above you, and you press your mouth shut until your lungs burn. You can’t let them hear.

You slide down to the floor, heart pounding.

You can’t keep this up much longer.

That night, Zoro knocks on your door.

You don’t answer.

He opens it anyway “Hey. We need to talk.”

You sit on your bed, facing the wall.

He walks in slowly “You’ve been avoiding everyone. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t move “I’m just tired.”

“That’s not gonna work anymore,” he says “Your voice is weak. You’re pale. And you’re breathing weird.”

You say nothing.

Zoro narrows his eyes “Did someone hurt you?”

That makes you laugh. It’s a broken sound “No. Not someone.”

He waits.

You finally turn toward him, eyes glassy “I think I’m sick, Zoro.”

He steps closer “Sick how?”

You look down at your hands. But you don’t answer.

Not yet.

He understands and leaves you alone.

It’s been weeks.

You’re coughing more now. Petals come in waves, in your sleep, in the middle of meals, behind closed doors. You can barely hide it anymore. Chopper’s running out of ways to explain your pale skin and shaking hands.

Then one afternoon, Law steps onto the Sunny.

The crew cheers, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen the Heart Pirates. But you don’t move from the railing. Your body feels too heavy.

Zoro notices.

So does Chopper.

Later, Chopper finds you in the infirmary, Law just behind him.

He stares at you for a long moment, then sighs “Chopper told me everything. Including the petals.”

Your breath catches.

Chopper looks hopeful, desperate even “He thinks he can do the surgery. It’s risky, but it might work.”

You go cold “The memory one?”

Law nods “I can remove the infection. The petals. You’ll survive. But you’ll forget everything tied to the person who caused it.”

You don’t even have to think.

“No.”

Chopper gasps “What? Y/N, you’re dying.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper “I don’t want to forget him.”

Law watches you carefully “You’d rather die than let go?”

You nod.

There’s a pause. Then Law gestures for Chopper to leave the room.

He does, slowly.

Now it’s just you and Law.

“I don’t do emotional attachments” he says, leaning against the wall “But even I know this is stupid.”

You laugh bitterly “Yeah. It is.”

He folds his arms “You sure he doesn’t feel anything for you?”

“He made it clear,” you say, staring at the floor “He sees me as a friend. That’s all.”

Law raises an eyebrow “You asked him?”

“Of course, I'm dying... I asked if he could ever see me as more. He said I’m a great friend. That’s it.”

He doesn’t reply for a moment. Then quietly, he says, “You should tell him about the disease.”

You look up sharply “No. That’s the one thing I won’t do.”

“Why?”

Your voice cracks “Because I don’t want to be loved out of pity. I want it to be real. Not because I’m dying.”

Behind the cracked door, someone stands frozen.

Zoro.

He hadn’t meant to listen. He was just walking by.

He wasn’t trying to find you. Not on purpose.

But now your words are echoing in his head, and they won’t stop.

“I don’t want to forget him.”

“I want it to be real.”

He feels like something is unraveling in his chest.

Suddenly, memories flood in. You watching him train. Laughing at his jokes. Smiling when you thought he wasn’t looking. Bleeding silently.

And him, brushing you off. Pushing the feelings down. Because love was a weakness. A distraction. Something he couldn’t afford.

But now you're dying, and it’s his fault you’re alone.

He presses his hand to the wall beside the door.

“Idiot” he whispers.

He doesn’t even know if he means you or himself.

Zoro doesn’t sleep that night.

He leans against the railing of the upper deck, sword resting by his side, your words stuck in his mind like a thorn he can’t pull out.

“I want it to be real.”

“I don’t want to forget him.”

He tightens his grip on the hilt.

He doesn’t understand everything about emotions... hell, he usually avoids them altogether but he’s not dumb.

He heard enough to know what this is.

Enough to know you’ve been dying quietly, and everyone’s been hiding it from him.

The next morning, he finds Chopper in the kitchen, alone, fiddling with a pile of vitamins and bandages.

Zoro crosses his arms and speaks flatly “What’s wrong with her?”

Chopper freezes “W-Who?”

Zoro just stares.

Chopper sweats “You mean…uh…Nami? I think she had a cold last week—”

“Y/N” Zoro says, voice sharp “Don’t play dumb.”

Chopper drops the spoon in his hoof “Oh.”

Zoro leans in, towering over the small reindeer “I heard Law talking to her. I heard enough. Now tell me everything.”

Chopper swallows “I-I promised not to—”

“Chopper.”

“I—I mean—she’s—”

He folds immediately “Okay! Okay! It’s Hanahaki!”

Zoro stiffens “Hanahaki…?”

“She’s been coughing up petals for weeks. She’s in stage two, probably. Her lungs are already getting worse. If she doesn’t get surgery, she’ll—” Chopper gulps before continuing “She’ll die.”

Zoro goes completely still.

“And it’s because of—” Chopper shuts his mouth with both hooves.

“Because of what, Chopper?”

“I—I can’t say that part—”

Zoro crouches down, voice low “Is it because of me?”

Chopper's eyes fill with panic.

“That’s a yes.”

“Zoro...”

He stands up suddenly, knocking over a chair. His jaw clenches.

Chopper reaches out “Please don’t get mad at her! She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want to make you feel bad—”

Zoro turns away, fists clenched “She’s dying and she’s worried about me?”

“She loves you,” Chopper says quietly “But she’d rather die than force you to love her back.”

Zoro doesn’t answer.

He just stands there, breathing hard and then he walks out.

Fast.

Not toward you.

Not yet.

He needs to get his head straight because for the first time in a long time, Zoro is afraid.

Not of losing a fight.

But of losing you.

You’re sitting alone in the small reading room on the Sunny, legs tucked up beneath you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. A book is open on your lap, unread. The words blur. Your head throbs.

You’ve been coughing all morning. You can taste iron in the back of your throat.

You hear the door open and close behind you.

You don’t look up “Chopper, I already took the medicine—”

“It’s not Chopper.”

Your breath catches.

You look up.

Zoro.

Standing there, arms crossed. Shadows under his eyes. A strange look on his face — like something sharp and unfinished.

You blink slowly “What do you want?”

He walks forward. No swords. No usual swagger. Just…Zoro.

“I know” he says.

Your stomach drops.

“I know everything. Hanahaki. The petals. That it’s because of me.”

You go still.

“I didn’t want you to find out,” you say quietly “Not like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want your pity.”

He sits across from you. His eyes are unreadable.

“You didn’t want to tell me... but you told Law?”

You wince “Chopper dragged him in. Said he could save me.”

Zoro stares at you for a moment. Then “You turned down the surgery.”

“Yes.”

“Because you didn’t want to forget.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

You speak first “I asked you once if you saw me as anything more than a friend. You said no.”

“I said you’re a great friend,” Zoro says “But I didn’t say no.”

You freeze “That’s not what it felt like.”

He leans forward “I didn’t answer you honestly. I didn’t want to answer.”

You whisper “Why?”

His voice is low “Because I was scared it would mess everything up. You’re... you’ve always been close. If I let myself feel something else, I thought it would get in the way.”

“Of your goal,” you say “Becoming the world’s strongest swordman.”

He nods once “I told myself there was no room for anything else.”

Your hands are shaking in your lap.

“And now?” you whisper.

Zoro hesitates. For the first time in forever, he looks unsure.

“I don’t know,” he says “But when I heard what you said to Law… that you’d rather die than forget me… I realized I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“I don’t know if I deserve this,” he says “But I want to try. If you’ll let me. I should’ve said it before you ever started coughing.”

Zoro’s confession echoes in the small room.

You sit there for a long moment, stunned, heart beating so fast it hurts more than your lungs.

But the pain in your chest doesn’t stop. In fact, it starts to burn.

That isn’t supposed to happen.

“I…” You swallow hard, forcing your voice to stay calm “Can I ask something?”

Zoro looks at you, still tense “Yeah.”

You grip the blanket tighter around your shoulders “Do you actually mean it? Or are you just saying that because you don’t want me to die?”

He flinches.

You nod slowly “That’s what I thought.”

Zoro opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m... glad you care. But you don’t have to pretend to love me. That would hurt more.”

His jaw tightens “I’m not pretending.”

You give him a sad smile “Zoro... if this was real, the petals would’ve stopped by now.”

You cough hard. A violent shake rips through your chest, and something wet and warm fills your palm.

You look down.

A full, red flower lies there, soaked in blood.

Your fingers tremble as you wipe it away, turning your face from him.

“See?” you whisper.

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

He just leaves.

He storms through the Sunny like a blade cutting through mist.

Straight to the infirmary.

Chopper and Law both look up from the counter.

Zoro slams his hands down “Why isn’t she better?”

Chopper blinks “Wh-What?”

“I told her. Everything. I confessed. So why is she still coughing up flowers?!”

Law stands slowly “Did she believe you?”

“What?”

Law narrows his eyes “Hanahaki is rooted in emotion, not logic. You can say whatever you want but if she doesn’t believe it in her heart, it won’t stop.”

Zoro’s throat goes dry.

“She thinks I said it out of pity...” he mutters.

Law’s voice drops “Then her body still thinks it’s unrequited.”

Zoro swears under his breath.

Chopper tugs at his sleeve, eyes big and worried “Zoro, she’s getting worse. No matter what I give her, the petals will start to grow into her lungs. They’ll wrap around her ribs. After that...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Zoro steps back.

He’s never felt so helpless.

“I’ll fix it” he says, turning toward the door.

Law raises a brow “How?”

Zoro doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know yet. But he’s sure of one thing, this time, words aren’t enough.

The sun is setting. Gold light spills over the deck of the Sunny.

You sit alone again, wrapped in your blanket, watching the sea blur into the sky. The petals are getting worse now, they come up more easily, more violently. You can feel them in your lungs even when you're not coughing.

You don’t know how much time you have left.

You don’t hear Zoro approach.

He stands beside you silently for a few seconds. Then, without a word, he sits down.

You look at him. His expression is unreadable. Focused. But his eyes are storming.

“I’m not good at this” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

He pulls something from his waist. A worn cloth. He unfolds it slowly.

Inside is a small charm. Hand-carved wood, shaped like a sword crossed with a flower.

Your breath catches.

“I made it back on Wano,” he says “Took me three days. I almost threw it out. Thought it was stupid.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just the charm.

“I didn’t know why I was making it. I told myself it was just something to pass the time. But I carried it with me every day since.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

Zoro finally turns to you.

“Because I didn’t just come here to say something this time. I’m here to prove it.”

He places the charm in your lap.

Then Zoro kneels.

Your heart skips “Zoro—what—”

“I’m not asking you to believe me because I said I care,” he says, voice rough “I’m asking you to believe me because I was a coward, and I missed my chance, and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continues “Not because I feel guilty. Not because you’re sick. Because I’ve loved you longer than I was willing to admit.”

Your eyes well with tears. You shake your head “But... Zoro... why didn’t you—”

“Because I thought I couldn’t afford it” he says “But I realized... what’s the point of becoming the world’s strongest swordsman if you’re not there to see it?”

Your lungs seize.

You cough.

A petal falls into your palm.

Just one.

Small.

Thin.

You stare at it.

Zoro sees too. And for the first time you see hope in his eyes.

It’s slow.

You still wake up coughing sometimes but not with blood anymore. Not with full blossoms tearing your throat raw.

Now, it’s just a few pale petals, thinner than paper. Some mornings, none at all.

You’re healing.

And every time you wake up, Zoro is there.

Not hovering. Just close. Training. Napping with one arm slung over a chair. But always there.

He doesn’t say much. He lets his presence do the talking.

One night, you sit outside the infirmary, wrapped in a jacket that’s obviously not yours, too big, too warm. Smells like steel, sweat, and something familiar.

Zoro’s jacket.

He comes up beside you, leaning against the wall.

You glance at him “Still watching me?”

“Still making sure you don’t keel over,” he says “It’d ruin my day.”

You laugh softly “Chopper says the petals might stop completely soon.”

He nods “Good.”

You look at him “Do you remember what you said? On the deck. About… me seeing you become the world’s strongest swordman?”

Zoro doesn’t look away “Yeah.”

“Do you still want that?”

“More than ever.”

You swallow “And… do you still mean it? What you said about loving me?”

Zoro turns to you fully.

“I’ve said a lot of things I didn’t mean in my life,” he says “But that wasn’t one of them.”

Silence.

Then you reach out, fingers brushing his hand.

“Zoro?”

He meets your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer is a quiet but firm “Yeah.”

You lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away.

He doesn’t.

His lips are warm. Dry at first... hesitant. But then you feel him tilt toward you, just a little. And his hand rises to rest on your back.

It’s not perfect. It’s a little clumsy. But it’s real.

And when you pull back, breathless and flushed, you cough but not a single petal falls.

Zoro watches you, eyes searching.

When he speaks, his voice is low “Guess that’s one way to test if it’s real.”

You smile “Feels pretty real to me.”

It’s been days since your last petal.

Chopper checks your lungs every morning now with his stethoscope and a hopeful smile, and every time he hears nothing but clean, healthy breathing, he squeaks in joy and flails his little hooves around.

You owe him everything.

Which is why you're now crouched outside the kitchen with a stack of pink cupcakes, a tiny hand-sewn thank-you card (drawn with crayons), and one extremely annoyed swordsman beside you.

Zoro crosses his arms “I still don’t get why I have to be here.”

“Because you helped me live,” you say, balancing the cupcakes with exaggerated care “And Chopper basically didn’t sleep for a week watching over me. We’re doing this together.”

Zoro grumbles “I could’ve just said thanks.”

You grin “And yet, here you are. Holding a party hat.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

“You will wear it.”

He grunts again but doesn’t argue further.

You knock on the door.

“Chopper! Can you come out here for a sec?”

He waddles out, sleepy-eyed, blinking up at youmand freezes.

His eyes go huge.

The cupcakes are stacked with pink frosting, each topped with tiny candy flowers. The card is messy and full of stickers, and you made sure to draw you, Chopper, and Zoro in crayon (Zoro has three swords and a frowny face, just for accuracy).

