#ballon flight

[kral-adams]

Cappadocia, Turkey 🇹🇷

[pitchsidestories]

el sueño de una niña (1) II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2175

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜

“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”

Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.

That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.

Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.

Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love. 

“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.

“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.

“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.

“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.

This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”

“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.

“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.

“Hm..”

“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.

“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.

“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.

“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.

“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.

“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.

“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.

“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.

“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.

“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.

“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.

“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.

Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.

The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.

“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”

Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.

Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“

Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“

“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.

Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“

Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.

For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.

Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.

Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”

“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.

“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.

“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“

“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.

Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“

“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.

Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“

“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.

Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.

“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.

 Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.

Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.

“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”

“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.

“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.

“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.

“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.  

“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.

“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.

“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.

“Trust me.”, you answered softly.

After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”

“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.

“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.

“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.

“I see.”

“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.

You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“

“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“

You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“

“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.

You tilted your head: “Good point.“

“So?”

“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.

Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome, Jenni.“

The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”

“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.

She was still here, still in your bed.

“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.

“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.

You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.

“It’s beautiful.“

“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.

While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”

“Yes, why not?”

You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.

“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.

Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.

Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.

Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”

Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”

“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.

“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“

Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?

With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“

The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.

In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.

“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.

“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.

With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”

“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.

“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.

“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.

“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.

The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.

“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.

“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.

“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.

“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.

“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.

“Yes.”, she confirmed.

“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.

Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.

Keep dreaming.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share

[p0orbaby]

A little blurb request for princess 👸 wally : wally wins an award and has to fly to receive it maybe a ballon dor or Swiss award (completely up to you 🥰). Reader isn’t able to travel with her as she’s just had acl surgery and is beyond gutted and feels like she is letting her gf down. When Lia receives the award she mentions reader and then the hosts says he has a surprise for her which is a pre recorded video from r congratulating wally and telling her she knew she could do it etc. when wally gets back to her hotel room r has also arranged for some balloons and food with a card from her. Lia is left speechless

i skipped the message at the ceremony because i found it hard to fit everything in to something blurb size. i hope you still like it !

-

The flight back to Zurich had been uneventful, a blur of recycled air and weak coffee. Lia isn’t sure why she feels so restless; the award ceremony was a success, She should be happy. Proud, even. Instead, she feels the hollow ache of missing you, heavier than the trophy tucked underneath her arm.

Her phone buzzes as she steps into the elevator at the hotel. It’s you, naturally.

“Hey,” she answers, her voice soft.

“Lia!” Your voice is warm, comforting, but there’s something brittle underneath it. “Are you back at the hotel yet? How was it? Did you eat? Did you—”

She laughs, cutting off your ramble. “I’m fine, schatz. I’m just getting to my room now. You really don’t have to fuss”

“Well, I do,” you retort, but there’s no bite to it. She can picture you on the couch, leg propped up on its designated cushion tower, your brace a stark reminder of why you couldn’t come. The guilt twists in her chest again.

She slides her keycard into the door and pushes it open. At first, nothing registers; she’s still distracted by your voice in her ear, telling her how much you wish you’d been there.

And then she sees them.

Balloons. Not a modest handful, but a full bouquet of them, bright and gleaming, tied to the back of the desk chair. There’s a spread of food on the table—her favourites, she notices immediately: rösti, a neatly arranged charcuterie board, and a small chocolate cake that looks almost too perfect to eat.

“What the…” she murmurs, trailing off.

“Lia?” you ask, confused.

She sets the trophy down slowly, her movements deliberate, and walks over to the desk. There’s a card nestled among the balloons, your handwriting unmistakable. She picks it up and opens it, reading the words to herself:

To my Lia,

Congratulations, my love. I’m so proud of you. I wish I could’ve been there to see you shine, but I know you made everyone in that room feel lucky just to be near you. Enjoy this little surprise—I thought you might need a proper celebration. Love you always xx

Her throat tightens. She presses the card to her chest and exhales deeply before raising the phone back to her ear. “You did this?”

There’s a pause on your end. “I thought maybe the balloons would distract you for a bit”

“How did you even manage this?” She asks, her voice tinged with awe.

“Magic,” you reply lightly, but she can hear the pride in your voice. “I just… I hated the thought of you coming back to an empty room after such a big night. You deserve to feel celebrated, Lia”

She sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the balloons, the food, the card. It’s silly, really—she’s the one being recognised, and yet you’re the one making her feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admits, her voice softer now.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you reply. “Just eat something. You must be starving.”

“I am,” she concedes, reaching for a piece of cheese from the board. “But you’ve completely ruined me, you know. How am I supposed to top this?”

“You don’t have to top it,” you say simply. “You just have to come home”

The ache in her chest softens, replaced by a warmth she can’t quite put into words. She takes another bite, the flavour rich and comforting, and smiles.

“I’ll be home soon,” she promises. “And then I’m taking care of you, okay?”

“You already do,” you say, your voice so sincere it leaves her momentarily speechless.

She looks around the room again, taking in every detail of your carefully planned surprise. The balloons catch the light, their glossy surfaces shimmering, and she decides that maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad after all.

[mxtantrights]

Beggin' on my knees, baby won't you please

paring: Johnny Storm x fem!reader a/n: okayyyy so like I watched the trailer like everyone else and remembered how much of a crush I had on the human torch. and I would say that while writing this I could envision both the new and old castings so you can read it as who you want! I might come back to this with another piece or two. (I write with a black reader in mind but this piece doesn't specify race, only gender)

Johnny Storm has stopped at almost nothing to get you to go on a date with him. He's persistent, he's flirty, and most dangerously he's not too far off from his goal.

You had been Sue's intern since you took her class a couple of years ago at the university. She had seen in you what she knew she had in herself when she was a student. The grit, the knowledge and the courage to ask why.

She took you under her wing fairly quickly. You found her to be more of a friend than a boss. She always listened to your ideas, though she never played favorites. And she valued your input on important things.

Such as the specs for the flight she, Reed, Ben, and Johnny would be on in the coming months.

You don't really have time to be going on dates with anyone, let alone with Johnny, when you were going to be sending him along with the others into space. It kept you up at night sometimes. If your calculations were triple checked. If you had tested every hypothetical.

That is why for the past week you've been avoiding Johnny. If you see him in the caf, you go the other way and get lunch from outside. If you see him hanging around your lab you wait him out. You're quick to leave with the other workers so he won't offer you a ride.

It's been going well.

Up until now.

You manage to take another peek into the lab. The glass window that appears across from your desk. And there he is. He's sitting in your rolling chair, waiting for you. He's playing with some sort of pen. rolling it between his fingers.

If you avoided him now, he would know for sure. And you have to get to work on a quick fix on confirming the materials needed for the rocket's fins.

With about as much confidence as a cactus in a ballon party. You roll your shoulders back and tug down the white coat that shrouds you. Then you walk over to the door.

As if he's got a heightened sense, he looks up at you as you step through the threshold. You duck your head down and walk over to him. On his face is a growing smirk.

He leans back in the chair, leaning a bit, meaning he totally un-stabilized it. You'll have to re-stabilize it once he's gone.

"Where've you been?" he asks.

You huff a bit at that. As you make it over to your desk you see that's he's rearranged some stuff. You make to move past him but he just rolls with you.

"Johnny, I've been around." you answer finally.

"I know, but just not around me. Which is a same." he pouts.

You chortle, "Oh my god. You can't be serious with that one."

"About as serious as you avoiding me, Specs." he says.

You rolls your eyes. There goes that nickname. To this day you still don't understand why he calls you that. You don't wear your glasses all the time. So what gives?

"I'm just trying to get everything right, Johnny. You are going to space in a few months." you explain.

Johnny opens his legs wider and rolls the chair closer to you. At this angle he's looking right up at you. It's warm and fucking dizzying and you have to remind yourself that even though it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the lab, there are other people here. Your coworkers. His coworkers.

Sue's coworkers.

"I know, but I miss seeing my favorite girl." he admits.

And it shouldn't like it does when he says it. Like he's sharing a secret with you in the middle of the night. Like he's telling you something that is treasured and safe. If only you could tell your stomach that.

"I want you to get to and from space safety, Johnny. If I hang out with you I'll worry myself about it." you confess.

Johnny nods his head, "Okay give me a day then."

"A day for what?" you ask.

"A day where that stress is less. A day where you don't itch to be sitting at this desk and working out things in that beautiful mind of yours." he continues.

The truth is there is no day that is less stressful for you. At several points in each day since this project was announced and your name was attached, you've felt the stress of it. While cooking dinner at home. While doing laundry. While trying to get sleep so that you could get to work.

It's always there.

It's going to be there until the crew comes home from space.

You can't let Johnny know that. He has his own things to worry about. You would hate to add to his plate.

"Sunday." you answer simply.

He nods his head again. And with a smile he gets up from his seat in your chair. It's slow and agonizing how he seems to go from looking up at you to being eye level with you. His gaze never leaving yours as he does.

"I'll see you Sunday." he adds.

[ouiouibaguettt]

Under The Lights

YN -> your name

2,5k of words!!

masterlist (1) - (2) - (3) - (4)

request from @liverpoolfan96

Hear is Jana one Jana and reader both play for Barcelona and she aitana younger sister and are Together but scared to tell aitana but do after Chelsea second leg has celebrate and kiss on pitch

Being Aitana Bonmatí’s little sister was a blessing. And a curse.

People always smiled the same way when they saw you in the Barça kit. "You’re her sister?" they’d ask, as if your name came second to your bloodline. As if everything you did had to pass through the filter of who she was—midfield maestro, Ballon d’Or winner, club icon.

You didn’t resent her. Not for a second. Aitana was brilliant, and she loved you more than anything. But she was intense. Fiercely loyal, brutally honest, and protective in ways that were both sweet and, at times, impossible.

Which is exactly why you hadn’t told her about Jana.

It had started slow. A few extra touches during rondos. A shared laugh on the bench. Then came the lingering glances after training, the late-night texts, the excuses to sit next to each other on team flights. Eventually, Jana kissed you in the locker room after a late recovery session, when the rest of the team had already gone home.

You kissed her back. Hard.

The secrecy wasn't because you were ashamed—it was because of Aitana. You knew how she’d react. Not because she didn’t like Jana. She adored her. Had practically helped bring her into the first team. But she would scrutinize everything. The age gap. The power dynamics. The effect on the squad. On you.

So you and Jana agreed to keep it quiet.

But hiding something like that—something so real—was like holding your breath in a game that never stopped.

April 19 – Champions League Semi-Final, First Leg at Stamford Bridge

You could barely hear the whistle over the roar of the English crowd.

The first leg against Chelsea was always going to be a battle, but nobody had expected Barça to come out that dominant. By halftime, you were up 3–1. Ewa had scored a screamer. claudia with a first one and Irene.

You sat on the bench in the first half, nerves coiling in your stomach. You weren’t in the starting XI often, not yet. But Coach Pere trusted you more and more each week.

“Warm up,” he said midway through the second half.

Your heart skipped.

You jogged down the touchline, glancing at the pitch. Jana caught your eye. Just a second. A small nod. That was all it took to steady your pulse.

You subbed in for Keira with fifteen minutes left. A tactical switch—more speed, more pressure. You chased down a ball from Patri, danced past a tackle from Erin Cuthbert, and squared it to Claudia for the fourth goal.

4–1.

The away end exploded.

You ran toward the bench, arms wide, but your eyes went to the one person who mattered. Jana met you halfway, throwing her arms around you in a hug that lingered just a second too long to be “just teammates.” You pulled away quickly. Cameras were everywhere. And Aitana was watching.

Back in the locker room, the atmosphere buzzed. Music. Laughter. Shouts in Catalan and Spanish. Jana stood a few feet away, pretending to scroll her phone. You drifted close enough to brush your pinky finger against hers.

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.

You smiled. “Back at you.”

You stayed late to do recovery. Jana, too. You were careful. Always careful. You left ten minutes apart. But still, you shared the same hotel room later that night. And when the door shut, you kissed her like the match was still going.

“Four–one,” she whispered against your lips. “Maybe we should celebrate like this every time.”

You laughed, breathless. “If it gets us to the final? I’ll take that deal.”

But beneath the jokes, a quiet truth tugged at your chest: you were falling in love.

And at some point, you were going to have to stop hiding it.

Three days after Stamford Bridge, the high still hadn’t worn off.

Everyone at the Ciutat Esportiva was smiling. Journalists called it a “masterclass.” Analysts couldn’t stop praising your assist. And the locker room felt electric. One step closer to the final.

But you barely noticed the headlines. Your mind was on Jana.

And on Aitana.

She had been quiet since London—quieter than usual, even for her. Something simmered beneath her sharp glances and half-finished sentences. You caught her watching you in training. Watching Jana, too.

You weren’t sure if she knew. But she felt something.

In the gym, you lay on a mat doing post-training stretches when she dropped down beside you.

“You played well,” she said, finally.

“Thanks.” You kept your tone casual. “You too.”

She nodded. “Ingrid said you’ve been staying late for recovery sessions a lot.”

Your heart jumped. “Yeah. I’m trying to be more consistent.”

She gave a soft hum. “With Jana?”

There it was. Not a question. A quiet challenge.

You looked over—but her eyes were on the ceiling.

“She’s a good influence,” you said, carefully. “She pushes me.”

Aitana’s brow tightened for a second. She sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Be careful,” she said, standing.

You blinked. “Of what?”

“Of confusing things that feel good with things that are good.”

Then she walked away.

You sat in stunned silence.

That night, you told Jana everything—about the conversation, about the way Aitana had looked at you.

“She knows,” you said.

Jana exhaled slowly, hands tightening on her water bottle. “Do you think she’ll say something to the coaches?”

You shook your head. “No. Not unless she thinks I’m losing focus. But she doesn’t approve.”

“I figured that would happen eventually,” Jana said quietly.

You leaned into her shoulder. “I’m tired of hiding.”

Jana stayed quiet for a long time.

Then: “What if we didn’t anymore?”

You looked up.

“What if we didn’t hide?” she asked, voice soft but steady. “What if, after the next match… we stopped pretending?”

You hesitated. “In front of everyone? On the pitch?”

“Yes.”

It sounded reckless. Risky. But something inside you lit up at the thought.

“We’d have to win,” you whispered.

“We will,” she said. “We’ll beat Chelsea. Then we’ll kiss under the lights, and let everyone else catch up.”

You smiled.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s do it.”

April 27 – Match Day, Second Leg at Barcelona

The crowd roared from the first whistle.

The Estadi Olímpic was packed. Home soil. Home noise. Home pride.

Aitana led the team out with that fire in her eyes, the kind that made defenders flinch before the first touch. Jana ran beside her. You jogged out right behind them, your chest full of nerves and adrenaline and something that felt like fate.

The 4–1 advantage from the first leg didn’t mean comfort. It meant expectation. Chelsea played like they had nothing to lose.

But Barça was Barça.

Aitana scored first—an explosive burst down the left and a near-post finish. Then Ewa, with her usual grace, and Claudi made it 3–0 before the half.

You didn’t start, but you were warming up from the 55th minute. Coach nodded. You came in for Claudia in the 62nd.

It was 3–1 in the match now, but 6–2 on aggregate.

You pressed. You tackled. You fed Alexia a perfect through ball. And then, in the 90rd minute, Salma broke down the wing. You sprinted to the edge of the box.

She looked up—and there it was. That silent connection.

The cross came in. You hit it first time. Top corner. Net.

Goal.

8–2 on aggregate. Game over.

You screamed. You ran.

Straight to Jana.

And this time—you didn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, right there, under the floodlights, in front of the cameras, the crowd, and your sister.

Gasps rippled through the stands. Then cheers. Then roars.

Jana grinned against your lips. “Told you we’d win.”

You laughed. “Told you I’d stop hiding.”

Post-Match Locker Room

The music was loud. Players were shouting, dancing, spraying water like it was champagne.

Aitana sat in the corner, peeling off her socks. You approached slowly, heart thumping.

She looked up at you.

“You’re not subtle,” she said.

You winced. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I noticed.”

She stood. For a moment, you were ten again, about to be scolded for sneaking into her training sessions without permission.

But then her expression shifted.

“Is it serious?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She looked over your shoulder—at Jana.

Then back at you.

“She makes you better,” Aitana said. “On the pitch. That’s all I care about.”

Your eyes stung.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“But,” she added, smirking now, “if you break her heart, I’ll two-foot you in training.”

You laughed, relieved and full of something warm and old and familiar.

“Deal.”

The locker room emptied slowly after the win, but your head was still buzzing.

You had done it. Made it to the Champions League final. Scored in both legs. And kissed your girlfriend in front of the world.

The kiss was already trending online. Headlines flooded social media. “Bonmatí’s sister and Fernández seal victory—and their relationship—with a kiss.” Photos of you and Jana, arms tangled, bathed in stadium light, were everywhere.

And it didn’t feel scary anymore.

Back at the Team Hotel – 1:12 AM

You lay in bed next to Jana, still wearing your Barça hoodie, hair damp from a quick shower. She was scrolling through her phone beside you, glowing in the dim light of the screen.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” she murmured. “We broke the internet.”

You turned toward her. “Good. Let them talk.”

She smiled—soft and slow. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

“You dared me.”

“Half the team was crying. I think Patri yelled ‘finally!’ loud enough for London to hear.”

You laughed, then went quiet.

“I meant it,” you said. “No more hiding.”

She set her phone down and leaned over, brushing her lips against yours. The kiss was slower this time—quiet, private, full of everything that didn’t need to be said.

She pulled back just enough to speak.

“We should probably sleep.”

“Probably,” you whispered, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

But neither of you moved.

You kissed again, slower still, letting the adrenaline melt into something warmer, something safer. She cupped your cheek, her other hand slipping around your waist, grounding you. The match was over, but this—this—felt like the real victory.

You eventually drifted off in her arms, tangled in sheets and limbs, as the sound of celebration outside faded into silence.

The Next Morning

You found Aitana at the hotel breakfast bar, already halfway through a plate of fruit and eggs. She looked up, raised an eyebrow.

“Sleep well?”

You coughed into your coffee. “Fine.”

She smirked.

Jana slid in beside you, nodding respectfully. Aitana didn’t blink.

“You’re sitting with us now?” she asked Jana, still with that same dry tone.

Jana cleared her throat. “If that’s alright.”

Aitana looked between you, then speared a piece of pineapple with her fork.

“As long as she eats enough before training,” she said. “You’re not allowed to wear her out.”

You choked. Jana froze.

“Aitana!”

She grinned, unapologetic. “What? I’m just looking out for my teammate.”

Jana turned bright red. You buried your face in your hands.

It was chaotic. It was embarrassing. But it was love—the kind only family could offer.

Your parents had watched the match, of course. Everyone had.

They had seen the kiss.

You weren’t sure what to expect when your phone buzzed with Mama 💛 on the screen. Jana sat beside you on the couch in your apartment as you answered.

“Mama?” you said.

“Hola, estrella!” her voice rang, full of joy. “You scored! And that kiss, mi niña…”

You blinked. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? For loving someone brave enough to kiss you on the pitch? Never. You looked so happy. And Jana? We like her. Your father said she has good footwork and good manners.”

You laughed, teary-eyed. “I love you.”

“We love you, too. Bring her home for dinner.”

You looked at Jana. She was biting her lip, trying not to smile too wide.

“She’d love to.”

Later, when the house was quiet and the city lights blinked through your window, you curled into bed with Jana again—only this time, no secrets clung to the dark.

She kissed the inside of your wrist, then your collarbone.

You breathed her name like a prayer.

She leaned over you, fingers tracing your skin like she was memorizing you, all over again. The rhythm between you was unhurried. Soft laughter. Quiet gasps. Sheets twisted around ankles. Skin against skin.

“Stay,” you whispered afterward, your forehead pressed to hers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

And you believed her.

The apartment was dim and quiet, the city humming softly outside the window. You’d been quiet too—soaked in the kind of stillness that comes only after something seismic. After you change your life in one choice. One kiss.

You’d taken off your hoodie. Then your shirt. And now you were straddling Jana in the middle of your bed, knees pressed to either side of her hips, skin flushed warm from the weight of her gaze.

Her hands sat still on your thighs, reverent, like she was afraid to move too fast now that the world knew. Now that it was real.

“I can’t believe you kissed me,” she whispered, voice husky from celebration and emotion. “Right there, on the pitch.”

“I’ve been waiting to kiss you like that for months,” you said, brushing your fingers into her hair. “But I wanted to wait until I knew I could keep you.”

Her expression softened, and then she pulled you down, your lips catching hers with heat and certainty.

There was nothing gentle about the way her hands moved this time—sliding up your back, under your sports bra, fingers memorizing the way your breath caught. You leaned into her touch, hungry, teeth grazing her bottom lip before your mouths deepened the kiss.

Your hips rocked forward, and she groaned softly into your mouth.

“No more hiding,” you murmured into the kiss, pulling back just enough to strip off your bra, your chest bare now under the soft streetlight that spilled through the window.

Jana’s breath hitched. Her eyes roamed—slow and deliberate—like she wanted to remember this exact version of you for the rest of her life.

“You’re so—” she started, but stopped.

You kissed her before she could finish.

Her hands cupped your waist as she sat up, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, down the curve of your chest—each press of her lips reverent, slow, as if worshipping not just your body, but what you gave her with it: trust, love, vulnerability.

You sighed her name when her mouth found the places you ached for.

Time blurred. Clothes disappeared. The heat between you grew unsteady, frenzied, sacred.

She whispered how much she loved you between every breath.

You answered with your hands, your mouth, your hips—every part of you learning the shape of her all over again, but this time without fear. This time with the doors open and your names out loud.

It was slow and then fast, gentle and then not, but it was always real.

You reached for her hand as everything inside you broke into starlight, her name falling from your lips like a secret no longer needing to be kept.

Later, breathless and tangled in each other’s limbs, you rested your head on her chest, her heartbeat still quick beneath your ear.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice raw. “Not of us—just… of how fast it’s going. How deep.”

Jana kissed your temple.

“I’m not scared,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”

She pulled the blanket over your shoulders, and with her arms tight around your waist, you fell asleep again—body warm, heart full, no secrets left between you and the one you loved.

[camille-plumb]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆|| ʙʟᴜᴇʟᴏᴄᴋᵒⁿᵉ ˢʰᵒᵗˢ

Itoshi Sae x Female Reader

▌│█║▌║▌║ ✞︎ 𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ✞︎ ║▌║▌║█│▌

Song: Die for You by The Weeknd

Warning: Uncensored language, mature language, 18+ content.🔞

••••••••⇆ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ㅤ ▷↻••••••••

Sae had never been a particularly religious person, but he thought that if God existed, the rain would stop and he could escape from the shelter.

If God heard him clearly, he wouldn't be in this situation.

He woke up the next morning to the monotonous drumming of the rain. The redhead sighed and looked down at the girl lying on his chest. The gaps in the shelter let in just enough daylight to see.

He stared at (Y/N)'s deceptively sweet face, her parted lips that continued to brush against his chest with every breath she took, her long, dark eyelashes, and that soft, golden skin.

The redhead looked away and pushed the girl off him.

The confusing situation would have been funny if Sae hadn't been in such a bad mood. This had been a terrible idea. What had he been thinking?

"You idiot," (Y/N) groaned sleepily.

Sae stood up and walked out half-naked. All he had left were torn shorts covering his lower body. He peed, brushed his teeth, and then washed in the warm rain, frowning at the gray sky.

"Had I ever thought I'd end up in a situation like this?"

It would be a story worthy of a Discovery Channel documentary, he thought with a smile as he recalled the events of the past five months. He still remembered the last flight he'd taken, the one that had changed his life. Perhaps if he had listened to his manager and hadn't been so obsessed with seeing his girlfriend, the story would have been different.

The memory of how the plane crashed and ended up in the ocean struck him like a traumatic memory. He was grateful for his good physical condition, which had allowed him to reach the island he was on. Thinking about all the people who died that day still made his stomach churn.

His achievements, his trophies, even his Ballon d'Or nomination were lost in time, just like him. His dreams and everything he had fought and worked for since he was a child were only alive in his memory and etched on his skin.

In his most optimistic thoughts, there was still the hope that someone would still be looking for him. He was a star, after all, a soccer prodigy. He was important to his team, to his manager, to his girlfriend, to his family. He sighed as he remembered all the people who cared about him. Surely his younger brother would be moving heaven and earth to find him. While it was true that their relationship wasn't as good as it had been when they were children, they had always been close, and time had solved the problems they had, even more so when they shared a team and began to get along relatively well again.

Feeling a little better, the redhead wanted to return to the shelter. He sighed as he watched the waves in the ocean. He had always loved the sea. Since he was a child, he had a taste for going to see it after every training session. Even though he was probably in the place where he was going to die, he was still fascinated by being able to see it every day.

Life on the island wasn't as difficult as he initially thought. The idea of ​​survival was always present in his plans from day one. Gathering supplies from everything on the island and setting up a shelter was essential. But as in every story, there always has to be something dramatic that "makes the situation better," and in this case, the drama was her.

He met (Y/N) the day after arriving on the island. He thought he was alone while searching through the suitcases floating on the shore when he heard sobbing. He ran, thinking someone needed help. But upon arriving, he was surprised when he tried to help a crying woman up, and she hit him. At first, he tried to be kind and understanding, but he let the blow to the cheek go when he found her sitting next to her ex-husband's corpse. He felt empathy for the situation and let her cry; well, at least he tried. The mourning seemed eternal and was already bordering on the dark and strange.

It took him three weeks to convince her to leave her late husband's body. Keeping a corpse so close was dangerous. The diseases the body could transmit were a danger given his condition. After much discussion, they managed to agree to bury him. Once their mission was accomplished, the difficult part came.

He still remembered him…

The first month, he had grown accustomed to his solitude. They barely spoke. She was like a ghost who only spent time with her husband's corpse. They rarely met to collaborate on foraging, or when he saw her talking to her late husband while she ran to stay in shape and avoid going crazy.

During the second and third months, hell began. It seemed the little ghost was finally accepting reality. Although she had accepted that her husband was no longer physically with her, she always brought him up in conversations. Comparisons between him and the deceased were her daily bread, to the point that he was fed up with the situation.

Comments like, "My husband could fish with a spear," "You can't even tie a star knot," "Go kick some coconuts or go give some passes to the sharks," had made their relationship unsustainable. They clearly hated each other, and neither of them tried to hide it. One day, her acidic comments about how her husband would have made a better job of the shelter he'd worked so hard to build had caused his ego to bubble, ending in a fight that ended with them wrestling on the sand, one on top of the other. She tried to hit him, and he avoided the blow, trying not to hurt her—well, at least he tried.

By the fourth month, he thought the sun had burned his brain. Although he considered that throughout his life his sexual appetite was normal, perhaps high when he was stressed about an important match, he never thought he'd go so far as to desire the island's little drama queen.

It was pathetic how he felt; not even in his teens had he felt this aroused. Perhaps it was the lack of sex in those months, or the fact that he saw her delicious, half-naked body moving in front of him every day, the sight of her plump lips as she insulted or cursed him, only made him think of impure things. There were days when, while she talked and complained to him, all he could think about was silencing her with his cock.

Despite his latent desire, he knew he couldn't touch her without her wanting him to. Every day was a worse torture, even more so since the rains began on the island. The clothes they were wearing wore out in the sun and the climate of the fifth month. Now they only had the clothes on, and the frigid nights forced them to seek warmth in other ways. Sleeping together, for the time being, was the only solution to survive and not die of hypothermia.

Sae finished recounting island life in his mind when he entered the shelter and saw a thin silhouette. (Y/N) was lying face down, sleeping peacefully on Sae's bedding. She was still half-naked. The redhead's jaw clenched, his newfound calm evaporating in an instant.

He tore his eyes away from that enormous ass jiggling in front of him and kicked (Y/N) in the shin.

"Get out of my bed."

(Y/N) just mumbled something sleepily and ignored him. Sae's eyes returned to that soft, plump ass. He was just a man on the verge of insanity.

Looking away again, Sae leaned in and growled in the girl's ear:

"Get out of my bed, or I'll take that as an invitation to fuck you."

(Y/N) stiffened before sitting up so quickly their heads nearly collided. She looked at Sae, sleepily, running a hand through her hair.

"Fuck off," she said, her cheeks flushed, unable to look at the redhead.

Huffing, the green-eyed boy sat down on the small makeshift bed. The closeness of their bodies allowed him to revel in her figure. He focused his gaze on her thighs and bubs. The thought of touching her soft skin was unbearable, as was the bulge in his pants.

Damn! Now that he could see her face up close, he noticed the small details that made her look beautiful: her long hair, slightly tousled on one side, her hideous red lips that were begging to be kissed or stretched by a hard cock, those big eyes and…

"Are you done fantasizing about me, idiot?" The anger in her voice reminded him that he wasn't a teenager fantasizing about a female body; he managed to control himself and keep his cock tucked into his pants. "I'm not fantasizing about you, you little drama queen. I'm not crazy enough to want you yet." The redhead squirmed, ignoring the furious eyes that glared at him, eager to kill him.

The rain stopped for a moment, allowing them to leave the shelter to find food and prepare for bed.

As night fell, they lay down on their pathetic "beds." Sae stared at the shelter's ceiling, listening to the tumbling rhythm of life. The sound was depressing. Lonely. It made him long for someone else's warmth. Someone else's touch, something. He wanted to shed him own skin and do something. Anything to feel better.

He knew (Y/N) wasn't asleep. There was tension in the air, so thick he could almost taste it.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

He rolled onto him side and pressed him slightly erect cock against the girl's back. (Y/N) let out a gasp that seemed both relieved and annoyed.

"Fuck off, you idiot. What's wrong with you?"

Sae wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, and they pressed against each other, his erection nestling between (Y/N)'s buttocks.

"Stop complicating it," he said, biting the back of (Y/N)'s neck. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"But," he didn't let her finish as he began to move his erection between her buttocks.

"Shut up and enjoy. You know you want it as much as I do."

The long silence that surrounded the room was cut short by the girl's moans, as she began to involuntarily shake her body in search of more. The redhead took her response as a clear pass to reach the end.

Burying his face against the back of (Y/N)'s neck, Sae closed his eyes and sought his own release. It really didn't mean anything. They were just two lonely humans, starved for physical contact, seeking relief and comfort.

Nothing more.

He had intended to simply rub himself against (Y/N)'s ass while she masturbated, but now he felt greedy. He wanted more. His hands began to wander, caressing (TN)'s soft bubs and stomach, calmly massaging her big bubs, adapting them to his large hands and rubbing her nipples.

"Stop," (Y/N) murmured weakly, but didn't try to move away and continued to caress her own center, which was growing wetter and wetter.

Sae ignored her, his face buried in the back of her neck, while his hand rubbed and pinched those pretty nipples.

Fuck, he wished he could suck them.

He pinched her left nipple, and she moaned, shuddering against him. The redhead slid his hand down, over her trembling stomach, and then down, until his hand collided with hers in her wet little pussy.

(Y/N) tensed.

After a long beat, the girl's hand dropped. Sae took advantage of the available space and guided a finger toward her tiny entrance. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath.

"I'm married," she said in a long, drawn-out sigh that sounded like a moan.

Sae simply scoffed. (Y/N)'s pussy was so tight he could feel his finger being sucked hard. If he hadn't known she was married, he'd think she was a virgin. The best part was that she was already dripping, preparing for him, getting wet for him. The situation only made him more excited.

"I…am…married," she said again, but her words came out more like a moan.

"I'm not listening to no," the green-eyed man said, thrusting his finger all the way in forcefully.

"As if 'no' would stop you," she gasped, releasing more juices into her pussy.

"You won't know unless you try it," the redhead said dryly, still moving his fingers.

He knew (Y/N) would feel better about it if she could pretend she was being forced. He probably should have been upset about it, but he wasn't. If she'd fallen in love with (TN) or, God forbid, actually wanted a relationship with her, this would have been a bitch. But as things stood, (TN) continuing to be a self-sacrificing widow practically guaranteed that Sae wouldn't get attached.

This meant nothing. Just a basic need that meant nothing.

So he fondled (Y/N)'s pussy, deriving a kind of sick pleasure from every moan the girl who claimed to hate him gave him.

(Y/N) was clearly trying to keep quiet, trying to swallow her moans, but soon, she couldn't stop them from escaping her mouth. Her hips also began to move, rubbing helplessly against Sae's fingers until she was a quivering, moaning mess.

"No," (Y/N) cried out when the redhead withdrew his fingers from inside her.

"Spread your legs," he ordered in his deep voice, which only increased her desire for him. (Y/N) did as she was told, panting.