Zoro groans beside you.

“Thanks for helping me” you say brightly, holding it all out “We love you, Chopper.”

Chopper’s cheeks go red “Wha—whaaa?! I—I—I was just doing my job! Y-You didn’t have to—!”

Zoro, looking like he’d rather be stabbed, mumbles, “Thanks, you tiny doctor.”

Chopper makes a noise. A mix between a squeak and a sob.

He bursts into tears, flinging his tiny arms around your leg and Zoro’s knee at the same time.

“I’m so happy you’re not dead!!!”

Zoro looks at you, completely frozen.

You just smile, slip the party hat onto his head, and whisper “Told you this would be worth it.”

[lvnleah]

hi i have a request for kyra!☺️

R and kyra have been together for a year now, (r is not a footballer or famous) but the girls never met her,never seen her or even seen a photo or her so they all make fun of her for having “an imaginary girlfriend” and joke around with her.

the reason why they never met her is cause r is very shy ,awkward and get very nervous and uncomfortable around new and a lot of people. One day though kyra ends up convincing her and takes her with her to meet the girls. They all very much shocked cause they really thought kyra was lying about the gf lol🤣, but then they get even more shocked when they see a side of kyra that they never saw. Her being so lovely,kind and soft with r who a first is a little bit overwhelmed but then ends up relaxing and enjoying the night. the can see how much kyra and r love each other’s and they’re happy for them

actually real | kyra cooney-cross.

“I swear, she’s real.” Kyra groaned as her teammates teased her over you. 

“Sure she is,” Katie smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Sure you have a girlfriend, and she’s totally not just some made-up person you tell us about so we don’t think you’re lonely.”

Kyra rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned forward. “I do have a girlfriend, and you lot are just mad you haven’t met her yet.”

“I mean, can you blame us?” Steph piped up, grinning. “You’ve been with her for what, a year? And not one of us has even seen a picture? C’mon, Ky, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

Beth let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, is it because she’s actually famous, and she doesn’t want to be seen with you?”

More laughter followed, and Kyra groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “She’s not famous. She’s just—” She hesitated, not wanting to overshare about you. “She’s shy. And she doesn’t like big groups. It’s not that weird.”

Lotte smirked, tilting her head. “Right. So, what you’re saying is your girlfriend, who nobody has ever met, doesn’t come around because she’s conveniently ‘shy’?”

Caitlin leaned into Katie, whispering just loud enough for Kyra to hear, “It’s getting a bit sad at this point, isn’t it?”

The team erupted into laughter again, and Kyra groaned.

They had been at this for months. Every time she talked about you, even just little things, like how you made her tea in the mornings or how you always sent her the sweetest texts before a game the teasing would start.

But she couldn’t even be mad at them. They didn’t mean anything by it. They just didn’t understand.

Because you were real.

And Kyra adored you.

But you also happened to be incredibly anxious and extremely uncomfortable around big groups of new people, which made introducing you to her team a little difficult.

And she respected that. She never wanted to push you into something you weren’t ready for.

But still.

She really wanted her teammates to know that she wasn’t just making you up.

It took a while, but eventually, she convinced you after coming home that evening. 

It wasn’t easy. There had been a lot of anxious rambling on your part, a lot of reassurance on hers, but finally, finally, you had agreed to come to the team’s bonding night.

Kyra practically threw herself onto the couch beside you, draping herself over your lap dramatically as she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Baby, please please please come to my team bonding night!” she whined, her voice filled with desperation.

You sighed, setting your phone down as you glanced down at her. “Kyra…”

She lifted her head just enough to meet your gaze, giving you her best pout. “They think I’m making you up, babe. Making you up.” She groaned again, “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to smile, but she was making it really difficult not to.

“Ky, you know I don’t like big groups,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet them, I just—”

“I know,” she said softly, her teasing tone disappearing for a moment. She sat up slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she reached for your hand. “And I would never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But I promise you, they’re great. And they’re going to love you.”

You exhaled, squeezing her hand. “I just… what if I get too overwhelmed?”

“Then we leave,” she said without hesitation. “No questions asked. You just give me the word, and we’re out of there.”

Your lips pressed together, anxiety still bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like meeting new people. You weren’t even sure how you met Kyra because your anxiety ruled your life. Literally. 

Kyra shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t let go of your hand. You don’t even have to talk much. Just sit with me, let me hold you, and let them see that you do exist.”

That pulled a small laugh from you, and Kyra grinned.

“Just think about it,” she murmured, “I want them to see the person who makes me happiest. But if it’s too much, you say the word, and we’ll stay home, order takeout, and make fun of their Instagram stories instead.”

You exhaled slowly, your nerves still present but softened by her unwavering support.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

Kyra’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She grinned, pressing a flurry of quick kisses to your face, making you giggle. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “You owe me for this.”

“Anything you want, baby,” she said easily, wrapping her arms around you. “Anything at all.”

That conversation was how you found yourself sitting in Kyra’s car, anxiously twisting the hem of your sweater between your fingers as she drove toward the restaurant.

“I can’t do this,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Kyra glanced over, reaching for your hand. “Yes, you can,” she said softly, squeezing it. “And we’ll leave the second you want to. No questions asked.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing her hand in return.

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time,” she promised, her voice as gentle as ever. “You don’t even have to talk much.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but it wasn’t untrue.

“I love you, okay?” she murmured, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles.

You nodded, trying to take comfort in the fact that, no matter how overwhelming this night might feel, at least you had her.

The second you walked into the restaurant, the room went silent. You could feel their eyes on you immediately, and it took everything in you not to shrink into Kyra’s side or run straight out.

But Kyra didn’t hesitate. She slipped her arm around your waist, keeping you close in a way that felt both protective and reassuring.

Steph was the first to break the silence. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Leah blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “You actually have a girlfriend?”

Caitlin nudged Katie. “We owe her an apology.”

Kyra rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before looking at her teammates. “Told you so.”

Beth leaned forward on the table, squinting at you. “Are we sure she’s real?” she asked playfully. “Like, she’s not just some paid actress you hired for the night?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but Kyra immediately squeezed your hand. “You lot better behave,” she warned, though the fondness in her voice softened the words.

The team, to their credit, didn’t push too hard. They were obviously curious, but they kept things light, introducing themselves in a way that wasn’t overwhelming.

Kyra helped you settle into your seat, keeping her hand on your knee, rubbing soothing circles against your skin whenever she noticed you getting fidgety. As the night went on, you slowly started to relax.

What surprised the team the most wasn’t you, though.

It was Kyra.

They had never seen her like this.

They knew her as competitive, fiery, always up for a laugh or prank but with you, she was soft.

She was attentive, making sure you always had what you needed. She never let go of your hand unless you needed it free, and even then, she’d find another way to keep contact. Whether it was her knee brushing against yours or her arm resting behind you on the booth or her foot lightly tapping against your ankle under the table, she was always touching you. 

She was patient, whispering little reassurances to you whenever she noticed you getting overwhelmed. And she was so in love with you.

It was obvious in the way she looked at you, in the way she softened every time you spoke, in the way she seemed completely and utterly focused on making sure you were comfortable.

“Okay, I get it now,” Katie muttered to Caitlin at one point. “She’s whipped.”

Caitlin grinned. “Properly in love, is she feeling okay?”

Kyra just smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before whispering, “You okay, love?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. Because yes, the night had been scary at first but it had also been filled with laughter, gentle reassurances, and the unwavering presence of the girl you loved.

And by the end of it, when Kyra helped you into your jacket and kissed the top of your head, “Proud of you, imaginary girlfriend.”

[enwoso]

worth the wait | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request

grumpy masterlist

the final whistle shrieked through the stadium and for a second, alessia couldn't move. they'd done it. they’d actually done it — against all the odds. arsenal were going to the final. they were going to lisbon.

alessia stood hands on her knees, smiling so hard her face hurt. but there was only one person she wanted to talk to.

alessia grabbed her phone and dodged through the chaos on the pitch, searching for a quiet spot. leah caching up beside her, squeezing her hand quickly. "go on," she laughed, knowing exactly who alessia was calling.

the screen rang once, twice—

"MUMMY!!"

there you were. alessia’s little lovie, practically bouncing out of the camera frame, your curls flying everywhere. you being back in london, with your grandparents.

alessia making the decision that it would be best for you to stay with them for game, as much as she wanted you there, the team needed to stay concentrated. for once alessia needed to be just a footballer, not mummy even though she hated admitting it.

"hey, my girl!" alessia said, laughing, crouching down on the grass. "did you watch?"

"yep watched all of it!" you shouted, so loud it made alessia laugh even harder. "you scored, mummy! you were so fast! you zoomed past everyone like a rocket ship!"

"a rocket ship, huh?" alessia teased, resting her cheek against my knee so she could look right at you. "that fast?"

"the fastest!" you insisted, your hands flying everywhere like you were trying to show your mummy with your whole body. "nobody could catch you! not even the lyon girls!"

"good thing, 'cause they tried," alessia chuckled as you babbled on for a few more minutes as you kept the phone in your hand the screen not staying in one place for more than a second, "where mama?" you asked.

alessia turned the camera around the screen showing the pitch as she shouted for leah to come over, you watching through the screen as leah came over wide smiled sitting down next to alessia.

leah popped down next to her, peering into the screen. "hey, angel! what did you think of that then? not too bad, right?"

"sooooo gooood!" you nodded dragging out the sounds which drew a giggle from your mums and your grandparents "mummy scored a rocket and you were really good-defending!"

leah pretended to pout, nudging alessia. "unbelievable. rocket goals only from now on, huh?"

alessia giggled, fixing the camera so you could see the two of them. "we're gonna have to practice rocket shots, le."

"we'll train with angel when we get back," leah agreed, winking at the screen. "mini meadow park?"

"yes! you have to!" you said seriously, sending a big cheer through the phone. a small groan coming from alessia as that was the grass in the backyard about to be ruined once again.

"le you can be the goalie! a-and you have to try to stop me from scorin' but you have to let me score!" alessia pressed a hand to her heart, feeling like she could burst. "its a deal, lovie."

"mummy," you said suddenly, voice going all small and soft, "when are you coming home?"

alessia felt her chest twisted. she hated being away from you, even if it was just for a night. "tomorrow morning, baby. as soon as we can. i promise," alessia said, reaching toward the screen like she could touch you.

"you pinky promise?" you asked, holding up your tiny pinky finger at the camera.

alessia smiled so wide it hurt. "i pinky promise."

you grinned, satisfied, and held up something to the camera. it was your elephant plush, esme, wearing a homemade arsenal shirt made out of paper and tape.

"me and esme cheered so loud when you scored!" you said proudly, showing off the homemade arsenal shirt. "nonna said esme scared nonno 'cause he nearly spilled his tea."

alessia laughed so hard she almost dropped her phone. "poor nonno. tell him i'm sorry."

"i did!" you nodded seriously. "i said, 'nonno, don't be mad, mummy's a hero!'"

leah was fully laughing now, pulling alessia closer by the waist as alessia rested her hands on leah's knees. "she's got your back, less."

"always," alessia whispered, brushing a tear away quickly before you could see.

"and guess what?" alessia said, smiling at you. "cause we won tonight, and we're going to the final. and if we win that—"

"you get a shiny trophy!" you cut in, huge curious blue eyes. "i know! i told nonna already, that we have to get party hats and cake!"

alessia chuckled. "i think that's a brilliant plan. but guess what else?"

"what?" you whispered, leaning so close your forehead was nearly bumping the camera.

"we're bringing you a medal," alessia said a big smile on her face.

"FOR ME?!" you screamed.

"for you," leah grinned. "official arsenal semi-final winner medal. special edition: only for the coolest little girl."

you squealed so loudly that carol had to come into the frame, laughing. "alright, sweetheart, not so loud!"

"mummy," you said quickly, ignoring your nonna completely, "when you come home can you bring me a football kit too? so i can be like you and mama?"

"of course, baby," alessia said. "anything you want.”

"and maybe some sweets?" you added, looking innocent with a small smile. leah snorted. "she's a negotiator."

"and cuddles," alessia said, smiling. "a lot of cuddles. that's the most important part."

you leaned your cheek against esme, looking sleepy now even through all your excitement. "okay. but you have to cuddle me forever."

"forever and ever and ever," alessia whispered, the world just seeming to get quieter and quieter as it was just them in that moment,

you yawned, and carol gently pulled the phone a little back.

"alright, kiddo, time to settle down now," carol said softly glancing at the time. "say goodnight to mummy and mama."

"goodnight, mummy," you said sleepily as a yawn escaped your lips as you blowed a kiss at the screen. "and mama. i love you."

"we love you too," leah said, squeezing me tight. "so, so much, baby," alessia whispered, blowing a kiss back.

the call ended and alessia sat there for a minute, leah's arm around her, her heart feeling so full it could've floated out of her chest.

winning the match had been incredible, an amazing feeling. but nothing, nothing, would ever be better than hearing you say "i love you."

maybe not even lifting the trophy.

[empathicliar]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱. ¸.•* 𝘵𝘰𝘫𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰.

-𝟏𝐤. 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 , 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝.

༺❀༻ || 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 , 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!​toji​ , ​pregnancy , she / her pronoun's , brown skin reader , sex during pregnancy cause he gets down like that , dirty talk , no protection.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who takes offence in you opening your door on your own. hopping out of the driver side to run around the hefty BMW to open up that shiny black door. he's grabbing your hand to kiss it and helping you out of the car, eye's drifting to that pregnant belly of yours.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who loves walking around in public places with you clinging to his side. sick smirk on his face when another man passes. he loves making it known he's the one who knocked you up, the one who has you wobbling around like a penguin and the one who's most likely going to make it happen again after this one is born.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who massages your legs after a hard day at work, he's scolding you for being so careless. the whole point of him letting you go back to work was because of the sitting portion, now your complaining about the new pressure on your back you didn't think could get any worse. today was the last day you took allen on his offer of walking around and getting everyone's opinion on the new magazines.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who always kisses the exposed part's of your tummy when its in his face. the lightskin stretch marks laced with gentle ecstasy as each kiss leads to the opening of your supple thighs.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who says " sex is the best way to get a baby out. " only because he saw something you had been reading about. your not even due until another few weeks and he's already plumbing his dick into your cunt, face knitted from how tight you still are. " missed this little thing. " he's whispering to anything willing to listen.

𝐛𝐚���𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who's back to being the nice guy after many rounds of tainted dances. your head laying on his muscled thighs to feel his presence. he has a how to be a good dad manual in his hands, reading it out loud for you to comment. " this shit says i need to change all the diapers, is that the deal? ", your nodding to play along with the joke and he's sulking from the thought of a shitty diaper.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who thought the research for getting that said baby out by sex was a joke and or a ploy for men to stay active in bed. you're almost a week over your due date when your hugging his shoulders in, the dirtiest mating press he doesn't even think he had you in when you weren't pregnant has him whimpering in your neck, sucking another hickey into the already bruising skin.

gasping, you can feel your eyes twitching when his thick tip prods at your mushy spots. – holding onto him, afraid he'll pull out before that sweet ball in your stomach can release. your squealing loud when he gently wags around in your pussy.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji who's standing in shock the next morning when you're both talking in the kitchen and water like fluid is dripping from and darkening your sweat pants. he's scrambling, taking double looks to make sure he was seeing the right thing. " toji, bag now. he's coming. " almost slipping on the amniotic fluid to run into the bedroom and reach the life saving bag, it takes a wing and a prayer for you both to reach the hospital.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji is holding your hand the entire time you're pushing, not daring to look at the birth of his son. he promised to be beside you, not to witness the mayhem happening below your belt... you're crushing his hand, face tutted with pain and he's trying to say something over the doctors who are talking amongst themselves to keep you calm.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!toji whos the first person other than you and the doctors to hold the beautiful baby boy in his arms. he has coiled black hair and it's already prominent its his son. he's sitting in the hospital chair in awe, scared to make a move in fear of hurting him.

" hey megumi... " he coos, undeniably in love again.

©𝙀𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙍 any sort of stealing or modifying is prohibited, mess with your momma not me.

[vidals-harkness]

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ‘Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

[iamquiantrelle]

XOXO YOUR FAVE WAG • iamquaintrelle

# summary: kylian's gf has everyone in a tizzy...some call her spoiled rotten or a brat, but she loves kyky down and she'll always be your fave wag. # pairings: kylian mbappe x black spoiled gf (fc: 6kenza) # wc: 3.6k # tags: @kmlottin @masn-mount @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @szariahwroteit @muglermami @goodgyalgonebadd # author’s note: got a scenario for your fave wag? - send them here // one shot series masterlist

PART I: NEW BEGINNINGS

Madrid sunlight was loud and obnoxious.

That was her first thought as she scrolled through her phone, lying alone in their massive bed, sheets still warm from where Ky had been. From down the hall in the kitchen, she could hear him talking baby-talk to Milo and Gatsby—the Jack Russell going crazy as usual while the gentle giant Golden just woofed along.

"Wesh, vous avez faim? Qui veut manger? You guys, huh?"

She smiled despite the comments flooding her latest IG post. She'd just shared a simple pic of herself and the Madrid skyline with the caption "new beginnings ✨" and the haters were already out in full force:

@mbappestan4ever: can this girl post ANYTHING without making it about herself? your man just made the biggest move in football and you're what... taking selfies?

@madridista190: we don't want her drama in our club. leave that shit in paris

@footballwives_tea: sources say the other Madrid WAGs aren't impressed with Mbappé's girlfriend showing up to training "dressed like she's going to a nightclub" on day one

That last one made her laugh out loud. She'd worn jeans and a white button-down to yesterday's session. Literally the most basic outfit possible. But that's how it always went—wear something cute, get called attention-seeking; dress down, get called sloppy. The "football wife expert" accounts just made shit up for clicks.

Three years into this life, and she still wasn't used to being a character in someone else's story. She'd been just another girl from Bondy with big dreams when she met Kylian. Back then, he was that promising Monaco kid everyone was talking about, and she was a fashion student with 500 Instagram followers and a part-time modeling gig that barely paid her metro fare. Now? Twenty million followers, brand deals worth more than her parents' apartment, and a comments section full of people who thought they knew her whole life story.

She switched to Twitter, wincing as she spotted her name trending again. The hot takes were even worse:

"Mbappé's WAG already causing drama in Madrid. Source says she refused to sit with other players' wives at training."

Which was a complete lie. She'd literally asked if she could join them, and they'd practically formed a wall with their Birkins. Except Camila, bless her.

"Crazy how Mbappé went from dating that sweet hometown girl to this attention-seeking influencer. Fame changes people."

That one actually made her snort. She WAS the "sweet hometown girl." These people just couldn't fathom that the same person could post thirst traps AND be a loyal partner.

"Bébé? T'es réveillée?" Ky appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but training shorts and that goofy grin she fell for years ago. Milo darted past him and leaped onto the bed while Gatsby lumbered behind, tail wagging.

"Malheureusement," she groaned, putting her phone down. "Your son decided my face needed cleaning at—" she checked the time, "—eight in the fucking morning."

"Milo, mon gars, on avait parlé de ça," Ky said, not even trying to sound serious. "Let the princess sleep."

"Call me princess again and you're sleeping on the couch."

"In our house at 15 million? Go ahead," he laughed, flopping down beside her, instantly reaching for her phone. "Qu'est-ce que tu regardes? The comments again?"

She tried to snatch it back but he held it out of reach, his footballer reflexes too quick. His smile faded as he scrolled.

"Why are you reading this bullshit?" he asked softly.

"Know thy enemy," she shrugged. "Plus some of them are actually funny. Did you know I'm apparently sleeping with three of your teammates simultaneously? I’m really busy."

He didn't laugh. "I hate how they talk about you."

"Yeah well, comes with the territory," she said with mock cheerfulness. "You signed for Madrid, I signed for that."

"It wasn’t like that in Paris."

"It was exactly like that in Paris, bébé. You just didn't notice because you were busy being the golden boy." She sat up, kissing his cheek. "Ça va. J'ai l'habitude."

And she was. Three years of being Kylian Mbappé's girlfriend had prepared her for the constant scrutiny, the accusations, the bullshit. Model? Gold-digger. Influencer? Attention whore. Stay home? Lazy trophy girlfriend. Work? Distraction to his career. There was literally no winning.

That first year had been the hardest. She remembered the night she'd broken down crying after reading an article speculating that she was only dating Kylian for his money. The article had dug up photos of her family's apartment block in Bondy, posted her high school grades, and even found an old tweet where she'd joked about being broke as a student. "From the projects to the palace," the headline had read, as if she'd executed some elaborate scheme instead of just falling in love.

Kylian had been furious, wanting to sue the publication, but she'd talked him down. "It'll just make it worse," she'd said. "They'll say I'm controlling you next."

And she'd been right. The next week, another outlet claimed she was "the puppet master behind Mbappé's career moves."

"Anyway," she added, shaking off the memories, "yesterday was... interesting."

"The training? You met the others?" He perked up, always so eager for her to feel included in his world.

"Yeah... they were..." She searched for a diplomatic word.

"Horrible? Cold? Crazy girls?" he supplied helpfully.

"I was gonna say 'reserved' but sure, let's go with relou." She laughed. "Camila was nice though."

"Rodrygo's wife? Yeah, she's cool."

"The rest just kinda... stared. Like I had 'PSG TRASH' stamped on my forehead." She mimicked their judgmental looks, making Ky snort. "One of them actually asked if my handbag was real or if I 'got it from the markets in Bondy.'"

Kylian's jaw tightened. "Who said that?"

"Doesn't matter. Point is, I'm the outsider. The girlfriend who isn't a wife. The influencer who isn't from a football family. La meuf de Bondy." She absently petted Gatsby's head. "Same shit, different club."

She didn't mention how one of the WAGs had whispered "Casse-toi" when she'd tried to sit down, or how another had loudly asked if "PSG girls" always wore "so much makeup to training." She'd worn mascara and tinted lip balm. That was it.

"You are worth ten of any of them," Ky said fiercely. "And if they don't see that—"

"Then they don't matter," she finished for him. "Je sais. It’s okay. I'm not here for them anyway." She stretched and yawned. "I'm here for your fine ass and these ridiculously expensive marble countertops."

That got him laughing again, the tension broken. "Glad to know where I stand in the hierarchy. Below the countertops but above the dogs?"

"Milo and Gatsby’s actually tied with the countertops. Sorry."

He checked his watch and groaned. "I have to go. Ancelotti wants us early today." He stood, then hesitated. "Ça va aller? You could call your sister?"

"I'm good. Gonna unpack the rest of the bedroom stuff. Maybe do a haul video since the brands sent all that Madrid-themed shit."

"Post a thirst trap," he suggested with a wink. "Really give those football wives something to talk about."

"You just want the comments to be 'Damn Mbappé is a lucky man' instead of 'Why is she such a bitch?'"

"Guilty," he admitted, leaning down to kiss her. "Also, wear that red thing tonight."

"We going somewhere?"

"Dinner with Barcola. He's in town with Dembélé, wanted to check on us. You know, PSG guys, we support each other."

Her mood instantly lifted. Bradley and Ousmane. People who actually knew her, not just as Mbappé's girl but as herself. People from home.

"I can’t wait," she said, genuinely excited now.

"I know," he said, seeing right through her sudden enthusiasm. He kissed her again, deeper this time. "Je t'aime, Squirtle."

The ridiculous nickname made her laugh every time. "I told you to stop calling me that in public!"

"We are not in public," he pointed out. "And you love it."

"I love YOU. The nickname is questionable."

"You weren't questioning it last night when you were—"

"OKAY time for you to go to work," she interrupted, pushing him toward the door while he cackled. "Go run around with your little ball. Make some goals or whatever."

"That’s literally my job description, yeah."

At the door, he turned serious again. "Hey. For real though. T'es bien ici? I know it's a lot of change all at once."

For a moment, she let the brave face slip. "Paris, I miss it sometimes. But you're my home too, so..." She shrugged, trying to play it casual even as her eyes got a little misty. "I’m fine wherever you are, Ky. Even in enemy territory."

His smile was soft, private—the one the cameras never caught, the one just for her. "That’s my girl."

After he left, she flopped back on the bed, dogs curling around her. The house felt too quiet, too new, too strange. In Paris, their place had overlooked a busy street. There had been constant noise—cars honking, people chatting, the little café across the street playing music. Here, in their gated Madrid mansion, the silence was almost oppressive.

She missed silly things: her favorite bakery, the grumpy florist who secretly gave her extra flowers, the familiar rhythm of her days. Hell, she even missed the Parisian traffic. But more than anything, she missed the anonymity they'd somehow managed to carve out in Paris. After three years, the local paparazzi had developed a weird respect for them. Here, she couldn't even walk the dogs without being ambushed.

The other day, she'd gone to get coffee and ended up being followed by three photographers screaming questions in Spanish. "Are you worried about the Madrid women?" "Will you be in the stadium for every match?" "Are the wedding rumors true?"

She'd panicked, ducking into a store only to realize it was a bridal shop, which immediately set off a new wave of engagement speculation online.

Her phone pinged with a notification. She hesitated before checking, bracing for more hateful comments, but it was actually a text from Alexia, Barcola's girlfriend.

Heyyyy bitch! Can't wait to see you tonight. I miss your face. Bradley says Ky's already gone full Madrid diva. True???

She smiled, feeling slightly better.

Not yet but we've only been here a week. Give him time.

Ousmane wants to know if Ky's seen the new place they reserved for him at Bernabeu? Apparently it's like a whole ass throne room.

Haven't heard but wouldn't put it past them. How are you? Still coming to visit us next month?

OBVS. Already booked flights. Hey, don't look at Twitter today ok? Some BS going around about you snubbing the WAGs.

Too late, she thought. But she appreciated the warning.

Nothing new. How's your new collection going?

Alexia had a sustainable fashion line that was actually incredible. Unlike most footballer WAGs who claimed to be "designers" but just slapped their names on fast fashion, Alexia had actual talent.

Nearly killed me but the lookbook shoot is next week. You'll model for me when it launches right? Need my girl!

Always ❤️

Setting her phone down, she felt a little more grounded. At least some things hadn't changed. She and Alexia had clicked the first time they met, both hustling to build their own careers while dating rising stars. They'd shared war stories about toxic fan encounters and media hit pieces over wine nights that never made it to social media.

Stretching, she decided to finally tackle unpacking. They'd been living out of suitcases for a week, with only the essentials unpacked. She padded over to the stack of boxes labeled "Bedroom" and started sorting through them.

In the third box, wrapped in tissue paper, she found the framed photo that had always sat on her nightstand in Paris. It was from their first vacation together, before the world knew they were dating. They'd snuck away to Corsica, staying at a tiny hotel where nobody recognized them. In the picture, they were laughing, caught mid-splash in crystal blue water, looking impossibly young and carefree.

No designer clothes, no styled hair, no carefully curated image. Just two kids from Bondy who couldn't believe their luck.

She placed it on her nightstand, the familiar image making the strange room feel a little more like home.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Kylian, sending a selfie from the training ground. He was grinning in his new white kit, thumbs up, looking as excited as the day he'd signed for Monaco all those years ago. The message read:

First official training pic! Coach says I'm already the best player in Madrid history. Obviously.

She laughed, typing back: Your ego barely fits in the frame. But you look hot in white. Not gonna lie.

You'll look hotter in that red dress tonight. Just saying.

You're obsessed with me.

Factually accurate statement.

Smiling, she set the phone down and continued unpacking, feeling lighter than she had all week.

Three hours later, most of the bedroom was organized. She'd set up her vanity area, arranged Kylian's ridiculous collection of sneakers (the man had more shoes than any woman she knew), and managed to find homes for most of their clothes.