"Touch my cock," the redhead said, panting.

"I won't."she said, blushing.

Laughing, Sae took the girl's hand and wrapped it around his aching cock.

"Touch it." the redhead ordered, moving his cock near her pussy.

"I'm married, I won't." she replied, looking longingly at the huge cock in front of her.

"Touch it. Or I won't touch you again." the redhead murmured, briefly rubbing the pink head of his cock against the wet entrance of her pussy.

"I hate you," she said, but her hand finally moved, a little hesitantly at first. "This is disgusting."

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up with my dick."

That silenced (Y/N).

"But maybe you like it," Sae said, pressing their foreheads together. "Maybe that's what you really want: a fat cock in your mouth."

"Fuck off," she said breathlessly, gripping the redhead's cock tighter. "I have…"

"Husband? You have a cock in your hand, one that's clearly not your husband's. Does that make you feel like a little slut? What does it feel like to crave someone else's cock that isn't your husband, huh? Tell me, little slut, can you feel your little pussy twitching, begging to be filled with my cock?"

"No…ah~" The word turned into a long moan as (Y/N), aroused by the words, climaxed in Sae's hand, drenching it with her cum.

Sae looked at the mess she had made and was aroused by the sight of her wet pussy, open, eager, and ready for him.

"My turn," he said, stroking his own cock, mixing her juices with his swollen shaft, making it nice and slippery. The girl seemed barely conscious due to the cloud of pleasure she'd felt; the only command left in her mind was that she was to keep her legs open for him.

Fuck, something went straight to Sae's cock at that image. Having such a docile and satisfied little stubborn idiot in his arms was beyond arousing.

Unable to wait any longer, Sae rolled them over, pushing (Y/N) underneath him. (Y/N) made a desperate sound as Sae's fingers slid out of her, but the redhead was already pressing the head of his cock against the slick hole.

In the back of his mind, the last vestiges of his rationality tried to impress things like condoms, ideas that were instantly discarded. They were on an island, lost, they would probably die, and he wanted to fuck her, take her like he'd wanted. He felt like he would explode if he didn't stick his cock in that woman right now.

So he thrust in all at once, and they both moaned. (Y/N) was so tight it was almost painful, but God, it felt so good, like she'd finally reached the goal of the past few months. The relief was so immense that Sae almost came right then.

"Ah… Idiot… mmhg~" (Y/N) exhaled, her body tense from the hard thrust. "Couldn't you slow down? You're so big… ah~"

Sae closed his eyes again and started thrusting. He just needed to finish once. The sooner he came, the sooner he'd get this crazy woman out of his skin and mind.

He thrust and thrust and thrust, his fingers digging into (Y/N)'s soft hips, holding her still as she enjoyed herself.

Fuck, she was such a slut for that, her hips rolling on his cock like she was born to do it.

-Stop, ah, no, ah, fuck!- she begged with her eyes closed in pleasure while digging her nails into his back with force.

Sae went absolutely crazy with a mixture of desire and rage. He pushed (Y/N) onto her hands and knees and slammed himself into her pussy hard. She moaned, lifting her hips higher, allowing his cock to enter deeper.

"Do you still want me to stop?" He growled into the girl's ear, fucking her hard and fast.

"Yes, ah…ah~, no, don't do it, don't stop, do it…harder."

Sae bit her shoulder and fucked her harder as she demanded. The makeshift bed was a complete mess, the noises their mouths made sounded inhuman now. Like animals in heat together, to satisfy their instincts, a primal need that couldn't be denied.

Sae had no idea how much time had passed. Only he was vaguely aware that (Y/N) reached her orgasm first, satisfied, screaming and moaning with pleasure. Her face was a complete aphrodisiac.

Without thinking about the place, the circumstances, or what might happen tomorrow, he released all his cum inside her, moving his hips slightly until he emptied himself completely. Staining her small pussy white, he felt his cum run down her legs. He could only let out a satisfied laugh and let go of her body, falling on top of (Y/N), burying his face in the wet nape of her neck.

An unnatural possessiveness flooded his mind as he watched her sleep. Her contented expression was plastered on her face. He had pleased her, made her his, his woman. The memory of her late husband would never haunt her again. If she ever mentioned him again, he would make sure to remind her who she belonged to. He would fuck her every day if necessary.

He had lost his sanity and given in to madness.

An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he felt his cock being squeezed again.

He took a deep breath. Mine. He thought calmly, watching her sleep; she was wonderful. He had never felt so satisfied in his life.

As he squeezed her buttocks and held her, he fell asleep, still buried deep inside her.

If every day was going to be like this, maybe the idea of ​​dying on the island wasn't so bad.

No…

He would only die for her.

•••••━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━••••••

•••••━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━••••••

Hiiii~ Thanks for your reactions to these one shots~.✨✨

[gunnerfc]

Private Celebrations | Aitana Bonmatí x Barça!Reader (18+)

summary: you celebrate your girlfriend winning the Ballon d'Or privately

wc: 3018

warning: bottom!aitana, top!reader, fingering, praising, light teasing, oral (sorta?)

a/n: 18+ only! minors DNI! & all translations from google! 

-> also, ignore the actual rankings of everyone but Aitana! Reader comes in 2nd here!

In the days leading up to the Ballon d’Or ceremony, Aitana refused to let you see the dress she would be wearing. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise of her outfit, knowing the effect it would have on you. While the two of you weren’t public about your relationship, you still wanted to match her dress subtly in your own outfit, so the only bit of information you got from the midfielder was that her dress was black and a bit of a sparkling element.

On the short flight from Spain to France, you were nonstop trying to get Aitana to show you her dress that was neatly hung up in the private plane you and your Barça teammates were on. Each time you asked, you were met with a small smirk and a “you have to wait, mi amor.” You groaned each time she said that, the suspense was driving you crazy.

When the plane touched down in France, you were ecstatic because it meant everyone would be headed straight to the hotel to get ready. You had already planned to get ready in the same room as Aitana so you were surprised when the midfielder refused to let you into the room, telling you to get ready in the same room as Mapi and Frido. Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Aitana ignored you, which earned you some laughter from Mapi as she pulled you into her room.

Aitana was the last to be ready, you and your teammates stood in the hallway waiting for the midfielder to join you. The door to your soon-to-be shared hotel room opened and you felt your breath hitch seeing Aitana’s dress. Your eyes immediately focused on the sheerness of the top of her dress that covered her collarbones and down her arms. The sounds of Patri and Salma whistling at your girlfriend’s outfit were tuned out when Frido shook her finger signaling your girlfriend to do a spin.

The sheer fabric continued halfway down her back and you now understood why she wanted to wait to show you. The two of you locked eyes once Aitana was facing you again but you were still in your thoughts to focus on what anyone was saying. It wasn’t until Mapi walked past you with a smirk on her face saying “no atrapar moscas (don’t catch flies)” that you realized your jaw had dropped.

You ignored the defender, waiting for your teammates to pass you so you could walk alongside Aitana. You reached out to hold her hand as you followed the group towards the elevator, trying to refocus on the event you were heading to.

“¿Te gusta el vestido, mi amor? (do you like the dress, my love?),” Aitana teased, a small smirk gracing her face, thrilled that she succeeded in making you speechless. 

You turned your attention to her as you waited for the elevator to arrive on your floor, taking a deep breath as you looked her up and down. “Te ves hermosa, cariňo, (you look beautiful, darling)” you whispered as you leaned closer to her ear. A light blush coated her cheeks just as the elevator arrived. 

The ride down to the lobby was quiet, with no one having anything to say. When you arrived at the lobby, the players from the men’s team along with the higher-ups for Barcelona were waiting for you all to arrive so you could take the same shuttle to the venue. You and Aitana were the last to take a seat, the midfielder pulled your hand to rest on her thigh as you did so. You gave her leg a light squeeze as the shuttle driver started driving. 

With Aitana looking as great as she did and the extremely high odds that she would be leaving France with a Ballon d’Or, you knew you were going to have a fun night.

As the shuttle driver pulled into the venue, your closeness with Aitana would have to cease, wanting to keep your relationship private a bit longer. When the driver came to a stop, you helped Aitana step out of the vehicle and let your teammates act as a divider between you so you wouldn’t be tempted to be overly touchy.

The Barcelona plates quickly took pictures on the red carpet before being ushered into the building and those nominated for the Ballon d’Or were taken backstage. You made small talk with some of your fellow nominees while waiting for your cue to walk onstage as part of recognition for those who were nominated and present. 

After the nominees were introduced, you all quickly found your seats so the actual award show could begin. With being seated next to Aitana, you had to fight the urge to hold her hand, and seeing as though you were in the front row, the chances of the camera panning to you were extremely high. 

The non-Ballon d’Or awards and the rankings for those who did not make the top three went by quickly and soon enough it was time for the women’s Ballon d’Or to be announced. Your name along with Aitana and Sam Kerr’s were the only three not called yet, so you knew you were making the top three, you just didn’t know if it would be second or third. You knew Aitana was winning and you were beyond happy for your girlfriend. 

You resisted rolling your eyes when Novak Djokovic walked out on stage as the announcer for the award, a bit confused as to why he was the one to present the award. Your eyes focused on the images of you alongside Aitana and Sam were projected onto the screens on stage, waiting with bated breath for Aitana’s name to be called.

“Women’s Ballon d’Or 2023 goes to….. Aitana Bonmatí,” Djokovic read from the card in his hand. You fought the urge to show just how happy you were for Aitana, instead opting to join in on the round of applause she was receiving from the crowd. 

Aitana gave you a quick look, a nervous smile on her face before she made her way up the stairs. You watched as she received the trophy, a bright smile gracing your features. Aitana stood on stage answering questions from the host and every so often looking in your direction when she felt nervous. You sent her a look of encouragement and love each time, the pride you felt for her was overwhelming. 

Once she was finished on stage and returned back to her seat, you leaned in a bit closer but still further than you normally would be to whisper “estoy tan orgullosa de ti bebe (I'm so proud of you, baby).” Aitana sent you a quick smile, mouthing “gracias.”

You didn’t care to pay attention to Messi winning his award, not because you didn’t like him but because you were ready for the show to be over so you could celebrate Aitana, in private. You knew with Aitana winning you would have to wait a bit longer to leave, she would have to do some press and have some pictures taken. 

You opted to wait for her to finish, telling your teammates that you didn’t want to leave her to have to return to the hotel alone. You watched with a proud smile as Aitana posed with her trophy and answered questions from journalists, but you still wanted her to hurry so you could show her just how proud you were.

You were the last two players from Barcelona waiting to leave, standing near the exit waiting for the shuttle drive to return to pick you up. There were still people bustling around you but a small part of you didn’t care if they saw how you were looking at Aitana. The look in your eye was familiar to Aitana, she could sense you were ready to be back at the hotel and why.

Neither of you spoke as you entered the shuttle but your hand once again fell to the midfielder’s thigh, holding on to it tightly. Aitana’s hand fell on top of yours, wanting a bit more physical contact. The Ballon d’Or trophy had been given back to the staff so they could have it engraved with Aitana’s name and then mailed protectively to the club in Spain. The drive back to the hotel seemed like it took forever, despite only being a few minutes away. 

Once you arrived, you both said a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver as you exited the vehicle. Your hand didn’t find Aitana’s until you were safely in the elevator, giving it a tight squeeze as the elevator doors closed. Once they did, you turned and pulled Aitana to face you, leaning in for a heated kiss. 

Aitana’s free hand moved to hold on to the back of your neck while yours fell to her waist, pulling her closer to your body. Your lips worked against each other until you felt the elevator come to a stop as you reached your floor. You both rushed through the doors and down the hallway to your room.

You rushed to slide the key card into the slot on the door to let you both in, Aitana quickly following. The moment you were both inside the hotel room, you had Aitana pinned against the door. Your mouth met hers in a searing kiss once again, this time your tongues explored each other's mouth. 

Aitana's hands had a tight grip on your shoulders, yours having a similar hold on her hips. You pulled away from her mouth, trailing small kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Aitana's head was thrown back against the door to give you better access to her neck. You sucked dark marks wherever you could, pulling small whines from the midfielder.

"Tienes que estar callada, bebetia (you have to be quiet, baby)," you whispered, pulling away from her neck. "No quiero que todo el piso te escuche (don’t want the whole floor to hear you)," you smirked, knowing your girlfriend wasn't the quietest person in bed. 

Aitana fought back a moan at your words but gave you a small nod. You moved from your spot in front of her, leading her further into the room. You quickly removed your shoes, kneeling to take off Aitana's shoes. The sight of you on your knees in front of her made Aitana's head spin. 

You stood up, turning her around to unzip her dress. As the fabric peeled away from her body, you left small nips along her spine until you reached the end of the zipper. Standing fully, you push the sheer fabric off of Aitana's shoulders. You took a step around her so you were face to face again, as you watched the dress that drove you crazy the whole night fall to the ground. 

Your eyes took their time scanning up and down Aitana’s bare body, swallowing as you locked eyes with her. You watched her take her hair out of the bun it was in, her hair falling down her shoulders. You quickly got undressed, the urgency you felt earlier once again filling your body.

Once you were both bare, you pulled Aitana into another kiss, your hands roaming all across her body. You paused when you reached her chest, both hands palming at her breasts. Aitana moaned into the kiss, pulling away with a whine. 

You redirected both of you to the bed, pushing Aitana to lay on her back with her head resting on the pillows at the head of the bed. You hovered above the midfielder, smirking down at her. You leaned down to press quick kisses down her neck, continuing down to the center of her chest. 

“Estoy muy orgullosa de ti, niña bonita (so proud of you, pretty girl),” you whispered into her skin in between kisses. Above you, Aitana whined as her nails dug into your back. 

“por favor,” Aitana mumbled as you continued leaving kisses on her skin. “no te burles (don’t tease),” she continued with a shaky breath.

You gave her a quick glance as you latched onto one of her breasts, sucking harshly on her nipple. Aitana’s back arched, essentially pushing her chest further into your face. You sucked on the hardened bud for a few more seconds before pulling away, a string of saliva still connected to Aitana’s breast. You moved to give the other the same treatment, a loud moan falling from Aitana’s lips.

You pulled away from her chest altogether, your eyes darkening as you watched her chest move up and down with her labored breathing. You moved back down to trail kisses down her torso, alternating the kisses with small nips to her skin. Aitana’s hands moved from your back to your hair, trying to push you where she needed you most.

You chuckled at your girlfriend’s eagerness, put quickened your peace. After all, you were celebrating her. Face to face with her center, you could see just how wet she already was.

“apenas te he tocado, bebita (i’ve barely touched you, babygirl),” you grinned, proud of yourself for getting her so worked up so easily. 

Aitana didn’t give you a verbal response, instead, she tightened her grip on your hair, begging for you to do anything. You decided to put the midfielder out of her misery as you brought your left hand up to her thigh, pushing her legs apart to give you a better view. Your mouth watered as the sight of your girlfriend spread open for you.

You brought your right hand to your mouth, sucking on your two middle fingers to wet them before pushing them into your girlfriend. Aitana moaned loudly at the feeling of your fingers inside her, even though you hadn’t moved them yet. You waited a second before you started moving your fingers in and out of Aitana’s soaking core. The only sounds in the room were Aitana’s panting and the sound of your fingers thrusting into your girlfriend. 

You looked up from the bottom of the bed, groaning at the sight of Aitana. Her head was thrown back against the pillows and her hands now holding onto the comforter on the bed. Aitana’s back was arched as her hips were attempting to meet the thrust of your fingers.

You were determined to give Aitana one of the best orgasms yet. You focused your eyes on her clit, your mouth leaving small kisses to the bud. Aitana gasped at the contact, her hips bucking forward as you made contact.

Your left hand was still firmly placed on Aitana's hip, holding her open while her right leg was now thrown over your shoulder. Your mouth sucked harshly on her clit, switching between sucking and nipping at her sensitive bud. Your two middle fingers continued to thrust in and out of her dripping center. 

You looked up from your spot between her legs, locking eyes with the midfielder and while she couldn't see your smirk, she felt it. Aitana's eyes rolled as her back arched once again, a loud moan spilling from her lips, and a string of slurred curses followed. 

You sped up your fingers as best you could, the tightness making it hard to move.  Your grip on her hip tightened in a squeeze, more loud moans falling from Aitana's mouth. You'd given up on her being quiet, but if you were honest, you didn't care. You loved hearing how loud you made your girlfriend when you were pleasuring her.