Gatsby and Milo had "helped" by napping on every surface she'd tried to organize, but she didn't mind. Their familiar presence was comforting in the new space.

She decided to take a quick shower and then maybe film that unboxing video for her channel. She had a pile of PR packages that brands had sent to welcome her to Madrid—everything from local skincare lines to Spanish fashion labels hoping for a mention.

As she stepped into the bathroom, her phone pinged with an Instagram notification. Thinking it might be Kylian again, she checked it.

Instead, it was a DM from a fan account:

I know everyone's being horrible to you right now, but just wanted to say I've followed you since before you met Kylian and you've always been real. Don't let these Madrid bitches get you down. Some of us know the truth. ❤️

She smiled, genuinely touched. For every troll, there were still people like this. She typed back a quick thank you, adding the fan to her "respond always" list—a small group of followers she made sure to engage with no matter how busy she got.

After her shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she picked up her phone again, bypassing the hate comments to find the post Kylian had tagged her in earlier. It was from his account—a carousel of images: him in the new Real Madrid kit, a selfie with her in their new kitchen, Milo and Gatsby playing in the backyard, and finally, a throwback of them in Paris, back when he was just a promising kid and she was just a girl with a dream.

The caption read: New chapter, same story. Mi familia siempre conmigo. #HalaMadrid #blessed

Under it, the top comment with over 50,000 likes:

@o.dembele7: wesh frérot prends soin de toi à Madrid, on vous attend à Bondy pour les vacances 😂👊🏽 vous me manquez les gars

And below it:

@bradley_dls: La meuf la plus real de tout Madrid est arrivée, faites gaffe 🔥 à ce soir!

And just like that, Madrid felt a little more like home.

She smiled, typing a comment of her own: Prêt pour cette nouvelle aventure avec vous. Toujours votre fan n°1. ❤️

Then, just for fun, she added a second comment: PS : Apportez du lait à la maison, nous sommes sortis. Et Milo a mangé tes baskets préférées. Désolé, pas désolé. 😘

Let the WAGs and the haters chew on that bit of normal domesticity. She was settling in just fine.

She was not settling in "just fine".

Her Instagram post had painted the picture perfectly: happy couple, beautiful Madrid home, fresh start. #blessed

Reality was messier.

"Milo! Putain, c’est pas possible!" She groaned, discovering yet another designer shoe partially destroyed. The Jack Russell terrier trotted away without remorse, tail high like a victory flag.

She tossed the mangled loafer into the growing pile of casualties. Two weeks in Madrid, and Milo had already claimed four shoes, three throw pillows, and one very expensive Hermès scarf. The dog was clearly not adjusting well to the move.

That made two of them.

She flopped onto the couch, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. 9:38 PM and still no message from Kylian. He'd left for "quick drinks" with Cama and Aurel five hours ago. Third time this week. While she genuinely liked both men and was grateful Kylian had French teammates to bond with—God knows she'd kill for some familiar faces right now—but the constant absence was starting to sting.

Especially since living together—properly together, not the half-time arrangement they'd had in Paris—was proving more complicated than expected. In Paris, she'd had her own apartment to retreat to when needed. Here, they were on top of each other in a mansion that somehow felt both too big and too small.

Her phone rang. Not Kylian, but her mother.

"Hey, Maman," she answered, already bracing herself.

"Two weeks and now you answer?" Her mother's voice crackled through the speaker. "I had to learn from your cousin's Instagram that you're playing house with a footballer in Spain."

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "We're not 'playing house,' Maman. We're living together. Like adults do."

"Tu joues à la femme mariée sans la bague," her mother said bluntly. "You play wife without the ring."

"It's 2024, not 1985."

"The year doesn't matter. What matters is respect. If he respects you, he puts a ring on your finger before you uproot your whole life."

The conversation circled the same drain it always did. Her mother's traditional values versus her modern relationship. Her independence versus her choices. By the time they hung up, her mood had sunk even lower.

Was her mother right? Was she giving up too much for too little commitment? Her modeling contracts in Paris had been steady. Here, she was starting from scratch with only a handful of tentative Spanish connections. And for what? To wake up to wet towels on the floor and a boyfriend who was out with his boys more nights than not?

The front door opened, and Kylian's voice echoed through the marble foyer. "Bébé? T'es où?"

"Living room," she called back, quickly composing her face.

He appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed with probably a few glasses of wine. His hoodie was unzipped over a simple white tee—he looked relaxed in a way she hadn't seen since Paris.

"Hey you," he said, dropping onto the couch beside her and pulling her into a hug. "Missed you tonight."

"Did you though?" she teased, unable to resist. "Seemed like you were having plenty of fun without me."

"Aurél made this crazy cocktail thing with some Spanish liqueur. Knocked me on my ass." He laughed, then caught her expression. "Shoulda called though. My bad."

"It's fine." She shrugged, not wanting to start a fight. "How are the boys?"

"Good. Cama's girlfriend might be coming back from Paris next week. We could do dinner maybe?"

"Sure." She nodded, genuinely liking Camavinga's girlfriend from the few times they'd met in Paris. "That'd be nice actually."

Kylian studied her face. "You okay? You seem... off."

"Just tired. And Milo ate another shoe."

"That dog's got expensive taste." He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. "Mom called. Same lecture about how I need a ring before living with you."

"Ah." Kylian's expression shifted slightly. "The 'playing house' talk."

"Yep. Episode forty-seven in the ongoing saga."

He was quiet for a moment, just holding her. Then, "Would it make things easier? With your mom, I mean. If we were engaged?"

The question caught her off guard. "Are you proposing right now? Because if so, this is the least romantic proposal in history."

He laughed, relaxing. "Non, not proposing. Just... thinking about stuff."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed with an email:

RE: Zara Campaign – Meeting Confirmed

A small victory, but she'd take it. Her agent had been working overtime to establish connections with Spanish brands.

"Good news?" Kylian asked, noting her expression.

"Zara wants to meet. Potential fall campaign."

"See? Madrid's warming up to you already," he said, genuinely happy for her. "You going to training tomorrow? Give the WAGs another shot?"

"Yeah, I think so." She nodded. "Gotta keep trying, right?"

Something flickered across his face. "Cool. Morning session?"

"That's the plan. Why?"

"No reason." He shrugged too casually. "Just... noticed Bellingham kept looking at you last time."

She snorted. "Are you serious right now?"

"What? I'm just saying."

"Jude Bellingham is not into me, Ky."

"I've got eyes, bébé. Dude practically trips over himself when you're around."

She laughed, genuinely amused. "Even if he did—which he doesn't—who cares? I'm with you, dummy."

"I know that," he said, looking slightly embarrassed now. "I'm just saying."

"You're cute when you're jealous." She poked his side. "The big Kylian Mbappé, worried about some English boy."

"I'm not jealous," he insisted, but he was smiling now. "And he's not 'some English boy,' he's actually really good. Don't tell him I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me." She kissed him quickly. "Now come to bed. It's late and I'm tired of being alone in this big-ass house all night."

As she drifted off to sleep later, Kylian's arm wrapped around her waist, she thought about her mother's words. Maybe they were "playing house." Maybe she did deserve a ring after following him to Madrid. But lying here with him, even with all the adjustments and challenges, she couldn't bring herself to regret the move.

********************************************

The Madrid training facility was already bustling when she pulled into the parking lot the next morning. She'd opted for simple jeans and a nice shirt—casual but put-together, understated but expensive. The WAGs here seemed to have a dress code all their own, and she was still figuring it out.

She wasn't a complete outsider this time. The security guard recognized her, offering a friendly "Buenos días" as she passed. Small victory.

The family section was already populated with WAGs and children. She scanned the area, looking for a friendly face, and spotted Camila chatting with a couple of women she vaguely recognized from the team dinner.

"Hey!" Camila waved her over. "You came back! I wasn't sure if you would after last time."

"Glutton for punishment, I guess," she replied, settling into the empty seat beside Camila. "How's it going?"

"Same old. Oh, have you met Eva and Sofia?" Camila gestured to the other women. "Eva's with Miguel, Sofia's married to Diego."

The women offered polite smiles and hellos—warmer than the ice queen treatment of her first visit, but still reserved.

"We were just talking about that new restaurant on Calle Jorge Juan," Camila continued. "Apparently the chef's ex-wife is dating one of the Barcelona players now, so there's drama."

"Football world is small," Sofia added, her English heavily accented but clear.

"Microscopic," she agreed, relaxing slightly as the women included her in their gossip.

On the pitch, the players had emerged for training. Her eyes immediately found Kylian, already laughing with Camavinga and Tchouaméni as they jogged laps. The French trio had quickly become inseparable—Aurél and Cama taking Kylian under their wing from day one.

"The French connection," Camila commented, following her gaze. "Those three are thick as thieves."

"I've noticed." She smiled, genuinely happy to see Kylian finding his place. "Ky needs that, you know? The connection to home."

"And what about you?" Eva asked unexpectedly. "Finding your Madrid connections?"

The question caught her off guard with its sincerity. "Getting there," she admitted. "Slowly."

"It takes time," Sofia nodded sympathetically. "When I first came, I cried every day for a month. Madrid can be... cold to outsiders."

"That's putting it mildly," Camila laughed. "Remember how they treated me at my first training? No one spoke to me for three hours."

"Wait, really?" She couldn't hide her surprise. "I thought it was just me."

The women exchanged knowing looks. "It's like a test," Eva explained. "They want to see if you're serious or just passing through. Many girlfriends don't last, you know? The wives protect themselves."

This perspective shifted something in her understanding. The coldness hadn't been personal—it was some weird WAG initiation ritual.

Their conversation was interrupted as the team broke for water. Several players jogged toward the family section. She watched as Kylian spotted her, surprise and pleasure crossing his face. He said something to Camavinga and Tchouaméni, and the three of them headed her way.

She stood as they approached, greeting Cama first with the traditional French double-cheek kiss. "Salut, Eduardo. Ça va?"

"Pas mal, pas mal," he grinned, returning the greeting. "Madrid te plaît?"

"De plus en plus," she replied, turning to Tchouaméni. "Aurel! Comment ça va, mon grand?"

"Tout va bien, la belle," he answered, bending slightly for his kisses—he towered over her petite frame. "Kyky parle de toi tout le temps. C'est fatiguant."

"He better talk about me," she laughed, finally turning to Kylian. "Salut, toi."

Instead of the cheek kisses, she gave him a proper kiss on the lips—quick but definitive. Kylian's arm slid around her waist automatically.

"Didn't know you were really coming today," he said, pleasantly surprised.

"Thought I'd give it another shot." She shrugged. "The WAGs seem less scary this time."

"They're warming up to you," Cama confirmed with a grin. "Hard not to."

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Jude Bellingham glancing their way while chatting with another player. When he caught her looking, he gave a friendly wave, which she returned casually.

"You know Bellingham?" Aurél asked, following the exchange.

"Met at the team dinner," she explained. "Seems nice."

Kylian's arm tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist. "Yeah, real nice," he muttered.

Camavinga caught the tone and smirked. "Ohh, c'est comme ça? Kyky jaloux?"

"Ta gueule," Kylian replied without heat. "I'm not jealous."

"You kinda are," she teased, poking his side. "It's cute."

"I'm not—" he began, then caught himself as he noticed the amused looks from his teammates. "Whatever. Break's almost over anyway."

"Poor Bellingham," Tchouaméni laughed. "Just looking and already in trouble."

"He looks a lot," Kylian pointed out.

"Can you blame him?" Camavinga gestured at her. "Your girl's fine."

"Exactly," she agreed with a laugh. "I'm a petit baddie, what do you expect?"

Kylian rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a proud grin. "Alright, alright. We gotta get back." He kissed her quickly. "Dinner tonight? Just us?"

"Sounds perfect."

As the players jogged back to the pitch, Camila raised an eyebrow. "So... Bellingham?"

"It's nothing," she shrugged, settling back into her seat. "Ky's being weird about it."

"Jude's sweet," Eva commented. "But he gets tongue-tied around pretty girls. It's kind of adorable."

"Last Christmas party, he knocked over an entire tray of champagne trying to talk to that model from the club calendar," Sofia added with a laugh.

"See? Harmless," she said, relieved they weren't making it into drama. "Guys look. It happens."

"Especially at you," Camila noted. "You should've seen the team dinner. Half the guys couldn't keep their eyes straight."

"Hazard of dating a footballer, I guess," she replied easily. "Pretty boys with wandering eyes."

"And what about your boy?" Sofia asked, curiosity evident. "His eyes wander too?"

"Kylian?" She shook her head confidently. "Never. That's one thing I never worry about."

The conversation shifted to other topics—the best schools for footballer kids, the most discreet shopping areas, the restaurants where paparazzi never bothered them. Slowly, she found herself being included in the WAG wisdom, little bits of Madrid insider knowledge passed her way.

During the next water break, she caught Bellingham glancing her way again. This time when he waved, she noticed how he fumbled his water bottle slightly. The WAGs were right—his crush was pretty harmless, almost endearing in its awkwardness. It was hard to reconcile with his confident presence on the pitch.

Kylian, across the field, clocked the exchange and frowned. She fought back a smile at his obvious displeasure.

"Your man's watching," Camila whispered, amused. "He really doesn't like Jude looking at you."

"I know. It's ridiculous." She laughed softly. "But kind of hot, not gonna lie."

"Men," Sofia sighed dramatically. "They're all cavemen deep down."

When training ended, she waited in the reception area for Kylian. Bellingham passed by, offering a friendly "See you around" that came out slightly rushed and awkward. Behind him, she caught Camavinga making exaggerated kissing faces, clearly teasing the Englishman.

Boys. Sometimes they never grew up.

Kylian emerged from the locker room, freshly showered and changed. His eyes immediately sought her out, a smile spreading across his face when he spotted her.

"Ready to go?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Mmm-hmm. Good training?"

"Yeah, coach says I'm settling in well." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "You looked cozy with the WAGs today."

"Getting there," she agreed. "They're not as scary when you get to know them."

"Told you," he said as they walked to the parking lot. "Give it time."