“y/n..” Aitana whined, her voice already sounding hoarse from moaning so loud. “Por favor,” a strained beg fell from her lips.

You felt Aitana’s body falter, she was close to the edge. Your mouth worked faster on her clit as your fingers pushed deeper into her core. You pulled your mouth away from her clit with a loud pop and Aitana cried out at the loss of contact as she was so close.

“Vamos bebé, ven para mí (c’mon on baby, cum for me),” you nodded up at Aitana, smirking when you met her eyes.

Aitana came with a loud moan, her body shaking from the orgasm. You kept your fingers moving, slowing down as you helped the midfielder come down from her high. You pulled your fingers out of her core, moving them to your mouth. You maintained eye contact with Aitana as you sucked your fingers, your turn to moan as you tasted your girlfriend. 

Aitana watched as you cleaned your fingers, feeling herself getting even wetter at the sight. You pulled your fingers from your mouth, moving your body to once again hover over your girlfriend’s small frame.

Aitana’s right hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you into a deep kiss, moaning as she tasted herself on your lips. Your mouths move against each other as you feel her rock her body up into yours. You softly laughed into the kiss, knowing your girlfriend had more than one orgasm to give you. 

“Estoy muy orgulloso de ti, Tana (i’m so proud of you, tana),” you cooed, your eyes filled with love. “Te amo mucho, bebita,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss her again, this kiss much more softer than than the previous kisses.

“Yo tambien te amo, mi cariňo (i love you too, my darling),” Aitana croaked out after you pulled away, her voice clearly affected by the loud moans that left her mouth. 

“Una mas (one more)?” your look of love was replaced by the need to make Aitana cum again. 

You spent the rest of the night pleasuring your girlfriend, pulling more than just one more orgasm from her. Her body was littered with dark bruises from your mouth and her voice was raspy the morning after. You laughed at the teasing comments your teammates threw your way when you were all on the private jet, though Aitana’s face was bright red hearing the jokes your teammates made. You didn’t care, you were happy to have shown Aitana a fraction of how proud you were of her achievements.

[leah-lover]

Arrogance. Alexia putellas x reader.

Let me know if you want a part 2.

You loved winning more than anything or anyone in the entire world and that was your biggest flaw. Brought up in the US soccer system, you were taught that winning is everything. You had set the precedent of joining the US women's national team as early as 17 years old which had never been done before. You were smart both academically and tactically. You graduated high school early, went to college early and proceeded to win the national championship all 4 years.

Your life always took the back seat to winning. You didn't have many friends. You didn't go out or party. You trained hard, you took care of your body, and followed a strict fitness routine. You were overall the best in your generation.

Being labeled as the best of your generation got into your head early in your life. Your strict regime made it hard for you to make friends and your cockiness and pride didn't help either. You were friendly but nobody ever dared to become your friend.

After college you moved on to the NWSL in which you won MVP , rookie of the year, and the championship in your first and second year. You had also won the world but at the same time. However, winning didn't fill the gap in your life that it once did. You didn't have to prove yourself anymore, you were renowned in the whole world as the best, everybody wanted to be you but no one wanted to be with you not long term at least. You were notorious for hooking up with people but you didn't want them to stay over for breakfast

As the years went on the international competition got harder. You were still the best but an upcoming Spaniard was raining on your parade. You were both head to head in matchies, a few tackles landing you warnings and yellow cards, and in awards. Both having very good stats you are head to head for the ballon d'or which she won that year.

You didn't talk to each other much. You can recall talking one or twice to each other . but you talked about one another a lot. The media seemed to spit you both against one another. You started hating each other in real life.

This summer your contract with Seattle fc came to its end and you chose not to renew. Offers were flying by but the one that caught your attention was Barcelona's offer.

They were willing to spend 1 million dollars on you. It was a precedent. No club had ever paid this much for a transfer. Thrie offer sticked your ego so much you accepted.

You have been playing at Barcelona for almost a season, scoring a hatrick at every game. Your relationship with your teammates didn't change. You were still space out.

The most important relationship was with your captain. Your rivalry with her was the second headline out of the b transfer. But you didn't pay her or the rivalry any attention.

Tonight you have achieved something you wanted to do for a long time. You have won the champion’s league. The locker room was celebrating the win and chanting your name. While everybody was dancing Alexia came to approached you and said “ congrats and thank u american”

“ no need capi.” you responded.

The flight back was fun, people were singing and dancing but the only thing you thought about was alexia. Her smell, her hand on your shoulder, her being thankful for you. You found yourself looking over to her from time to time. You weren't like this, you didn't day dream about people especially not the captain.

The celebration party took place in a bar. You were a few dink in when you looked over to you right yo find Alexia nursing a flute filled with champagne.

“Why aren't you dancing?” She asked.

“ I am not the type plus i am pretty sure y'all hate me.”

“And why is that “

“Don't know just a feeling.”

After that I went outside. I didn't smoke much but the nerves Alexia was giving me deserved some nicotine. As soon as I lit the cigarette I felt her hazel eyes glaring at me.

“ These things are gonna kill you, you know.”

“ I want to die young plus nobody would give a shit.”

“ I would give a shit if the most important person in my club was killing herself because she can't man up enough to talk to people. You hide behind your accomplishments. But you are just a normal girl just like any of us. You need people beside you.”

“ You are wrong about me. I am not scared of talking to people; they just would never understand me. I am a control freak. I don't like to give it up. People tend to hate that about me ” I say as I take the last puff of my cigarette. My eyes don't leave hers and the tension is through the roof.

“ I like to lose control from time to time.”

“ Capitana please don't play with me”

“ Currently I am not playing with you. Let me make you a deal. You go inside, have some fun and I will let you do what you want with the information you just heard.”

“ Why are you doing this?”

“ I don't know, I just care, I guess.

[thinkwosolife23]

Reputation Part 2, Alexia Putellas

You didn't ever anticipate playing against your sister. But here you were, currently flying from Barcalona to London for the first leg of the Champion's League Quarter Final. There were 7 teams that you could've faced but it had to be Arsenal. But facing Arsenal meant multiple things; not only were you facing your childhood club, you also had to face your past - you had to face Katie again.

These past few months had been better than you could've ever imagined. You grew up at Arsenal: you held such a love for the club and nothing would ever change that. But Barcalona gave you a different sense of belonging, like you were a piece of their jigsaw. Like they cherished you for you and not for being Leah Williamson's little sister.

Barcalona were currently sat at the top of the league as well as being in the quarter finals of the Champions League, you wanted to retain both of those titles with the club.

In terms of your personal career: you were improving everyday and your hard work was paying off. At 24, you had just placed 2nd in the rankings for the Ballon D'or. Your club teammate, Aitana Bonmatí had took the top spot.

And then there was Alexia.

She was a dream. She continued to impress you day by day, the world had tossed you the most beautiful, kind and caring soul you could've ever imagined. You didn't know what you did to deserve her.

Since that conversation at the club, you and Alexia had gone on so many different dates. Ranging from movie night on the sofa to picnics on the beach to resturant dinners. You spent weeks trying to prove that you only wanted her, you only needed her.

So, you asked her to be your girlfriend on New years eve.

Flashback……. 31st December 2023

You and Alexia had been apart over the christmas week. Her staying in spain with her mum and sister and you going back to England to be with your family.

Your flight had landed quite late in the afternoon, and Alexia was none the wiser that you were back in Barcalona.

The plan you had to ask Alexia to be your girlfriend was all ready to go.

Mapi had got Alexia to the beach just as you had asked. And now you had just go to said beach. You could see her on the beach just looking at the sunset and the sea. You had gotten Alexia a promise ring whilst back in England and it was currently sat in the back pocket of your jeans.

You headed towards where Alexia was stood and wrapped your arms around her waist, causing her to jump at your touch, clearly not expecting it.

As soon as she turned around, she jumped into your hold; wrapping her legs around your waist and her arms around your neck.

"Tu espalda, te extrañé." (Your back, I missed you.)

"Yo también te extrañé, amor." You said whilst placing her back down on the ground. (I missed you too, love.)

"¿Por qué estamos en la playa?" She asked, confused. (Why are we on the beach?)

"Bueno, quería sorprenderte en algún lugar que ambos amáramos." (Well, I wanted to suprise you somewhere we both loved.)

And it's true, you and Alexia loved the beach. It was one of your favourite places to be together other than the football pitch. Obviously.

"Y quería preguntarte algo." You continued. (And I wanted to ask you something.)

"¿Pregúntame qué?" (Ask me what.)

You took a step back from Alexia and got down on one knee whilst grabbing the promise ring from your back pocket.

"¿No crees que es un poco pronto para esto?" Alexia laughed slightly. (Don't you think it's a bit early for this?)

"No te lo voy a proponer, todavía no." It was only then you realised what it look liked you were going to do. (I'm not proposing, not yet.)

"Oh."

"Es un anillo de promesa. No puedo prometer que no tendremos discusiones ni consecuencias. No puedo prometer que seré perfecto porque ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que hice todo esto. Pero puedo prometerte que siempre estaré a tu lado, siempre te respaldaré y trataré de protegerte. Quiero que seamos tú y yo contra el mundo. Quiero estar contigo y solo contigo. Entonces Alexia, ¿serás mi novia?" (It's a promise ring. I can't promise that we won't have arguements, or fallouts. I can't promise that i'll be perfect because it's a long time since i've done all this. But I can promise that i'll always be by your side, i'll always back you up and try to protect you. I want it to be me and you against the world. I want to be with you and only you. So Alexia, will you be my girlfriend?)

By this point, you were both shedding tears. But Alexia quickly nodded and put her hand out so you could put her promise ring on. She pulled you up and soon attached her lip to yours whilst wrapping her arms around your neck, yours going to her hips pulling her closer to you.

"Te amo." She told you, resting her forehead on yours. (I love you.)

"Yo tambien te amo hermosa" (I love you too, beautiful.)

Flashback Over.

And here you were now, heading towards the tunnel of the Emirates stadium to play your former team.

Your former teammates were already stood in the tunnel, as were some of your current teammates, waiting to head out onto the pitch. Before joining your own sqaud, you quickly went to the front of the Arsenal squad where your sister was stood.

Leah soon wrapped her arms around you, wishing you good luck and telling you that she would speak to you after the game, also letting you know that your mum and brother were in the crowd watching the pair of you.

Alexia was stood on the opposite side to Leah, as they were both captains. You gave her hand a squeeze before heading to the back of the Barcalona squad.

As you were heading back to your spot, you realised that Katie was the person opposite you on the Arsenal side.

It just had to be her didn't it.

"Long time, no see, Y/N" Katie said, with that stupid little smirk on her face.

"Fuck off, McCabe!" You snapped back at her before you were pulled away by Mapi who was stood in front of you.

As soon as you were in sight. The stadium was filled with boo's, the Arsenal fans clearly stating that they felt the betrayal of you leaving. You had expected it though: being there since you were little and then leaving, you knew not everyone would agree with that. Especially the fans.

You had to shut it all out, your focus needed to be on the game.

Arsenal's Starting 11:

GK - M. Zinsberger LB - S. Catley CB - L. Williamson (C) CB - L. Wubben-Moy RB - K. McCabe CDM - L. Walti CM - K. Little CM - F. Maanum LW - C. Foord ST - A. Russo RW - B. Mead

Barcalona Starting 11:

GK - S. Panos LB - O. Batlle CB - I. Paredes CB - M. Leon RB - L. Bronze CDM - K. Walsh CM - P. Guijarro CM - A. Bonmati LW - A. Putellas ST - Y/N Williamson RW - C. G. Hansen

In all honesty, Barcalona were all over Arsenal during the first half, managing to get two goals past the. You and Patri being the two goal scorers, Alexia assisting them both.

However, in the second half, the Arsenal players started to become a lot more reckless. Late challenges, shirt grabs, harsh elbows and pushes was becoming incredibly frequent. You and Alexia seemed to be on the recieving end of most of them.

You managed to contain your fustration, that was until Katie tackled Alexia in the box. It was a high tackle from behind, Katie's studs going straight into the back of Alexia's calf, sending her straight to the ground.

Most of your teammates quickly ran over to where Alexia was laying on the ground. But you went rushing over to where Katie was stood and gave her a harsh push.

"What was that?" You shouted, causing you and Katie to go face to face.

"Proteceting your flavour of the month, how sweet." Katie laughed, her irish voice appearing sarcastic.

"I don't blame you, though. She seems like the desperate type." She continued.

By this point, you had Katie by her collar. Your hands clamped on Katie's shirt. Members of both teams trying to pull the pair of you.

Leah managed to get inbetween you both, her body blocking you from getting to Katie.

"You need to drop it, Y/N." Her sister voice coming out, trying to calm you down.

It wasn't until you heard someone else's voice that you were pulled away.

"Oye mirarme. No estoy herido, ella sólo está intentando llegar a ti." Alexia told you calmly, her hand grabbing yours to walk off. (Hey, look at me. I'm not hurt, she's just trying to get to you.)

Alexia scored the penalty that was awarded for Katie's challenged. The rest of the game went all Barcalona's way.

It finished 4-0 with you managing to get yourself a brace. After speaking to some of you former teammates, you went to find Alexia. Your eyes softened when you saw where she was, her and Leah were talking and laughing about something. Two of your favourite peopel, that sight would never get old.

Over the few months you known Alexia, you had managed to teach her some English. She asked you teach her so she could talk to your family.

You headed over to where they were stood talking. You went up behind Alexia and wrapped your arms around her waist, before kissing her cheek. You felt her lean back into your hold, her hands resting over yours.

"Where's mum?" You asked, directing your question to Leah.

She pointed to just next to the Arsenal benches, you looked towards where she was pointing to see your Mum and brother.

You took yourself away from holding Alexia before grabbing her hand pulling her in the direction of your Mum and brother.

"¿A dónde vamos?" She questioned you hesitantly. (Where are we going?)

"Es hora de usar tu inglés, amor." (Time to use your english, love)

"¡Qué! Eliges después de un partido completo para que yo los conozca adecuadamente." (What! You pick after a full match for me to properly meet them.)

"Sí, ahora vamos." (Yeah, now come on.)

When you eventually got to your Mum and Jacob, you gave them both a hug before introducting Alexia.

"Mum, Jacob. This is Alexia, she's my girlfriend."

The three of them were extemely fast to jump into conversation. Alexia's english was better than you thought it was. Was there anything this girl couldn't do?

You left them to talk, as you and Leah went around the stadium together.

"You love her, don't you." She asked you, the look on her face telling she already knew what the answer was going to be.

"I really do, Le." Your gaze followed straight to where Alexia was still talking to your Mum and brother.

"I'm sure there's worse sister in laws in the world." She chuckled to herself.

"I'm gonna marry her." You told her confidently.

"You down that bad, huh."

"She's my person, Leah."

[meazalykov]

she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or. 

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona. 

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first. 

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look. 

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away. 

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine. 

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team. 

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers. 

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I. 

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward? 

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside. 

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too. 

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates. 

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside. 

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout. 

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong. 

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I. 

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy. 

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated. 

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong? 

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking. 

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16. 

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly. 

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other. 

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking. 

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027. 

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals. 

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final! 

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover. 

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!”  (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed. 

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16. 

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again. 

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear. 

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms. 

<3

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical violence, canon-typical swearing, brief suggestive themes, brief blood, rescue and escape

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part Seven of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Price makes himself comfortable at lunch. Accusations are thrown. Revenge comes knocking.

Chapter Six // Chapter Eight

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

Three years.

It seems like forever ago, and yet it only feels like yesterday when Ghost hauled you into his arms and Price became a distant face. Three years since the blood-drenched terror of not knowing whether you’d make it out of Thirst alive. Three years. Three years, and you firmly believed everything that happened is behind you, left to rot and wither in the recesses of your mind until you don’t remember it at all.

Three years.

Three goddamn years.

It was autumn then, like it is now, like it was when Alex first asked you out on a date and you accepted without your fight or flight response kicking in. Autumn, when the trees surrender their leaves to the ground and air, when the wind becomes a chilly companion, and the dredges of sharp heat melt away to cooler temperatures.

Autumn then. Autumn now.

And three years.

So much has changed, and yet you feel no different. You are back at the safehouse. You are back at Thirst. You are staring at the face of a man who is both familiar and strange. You are trapped and free and unsure of what moves to make. You are questioning everything and angry at the world for even thinking that it’s a fine idea to place this man in front of you again.