"Speaking of time," she ventured, "Camila mentioned a WAG lunch tomorrow. I thought I might go."

"Yeah?" His expression brightened. "That's great, bébé. See? Madrid's not so bad."

"It's getting better," she admitted. "Slowly."

In the car, Kylian was quiet for a moment before asking, "You're not bothered by Bellingham, right? The way he looks at you?"

She laughed, genuinely amused. "Ky, guys look. It happens. Especially when you're dating Kylian freakin' Mbappé—they want to see what all the fuss is about."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What's the verdict? What's so special about Mbappé's girl?" There was a teasing note in his voice, but also genuine curiosity.

She pretended to consider the question. "Well, I'm hot, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed with a grin.

"And funny. And smart." She counted off on her fingers. "Plus I can cook, which your fancy footballer friends probably never experienced with their trophy wives."

"So just the total package then?"

"Pretty much." She shrugged dramatically. "Plus I put up with your wet towels on the bed and your weird obsession with gaming until 3AM."

"True love right there," he laughed.

As they pulled into their driveway, she felt a small wave of contentment. Maybe they weren't fully settled yet. Maybe there were adjustments to make—to living together, to new careers, to Spanish life. Maybe her mother's disapproval still stung, and maybe the WAG world was still intimidating.

But they were figuring it out, one day at a time.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Camila:

Lunch tomorrow at 1? The WAGs want to formally initiate you into the Madrid secrets 👀

She smiled, typing back:

I'll be there. Should I be scared?

Terrified. But in a good way. Welcome to Madrid, chérie!

She was slowly finding her footing in the Real Madrid world—jealous boyfriend, harmless admirers, nosy WAGs, disapproving mother and all.

[hazbinlove]

Platonic Yandere Batfam x demigod reader x Yandere Percy Jackson

Chapter One

Walking around the manor wasn’t always good. It was quiet…too quiet like everything stilled. It always felt like I didn’t belong, like I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Walking down the hall of the quiet manor I come across a bedroom. The silver worn out plaque showed $@&€ name in worn out lettering. ‘Ah who is $@&€ again? Probably not important’ I thought to myself before continuing down the hallway of old oak. Stepping down the dark oak stairs carefully I walked into the kitchen only to see a old man there. ‘Who is this again? Meh doesn’t matter. Why am I back in this place again? Where is this place at anyways and why is it important to me?’ I thought to myself again with a small shrug.

“Good evening master @&$@. How is everything?” A calming voice asked snapping me out of my train of thoughts before looking at the man only giving him a nod before walking back upstairs to my room. Walking into the small room too small for a growing person I flopped down onto my old bed with a huff closing my eyes as the world around me went dark. Only to be startled awake by banging.

Waking up to loud banging wasn’t on my morning to-do list but oh here we are no? Groaning I get up as slide out of bed before quickly tossing in some sweatpants and walking towards the door of my cabin while trying to tame the birds nest of my hair.

“Alright alright I’m coming! Geez.” I yelled out annoyed before opening the door. “Ah good morning Hanna what seems to be the trouble?” I asked the blond girl in front if me. Hanna is one of Apollo’s kids and was always cheerful. She was small a few inches shorter than I and had brown eyes and a little tan but she is well strong enough to handle her own. Her brown eyes always seemed to look bright no matter the hardships sent her way…oh how I envy that but I guess that’s why she’s Apollo’s kid huh?

“Ah you won’t believe it! Hunter asked me out today!” Hanna’s squealed out causing me to reel my head back a bit before rubbing my ringing ears. Although she’s Apollo’s kid her voice is high pitched but cheerful. Kinda like Pinky pie from my little pony.

“Oh hun that’s great! It seems like Cupid and Aphrodite were listen to you’re prayers no?” I said while leaning against the doorframe crossing my arms with a small smile. Hunter is one of Ares kids but thankfully is pretty chill most of the time.

“Oh indeed! He’s just so handsome with his blond hair and green eyes. And his large hands that can-“ Hanna said only to just as quickly be cut off by a somewhat flustered demigod.

“Alright alright let’s not go down that kind of path now hun. It’s good that you love him but sometimes let’s not over share alright? And I’ll admit he’s a handsome fella.” I said cutting her off quickly scratching my flustered cheeks with a small laugh. I loved Hanna I really do but sometimes she can be a bit…what’s the word. An over-sharer? Lust driven? Sometimes I forget she’s Apollo’s kid and not Aphrodite’s. She definitely has the looks to be an Aphrodite kid.

“Aw come on!! It’s not that bad but alright. I came to also tell y’a that breakfast is almost done.” Hanna said with a small pout before smiling.

“Alright thank you hun. I’ll be right out.” I said with a small nod of gratitude what hung as the hyper girl bounced off towards the other campers. ‘I swear this girl never runs out of energy.’ I thought to myself with a small amused chuckle and closed my cabin door.

Yawning I walked back into my bedroom and looked around. The walls were painted in deep shades of indigo, and charcoal creating a sense of enveloping darkness. Looking over at the large window above my bed the dark purple curtains pushed to the side as the sun was barely up.

‘Hm must be 5 or 6 in the morning.’ I thought to myself before looking around again. The intricate metalwork in the shape of crescent moons, delicate chandeliers resembling constellations, or tapestries depicting nocturnal creatures like owls, bats, or wolves.

‘I’ll have to thank Leo for making those for me. Maybe get him some more metal to work with?’ I thought with a small nod before fixing my bed. Grabbing the luxurious, velvety bedding with midnight tones I pulled the sheets and blankets over the bed. Grabbing the Plush throw pillows I put them back in place before smoothing out the blanket. With a nod I bent down to fix the soft rug with jewel-toned hues. Nodding in contempt I looked over at the shelves, ancient tomes on astronomy, mythology, and the occult, along with small trinkets and curiosities collected from the child's nighttime wanderings. Looking over at the desk or work table taking note of the old grimoire sitting there. Walking over I quickly closed the eons old book. With a nod of approval I walked off towards the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Walking into the softly lit bathroom I leaned against the deep black stone sink that could possibly pass off as obsidian. Looking into the large mirror ornate mirror framed in silver, with designs of the moon phases or intricate constellations. Standing taking in my disheveled appearance before trying to smooth out my hair while staring at the gray streak in my hair. Running my hands across the scar on my cheek with distain.

‘God I’ve always hated this scar. It’s so…ugly and weird looking…guess that’s what happens when you fight off harpies.’ I thought to myself before sighing and grabbing a brush to brush out my hair.(if you’re a man or have short hair ignore this!) After that I slip off my black silk pajama shirt before looking away from the mirror not wanting to look at the scars of past battles. With quick succession I walked over to the black stone bathtub that looked similar to the sink before turning on the water. Patting the hot water fog up the mirror and bathroom while I quickly take off the rest of my garments and tossing them into the dirty hamper for later.

Getting out of the shower I quickly grab a towel to cover myself before opening the bathroom door letting the steam out of the confined space of the bathroom. Walking back into my room I walk over to the large oak closet before opening the doors. Looking at the array of clothing I grab one of the orange camp shirts and setting it on the bed before grabbing a pair of black jeans with holes.

‘I should probably get a new pair of jeans soon. Too many holes could be dangerous and could get caught on something. I wonder is Chiron would let me stop by the store if I have a quest today?’ I though with a nod before setting the jeans on my bed with the shirt. Walking towards the dresser I grab the necessary garments before also placing them on the bed.

‘I wonder what’s for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast? Sausage? Hash browns? Waffles with sausages and eggs sounds delightful.’ I thought to myself while slipping my jeans and shirt on. Walking back into the bathroom I quickly look in the mirror and smoothed out my shirt a bit before nodding in acceptance.

‘Looks nice. This shall do for the day ahead.’ I thought again before turning on the sink Fossett and grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste.

‘I wonder what Chiron will have us do today? Probably send some of us on quests and what not. I know for a fact that some Ares kids are gonna cause some trouble. Wonder what if I have a quest.’ I though while brushing my teeth and rinsing the toothbrush and spat out some extra toothpaste before rinsing my mouth.

Walking out of the bathroom I quickly slip on some socks before sipping on my old beat up convers. Getting up off the bed I grab my phone and headphones before heading out of my cabin. Rubbing my eyes from the sleep I walk off down the pathway before finally coming across cabin three Poseidon’s cabin.

“Percy you up? It’s almost time for breakfast!” I said loudly not wanting to startle the boy while knocking on his cabin door. Receiving no answer I huff before gently opening the door and walking into the cabin. It smelled like the fresh sea and musk pretty fitting for the son of the sea god. Looking around before walking towards the bunk room only to find said demigod still sleeping in bed.

“Percy dude it’s time to get up now. It’s almost breakfast.” *I said turning on his lamp and gently hedging the boys shoulder, but only receiving a grain in protest.

“Come on now Percy. Just think of the adventures that are lined up for you.” I said while leaning over him looking into his drowsy sea green eyes.

“Good morning sunshine. The day is early now get up before I get Annabeth.” I said a little amused before walking off as he sat up and rubbed his face. Percy is a handsome demigod. He is every girls first crush. Given that having messy, jet-black naturally tousled, wavy thick hair of his. His body is what a lot of girls like about him. His athletic build, though not overly muscular. He’s lean and toned. He has the kind of physique that comes from constant activity rather than hours in a gym. Think of someone who runs, swims, and spars regularly. Some girls like him because of his sun-kissed, slightly tanned skin, with a few freckles or marks from scrapes or cuts. But overall don’t let his appearance fool you Percy is a force to be reckoned with. He’s fought many battles and won. Fought many monsters and won. Overall Percy is deserving of the total of strongest demigod.

“What time is it?” Percy asked his voice deep and groggy from waking up as he swung his legs off the side of his bed.

“Currently about 5:40 in the morning. Breakfast is at 6:20 so come up you go!” I said while grabbing a camp shirt and jeans from his closet and folding them neatly before placing them on his dresser.

“Ugh it’s too early! I wanna sleep more!” Percy whined behind me causing me to roll my eyes a little.

“Sorry bud but you’ve gotta get up now. Chiron would get upset if you’re not up by then.” I said and walked past him making sure to ruffle his hair hoping to wake up up more as he leaned into the touch.

“I don’t wanna but I’ll get up. Only if you stay and wait for me?” Percy said looking up at me with puppy eyes wanting me to stay.

“Alright I’ll stay but hurry up.” I said with a sigh as he got up and quickly hugged me before running off towards his shower. ‘I swear he’s gonna be the death of me.’ I thought to myself before sitting down on his bed and taking out my phone.

A few minutes have past since Percy got into the shower leaving me sitting there on his bed playing on my phone. I was swinging my legs a little waiting for Percy to get out of the shower. After a few more minutes I could hear the shower turn off and the door open. Keeping my back to the door waiting for Percy to get dressed.

“You can turn around now {Name}” Percy said from behind me as I turned around to face him.

“How was you’re showed bud?” I asked and got up from his bed to dry his hair.

“It was good. How was you’re shower? You’re hair is still wet.” He asked reaching up gently grabbing the ends of my hair.(<ignore this if you have short hair!)

“It was the same but overall alright. Now sir and let me dry you’re hair.” I said as I sat back down on the edge of his bed and he sat on the floor in between my legs. Gently placing the towel on his head. I gently massaged his head drying his hair as he leaned back against me a little.

“Relaxed?” I asked a little amused as he just hums. Chuckling I continue drying his hair before tapping his shoulder for him to get up. As he got up I walked into his bathroom and hung the towel up to dry before leaving his bathroom. Looking over at Percy as he puts his shoes on I quickly grab my phone before waiting by the door for him so we could make our way towards breakfast.

Walking out towards breakfast wasn’t as quiet as I hoped. Percy here as much as I love him and he’s my best friend he shouldn’t be this hyper in the morning. Shh don’t tell but I’m barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Listening to him talking I just nod along here and there. After a few more minutes of walking finally Percy and I came across the dinning area of camp. Listening to all the other campers talking was always loud but welcoming. It felt like home honestly I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Percy, Annabeth and the others are my friends…there my family.

Life at Camp half-blood was both good and bad. We all have trauma and have seen some things. Things normal humans wouldn’t understand. Things humans would fear. We demigods fight said monsters and mythological beasts. All to protect humans from what they wouldn’t understand. Overall coming to camp was the best decision I’ve ever done. I thank Apollo and Artemis for finding me and bringing me here all those years ago, but I wonder why they helped me all those years ago.

“{Name!}”

A sudden shout of my name interrupted my thoughts. Lookin go over I notice Percy looking worried holding onto my shoulder.

“Sorry I’m alright just lost in thoughts is all.” I said gently patting his hand only for him to squeeze my shoulder a little bit. It made me feel a little uncomfortable with how tight it was.

“Are you sure? I’m always here if you need me.” Percy said his eyes darkened a little bit his hold on my shoulder still uncomfortable.

“Yeah I’m alright. Let’s just get some food.” I said and quickly walking off to get some breakfast. Unaware of the dark look that flashed across his face.

Getting in line for food you’re waiting listening to Hanna blabber on about Hunter as Percy walks up being you and Hanna. Jumping slightly as he grabs you’re hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. Feeling a little uncomfortable with his tight grip you try to move you’re hand away only for Percy’s grip to get tighter. Kinda like a constricting snake with it’s prey. Getting slightly nervous due to his strong grip you quickly pinch his side as let go of his hand before wiping you’re hand off. Going back to listening to Hanna talk you keep you’re hands in front of you completely missing the dark look that flashes in Percy’s eyes.

After grabbing a plate of waffles and sausage you, Hanna, and Percy walk over to the table housing Annabeth and Piper and a few others before sitting down. Hanna sitting down next to Hunter while you sit across from them. Setting you’re plate down and sitting on the bench Percy immediately sits down next to you before he engaged in a conversation with Annabeth and Piper.

After finishing you’re food you listen to the loud onslaught of talking going on around you. Picking up on a few things here and there as conversations take place. Uninterested you slowly allow yourself to block out the noise and go back into you’re thought’s, but before you could the breakfast gets interrupted by Chiron dismissing everyone to do there own thing around camp.