Ghost brought you to Laswell and Laswell was kind. Brief and upfront, but kind. There was a period of stasis, of not knowing what was going to happen to you. For almost a month, you were locked away from the world before salvation came.

And then you were off, moved across the country against your will with the only reasoning being “your safety.” First name the same. Last name different. With it came security, a fresh start, and deep down you know it only happened because Price must have had a hand in it. He made it happen so that your new life provided everything you could possibly want. Opportunities didn’t just appear, they were made before you even arrived, and you needed for nothing.

But it’s been three years. Life went on without a singular moment of contact from him. Now, Price is here, sitting across from you where Alex was just seated minutes ago. It is insulting but also so normal, like it should be him sitting in that seat and no one else.

Everything that happened, everything that occurred, is in the past. Haunting you still but so far removed at this point you rarely glance back at it. At least, it dwelled within a realm where you could extract yourself from the events. Taking them up, you wrapped them together in a bundle, and stored it away for therapy sessions and dark nights when sleep is an elusive friend.

This restaurant is your usual go-to spot with Alex. It’s a safe place. A sanctuary where the two of you can have some alone time. It’s shattered now. Fractured. The past is back. The past is here, and it is staring you in the face.

“Hello, love. It’s been a while.”

Your lungs are popped ballons, the rapidly escaping air slightly loud and unwelcomed. All the words—all the possible sentences—you could say go out with the air, leaving you with a singular name.

“John,” you breathe, the menu falling from the hands to land softly on the table.

Your lips begin forming the semblance of words again, your brain seeking a greater response than just his name. It is like sliding down a rocky incline but everything you grab onto slips from your hands or breaks your nails and fingers, pushing you further and further down into a rapidly sharp decline.

Just as your brain and tongue catch up to each other, Ivan approaches the table. His bland demeanor gives way to furrowed concern.

“Madam,” he addresses, turning fully in your direction, ignoring Price entirely. One of his thick eyebrows rises slightly. “Will the gentleman be joining us?” It’s clear on Ivan’s face that he doesn’t want to ask you that question, but he is retaining his professional appearance even as you sense the disdain for Price and the concern for you.

You glance at John for an answer. He gives the faintest nod. It’s not that Price is saying that he intends to stay, but to give you the choice. Can he stay? Do you even want him to? But you are curious, and even though it has been three goddamn years, your heart still flutters, and your stomach twists with anxious excitement.

“Yes, Ivan. He’s joining me for lunch,” you finally answer, glancing back at Ivan and giving him your best reassuring smile. It’s mostly for your benefit, because frowning or screaming or crying seems wholly inappropriate.

Ivan inclines his head and finally turns to address Price. “The lady is having wine. Will you be partaking?”

You want to curl into a ball under the table. Ivan’s tone has a hint of disbelief in it, like Price won’t take him up on the offer and order something mundane or beneath this fine establishment. At Thirst, Price ordered cigars and whiskey, and while smoking isn’t allowed in the restaurant, they do have plenty of whiskey selections to choose from.

“I will,” replies Price, sitting back in his chair, adjusting his jacket. Ivan’s lips tighten but it’s the only sign of emotion before the man promptly disappears.

Reality sudden comes crashing down around you. Your tongue and brain are one again, and it wants to slice, to sting Price with venom. To draw blood and make him regret not contacting you.

Sitting forward, you lean your elbows on the top of the table. “What are you doing here?”

While you intend to harm, your voice comes out too seething, a hissed sort of whisper that you immediately regret. Yet this whole thing is insane. You haven’t spoken to Price in three years, and now, here he appears like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. He is sitting in Alex’s seat, and he’s so fucking calm it’s nearly maddening.

“I’m here to talk to you,” he replies cooly.

You’re about to reply, to tell Price that you know that, because that’s really fucking obvious. But Ivan is back, pouring Price his glass of wine and then offering him the menu. Price thanks him politely and Ivan disappears again.

“About what?” you sigh, exasperated. Yes, you’re annoyed, but you’re also worried. With a three-year absence, this cannot mean anything good. It means that Price might not even really be here for you. That possibility hurts somewhere deep.

Price glances down at the menu and frowns. “Fucking prices are atrocious,” he murmurs.

“John,” you prompt.

When he glances up from the menu, he smiles softly. His gaze is slightly heated, admiring you openly and clearly. Anyone watching can see that for what it is. For you, it startles, throws you right back to the safehouse, and to that little room at Thirst. It recalls every touch and kiss, and how good Price felt when he was inside you.

“Why are you here?” you manage to choke out, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“Your boyfriend,” replies Price dryly, smile dropping.

“Alex?” Your voice breaks slightly, and you clear your throat. “What about him?”

Price’s head tips slightly, and you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or is genuinely surprised you have to ask. “Is that what you call him?”

“Does that matter to you?” you snap.

Where is this line of questioning going? What does Alex have to do with Price? Why is he here? Clearly, it’s really not for you at all.

“Alexandr Obolensky matters to me.”

“Why?” you ask sharply.

Ivan returns and Price shakes his head subtly. “Are we ready to order?” Ivan is looking at you. It’s more of a “do you need help?” look. A “blink twice and I’ll call Alex” glance.

“You know my usual, Ivan,” you smile softly, trying to put on a show of calm.

Price holds his menu out, and without look at Ivan says, “Steak. Rare.”

Ivan remains passive but you can tell he’s incredibly annoyed. He takes Price’s menu and then yours, disappearing like a ghost.

“Most expensive item?” you chastise.

Price shrugs. “Your boyfriend’s paying.”

“For me,” you correct but this doesn’t appear to faze Price in the slightest. Sighing, you place your hands in your lap, fingers clasped in agitation. “You want to talk about Alex.”

“Don’t want to ask me how I’ve been?” asks Price, trying the wine. His eyebrows rise slightly with surprise before he sets the glass down.

“It’s been three years, John. I didn’t think you’d care.”

His gaze darts up from the wine glass, and all your irritation and resentment slides off your body and to the floor. “I care.” He shifts in his chair. “How are you?”

How are you? As if you could even form a proper response. You are angry, annoyed, delighted, frustrated, confused, anxious, nervous, hopeful, and so many other fucking things it feels like you’re about to explode.

How are you? Ready to faint. Ready to scream. Ready to cry.

How are you?

How are you?

“I’m fine, Captain. Thanks for asking.”

“No,” replies Price, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

“How—”

“You didn’t expect me. You’re not fine.”

Ivan returns again and you want to tell him to stop bothering the two of you. To leave and not return until you and Price have had it out. But you also understand why Ivan keeps appearing. While he’s providing service, he’s also keeping tabs on you. This will get back to Alex. It’s likely Alex already knows.

Bread is brought out. They make it in house and when that delicious yeasty scent reaches your nose, your stomach growls. There are three types of butter. One is a standard salted butter. The second and third—as Ivan points out—are a chili, ginger, and garlic blend while the final option is burnt shallot. Bread and butter service is your favorite part of the entire affair.

And yet, even as your stomach growls, your chest is hot and stiff.

As you reach out to serve yourself, Price is already taking charge, loading the small plate with warm slices of bread and offering you the butter options first.

What is this? Why is he here? What the fuck is he doing?

“I’m sorry I never contacted you,” says Price, his voice dropping slightly to a low murmur. “Laswell said I couldn’t. And I tend to follow orders.” He shrugs. “Not all the time, but in this case, Laswell made a good case not to.”

“And yet you’re here anyway,” you reply, trying to remain calm. “Why? You just want to talk to me about Alex?”

“Alexandr Obolensky is the friend of my enemy. And I need information.”

No. No no no no no.

Fucking no.

You are not going back to this. You are not falling into this trap. Whatever is going on, whatever is happening, you want nothing to do with it.

“I don’t have anything to say, John.”

“What does he do for a living?” asks Price, completely ignoring the fact that you just rejected him.

“I’m sure you already know the answer to that,” you reply dryly, lathering up one of your pieces of bread with the burnt shallot butter. It’s heavenly in your mouth, and for a brief second, you forget how frustrated you are and just enjoy the food.

“But do you know?” Price does the same, chewing slowly on a piece, his attention fixated on you. It’s a bit unnerving how intense he is right now.

“He works for his father’s consulting firm.”

“And?”

“And what?” you shrug, shoving more bread into your mouth so you don’t have to keep talking.

Price leans back in his chair, relaxing entirely. It reminds you of when you walked into the VIP room at Thirst and saw him there, oozing danger and sex.

“Do you know what the client list looks like? Do you know the people that your boyfriend consults?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Like what?” shrugs Price.

You lean forward in your chair. “You have no right to be upset about the fact that I have moved on.”

Price doesn’t seem the least bit angry. He smiles, and you want to scream—or slap the grin right off his face.

He pops another piece of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch him swallow, and then your mind drifts, remembering the way he ran his thumb across his bottom lip after tasting the space between your legs.

“You haven’t moved on,” he says slowly, as if reading your thoughts. “Now, about Alexandr. What does he do?”

“I don’t really ask and Alex doesn’t say much.” Your bread is rapidly depleting and there is nothing left in the bread basket.

“That not suspicious to you?”

“No,” you say, a little too hesitantly.

Price smirks behind the wine glass as he takes a sip. “Are they watching us?”

“Who?”

“The wait staff.”

As discreetly as you can, you take a quick glance around the room. They are watching, but doing so in a way that might look like they’re working.

“I’m sure this will get back to Alex. Happy?”

“Good,” replies Price. “I want him to know I was here.”

“Why are you doing this? You haven’t spoken to me or reached out in the last three years. Why are talking to me now?” You wave you hand dismissively. “And don’t say it’s because of Alex.”

“It’s him.”

“Oh, of cour—”

“The man you’re dating is protecting my enemy,” interjects Price. “I want him to know I’m on to him. And I also want to warn you.”

Warn you? Warn you?

“About what?”

Price lowers his voice. “You think Petrov didn’t figure it out? He did. And he told someone and they told someone else.” His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. “Revenge is a slow game sometimes. You cost someone weapons and money. That’s not forgotten easily.”

The bread and butter in your belly threaten to upend themselves.

Revenge is a slow game sometimes.

The names and faces from before come flashing fast and blinding. Dimitri’s cold stare. Nikola’s blank malevolence. Damien’s unhinged, gnashing teeth as he screamed at everyone to stop talking.

“Why would you say that?” you whisper, nearly inaudible. “Alex—”

“Alex doesn’t love you. He’s helping someone else get rid of their loose ends. And you’re someone’s loose end.”

Ivan appears with the food. You don’t even look at it. You’re too focused on Price. When he disappears again, you stare down it. It’s your favorite thing and yet it’s so unappealing you want to cry.

Glancing up, you turn your heart to steel. “I don’t believe you.”

How can you believe Price? Alex has been nothing but kind, patient, and sincere. He’s never shown any signs of wanting to harm you let along kill you. Alex’s actions don’t match Price’s words, and it is cruel of him to even suggest such a thing.

“I’m not the only one after him,” continues Price. “There are others poking around. Police mostly, but they have no idea they’re poking a monster that will eat them alive. His father’s client list is long. Celebrities. Finance gurus. Cartel. Arms dealers.”

“Stop.”

Price cuts into his steak, scoops up some perfectly fluffy potato. “Alex and his father help people hide things. Laundered money. Ballistic missiles. That’s the consulting.” Price shrugs. “But Alex doesn’t talk about his job. Of course you wouldn’t know.”

“And you think I have information?”

Price swallows another bite of food. “This steak is excellent. Understand the ridiculous price.”

“I want you to leave.”

Price’s gaze flicks to your face and his expression is unreadable. “Maybe Alex does like you. Maybe he’s been kind. Loving.” He sits up slightly and sets his knife and fork down. “But Alex’s duty is to his family and to his country. And you don’t fit, love. He will have to strike you down, and if he doesn’t, someone else will.”

This is a nightmare. A twisted horror only Poe could pull off.

Is everything a lie? You have no reason to completely dismiss Price’s accusation. Truly, Price has only ever been honest with you. At least, in the past. His motivations are unclear here. Maybe he does wish to protect you. Maybe he desires to warn you.

But from Alex? No.

All of it is mangled. Like a wounded animal trapped in barbed wire. You are clinging but it is painful.

“Enjoy your meal, John,” you say softly, almost defeated in your delivery.

You glance away, find Ivan. He is standing nearby near a server station. Maybe it’s the stricken look on your face, or perhaps it’s the eye contact, because Ivan is over in an instant.

“Would you like me to box this up?” he asks, reading your mind.

“Yes,” you nearly choke out. “Please.”

Ivan removes the plate from your sight and promptly disappears. Price looks sad but not surprised. When Ivan returns, he places the to-go back to the right of you at the edge of the table.

“Concerning the bill,” begins Ivan, his gaze starting to pivot from you to Price.

“It’s on me,” replies Price instantly, reaching into the inside of his jacket. Removing his wallet, he removes cash, a solid, thick stack of it, handing it off to Ivan. “Should cover everything plus tip.”

Ivan hesitates before taking it, glancing at you for confirmation. You’re too shocked to respond, and Ivan takes that as acceptance. The cash disappears and Ivan inclines his head before making himself scarce.

“You didn’t—”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” says Price.

He meaning Alex.

The words sit like rocks in your stomach. This is agony. A blade slowly sliding across skin.

“Goodbye, John,” you murmur, standing up from your chair on wobbly legs.

You don’t wait for his farewell. You turn away and march straight to the front door, not looking back, knowing that you might go back to him if you do.

When you make it out of the restaurant, a black SUV with tinted windows idles at the curb. Eric, one of Alex’s bodyguards stands next to the vehicle, hands clasped in front of him. As your gaze locks with his, Eric turns and opens the back passenger door of the sedan.

“Mr. Obolensky asked us to see you home.”

“Thank you, Eric,” you reply, sliding into the back.

Someone from the restaurant must have contacted Alex and told him that you were having lunch with an unexpected guest. A small swirl of anxiety mixes with the heaviness, but you also know yourself. If you’re proactive about this, you and Alex won’t have a disagreement or even an argument about this. There is no reason for you to hide anything.

Alex’s other bodyguard, Rick, is in the driver seat. Rick and Eric are always together. They’re a pair. Alex has an entire team of personal security, which has always seemed odd to you. But someone like him who deals with high-profile clients needs protection.

Right?

Or is it because of what Price said? Does Alex work with and for people who make it a lifelong ambition to harm others? Is that who you’re dating?

Eric opens the front passenger door and hops inside, his massive frame shaking the SUV slightly as he does so. Once the door is shut, Rick is pulling the car into traffic. Twitching nervously, you decide to take control of the situation.

Fishing out your phone, you type out a text to Alex.

A man stopped by after you left. Starting asking me questions about you. I didn’t say anything but he said things that upset me. Can we talk? Call me.

The text is a half-truth and a half-lie. You know Price. You’ve had sex with Price. But Alex doesn’t need to know all those details. You can step around it, push how uncomfortable you were, mention what Price said, and leave it at that. Move it all into Alex’s corner.

Rick and Eric deliver you to your apartment as promised. Eric even escorts you, not leaving until you’re inside and locked the door behind you. That only unnerves your further. Makes you question everything.

Maybe Price is right. Maybe you’re dating a monster.

In the kitchen, you empty the bag and almost cry. Ivan packaged your food, but he also added a massive slice of their house chocolate cake and more of their bread and flavored butters. It’s like he knew, and you’re eternally grateful.

The next few hours, you pace, eventually finding the stomach to consume your food minus the cake. Belly full, you lounge on the couch, promptly falling asleep. Not realizing you have, it’s a pounding at the door that wakes you.

Slowly, you sit up, watching the front door. Waiting.

The pounding comes again, and this time you go on silent feet. Through the peephole, you see two officers loitering the hall. Price said there were lots of people looking into Alex and the police were just one group.

But you don’t answer. You watch until they give up and leave. In moments you’re checking your phone, finding no texts or calls from Alex.

“Fuck,” you murmur.

Typing out another message, you tell him the police came knocking. You ask him what the fuck is going on and that he needs to call you immediately.

Sighing, you take your phone to the kitchen, plugging it in. A shower is what you need. A hot, steamy shower that you simply stand under and enjoy.

The shower does ease the tension in your muscles but it doesn’t remove the rocks in your belly or the heat in your chest. It all stays. Lingers like garlic on your fingers after you’ve cut it and washed your hands.

After shower, you try the chocolate cake. With fork in hand, you head back to the bedroom, and come to a complete stop in front of the doorway.

The light is off.

Funny. It was just on when you left to grab the cake. You know it was on because you intended to come right back and lay in bed. Eat chocolate cake and watch trashy reality television. Caution keeps you alert. Holding the cake in one hand, you reach into the dark with the other, seeking out the light switch on the wall.

Finding it, you flip it.

Nothing.

You flip it again. Still nothing.

You try a few more times, and still, nothing.

Backing away, you retreat down the hall and into your living room. The darkness of the bedroom doorway lengthens, becomes ominous. This is not a horror movie. There are no creatures waiting in the dark, hungry and vicious and cruel.

Clutching the sides of the plate with both hands, you take a calming breath. But there is no returning quietness. You sense eyes on you. You sense a hunter.

You glance to the left and immediately freeze, coldness creeping in.

A shadow of a man looms on the other side of your couch. He stands between it and the coffee table. He is hulking. Huge. Wearing all black. The balaclava he wears covers everything but his eyes and mouth.

The sharp click of a lock engaging snaps your attention to the right. At your front door is another hulking shadow. Nearly identical to the first.

The only point of escape is the front door. But it’s blocked. Your balcony won’t help you. Your apartment is far too high to survive a jump. Fighting is all you have. Fighting and surviving and evading.

That is all you have.

Slowly, you pivot the metal fork, working it within your hand until you wield it like a weapon. The masked men crouch slightly, each of them poised for the moment everything snaps, for everything to slow and then suddenly quicken.

You need to draw the one near the door out. He needs to move enough for you to try and get into the hall. From there, you go stairs, not elevator. And you run.

But you are not trained for this sort of thing.

Whatever confidence that suddenly blooms within your chest diminishes instantly the moment the two men begin to move. Instead of running, your limbs freeze, betraying you completely. It is a slap in the face. A gut-punch to the stomach.

When your body does catch up—when it realizes danger is right there in front of it—that is when it finally fucking moves. But you propel yourself forward, running toward the bedroom, intending to barricade behind the door.

The masked man in the living room leaps over the sofa and you bolt. He dives, and you step out of his path, bringing the plate down on his face. It shatters, and the gorgeous cake you were so eager to enjoy squishes over the eye holes of the balaclava.

His companion is unharmed and persistent. Snagging your hair, he yanks you back, but you still have one tool.

Slashing out, the tips of the fork slice at him. He flinches, perhaps believing it’s something much worse, but quickly recovers, bashing against the walls of the hallway as he tries to get to you.

The darkness of the bedroom is right there. It is so close.

And then it all flattens. Becomes a pit. An endless abyss of intruders.

Another shadow appears.

Another large man stepping out from the dark.

Your feet slide against the carpet. Tipping. You’re tipping. Falling. The floor coming up fast.

Going down hard, all the air is punched from your lungs. The fork goes flying.

This is it. This is the end.

Your reach for the silverware just as the second intruder grabs hold of your arms, twisting them back sharply.

You cry out, and then warm liquid sprays over your face.

Hands go limp. Go loose. Fall away.

There is red on the wall. Red on the floor. Red pooling beneath your bent elbows.

The man holding you tips back, and his companion, the one in the living room is suddenly backtracking, pulling his weapon.

Too late. Too late too late too late.

There is a muffled pop followed by another.

His body jerks. Goes down. Crumples.

Time hangs. Your ears are ringing and everything is funneling into a narrow tunnel. But there are hands. Warm ones. Rough ones. Ones that slide around your body and pull you from the floor.

With all your weight, you throw yourself against them, fists clenched. Teeth bared.

But you find eyes that you know. A face you recognize.

“John.”

He smiles sadly, one hand brushing your hair out of your face. His gaze roams, seeking and searching, looking for wounds.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “No.”

He releases a shaky sigh, then pulls you closer. Price’s gaze moves to a spot above your head and down the hall. You follow it and immediately press yourself closer into his chest, fingers digging into the front of his zipped jacket.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, slowly untangling himself.

On instinct, you reach for him, whimpering with the lose his protection. Price kneels next to the first body. He yanks off the man’s balaclava. Frowning, Price grabs the back of the man’s black jacket, hauling him up enough for you to see his face.

“Know him?”

Eric’s limp stare greets you. Turning abruptly, you gag, nearly unleash your stomach contents onto the carpeted floor. Distantly, you hear Price’s voice, but you hardly care. Sweat runs down the back of your neck and your limbs are seizing up.

“Stay with me.” Price’s hands return to you, bringing you back into his arms. “Look at me.”

There is wetness on your cheeks, but you don’t know if what you feel are tears or Eric’s blood.

“You came,” you whisper.

“Always. I’ll always come for you.”

His thumbs rub the wetness from your cheeks and you’re not brave enough to check Price’s hand for red. Leaving you on the floor, Price returns to Eric, digging around in the man’s pockets. Finding his phone, Price holds it up and lifts Eric up again.

He watches the screen and then nods, dropping Eric to stare at the now open phone’s screen. Tapping away at it, Price returns to your place on the floor, kneeling next to you. He hesitates, gaze flicking from the screen to your face to the screen again.

“Show me,” you beg, voice hoarse.

“Sure, love?”

All you do is nod, because doing more might be too much.

Price turns the screen around to face you.

It’s Eric’s messages. The one currently opened and staring back at you is from Alexi.

Finish the order. Return when done.

Your gaze draws upward, locks on Price.

“We should go,” he says, but your limbs are noodles. You’re not getting up from this floor on your own.

As if knowing this, Price wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide yours around his neck. He lifts you effortlessly, taking you into the bathroom, turning on the shower and depositing you inside. It doesn’t matter that some of the water hits Price. He helps you out of your clothes anyway.

He stays in the bathroom until you’re standing without your knees shaking. Only then does he leave, returning with a change of clothes from your closet. Price is tender and careful in the way he helps you.

There is nothing sexual about it. It’s just trust and a genuine need to take care of you that drives him. You see it in every action and glance. His gaze does not linger on the intimate parts of you. His only concern is your health and safety.

Alex would never.

Fingers intertwined, Price guides you out into the hall and past Eric’s limp corpse. You don’t look down, and you don’t dare glance at the second body, choosing to stare at Price’s back as he escorts you to the front door.

His hand in on the lock. Then the handle. Then it’s opening, the outside light pouring in.

You don’t look back.

You don’t dare.

Ahead is Price, and that is all you cling to.

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[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 55)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (49) & Alexia Putellas x Character (15)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**3.7k | All Alexia's POV | mentions of Jordan and Leah**))

Alexia had been wondering how she was on the plane. Why she was on the plane. Why she would possibly go to London. And then Ridley arrived and deep down Alexia didn’t want to admit it was because of her.

Her, Alexia Putellas Segura, Captain of Spain and Barcelona. World Cup winner. Ballon d’Or winner. All of the awards and accolades you could think of. Known for her dominance, her resilience, her unbridled passion and need to prove that she is one of the best. To push herself.

Somehow undone by the woman whose eyes were locked on her own. None of it made sense.

None of it.

Except that it did.

Jordan’s hand tightening around hers was the only thing that snapped her from her own mind.

“Is that Ridley?” Jordan asked, leaning over to see.

Ridley was talking to a flight attendant and out of politeness, turned her attention to him as they shared a hug and a short exchange. She really did know everybody.

When they were finished, she put her work bag on the ground and stepped forward to better see the foursome.

“I heard we had trouble in the front row.”

Blau rolled her eyes. “Riddles, what did you do?”

“And here I was thinking you’d be happy to see me, baby.” She squatted down and readjusted Blau’s straight, braced leg on her reclined chair. “Job came in last minute. I don’t need to fly, just a routine flight review so I thought, why not? Better?”

“Yeah, thanks. And how fortuitous.”

“What can I say? I’m a lucky gal.”

She stood in the aisle between them and that woody, spicy musk sent a warm, welcome shiver down Alexia’s spine.

“You’re lucky you made it in time.” Lucy teased.

“Firstly, where’s the excitement? Hi, Ridley! Nice to see you! Secondly, this assignment was last minute-”

“-you decide the assignments.” Blau cut off.

“And thirdly, I am not late. We’re waiting for our departure slot and I was using that time to get you all a surprise.”

“Is the surprise supposed to be you?” Jordan asked and Ridley tutted at her.

“You’re my next Voodoo doll, Nobbs.”

Alexia enjoyed the sight of everybody ganging up on her.

“Where’s Chiquito?”

“Making friends with Narla, I presume.”

“Where’s the surprise?” Lucy asked, earning her a slap but she persisted.

“Are we safe on this thing?” Jordan asked.

She looked over at Alexia and their eyes met before Ridley spotted her and Jordan holding hands. She raised an eyebrow, obviously amused.

“Yes, you are safe Nobbs. But I’m sure Alexia won’t mind holding your hand all flight.”

“I feel a lot safer with you here, actually.” Alexia felt Jordan’s hand ease its pressure on her own. “Can I try on your hat?”

Ridley audibly groaned. “No surprise for you all, then. The cabin crew can have them.”

Lucy perked up. “Was it food?”

Blau and Alexia exchanged an eye roll of a look that Alexia enjoyed. Of course that would excite Lucy.

“Perhaps. Regardless, offer rescinded.”

Lucy huffed and sat back in her seat with a pout, Blau lacing fingers with her with a grin.

“I’m off to see my victims for the day. Blue, call me if you need me.”

“Yes, mum.”

Ridley walked away and grabbed her bag, again talking to the flight attendant and handing him a few things. Both Alexia and Blau found themselves leaning into the aisle to try and see what, but Ridley spun and winked, knowing they’d be curious, and they didn’t catch a glimpse.

She understood what Jordan meant. She also felt a lot safer knowing that Ridley was there.

It was only a few minutes later when another announcement came through.

“Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Captain speaking. We now have a departure slot, and our chief pilot onboard with us. We will be starting up and pushing back in just over five minutes time. Again, apologies for the delay and cabin crew arm doors and cross-check.”

“Fucking ridiculous!” Alexia heard a man’s voice grunt in Catalan. She turned to see him up out of his seat and complaining to one of the flight attendants.

“Sir, please sit back down. We’re starting up soon.”

“I’ve never had a problem with this company before until today when we have a female first officer flying.”

“First officer Rivera is a very skilled pilo-”

“I don’t care, I want the man to fly. Go tell him.”

Alexia couldn’t believe it. But she also could. She’d been around sexism her whole life.

The cabin crew were unable to calm the man down and eventually one sighed and made their way to the flight deck. The man pushed his way up into first class and huffed impatiently.

To Alexia’s surprise, the female pilot came out instead of the Captain. She tried to reason with him in Catalan, but he seemed to just be offended by the fact that they’d sent a woman out.

“Just go get me that chief pilot of yours. The fighter pilot. He’ll be able to fly the fucking thing.”

Obviously the man hadn’t seen that Ridley was in fact, a female. To her credit, the first officer persisted politely.  Alexia was turned and watching the conversation, about to jump in when Ridley arrived and lightly tapped the woman’s shoulder, encouraging her to go back to the flight deck. She looked relieved but a little nervous.

Ridley leant in with a supportive smile. “It’s okay, this isn’t a part of your flight review. Head back and run your checklists.”

Ridley watched her go, and Alexia felt a little pang of jealousy as she did so. She turned back and stepped forward towards the man, her hip level with Alexia’s seat. She held a strong stance, arms behind her straight back, feet spread, and Alexia couldn’t help but notice the muscles through her white shirt. God, she looked good in a black tie. So good she could feel herself getting a little excit-

Jordan let go of her hand and spun as the man started attacking her in Catalan. Alexia knew she wasn’t as confident in the language and her heart strings pulled as she also turned to watch.

Ridley put one hand up in a gesture.

“Sir, I admit my Catalan is not good as yours so please, slow down, or choose another language. Spanish perhaps?”

She was doing so well to keep up with his quick speech and Alexia had to bite her tongue to not get involved.

He scoffed and continued to speak in Catalan. “You’re not even Spanish. Where is the chief pilot? Who are you?”

“I am the chief pilot. I’m not sure if you’re aware but women have been flying planes for a very long time. We’re as qualified and even more gentle on landings in my honest opinion.”

“You? A fighter pilot?”

“That’s correct.”

“When?”

“2011 to 2019.”

Over eight years…

“Where?”

“Australia.”

“You’re not even Spanish!”

“I will take the compliment that you didn’t recognise my accent.”

He grunted frustratedly. He was a man not getting his way. He could push and push but Ridley was a brick wall. Alexia saw her good hand bunching up tightly behind her back to nullify some of her anger.

“I don’t want a woman flying the plane. Tell the Captain to.”

“Unfortunately, her job is to fly. His is to monitor. Mine is to assess.”

“Well fucking change it.”

“That will not be happening today.”

She’d never seen Ridley like this before. So… diplomatic. This was career Ridley.

The man let loose a jumble of Catalan at her that even Alexia struggled to understand. His hands flew up in anger, his voice attracting attention.

Alexia couldn't take it anymore. She moved to stand and felt Ridley’s fingertips softly grip the flesh of her upper arm as if she were telling her to stop. As if she knew what she was about to do. It was her broken hand so only a few fingers were actually holding her, but it still calmed her. She relaxed into her seat and Ridley’s grip remained on her.

She looked at the messages written on her cast, including the one from Alexia.

Some things can’t be replaced, she’d written.

She’d been referring to her relationship with Blau, and Ridley had known that immediately. She’d said that to her the night in the bar when she returned her dad’s bracelet to her. She’d also said it when she’d returned the teddy she’d received from a young fan. Both she’d retrieved with violence. And both times she’d given her belongings back with the utmost gentleness.

Alexia had also drawn two flowers on her cast to make it look pretty. Ridley had been patient and her little smile was approval enough that she liked them.

“Stop. Now. You have two options right now, and only two.”

The man immediately shut up as he listened. Anybody would have with the command dominating her voice.

“You either sit back down and accept that a female will in fact be flying this planes, or you can do anything but, and I have you off-boarded, fined, and banned from this airline for lifetime, and from all aircraft for six months.”

She could no longer see the man but she could hear his mouth open and close.

“You have five seconds to decide. Make your choice.”

Alexia counted to five in her head and as soon as they were up, she spoke.

“Good choice. Now do not cause a disturbance again or you and I will have issue. My offer of ban you still stands until we land.”

She heard the man skulk away and Ridley stood watching him as he went.

“Any more issues, notify me immediately,” she murmured in Spanish one of the flight attendants. Ridley stepped back and only then did she release Alexia’s arm and she immediately wanted her touch to return. She craved it. Even in the alleyway as she’d squeezed her throat with her broken hand; tight enough so she couldn’t breathe but it had excited her more than any foreplay ever had. She’d not wanted her to let go then either, and yet she had.

Ridley squatted down near Alexia and gave her typical Ridley smirk.

“Did you plan on fighting him with words or fists, la Reina?” She asked in Spanish.

“I had a few things I wanted to say… besides, you’re the fighter here.”

“Perhaps you can tell me what those things are later. And I’d be more than happy to teach you…” She looked her up and down. “You’re fit enough. And we can protect your knee.”

We? Alexia felt hot all over. Teach her to fight? Thoughts of a sweaty, cocky Ridley were a turn on that made her have to collect herself before she spoke.

“Perhaps.”

“You still have your favour.”

“Something tells me you’d teach me without me using my favour.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up. Alexia could be cocky too. She tilted her head to study her, more than aware that the trio were in hearing range though trying to give them space. The fact that they wouldn’t understand the language made her want to keep flirting shamelessly. “Would you like to jump seat the take-off?”

“Jump seat?”

“In the flight deck with me.”

She turned to Jordan and spoke English. “Are you okay alone for take off?”

She pulled her headphones down. “Alone?”

“Lucy can sit with her,” Blau suggested.

“No, it’s okay. Stay with YFN, Luce, she needs you.” She turned back to Alexia. “I’ll be okay now that I know who’s up front.”

“Okay…”

Ridley stood and before Alexia could move, she’d leant forward to unclip her seatbelt and give her a smile.

“Right this way, la Reina.”

Blau gave her a wink as she went and Lucy looked disappointed that she’d missed out. Her attention quickly turned to Blau though as they leant their heads together, fingers tangled.

Alexia followed Ridley to the flight deck and couldn’t help studying her strong back through her shirt. She was taller than Alexia but not by much, just a few centimetres. With her demeanour though, it felt like much more.