“{Name!} and Percy!”

A sudden shout of yours and Percy’s name startled both of you. You, Percy and the table look over at Chiron as he waved you and Percy over to him. With a sigh you get up to walk over only for Percy to excitedly grab you’re hand and drag you over to Chiron.

Chiron was a centaur or well an immortal centaur, he’s the son of Kronos and the Oceanid Philyra, and also a famed trainer of heroes. Chiron is also the activities director at Camp Half-Blood. He’s like a father not only to you but to Annabeth as well. He raised you both into the strong warriors you are today. Chiron’s eyes and hair are brown like the Grand Canyon. You feel as thought Chiron is not a true centaur, as centaurs are quite notorious for being overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, giving into violence when intoxicated, wild, lusty, and overall generally uncultured delinquents. Chiron, by a large contrast, was very intelligent, civilized, and kind. You’re also pretty positive that true centaurs are born of sun and cloud and are not immortal. You’re also like…90% sure Chiron got his immortality from the gods.

“Yes Chiron? Good morning!” Percy said still as hyper as ever. As he swings you’re linked hands.

“Yes good morning Percy and good morning {Name}. I actually have a quest for the two of you.” Chiron said as Percy nods excitedly at the prospect of going on a quest. You really didn’t mind going on quests but you personally liked doing quests alone.

“Alright so here’s the quest.”

End~

© - all rights reserved. Please avoid plagiarism, or copying anything I write. Some things I write may be shitty!

@erikasurfer @maicenitas @plsfckmedxddy

If you wanna be tagged lmk and I’ll tag y’all! Also if I made any mistakes lmk and I’ll fix them!!

[riddlesrizzler]

Fate in a Coffee Cup

pt.2, pt.3

summary: Fate intervenes when a ruthless CEO's coffee cup spills, leaving him captivated by a stranger and her unforgettable name. characters: ceo! mattheo. reader. warnings: none, just some background of ceo! matty word count: 1.2k

The smell of freshly brewed espresso and warm pastries drifted through the air as the glass door swung open, alerting the barista at the counter with a chime that sounded along the lines of a sleigh bell. The crisp morning breeze rushes in for a moment every time a customer walks in or out, causing the patrons who chose to sit by the door to shiver from the October air.

The coffee shop hums with the soft mummers of various conversations, punctuated by the occasional clatter of ceramic cups and the hiss of milk being steamed. Sunlight filters though the large glass windows, casting golden rays onto the old wooden floors. The barista moving with an elegance, a simple art form, as she arranges every drink.

Mattheo Riddle, stood off to the side where the counter ended. The station where his usual large black coffee was delivered, but with the influx of people, he was stuck waiting between a man who was listening to his EDM music too loud and a woman who wouldn't stop complaining about her mother in law to the other person on the end of her phone. Mattheo was growing impatient.

As CEO of Riddle and Co, Mattheo was not used to waiting. If he demanded something, he was sure to get said wish. He didn't care who he had to step on in order to make every desire, every want, he had fall into the rough palms of his hands.

He was cold and calculating. A man who dominated the business world with an iron fist. Carved from the shadows and steel, someone who's presence commands both the nauseating feeling of fear and the slow-burning spark of admiration. His sharp, calculating eyes-dark as the void, miss nothing, always scanning for weakness, and opportunity to get ahead.

He's ruthlessly ambitious, he moved through the corporate world like a storm, disarming obstacles with precision and leaving nothing to chance. His heart, though most claim that it was nonexistent, beats for one thing, power. Compassion is a liability, and trust is a currency that he keeps safe in a vault. In his dark world, success is not inherhited, it is taken.

He felt like he had been waiting for hours, but according to the sleek watch that he wore, it had only been ten minutes. He fidgets with the titanium cufflinks on his pressed suit when his coffee order had been called out. An agitated huff leaves his lips before he takes two steps towards the counter as he retrieved the hot beverage. He had turned towards the exit, already strategizing about his next meeting, his next move.

And then - impact.

A soft gasp, and then the warmth of the liquid that had been once contained in his white paper cup, was now all over his leather shoes. His jaw was tensed in rage as his gaze turned cold as it lowered to the idiot who had gotten in his way. Ready to yell at the person for not looking where they were going, but when his eyes finally reached the person's form, which was also covered in his beverage, he felt his mouth go dry.

A young woman stood before him, her eyes wide with alarm and guilt, her once colorful sweater had been damped by the brown coffee that now stained her clothes. she was flustered, her cheeks red with embarrassment as she scrambled to grab the paper thin napkins on the counter. Her lips start to part in order to let her apologies spill.

"I-I'm so sorry", she blurted out, her hands reaching towards him with the napkins clutched so tightly in her fist. She looked like she had committed the biggest crime in the world.

Mattheo didn't move at first. There was no sigh in annoyance or huff in irritation. He simply titled his head to the side, taking in every little detail of the beautiful creature in front of him. Finally, he had managed to find the voice that usually wields such power, but now it was nothing but a mutter.

"It's... it's fine", he manages to say as he hesitantly takes the napkins from her shaking hands and brushes it over the specks on coffee that had gotten onto his suit.

"Please let me buy you another one", the girl bit her bottom lip as her face seemed to hold such an immense amount of guilt, one that Mattheo was unfamiliar with.

"It's fine. Really", Mattheo said as he looked over her drenches figure once more. She had seemed to take the brunt of the spill as half of her was now wet and brown. He clears his throat before taking the unused napkins and holding them out towards her.

"You look like you need it more."

The girl smiled softly, something that conveyed that she was still embarrassed over the interaction but she was appreciative of his gesture. Taking the napkins back into her hand, their fingers brushing over one another during the transfer. Mattheo swears he feels something in his chest that borders the warmth of the coffee that now pooled in his socks.

"Thank you", she says, her voice warm and soft, was it silly that it reminded him of sunlight? He shook his head as he brings his attention back to the girl.

"I'm sorry about your sweater" he says gruffly. Mattheo Riddle never apologized, not even when he left half of his marketing team go right before the Christmas holidays. Mattheo showed no signs of remorse, and yet there was something about this simple coffee spill that seemed to make feel... sorry?

"It's okay", the girl laughed. Her hands pausing her movements on cleaning the sweater that was probably ruined.

"These things happen", she said with a shrug before moving towards the trash can next to them to throw away the sopping napkins. He nods his head at her response. These things did happen, so why did he feel so strange?

Mattheo looked back to the watch that sat on his wrist, he needed to go. He had a business to run after all. A sigh escapes his lips before he looks back up at the girl who still seems slightly flustered.

"I have to go, work", it was barely a sentence, but it was all that Mattheo could muster up at the moment. He wasn't sure what was going on with his brain but he was pretty sure that he had slipped into an alternate dimension.

The girl nods her head, saying something again about how sorry she was. Her lips pressing into a thin line as rambled about expressing her apologetic state, which Mattheo nodded along to before he had started towards the exit, making his way to the glass door with the tiny chime of a bell.

Only he seemed to pause, his hand lingered over the handle as he heard out the barista call out a name. A name that belonged to the girl who was wearing his beverage. A name that seemed to suck the breath from his lungs as his mind replayed the name over and over again.

"y/n"

[imdoingsortagay]

And They Were Roommates

Summary: Rio get's a roommate in you and suddenly she can't function.

Warnings: Smut so 18+ , Rio doing suspicious shit, Top!Rio Vidal, Bottom!reader, pet names with this women, biting, some fluff, aftercare ( because it's important),

Word count: 3.4k

a/n: i was gonna spend a good week on this fic fuck it you get it now because my professors are already on midterm talk. also thank @yourlocalsaiko for the funny ask comment they left on the sneak peek of this for influencing me to finish this. And also happy birthday to @harknessdoll. If this does good maybe a part 2 or little series ????? who knows

Happy reading

Renting a small cottage in the middle of the woods, well not middle maybe like 10 miles away from town seemed like a good idea at the time. No having to deal with noisy neighbors, having a cute little driveway to not share with anyone and not to mention not being woken up to traffic. 

It sounded like the perfect thing until you heard a loud bang that woke you from your slumber, who in the fuck was in your cottage. 

“ Fucking hell,” you mumble to yourself. Good thing Kate had recommended buying that bat incase anyone came in, bedtime you do need to actually buy a weapon of some sort or at least invest in some security. The noise gets louder as you make your way to the kitchen, hear what seems to be a lady humming a tune while she’s looking for something to eat in the fridge. 

“ You leave for a couple of years to explore and someone can think they can just move in ? In my cottage? In my home?” She mumbles to herself. 

“ IM RENTING THIS PLACE YOU ASS” you yell as you try to hit her but her reflexes are faster than you. The lady quickly grabs the bat from you, throwing it somewhere in the kitchen but what she doesn’t expect you to do is bite her back. 

“ OWWWWWWWWWWW” 

Your smile fades quickly when the intruder quickly pins you to the kitchen floor preventing you from moving or biting her again. 

“ Who the fuck are you and why are you even in my house” She asks you

“ Someone posted this place on a realtor site to rent and he’s been renting it to me for the past 6 months,” you explain,” can you let me go now, I promise not to bite you again I swear”. 

“ Just cause I might have abandoned this place 40 years ago doesn’t mean some stupid man can come and rent it to some random person,” she tells you. 

“ Does this mean I need to find another place to live?” You say after a bit of silence which makes the woman giggle. She felt bad that you didn’t know this was her home but it had been years since she had shared her place with anyone besides her ex partner. 

“ If you give me whoever rented this place from you I might let you stay,” she pauses a bit ,” whatever your name is “. 

“ Y/n and no totally will do that, he kind of gave me the ick when he was showing me places too. Like he recommended me this house in New Jersey but the vibe was off so I said no then he was flirting with me way too-“ the mystery woman covers your mouth to prevent you from yapping anymore.

“ Gonna visit this man right away in the morning y/n, he sounds terrible,” and she leaves you to head to the other bedroom,”

“ Wait what’s your name ?” 

“ Rio,” she pauses dramatically ,” Rio Vidal, have a goodnight babe”. 

________________________

After the weird encounter with Rio, she had left around 9am to go talk with Anthony the realtor, not telling you anything else besides a bye. Left you with the cottage for most of the day to finish some emails for work, clean up the mess from late in the night and even make a chicken soup for Rio, or at least for you if she didn’t eat meat. Just as a thank you for not kicking her. 

“ Get Norm the email about next month’s projection sales,” you read around to nobody inside, wondering when she’d come back. 

She’s a grown ass woman who looks like she can easily defend herself. There’s no need to worry where she might be going. Rio has known you for less than half a day I doubt she’s gonna tell you her whereabouts. 

“ God that man is such a crybaby,” Rio announces as you hear the door open, pushing the relief away when she comes towards the kitchen to the smell of chicken soup. It smelled really good, she forgot how it was to not be the only person in this home or at least have someone even cooking at all. 

Rio sees you in the kitchen, trying your very best to act chill around. 

“ Here’s this back, I took care of Bob for you, “ she casually tells you as she goes towards the stove to serve herself some soup. 

“ What do you mean ‘ take care of bob ‘ Rio? “ 

“ Don’t worry about it babe” and when you look in the bad you find a large amount of money. 

“ All your rent money from the past couple of months from that fucking idiot” rio explains , you were gonna ask either way. 

“ so does this mean you’re kicking me out ? I can pay rent don’t worry or if not I can try to find another place to move to since this is your house and all”. 

Rio thinks about it. On one hand , she’s had this house for hundreds of years so there’s no need for you to pay rent. But on the other hand, you really didn’t know that this was her house so it would be rude to expect you to leave so soon. 

You were a little cute after all so this could work in her way if she wanted. 

“ I’ll let you stay on one condition,” you nod, too afraid to say anything due to her very serious demeanor. 

“ Keep doing what you’ve been doing around the place, don’t disturb me when I’m in my room and when I need a favor you do it,” she states. Should be simple enough for you to follow. 

“ You got it pretty ?” 

“ Yes “ 

“ Yes what ? “ 

“ Yes Ma’am?” You say more as a question than a statement. 

“ Good job honey” she coos, paying close attention to the way that you blushed a bit being called the pet name. 

————

“ What the fuck are you even doing up at 7am?” 

“ Good morning to you too princess,” she says as you walk into the kitchen, your slumber being interrupted by whatever she was doing inside. 8am was enough time for you to get ready for work, especially since you do remote work for the most part. 

It’s only been a day since Rio had let you stay and to stay the change was a bit weird for you was an understatement. 

Both of you have mostly been lightly joking with each other half of the time, maybe a bit of flirting to be honest but she’s pretty cute. Doesn’t help that she’s always calling you all these pet names. 

“ Breakfast is on the table babe,” you see a perfectly set plate on the table for you,” based on what you had stocked up in the fridge”.

“ Thank you Rio,”. 

“ No problem hot stuff” she says in the sweetest tone, leaving you alone in the kitchen to question what she might have planned.

———————

One week living with Rio and so far, she’s been wonderful as a roommate. Helps with dishes when you make dinner, keeps the living room spotless, a little loud at night but nothing you can’t handle. 

For a Saturday night, Rio was unsure why you decided to spend it at home and not out like most humans would do. 

“ Reading a book and enjoying some wine ? Boring “, Rio announces as she walks into the living room in her casual fit. Choosing to wear an oversized t shirt of hers and simple pair of shorts. 

“ It’s too far for me to go out rio,” you tell the woman sitting next to you, not bothering to tell her to move. It felt kind of nice to have the other woman sit next to you and not just a pillow of yours like most of the time. 

“ Awe someone as pretty as you doesn’t ever go out?” She coos. 

“ Not when it’s again, way too far to travel to a bar,” you repeat to her and before you can even get a sip of your wine she grabs it out of your hand. 

“ What the fuck ?” You yell back at her and before you can grab it back the woman in front of you chugs it. 

“ We need something stronger babe,” she tells you as she finishes the last of the drink with no shame,” follow me “. 

You don’t say anything when she grabs your hand, leading you to the one room in the cottage that she forbid you to going into, her room. 

Even before she had shown up back to her place, Bob had told you the room could not be unlocked and the windows were covered to anyone passing by and you felt weird about trying to unlock it yourself. When Rio had shown backup you never even got a peek at the inside of her room either so you were a bit excited to see what it was like. 

Was it just her room ? What colors did she choose? Is it decorated all nice or a bit of a mess ?  Did she have anyone in it before you were ? 

Wait, you guys are just roommates you can’t be thinking about that way about Rio at all. 

“ Close your eyes I can’t have you knowing how to open my room door can we princess???” She teases you. God you were not gonna survive this. 

A couple of seconds later you hear the door click open, Rio grabs your hand to lead you into her room and moves you a bit so you can stand in the middle of it. 

“ Open those pretty eyes for me,” you give yourself a couple of seconds to adjust to the light in the room to see the woman. Of course the wall are in her signature green color, a nice dark green to compliment the rest of the room. Paintings you assumed she made herself in the spare time, a mini fridge with what you assumed is where the alcohol she was talking about and a nice queen sized bed in the middle of the room.

“ Your’re the first person that I’ve had in here since my ex by the way y/n,” she starts off, pointing at the bed for you to sit in,” Your room was a guest room we’d use for our friends and this was our room. “ 

“ What happened to your ex ? “ you as casually and Rio makes a face at your question. 

“ Wait fuck I didn’t meant to intrude I am so-“ 

“ Baby it’s all good with me,” she assures you,” we broke up after ten years together because she wanted to explore other option in the world or whatever she fucking meant by that”. Least you know she’s single. 

“ Last time I heard about her, she was living in some town with her current girlfriend and their two cats. Which good for her I guess, I mean she was never the committed type when we were together, all I say is good fucking luck to her current gal or whatever,” she mumbles the last part while looking for a specific alcohol bottle for the two of you. The atmosphere room was pleaseant, Rio must have worked a lot on the room to make it as comfy as she could. 

“ You have any ex’s you wanna talk about y/n ? We only know the basics things about each other” Rio questions after finding the specific bottle of alcohol she was hiding for special occasions. She quickly finds her way onto her bed, placing herself on the right side of where you were sitting, as always leaving no space between the two of you. 

“ How strong is that bottle of alcohol in your hand?” You ask and rio smiles. 

This was gonna be fun. 

_________________________

“ You did not fucking steal Lilia’s jewelry from her cause she accidentally stole some of your food ?” You laugh as she tells the story. 

“ She was being petty with me for a tiny thing I did when we were living together y/n, and all I did was just give her a piece of her medicine is all” she shrugs then takes a big swig of the bottle infant of you both. It had been three hours since Rio had let you in her room and the both of you were talking about whatever as a way to get to know each other. An hour into this hangout session or whatever you both want to call it, rio had suggested you both cuddle with each other and in your tipsy mind you decided why it. 

On the inside, Rio appeared to you as quiet, funny and a little bit mysterious if you had to be honest with yourself. What you didn’t know was that she had been internally been freaking out since she found you here in the cottage. She felt bad kicking you out but it had been a couple of years since she’s had anyone here since Agatha. Rio hadn’t had anyone in the house since then and even if she did for a one night stand, she’d use the guest room to do it and not her own bedroom, making up all sorts of excuses as to why she didn’t have anyone in her own bedroom when she knew the real reason. 

She was afraid. 

Agatha had been her first relationship all those years ago when they met in Salem, built this house together from the ground up, shared so many happy memories together here then decided she wanted to leave Rio because she wanted to do more than just stay in Salem. She was other that woman but her insecurities got the best of her and she hasn’t had a meaningful relationship since. 

“ I don’t know how that would could fucking leave you when you look so fucking hot,” you blurt out of nowhere which takes Rio out of her thoughts. Well, at least she knows that you feel the same way. 

“ You think I’m hot ? “ Rio asks quietly enough for you to hear. 

“ The mysterious demeanor of yours, the hot ass outfit you had when you got here, and not to mention when I first met you in not to good circumstances you kind of made me blush so much” you explain while rubbing her arm. Her mind was going places as you were cuddling up next to her, yapping about how hot she was and then casually rubbing her arm as well.

Both of you were drunk and she wanted to test the waters and see how much she can get out of you, no harming trying to get any information out of you. 

“ How about you come sit on top of me while we talk then princess? “ She asks with a bit of a smile. 

You don’t think about it too much, Rio guiding you on her lap so you don’t accidentally do anything. 

“ Rio did I ever tell you that you look super nice from this angle , like really nice,” you giggle. It’s been years since anyone has said anything nice about her and she’ stumped with how to respond.

“ Can say the same thing about you sweet thing ,” the woman under you says in the most cool way, only eliciting a giggle from you and a confused face from her. 

“ Did you forget to flirt Rio? for a witch who’s been alive longer than I have , you sure don’t know how to flirt with someone when the opportunity arises, “ you say in a joking manner to the older woman. 

“ I might not know how to flirt but there is something else I can do babe,” she teases. 

“ Oh and what’s that honey?” You ask in a sweet tone. 

In an instant, Rio quickly changes positions so that she’s on top of you, pinning your arms above your head so that you don’t do anything with your hands. 

“ You look super pretty under me princess,” she holds your chin in place with one hand while other hand is still pinning you into the mattress, not that you’re complaining or anything. 

“ Just fucking kiss me Vidal,” you beg and you feel the other woman’s lips on yours in an instant. She forgot how good it felt to be in bed with someone she actually had some sort of attraction to. She can’t handle the way that you whine into the kiss, wondering what other pretty noises she can get out of you. 

“ God do you know how many times I fucked myself in this bed baby? We’ve barely known each other but your’re something special baby,” she tells you as she starts to kiss your neck, no shame in leaving marks all over your neck for anyone to see. The sound of your moans and whines while she marks your neck, Rio feeling you grind into her body to set any sort of friction and the feeling of her hands roaming your body make you never want to leave her bed anytime soon. 

“ Take this thing off of your body baby,” she says helping you get up,” I wanna see all of you”. You chose the right night to not wear a bra because the moment she sees that you had nothing underneath your shirt, Rio is on your tits. Sucking on your left nipple while tasting your other nipple with no mercy. 

“ Be good for your mistress while I suck on these titties babe,” she orders,” then maybe I’ll fuck you with my fingers, or you can grind on my thigh so I can see you fall apart above me”. 

“ Fingers! Please! I’ll be good for your mistress” you whine under her touch, you would let Rio let you do anything to you if it meant being pleasured by her . 

“ Good choice baby,” She says happily, her right hands going into your sleep shorts to feel just how wet you were for her. 

Still got it, she thinks to herself.

“ I didn’t even do much to you baby and your pussy is soaked,” she smirks and you moan as she continues to tease you. It won’t take long for you to cum with Rio teasing your pussy combined with her dirty talk. Rio wastes no time in taking off your shorts and underwear before she inserts two fingers into your wet pussy, groaning at the way her fingers go in easily. 

“ Maybe next time we do this you can let Mistress eat this pussy,” she says and you let out a long moan,” god just the way your finger are taking me just makes me want to make you cum over and over again”. 

It doesn’t take long for you to go over the edge with her fingers going at a fast pace, Rio taking in the sight before her. Praising you as she helps you down from your high, no shame in tasting yourself on her fingers, excited for the text time she might actually be able to taste the real thing from the source. 

“Brain feels floaty Rio ,” you mumble to the other woman as she brings you a bottle of water and a small rag to clean you off. You take the bottle with no arguments as she cleans you up. Rio helps you up a bit to help you into your shirt again, internally giggling as how cute you look at her. Looking at her like she was the only person on earth. She felt happy to be seen like that from someone after years of being alone. 

“ How you doing baby?” She asks and you mumble as she pulls you closer to her body. 

“ Fine,” you yawn ,” sleepy”. 

“ Okay baby,” she chuckles,” We can talk tomorrow about us”. 

“ I’d love that Rio,” you say before you fall asleep in her arms and Rio falls asleep not long after with a big smile on her face.

[wendichester]

I absolutely love your work! Could I request something where the reader is not the most active person, like... She doesn't like running, she's not fit, she's terrible at fighting. She maybe does research, but that's all. But she's good at picking clothes, she always makes sure Sam and Dean look professional/appropriate to what they'll be doing. And she makes absolutely AMAZING apple pie, and she cooks, and all - just helps "passively", not "actively". So one day she decides that "alright, that's enough, I'm only causing trouble" and leaves - and at first the boys don't care, since she "wasn't too useful" - but after like a week or two they notice that they miss the apple pie, they miss someone who could help them with looking better, especially Sam, who realizes how deep in love with her he is? And maybe she comes back?

I'm sorry if it's too specific, or too much details, or anything😅😅

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ all the little things,

summary. when you start to think just how replaceable you are, sam shows you exactly otherwise

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 681

notes. honestly, this is just a heartwarming idea! thank you for requesting lovely 🩷

The motel room is quiet when you slip out.

Your bag is packed, everything neat and folded because, well—of course it is. You aren’t a mess. You don’t do things hastily or without thinking. But you’ve thought about this—leaving—long and hard, and the conclusion is always the same.

You aren’t useful.

Sure, you help. You make sure Dean’s FBI suit isn’t wrinkled and that Sam has something other than plaid to wear when interviewing victims. You keep the bunker stocked, and you make damn good apple pie.

But you can’t run. You can’t fight. You can barely hold a gun without it shaking in your hands.

And you’re tired of feeling like dead weight.

So you leave.

No note, no big speech—just a quiet exit in the middle of the night, the way you’re sure they’ll forget you.

Because you? You’re replaceable.

Right?

At first, the boys don’t notice.

They wake up, see that your things are gone, and shrug it off. Maybe you got tired of the life. Maybe you found something better.

They don’t talk about it.

They just move on.

Then things start feeling off.

Not all at once—just little things.

Like how Dean’s shirts are suddenly wrinkled as hell, and his ties are never quite right. Or how Sam keeps losing his laptop charger because you’re not there to remind him to bring it.

And the food? Absolute garbage.

Dean burns everything. Sam tries to cook and nearly poisons them both. They eat diner food three times a day, and after two weeks, Dean stares blankly at the menu and mutters, “God, I miss pie.”

Sam’s fork pauses mid-air.

It’s the first time either of them has said it out loud.

Dean catches himself, scowls, and shoves a bite of pancakes into his mouth. But the damage is done.

They do miss you.

The bunker feels wrong without you.

Your room is empty, hollow in a way Sam can’t stand. He stops by more often than he wants to admit, staring at the bed like it might hold answers, like it might tell him why you left without a word.

At first, he assumed it didn’t matter. But now—now it’s everywhere.

It’s in the little things.

Like how there’s no warm light from the kitchen in the morning, no soft hum of music while you bake. No one teasing Dean about his terrible diet or fixing Sam’s collar before an interview.

No one who makes them feel like they have a home.

It takes Sam longer than he’d like to admit to realize what it means.

He doesn’t just miss you.

He loves you.

And he needs you back.

Finding you takes time.

Sam spends hours searching, fingers flying over the keyboard until—finally—he gets a hit.

Dean doesn’t argue when Sam says, “Let’s go.”

Because he misses you too.

You stare at them when they show up at your new apartment.

“...What are you doing here?”

Sam takes a slow breath. “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms, trying to hold your ground. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Dean scoffs. “Bullshit.”

Sam shoots him a look, then turns back to you, softer. “We didn’t realize how much we needed you,” he admits. “Not just for the small stuff—for everything.”

You blink, and Sam steps closer, voice steady.

“You make us better. You make us feel like we’re more than just hunters. More than just the job.”

You swallow hard. “I—I thought I was just in the way.”

Sam shakes his head. “You were never in the way.”

Dean chimes in. “Look, we’re idiots, okay? We should’ve said something when you left.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the truth is—we suck without you.”

Your throat tightens.

Then Sam says, quietly—earnestly,

“I love you.”

Your breath catches.

Dean smirks. “Took him long enough to admit it.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away from you. His hand finds yours, warm and solid.

“So,” he says. “Come home?”

You hesitate—only for a second.

Then you nod.

And just like that, everything is right again.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @szyszoszelest ⋆ @angelicalm3ss ⋆ @writtenbyhollywood ⋆ @larasalii ⋆ @yeehawgiddyup13 ⋆ @xo-zeze ⋆ @jules-pagie ⋆ @freeluigihesbae ⋆ @viarasvogue

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Four]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It was a Monday morning when Y/n stretched in bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep and her hair a mess. The midfielder had woken up just over ten minutes ago, with the sun not even showing signs of rising yet. The comforting silence was proof that her sister was still asleep and that likely a good portion of the Catalan population was still in bed as well.

She grabbed her phone, which was charging on the nightstand, and saw a few messages. There were texts from Rachel, with reminders about the day’s schedule and some updates on the preparations for the press conference happening later in the week. Y/n quickly replied, confirming that everything was under control. Next, she saw a message from Haley, who was still in London.

Y/n smiled as she read the message. Haley had always been her biggest supporter, even from afar.

After replying to the messages, Y/n stretched again and got out of bed. She had already laid out her training clothes the night before. As she packed her clothes into her bag, her eyes landed on her Adidas cleats, faithful companions in so many matches, and the personalized shin guards her niece had designed. An involuntary smile spread across her face as she remembered little Emma, just two years old, handing her the shin guards as a good luck gift. "Aunt Y/n, you’re going to be the best in the world!" the little girl had said, with the innocence of a child.

Y/n carefully packed everything into her bag, as if preparing a kit for an important mission. She knew the first training session was crucial. Not just to showcase her skills, but also to integrate into the group and earn the coach’s trust.

After carefully organizing her bag, Y/n headed to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she looked at herself in the mirror, analyzing her reflection. Her hair was a bit messy, but she decided to leave it down for now. There was a determination in her eyes, a mix of nervousness and excitement.