The cabin crew gave her a smile as they passed by and entered the flight deck. It was both larger than she imagined and also more cramped at the same time.

“Friends, we have a guest joining us for take-off.”

They both turned and gave a hello, both grinning wide as they realised it was Alexia. She knew they’d ask for her autograph or photo but as of right now, they were being professional as they turned back to their checklists. Alexia and Ridley were standing so close due to there being not much room to stand in the doorway. Ridley smirked as she leant even closer, her musky, warm scent overwhelming Alexia and her eyes deep and the perfect proximity for her to fall into and just when she thought she’d kiss her… Ridley snapped the lock on the door beside them and pulled back. Cheeky.

Alexia mentally yelled to pull herself together. She was normally dominant. What was happening? It didn’t last long as Ridley’s hand found her hips and gently manoeuvred Alexia closer to the pilots as she folded down her jump seat and gestured to it.

Alexia sat and Ridley made quick work of her four-point harness, somehow easily even with her broken hand. Her dark, shaggy bob fell down and hid the cheek and sharp jawline Alexia was admiring as she leant over her. Ridley made sure to turn her head and catch her eye as she pulled it tight like it were bondage. Alexia gasped as the suddenness and Ridley enjoyed it.

The pilots were busy reading their checklists out loud when Ridley gently tucked Alexia’s blonde hair behind each of her ears simultaneously. She was right in front of her. Concentrating on her hair and not undressing her with her eyes. Just being gentle and attentive like she always was. She was so close. Alexia felt herself leaning forwards… and then the four point harness stopped her.

Ridley noticed and caught her eye, tutting at her.

“Now, now, la Reina. Are you going to behave?”

Alexia was well aware her breathing was ragged and so she didn’t speak, just nodded.

“Good girl.”

Those words did something to her.

Ridley took the headset off its hook and placed it over her ears, adjusting it until it was perfect and then pushing the microphone so close it touched her lips. Ridley’s thumb softly brushed over Alexia’s bottom lip as she did so and Alexia could feel her nipples harden. Her body was already hers.

Ridley leant back and gave a thumbs up as a question. Alexia responded with a thumbs up and Ridley sat back in her own jump seat, strapping herself in the same way. She heard the engines starting up as the pilots ran through their next checklist. Ridley put her headphones on and did a radio check.

“Scale of one to five, how well can you hear me?” Ridley spoke in English.

“Five.”

“Good. Same here. Now keep the microphone on your lips so we can hear you.”

She took out a clipboard and opened it, starting to write. When the checklist was complete, she spoke.

“Time for introductions. Alexia, this is Jon, and Bella. Jon, Bella, this is Alexia. You may know her from being the greatest female footballer who ever lived.”

“You know each other?” Bella asked.

“We do,” Alexia admitted.

“Are you okay for a photo after we’re cruising?” Jon asked.

Alexia agreed.

“Okay, quick run through from me, team, so we’re all on the same page. English only in the flight deck to avoid confusion. Alexia will be jump seating the take-off but not the landing for flight review purposes of course. I’ve already debriefed you two on the requirements for today. Just fly as per normal, do your checklists and make your decisions as you usually would. This isn’t a pass or fail, it’s a standard I make sure we’re meeting to ensure safety, conformity and if any improvements are needed.” She grinned. “Which they always are. Nothing will be perfect, and that’s okay.”

She turned to Alexia. “Alexia we have what’s known as a ‘sterile flight deck’ up to six thousand feet, which is our transition level. This means no unnecessary speaking unless it relates to the flight operations. For you and I, we won’t be speaking at all. I’ll let you know when it’s over and you may speak but only in English to avoid confusion. Aviation is an English-based profession. Until then you will be able to hear everything, and if you need me, just give me a shove. Happy?”

Alexia nodded. In control, Ridley. She loved it. Melted for it. And she knew she’d dream about it, and perhaps… no… definitely touch herself over it.

Ridley turned to Jon and Bella.

“Everybody else happy?”

They agreed as they went back to another checklist.

Alexia was overwhelmed by the flight deck. The amount of switches and dials were completely unbelievable, even reaching up over their heads. The panels were backlit with a beautiful green and she couldn’t help but watch everything they did. Everything they said. It was all in English, but she kept up well enough.

They established ‘push-back approval’ and a little tug came to push them backwards. She didn’t understand all of what ‘ATC’ were saying because it was so quick, but she got the gist of it as they worked. They taxied as instructed via certain phonetic alphabet letters and Ridley was patiently watching, every so often noting something down.

She got excited as they entered and lined up on the runway. There was something about it just so… magical. Defiant of all physics, it seemed. Suddenly kicking a ball felt so simple.

They received their take-off clearance for ‘OKABI ONE ROMEO’ and Alexia gripped her seatbelt as they were about to set thrust.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Bella was flying, but it was Jon who pushed up the thrust levers. He pushed them half way, paused and then almost fully to the top.

“TOGA.”

“TOGA set.”

The increased speed quickly as they barrelled down the runway. She glanced at Ridley who looked calm, as if she’d done this a thousand times.

“80."

“Checked.”

“V1.” He said as he removed his hand from the thrust levers. “Rotate.”

Bella pulled back and they were suddenly climbing, all of the bumps from the runway disappearing to smooth air.

“Positive rate.”

“Gear up.”

“Gear up.” He repeated and selected the gear lever up.

Their detailed take-off continued, Ridley occasionally writing but mostly watching. They set autopilot to follow their flight route and suddenly she realised that it was one of the most exciting things she’d ever seen. And Ridley got to do it whenever she pleased. She couldn’t imagine the hard work it must have taken to get there.

As they passed their six-thousand feet ‘transition level’, Bella called “Transition” and Ridley finally spoke.

“Sterile flight deck ceased. Excellent departure, as always.”

They gave their thanks. “Okabi one ROMEO, hey?” Jon flashed a smile at Ridley.

Ridley rolled her eyes and said sarcastically. “Oh, what a coincidence.”

Still grinning, he turned back to fiddle around with a few more items.

“Romeo?” Alexia asked.

“My call sign from the air force.”

“Because your name starts with R? Phonetic alphabet?”

“Cute that you know that… and sure… let’s just say it’s because of that.”

Only then did Alexia realise it was probably because of her ability to chat people up. That twang of jealousy hit again as Ridley spoke. “Thoughts?”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “It was magical.”

“I’ll have to take you for a flight one day. Teach you how to fly a plane.”

“Really?”

“Why not? You looked excited for the entire take-off sequence.”

She didn’t realise Ridley had been watching her. She’d been so focussed on the take-off. “Did I…?”

“Your expressions betray you, la Reina. Shall we take a selfie and get you back to your seat? Let’s hope Nobbs is still okay.”

Alexia and Ridley took a selfie with the crew and she signed autographs for them before they left. There was another close but not unwelcome moment as Ridley reached for the door, their bodies brushing together.

As she returned to her seat, Ridley made sure Jordan was okay, and that Blau was comfortable before she left them again, Alexia watching as she went. The food service was quick, but they’d all had a small breakfast already and had agreed to not eat as they planned on having lunch together in London. Lucy was grumbling, obviously hungry and Blau did well to distract her with affection and promises of a lot of food and… condiments if Alexia had heard right.

Regardless of them not eating food, something was brought around to each of them. They were all confused as the flight attendants put their tray tables down and placed the little bowl in front of them.

She smiled when she saw what it was. Crema catalana. Like the one she and Ridley had shared in Valencia. She stared at it with a smile on her face and just as she went to take her first bite she heard Lucy.

“Argh, that was amazing.”

She looked over. She was already finished. Alexia shared a look with Blau and they chuckled.

“What am I going to do with you?” Blau asked.

“Are you done already?!” Jordan asked, shocked.

“This shouldn’t be a shock to you, Dory. Her hunger is never satiated.”

“Which hunger are you referring to, little one?” Lucy teased as she leant in for a small, soft kiss.

“Walking bruise, Luce.”

“Oh, I’m not touching you until you’re whole again.”

“Would you like to bet on that?” Now it was Blau’s turn to tease. “Because I’m very persuasive…”

Lucy groaned. Jordan made a sick sound.

“Keep it to yourselves, lovebirds.”

Blau chuckled and turned to Jordan. “Soooo is she coming to lunch?”

“I think so...”

“I’d bet on it.”

Alexia watched the conversation over her like a tennis match. “Who comes?”

“Leah.”

“Williamson?”

“Yeah.”

Ah, the England Captain. Alexia had met her before at events. She knew of her relationship history with Jordan and Lucy had filled her in on them trying to find a way to work towards each other again. It sounded cute. And their lunch seemed to be expanding.

“Is Ridley coming?” Jordan asked.

“Unsure… need to ask.” Blau admitted.

Watching Jordan’s face soften as she mentioned Leah, and also Blau and Lucy cuddling up as close as they could get without further injury, Alexia found that she was relaxing around this group of people. So much so, that she was ready to admit why she was on a plane to London. It was because of the little, warm group around her.

And also, it was because of Ridley.

[bkdk-art]

Not Like Everyone Else

Summary: Izuku is leaving for six months for a research stay and both Izuku and Katsuki are bad at saying their goodbyes like normal people.

Fandom: My Hero Academia / Boku no hero academia

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Class 1A, All Might

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku

Word Count: 4,800

Rating: General / Teen

AO3-Link

Notes: Takes place after chapter 430 (canon compliant)

_______________________________

Izuku let out a deep breath while looking at his boarding ticket.

It’s starting!, he thought, excitement, curiosity and a little bit of fear rushing through him.

Izuku was a college student by now, aiming to become a teacher at UA and he had applied for a research stay overseas and got approved!

So that’s why he was now marching towards the security check after dropping off his luggage and seeing his mother off. She had drove him to the airport, even though she had to hurry back into town for her shift.

“Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll be gone for only six months”, he had said, not wanting her to overwork herself. But he was happy they got the drive here as a last bit of quality time though.

Those six months would be over in no time, he was sure, but he was still going to miss her. Her and all his friends.

He had originally planned for a small farewell-party the other day but most of his friends had been out of town or were working, so he had canceled it.

Izuku twisted his mouth thinking about this, a sting in his chest making him realize how disappointed he was after all that the get together hadn’t happened, even though he had tried to convince himself he was okay with it.

A certain face, framed by spiky blond hair came into his mind and Izuku shook his head, trying to snap out of these depressing thoughts.

He would be fine!

He would fly to the US, have the greatest abroad stay ever, spend some time with Melissa and David Shield and when he’d be back, he’d be able to have all sort of parties and gatherings with the people he treasured and-

Izuku stopped in his ways, mouth falling open, almost letting go of his ticket.

“See you soon!”, a crowd of people called out, grinning at him, waving around a Have-a-nice-flight-banner und a few ballons.

Izuku scanned the group of people, holding back from rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“G-Guys”, he eventually let out, looking at his friends and former classmates from UA, at All Might and some of his new college friends. And, of course, tears welled up in his eyes.

“No!”, Uraraka laughed, stepping closer to hug him, “We’re here to make you laugh!”

“That’s right!”, Iida agreed, also wrapping an arm around Izuku’s shoulder.

Izuku nodded, huffing out a laugh. “Those are happy tears, I’m promise”, he said, looking up to All Might who had also come closer.

“Young Midoriya, I’m happy for you that you got this opportunity”, he placed a gentle hand on Izuku’s head, “But if I’m allowed to say this – I’m already looking forward to having you back home.”

Yep, the tears weren’t going to stop any time soon.

Izuku nodded to show his gratitude, squeezing his eyes shot.

His current travel plans to the US weren’t exactly the path of following into All Might’s footsteps as Izuku had originally imagined it but it still filled him with pride to do some things the way his idol had done, even if it wouldn’t be classic hero work.

“Do you need a tissue?”, Todoroki appeared next to him, offering him a few tissues.

“Thank you”, Izuku took them with a small laugh, suppressing a hiccup with the weirdest sound which made everyone burst out into laughter.

“Oh guys”, Izuku said, “Thank you for being here, it means so, so much!”

“Of course!”, one of his friends from college called out, “Sorry for acting like we ditched you. Were you sad?”, her smiling face turned more into an expression of bad conscience.

“Well”, Izuku shrugged a little, not looking at them, “Kinda.”

Everyone let out a loud “Aww!”, followed by a huge stream of apologizes.

“Group hug!”, Kirishima threw his arms up in the air and everyone else did the same, pressing closer to Izuku. The greenhead let out a content sigh, melting into the arms of his friends, feeling totally warmed up at their gesture.

When they parted after a few moments, different conversations started to form and Izuku hopped from one group to another, thanking each and every one of them while also saying his goodbye.

Looking at his watch, Izuku realized it was time to get to the security check.

Even though he knew the result Izuku looked around one more time, biting down on his bottom lip.

“He said, he wouldn’t make it”, Mina appeared next to him and patted his arm, giving him a small smile, “Sorry, greenbean.”

“Ah, no, I was just, I mean- I only wanted to, like-“, Izuku interrupted himself with a big sigh, knowing damn well he had already given himself away with his messy stuttering.

Mina’s smile grew even more sympathetic and Izuku had to look away.

He was genuinely surprised Katsuki wasn’t there. Not on any occasion throughout the last week and not even now, when almost every other person they knew was here.

They had grown very close over the last years and more importantly stayed close, even after graduating from UA and starting separate carrier paths. They were messaging almost every day, keeping each other up to date about studies, training, their friends and all sorts of topics. They went out to grab dinner or watch a movie every week, keeping an eye on each other since no one else seemed to be able to read those fine nuances when one of them started to spiral or overwork themselves and be able to step in.

Izuku considered Katsuki to be his closest person.

Because all of the above and because Izuku had realized he loved the hotheaded blond, not only as a childhood friend but also romantically.

So, saying Izuku felt heartbroken over the fact that Katsuki hadn’t said a proper goodbye apart from a short text yesterday, was an immense understatement.

“It’s fine”, Izuku said now when he realized he hadn’t responded to Mina for a while. The look on her face showed him that she wasn’t buying his lie.

But… what was he supposed to do? Start crying because Katsuki was ditching him? When they were about to be separated for half a year?

Oh no, Izuku felt a knot forming in his throat, Don’t phrase it that way, it hurts even more.

“Deku-kun”, Uraraka approached him, looking at her phone, “I think you have to go.”

“Yes!”, he said with a hoarse voice, “Thank you, guys, I appreciate it SO much! When I’m back I’m inviting you to a get together at my place!”

“Only if you find a new place by then since we won’t fit into your apartment”, a friend from college joked, making everyone laugh.

“Maybe you can take turns”, Izuku grinned back, turning towards the security line and waving at them.

Watching as they all gave him heartfelt waves back, wishing him a safe flight and a great time, filled Izuku with so much joy, he almost broke down in tears again.