After leaving the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she thought about breakfast. She didn’t want anything heavy, but she knew she needed energy for the training session. She decided on avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of coffee. As she ate, she mentally reviewed the day’s routine: morning training, lunch at the club, and then a few meetings with the technical team. In the evening, she planned to explore the city with Aliyah.

Before leaving, Y/n wrote a quick note for her sister and stuck it on the fridge.

"Ally, I’ve gone to training. I’ll be back by the end of the day. Call me if you need anything."

She grabbed her sports bag, took one last look around the apartment, and left. The morning sun was already shining in Barcelona, and the fresh air greeted her with a gentle breeze. Y/n walked to the garage where her car had been delivered, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat, and started the car.

The British defender had her back to the door as she rummaged through her bag to pull out her clothes and gear for training. Y/n was so focused that she didn’t hear the loud voices entering the locker room. She was already in the Catalan team’s training kit, holding her cleats, when the voices suddenly fell silent.

Aitana was the first to recognize Y/n, from the last Euros.

"Y/n?", Aitana said, causing the midfielder to turn toward her with a friendly smile." When the news broke that you were coming, I thought it was just rumors."

"Well, you know. It’s hard to be welcomed on a team when you’ve had a fight with the captain," Y/n replied in perfect Catalan, making the other players raise their eyebrows. "And you don’t need to speak English with me; I speak Spanish and Catalan."

"Well, this is Alexia and Vicky," Aitana introduced them, and Y/n quickly shook hands with both.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you," Y/n smiled, noticing Alexia sizing her up.

"Excuse me, Y/n, your fitness coach has arrived and is calling for you on the field," One of the staff members said, and Y/n nodded as she grabbed her cleats.

Y/n quickly said her goodbyes and walked through the training center corridors with the dark-haired girl. She sighed, knowing she would likely get along well with the players.

"Damn it, Hen. I swore you wouldn’t come," Y/n complained, pushing the blond guy.

"I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like that, Y/n," Henry replied, gently shaking Y/n’s hand." Have you met the girls yet?"

"Hmm, yes," She confirmed, walking alongside the blond through the corridors. "I talked to the captain, Aitana, and Vicky."

"I thought Keira would be the one to introduce you," Henry uncrossed his arms as Y/n finished putting on her cleats. "The coach asked to test your fitness with the starting team. I may have sent him your last training session at Arsenal. He was impressed."

Y/n shrugged, adjusting her cleats before testing the quality of the field. Her eyes met those of one of the players. It was the first time Alexia and Y/n would play together, and they both knew the clash of egos could be a big problem.

"I hope you’re not too old for a few hours of training," Keira appeared beside Y/n, making the midfielder jump in surprise.

"Damn it, Keira," Y/n muttered, placing a hand on her chest.

"I should be the one mad at you. Ten years of friendship, and you don’t even tell me you’re coming here?" Keira said, still with a fake tone of anger.

"It was a surprise to me too," Y/n replied, making it clear it hadn’t entirely been her choice.

"Does this have something to do with your almost-relationship with Leah?" Keira asked.

"Apparently, yes. And you know how the girls sometimes treat Leah’s word as gospel," Y/n shrugged, following the player. "But it’s fine; I needed a fresh start."

The two walked together to the center of the field, where the coach was already gathering the group to start the training session. As the coach explained the day’s exercises, Y/n felt the curious gazes of some of the players. She knew she was the new girl, the foreigner who had arrived with a reputation to prove. But at the same time, she felt welcomed by the smiles and nods from some of them.

The training began with warm-up exercises and short passes. Y/n quickly adapted to the pace, showing the refined technique that had brought her here. Keira, by her side, didn’t miss the chance to crack jokes and keep her relaxed.

"Remember that training session with the under-17 national team, when you fell flat on your face?" Keira said, laughing quietly as they passed the ball to each other.

"Please, don’t bring that up now," Y/n replied, laughing too."I need to maintain my professional image, you know?"

"Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me," Keira teased, sending a precise pass back to Y/n.

As the training progressed, Y/n began to feel more comfortable with her new teammates. The on-field connection with Keira was natural, as it always had been, but she also started building chemistry with other players. Coordinated attacks, precise passes, and communication that flowed better and better. Y/n felt like she was fitting in.

At the end of the session, the coach called the group for a quick talk. He praised the overall performance and gave some individual feedback. When it was Y/n’s turn, he made a brief comment:

"Y/n, you came here with a strong reputation, and today we saw why. Keep working hard and integrating into the team’s style. You have great potential here."

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of pride and relief. She knew there was still a lot of work ahead, but the first step had been taken.

As the players dispersed toward the locker room, Keira slung an arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

"See? I told you you’d do just fine."

"It’s only the first day," Y/n replied, but with a smile on her face. "But yeah, it was good. Really good."

[livvymd]

Everyone Thinks They’re Dating—They’re Not. (Yet)

Chapter 3 — Nothing About This Is Casual george clarke x reader.

im afraid im not proud of this chapter..

It was 6:04am.

Y/N’s phone buzzed, violently. Somewhere under her duvet, she groaned like something was actively wrong with the universe.

Incoming FaceTime – George Clarke 🍻

She squinted at the screen, a deep frown settling in. He has to be joking.

She hit decline.

It buzzed again.

“Swear to God—” she mumbled, hitting accept with the anger of a war general. She didn’t lift her face from the pillow.

“You’re the worst,” she croaked, voice hoarse and half-dead.

George’s grinning face appeared on screen, looking unfairly awake. “Morning, sunshine.”

She blinked slowly. “Why are you like this?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Missed your voice.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You love it.”

Y/N finally peeked at the screen. And instantly regretted it.

He was shirtless. Shirtless.

Sitting on a yoga mat, hair messy and damp around the edges like he’d just splashed water over himself to wake up. His chest glistened a little—probably sweat—and his joggers hung low enough to cause real spiritual suffering.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “You’re not even normal fit. You’re, like… TV-ad-fit.”

He grinned, cocky. “That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”

“Dangerously close to hanging up, is what it was.”

“Mmhm. Sure. You’re looking at my arms again.”

“I’m looking at the mistake I made answering this call.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you lying to me, poppet?”

She muffled a giggle into her sleeve. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Liar again.”

They stayed on call while he did a set of reps, arms flexing, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Y/N was barely hanging on.

Every few minutes, he’d glance over at the screen. Not just checking in—watching her. With that soft half-smile. Like he was trying to figure her out.

At one point, he caught her staring.

“What’re you looking at?”

She blinked. “Your delusional 6am energy.”

“Really? Not my abs?”

“George!”

He laughed, proud.

After about thirty minutes of banter and her trying not to spontaneously combust, she sat up and groaned.

“Alright. I need a shower. I’m disgusting.”

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re desperate.”

“Maybe. Let me stay on the call.”

She gave him a look. “You’re not watching me shower.”

“Never said I would! You can do the whole ‘mysterious phone-under-towel’ trick. Just… don’t hang up.”

There was a weird softness in his voice. Not joking. Not pushing. Just wanting to stay with her.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you hear me slip and die, that’s on you.”

“I’ll call emergency services and cry on the news.”

She flipped the camera upward and tossed her folded towel partly over it, muttering “creep” as she left it resting on the bed. He stayed lying there on the mat, sipping water and listening to the distant hum of the shower… and her humming.

Then came her voice, faint but clear: "He’s such a menace. Who FaceTimes people before sunrise? Prison behaviour."

George smiled. She was so unaware of how cute she was like this. Disarmed. Real.

When she reappeared ten minutes later, skin dewy, hair up in a towel twist, and another wrapped firmly around her body, George visibly sat up straighter.

She gave him a flat look. “Stop it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked loud.”

“I’m allowed to admire a work of art.”

“George—”

“Poppet.”

He said it softer this time. Not teasing.

She paused. Then sat on the floor in front of her mirror. “You better enjoy this. You’re witnessing the sacred skincare routine. Few are blessed.”

“I’m honoured,” he said, voice lowered now. “Though I do wish I was there in person to witness it properly.”

“Yeah, right. You’d just knock over all my serums and ask if my toner’s edible.”

“Okay, that happened once.”

“George. You asked if retinol was a drink.”

He laughed. “To be fair, it sounds posh.”

She giggled, and something about her laughing like that—wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed from the shower, eyes bright—had his heart knocking against his ribs.

She patted moisturiser into her skin, glancing at the screen every so often. He didn’t say much now. Just watched.

And then, in a moment of quiet:

“Are you nervous for today?”

She blinked. “What, the café?”

He nodded. “Feels… different, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “It does.”

“Not in a bad way.”

She didn’t reply immediately.

He leaned closer to the screen. “You know I want to see you. Not just for a video.”

“I know,” she said. Voice soft. Honest.

They stared at each other for a long beat. Something simmering. Then—

“Well,” she said quickly, cheeks warm, “I should probably put clothes on.”

George grinned. “Please don’t on my account.”

“Goodbye.”

“See you at eleven?”

She nodded. “Text me when you’re outside.”

“And wear that lip balm I like. The pink one.”

Her eyes widened. “You noticed my lip balm?”

He winked. “I notice everything about you.”

The call ended before she could recover.

She stayed frozen for a moment, still in her towel, heart doing something stupid in her chest. Then finally, she stood up, whispering to herself:

“Not a date. Totally not a date.”

But the butterflies didn’t listen.

TAGLIST (I almost forgot to add this):

@georgeclarkeyistheloveofmylife @whisperturnedecho @smzyyx @madforgeorge @lunarynn @randomaccountlols @swizzlemynizzle @kneelforloki @sundarksposts @tyna-19 @wherethezoes-at @cheekytv

[lostatsea-blog]

Bringing Home the Gold (Part 2)

Alexia Putellas x England Reader

Alexia starts to understand the mistake she had made

(Take two on this one as it was pointed out to me that the way I had written it was a little confusing to keep up with. If you have already read the first edit that I have deleted, please read this edit and see what you think)

Part 2

Alexia stared at her phone screen reading the message over and over again as though she could somehow force the words to change. She felt her chest tighten as the meaning set in, you were not going to return to Spain tomorrow but had said nothing else in the message. Alexia did not know where you were or where you were going to be staying and that caused an unnerving sense of panic to rise inside of her. Without thinking, Alexia hit the call button waiting anxiously but the phone did not ring and she was met with a robotic voice telling her the phone she had called was switched off. Barely waiting a second, she hit the call button again and again the same message blared through the phone. By this point, Alexia was desperate to speak to you and desperate to make things right.

The Spanish captain had been confused at first, not understanding why you had reacted the way you had. In her mind, surely you knew that it meant nothing and that it was just a friendly thing – Solidarity between two people in a difficult time and situation. She quickly realised that the rest of the world saw it differently when the first thing Alba did was tear into her. Alexia’s sister had pointed out that Alexia and Jenni had been the only two people on the team to swap shirts the way they had so it wasn’t a team thing it was a her and Jenni thing. Alexia had been disappointed when you declined her offer to go and celebrate as you were the only person she really wanted to celebrate with but she knew that she needed to give you time so did not push it further. When she had seen the papers the next morning, Alexia knew that she had fucked up. The internet, social media and newspapers were rife with speculation about what the shirt swap had meant. Some were speculating that she had split with you and resumed her relationship with Jenni or worse that she had cheated on you. Some of the comments had left her feeling sick. There were people celebrating the idea that the two of you were no longer together implying that you were punching above your weight and that Alexia and Jenni were soulmates. Alexia knew that she had to try and fix this but she did not know where to start and worst of all she had no idea where you were.

Sleep did not come easily to Alexia that night. She spent the whole night attempting to make contact with you. Every half an hour she would hit the call button on your number and every time she would be greeted by the same phone switched off message. Somewhere around 6AM she felt the tears start. Wave after wave hit as she realised that she might have just ruined the best relationship that she had ever had. When Alexia woke to a loud thumping on her door, she realised that she must have cried herself to sleep. Her head felt fuzzy and her face puffy as she pulled herself off the bed and stumbled across the room to the door. When she pulled it open her mother stood on the other side and again tears started to stream down her face as she allowed herself to fall into the safe, familiar arms.

Alexia’s mother had been shocked by her appearance and demanded to know what was going on. Alexia explained about your message and explained that she had been unable to make contact.

“Mami, I messed up” Alexia cried, wiping furiously at the tears that continued to fall. She was amazed that she had any left at all. “Now, I have no idea where she is because her phone is off”

Eli, as ever, tried to be the voice of reason and asked if you had mentioned when you were coming back but Alexia showed her the message and Eli knew that wasn’t good. When Eli suggested to Alexia that she go to Ibiza as planned to give you space, Alexia felt a rage build up inside her but knew that she could not take her frustrations out on her Mami, so she just shook her head explaining that she couldn’t and that she had to try and fix things with you and show you how much she loved you.

Alexia could not bare the uncertainty anymore. All people kept saying was to give you time but that wasn’t an option to her. She knew that you had gotten on the flight back to England with the rest of the team and so her decision was made. She could not fix anything from the other side of the world and the thought of waiting in Spain for the next few weeks, hoping that you would return tore at her heart; she would catch a flight to England and try to track you down.

Alexia quickly began throwing all of her things into a case, with little regard for her usual tidiness. Elia had tried to show Alexia that her decision was somewhat impulsive but before she had even spoken, she knew that it was a battle she would lose. Her daughter was nothing if not stubborn and determined (it was how she had achieved so much in football). Alexia had reasoned that England was a small island once there, she could figure out where you were. Within ten minutes of making the rash decision, she had booked an outbound flight to Manchester.

When the rest of the Spanish team saw Alexia with her bag checking out they were stunned. After the incident with Jenni and Rubiales the team had rallied. They all felt that Alexia (as the captain) needed to be seen supporting Jenni and while she did fully support and stand with Jenni, she knew, in her heart, that going to England and trying to find you was what she needed to do.

At 1:30PM, two days after winning The World Cup, Alexia took her seat on the 12 hour flight destined for England. She had no real plan except find you and convince you to give her another chance so that she could show you how important you were to her…