To not dehydrate himself too much, he called out a last “See ya!” and walked into the security area.

~~~

“Oh no, don’t worry”, Izuku smiled, waving his hands around, reassuring a young fan, “It’s my pleasure.”

Izuku was giving an autograph and was posing for fan photo for at least the 30th time since he had arrived at his gate, waiting for the boarding to start.

And it really was a pleasure but if he was being honest, it started to get kind of tiring. Having almost the exact same conversation every time, all over again, and wearing this big smile on his face, which was starting to ache and all that admiration for something he had been but would never be able to return to – it was too bittersweet to bear for too long.

Izuku was fine with how his life had played out. He really was.

Sure, he was sad about not being able to become a pro hero and about not being able to chase after his classmates and colleagues and about not being able to rescue people in that traditional heroic way. After all, it had been his big dream and even though he was eternally grateful for three years at UA, he still wished the time could have been a little bit longer. Just a tiny little bit.

But he didn’t regret any of his decisions. So he was fine.

When the last person in line hopped away from him, holding their autograph like a trophy, Izuku sat down with a soft smile.

It was his life, not matter the circumstances. And he intended to live it.

I’m fine, he told himself, I’m allowed to mourn the things I lost, that doesn’t make me ungrateful. But in general, I’m fine, he sighed, remembering why his chest was throbbing, Even though lovesick, I’m okay.

Izuku rubbed his forehead, trying to think about something else. Since it didn’t work, he grabbed his notebook and started to write down some thoughts about Uraraka’s plan to start a quirk control counseling. It was a great concept and Izuku had so many ideas.

While writing and scribbling Izuku suddenly caught a glimpse in the corner of his eyes and snapped his head to the side.

He would recognize that silhouette anywhere in the world.

“Kacchan”, he heard himself mumble, feeling himself getting up from his seat, putting the notebook aside.

The gates were running parallel to the check in-area and security points, just a thick wall of security glass separating them. So Izuku could see the other side.

And on the other side, on a bench by an airport café, Bakugou Katsuki AKA Dynamight was currently trying to get some fans to leave him alone.

Izuku grabbed his phone, dialed Katsuki’s number and held it to his ear, all without leaving the blond out of sight as if he might disappear as soon as he looked away.

Please be real, he pleaded.

He watched as Katsuki waved those people off with an eye roll, fishing his phone out of his pocket. When he saw the screen, Katsuki’s eyes wandered to Izuku.

The greenhead could see how Katsuki’s red eyes grew big when they met Izuku’s, only now realizing that he had been spotted.

Izuku took one step after another towards the security glass, getting as close to Katsuki as he was allowed to from that side and he prayed Katsuki would do the same.

Izuku almost gasped when Katsuki got up and did exactly that. With every inch the blond was coming closer, Izuku’s heart started pounding heavier.

The ongoing sound of Izuku’s phone call, still ringing in his ears, almost drowned out his pounding heartbeat.

When Katsuki stopped in front of Izuku, they shared a deep look. Without breaking the eye contact, Katsuki finally picked up Izuku’s call and brought his phone to his ear.

“Hey, nerd”, Katsuki’s voice sounded casual even though Izuku couldn’t see any of that sentiment on the blond’s face. It looked quite tense actually.

“The delay of voice is weird”, Izuku responded.

“Ha”, Katsuki’s mouth made the sound before it reached Izuku’s ear through the phone, “You’re right.”

A moment of silence went by and even though Izuku was nervous he decided he didn’t want to hold back, just as Katsuki always demanded from him: “You could’ve avoided that if you would’ve been there earlier, with the others. Or any other evening before today.”

He watched as Katsuki lowered his gaze, twisting his mouth.

“Why weren’t you?”, Izuku added, because he didn’t want this to come across solely as an accuse. He genuinely wanted to know.

Katsuki looked to the side before locking eyes with Izuku again.

“You know I don’t know how to do this cheesy stuff.”

Izuku huffed. “Saying goodbye is cheesy stuff to you?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue but couldn’t hide a small smile, “You know what I mean.”

At that Izuku shrugged, lightly shaking his head. “Maybe”, he said with a small voice, “It would’ve been nice to have you there though. I’m…”, now he was the one looking down, “I’m going to miss you, you know. Would’ve been nice to have a proper goodbye. I think our friendship and… and I deserve at least that.”

Izuku hoped that his face wouldn’t flush a vibrant red, not daring to look up.

But eventually he heard a knock right in front of his face. When he didn’t look up, the knocking got more and more persistent, so Izuku took a deep breath, mustering all his courage and looked up.

Katsuki had come as close as possible, almost pressing himself up against the glass.

“Nerd”, he whispered into his phone, “I… I’m sorry. I freaked out and thought not showing up would make shit easier, for the both of us. But I should’ve just talked it through with you, I get that, especially when I ended up coming anyway. My bad!”

Izuku’s eyes had been following Katsuki’s lips, reading his words before hearing them.

He was now nodding, accepting Katsuki’s apology, appreciating it.

Even though he knew his voice would break, he just needed to know, so he asked: “Why did you freak out anyway?”

Izuku’s eyes darted between Katsuki’s, searching for the answer in those red orbs.

He heard Katsuki growl a little, again looking to the side, his jaw strained.

Izuku wanted to sigh at the view, admiring how Katsuki was just so astonishingly beautiful. No scar could ever change that.

“You’re leaving me behind. Again.”

Huh?

Izuku wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly.

But when Katsuki looked back at him, a mixture of hurt, defensiveness and softness all at the same time in his eyes, Izuku knew he had.

The greenhead pressed his lips together.

Izuku leaving UA after the Paranormal Liberation War, wanting to shield everyone else. Izuku giving up OFA, losing the last, faintest embers of his power in their senior year of UA. Izuku not being able to become a pro hero, having to turn his back to their rivalry and partnership. And now…

A sob found his way out of Izuku’s lips, along with some hot tears, streaming down his face.

Katsuki’s face softened for a second before it got twisted into an alarmed expression.

“Izuku!”, he said, pressing his palm against the glass.

“I’m so sorry”, Izuku pressed out, his voice in pain, “I’m sorry, Kacchan, I know we wanted things to be different, I tried, but I… I just…”, Izuku closed his eyes shut, squeezing out new tears.

Yeah, he was fine, in general. He really was.

But on some days the grief was simply overwhelming.

He leaned forward, his forehead touching he cold, hard surface and even though he heard Katsuki saying his name, trying to get his attention, he couldn’t bring himself to move, the feeling of what he had lost consuming him.

~~~

Damnit.

Damnit!!

Katsuki had made Izuku cry and was now not able to stop him, couldn’t even fucking reach him because of that stupid fucking glass between them!

And the only person to blame for that was he, himself!

Katsuki suppressed a big frustrated groan and instead repeated his words towards Izuku: “Look at me, Izuku, come on. Feel the glass, listen to my voice, I know, you got this.”

He tried to talk calmy because a) he didn’t want to stress Izuku out any more than he already was and because he b) didn’t want to get any more attention, people were already looking at them.

Which he didn’t really care about, the whole world could see him with Izuku for all he cared, but Izuku was in a vulnerable situation right now and just in fucking general…

This is fucking private!, he wanted to scream at all the people goggling at them.

Katsuki forced himself to focus back on Izuku and his heart broke with every sob and every sniffle he heard from the greenhead. He couldn’t see his face because of the angle and all of his locks and maybe that was for the better, because Katsuki had felt like crying since the day Izuku had announced his departure.

And he for sure felt like crying now, seeing that day had dreadfully arrived and they had never been apart for that long and now Izuku had a meltdown which he had caused and it all was driving Katsuki close to his own freaking waterworks.

“Izuku, stop apologizing, please”, he hated that his own voice was nothing more than a plea by now.

He felt so fucking helpless on this side of the glass, it was almost unbearable!

Katsuki jumped when a person suddenly appeared next to him, clearing their throat. He looked at the person with a frown, ready to tell them to fuck off and give them some space when he realized that it was an airport security guard.

The man placed both of his palms on the glass, casually looking around to check if anybody was watching them. Katsuki also turned around and saw that some other security guards had emptied the area around them, leading all the people away.

“You’ve got three minutes, alright?”, the man next to him said, “We can’t cover you for longer than that.”

“What-“, Katsuki wanted to ask what he meant but shut his mouth as soon as he saw how the glass started to melt around the man’s hands, forming an entrance for Katsuki.

The blond looked up to the guard, a warm feeling spreading inside his chest.

“Thanks”, he told the security man, already putting one foot onto the other side, “Brace yourself, the nerd will have a thousand questions about your quirk.”

The man laughed, looking at him with sincere eyes. With a nod Katsuki rushed to the other side, immediately reaching out for that crying mess in his dorky t-shirt and pulled him into his arms.

“K-Kacchan?”, Izuku let out in surprise, but didn’t waste a heartbeat to also wrap his arms tightly around Katsuki’s middle.

And the feeling of Izuku holding him did the rest – Tears prickled at the corner of Katsuki’s eyes.

“I’m going to miss you too, like crazy, for fuck’s sake”, he grumbled into Izuku’s hair, “And don’t apologize, I didn’t mean it as a blame, okay, I’m so fucking sorry it sounded like that, that’s not how I meant it!”

Katsuki was grateful and proud as hell that he had worked on himself enough to be able to apologize when it was necessary. Because if he wouldn’t be, this would be even harder as it already was.

“Let me correct myself, okay?”

He waited until Izuku nodded and then leaned a little bit away from Izuku, so they could look into each other’s eyes.

Izuku gasped when he saw Katsuki’s face.

“Kacchan!”, he brought a hand to Katsuki’s face and brushed his tears away, apparently only now realizing Katsuki had been crying too.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you can rant and write about my tears later”, he teased, grinning when Izuku rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove.

When Izuku looked back into his eyes, Katsuki waited a moment and then said while tightening his hold: “It’s not ‘You’re leaving me behind’, I fucked that one up. Sorry.”

Izuku smiled at him and nodded, a soft expression on his face that made Katsuki’s heart miss a beat.

“What I wanted to say was: I’m upset we’ll be at different places on this planet that are too damn far away from one another for me to just come by and make sure you’re eating. And you won’t be able to rant to me about your day before going to bed because we’ll be 15 fucking hours apart, like, come on, which maniac invented time zones!”

Izuku giggled at that. “I think it was someone called Fleming or something like that. And even without official time zones, our day-night-rhythm still wouldn’t match up and-”

Katsuki hissed with no heat behind it. “Don’t geek me out right now, I’m trying to make a point here.”

Izuku chuckled again and every laughing line on his face gave Katsuki some of his peace back.

“I think, I get it, Kacchan”, Izuku eventually said, his green eyes shining bright again, even though his eyes were puffed and his nose was red.

When Katsuki was about to respond to that, someone loudly cleared their throat behind them.

Katsuki looked over his shoulder where the security guard gave him an apologetic smile.

“I gotta go”, he told Izuku, “And so do you, your boarding is almost completed by now.”

Izuku followed Katsuki’s gaze to his gate where the last few people went into the plane.

“Okay”, Izuku whispered, seemingly more to himself than to Katsuki.

When they let go of each other, Katsuki felt like Half’n’Half had hit him with a major ice blow, freezing him up in an instant.

“I’m glad we got to see each other after all”, Izuku said, following Katsuki to the hole in the glass wall.

“Same”, Katsuki looked away, feeling a little bit embarrassed, “Sorry again for making it so complicated.”

But Izuku just shook his head, flashing him the first beaming smile of the day. Katsuki huffed to himself at how light he felt upon seeing that expression.

He climbed back to the other side, listening to Izuku thanking the security guy and asking him three questions in one breath. The man gave Katsuki a look that could only be read as “Now I know what you mean.”

A smirk stretched over Katsuki’s face.

While the guard started to close the hole, now standing on Izuku’s side, because the nerd wasn’t done with his questions, Katsuki took a deep breath, telling himself to just be brave this one time, or he might regret it for the rest of his life.

“Izuku”, he called for the greenhead’s attention, “Make sure to not get too close to that Shield girl. She’s got an eye on you ever since I-Expo.”

Okay.

That’s it, he had done it!

That was the only glimpse of truth when it came to his feelings for Izuku that Katsuki could allow himself to show at the moment.

Just when Katsuki had finished his sentence, the glass wall had been restored, so now, they were separated by that sound proof barrier again.

Katsuki’s heart was beating in the back of his throat while he was watching Izuku blink a few times at him, completely caught off guard.

Meanwhile the blond could feel his face heating up like an oven but he didn’t dare look away from the nerd, to not miss any reaction from him.

Izuku made a startled movement and looked over his shoulder, nodding to the boarding crew. He then looked back at Katsuki, wearing such an open expression it gave Katsuki goosebumps.

And while looking straight into Katsuki’s eyes, Izuku said something Katsuki could only try to read lip.

A shocked sound came out of Katsuki’s mouth.

Did he just…?

Feeling like he had been hit by a bus, Katsuki marched back to the glass, slamming his palm against it.

“Izuku!”, he called out, “Wait!”

But the nerd had already turned his back towards him, grabbed his way too big, way too yellow backpack and went to board the plane, bringing him to a different fucking continent.

After he had just said that… well, after he had just said what Katsuki thought he did.

But it couldn’t be, right?

Katsuki took a deep breath, remembering Izuku’s lip movement.

Don’t worry. There’s already another blond person I’m in love with.

Did he mean… did he mean Katsuki?!

The blond slammed his hand against the glass one more time.

When Izuku kept ignoring him, Katsuki’s eyes went to the security guard, who was giving him a big, happy thumbs up.

Which was a good sign, right?

Right?!

Katsuki’s heart was about to explode – again! – and Katsuki would make sure to rub it into Izuku’s face, since he was the one taking everything way too seriously when it came to Katsuki’s heart condition, just to drop such a bombshell now.

Katsuki let out a big groan when Izuku went through the boarding check point, disappearing without looking back at Katsuki just once.

~~~

You fucker, if you really said what I think you said, and then left for a TEN HOUR FLIGHT, with NO WAY of contacting you, then I

I

I CANT BELIEVE IT!

You’re the one always whining about “Kacchan you have heart problems, Kacchan, please, calm down!”

How am I supposed to calm down after you said what I think you said!

Did u say it??

Omg Izuku

9 more hours, I might die in the mean time just so you know

Fuck, I hate you sometimes

Like

Not REALLY hating you

You know what I mean

Like I could ever fucking hate you, you dorky nerdy piece of green chaos!!

Aaaargh 5 hours, half way through

Fuck, if I misread your lips, I might explode myself after throwing a tantrum like this

Izuku, i swear

You have to have said what I think you said because otherwise

I’m so done

3 more hours, aaaaaaargh, its already past my bedtime

If you don’t message me as soon as you land, you’re more heartless than I ever thought you could be

So serious right now

2 more hours to go and I’m sweating way too much

If I ignite my bedroom, that’s on you, shitty nerd

Izuku

Please say I read your lips correctly

Okay

I checked your flight number and your back on the ground, which

Yay!

Good you’re safe!

And now turn off your airplane mode, ffs!!!!!

Oh!

Okay, I see my messages are rolling in again

Answer

Like now!

Like five minutes ago!!

Like fucking ten hours ago, you asshole!! Leaving me like that, what the hell

Kacchan, hold up, I need to catch up on all the messages

NOOO

Read just this one

This one right here

Did you say what I think you said

…

What do you think I said?

I swear Izuku

If you’re playing games right now, I’ll kill you

Like

Don’t fucking torture me

Kacchan

I’m really sorry I let you wait

I didn’t think about your heart until we were already in the air

and then my phone didn’t connect to the wifi

and I couldn’t check my texts or write some

IZUKU

!!!!!

did you tell me you’re in love with me

yes or no

please

okay?

please

yes or no

Yes

Kacchan, yes!

Of course

Kacchan?

Geez omg

OMG r u for real

Like

And u mean it??

ಠ╭╮ಠ

I would never joke about that

Ever

Oh fuck

Oh fucking fuck

Omg

… is that a bad thing?

Wtffffff

R U STUPID

Don’t get mean!!

Nooooo

I

I’m calling

Pick up your damn phone!

I cant, Kacchan, I’m next in line for my visa, they’re already giving me side eyes

Why

What do those fuckers want

Don’t call them that

I think they

Like

I’m red like a tomato, I think they’re worried I’m gonna faint

R u?

Maybe

Don’t

Get your documents and all that shit

And then call me, I’m serious

Okay

Promise

I promise

Shit

I’ll take you to the best fucking dates once you’re back

I cant come visit you, I gotta save some money for a gear I needa get

When are you goint to tell me more about that ominous gear you’re so secretly planning about

Soon

Just call me

Okay

Kacchan?

Yeah

I’m so glad you didn’t come to say goodbye like everyone else

Well

It was still shitty from me and I’m sorry I hurt you

But

I’m glad too

And it only makes sense now

Watcha mean

Cause you’re not like everyone else

When it comes to me and how I feel

You’re not like everyone else at all

You’re my one and only Kacchan, second to none

Always special

Even though you still need to work on your communication

But we’re getting there <3

…

Come on, nerd

You cant make me cry a second time in 48 hours, my head hurts

:D

By the way I thanked all those security people for the both of us for giving us some fucking space

And I promised them to organize autographs from you

Got their names and everything

\^o^/

(✿◠‿◠)

You’re the cutest

stfu

NEVER

Nerd<3

Izuku💚 Incoming Call

_____________________

thanks for reading 🫶🏽

and i have to admit - it almost feels criminal to write just the slightest angsty content with Katsuki and his heart :D

[ii-confusing-confessions]

Bot is the they/them pronouns headcannon shadow the hedgehog fan and trophy is homophobic headcannon shadow the hedgehog fan nature is beautiful . Yin-Yang could perhaps botj enjoy shadow but for different reasons. Maybe. An mephone4s likes e123 omega. Mephone 4 likes sonic because he is blue and maybe other secret reasons subconsciously. Like 90% of the cast has Tails as their favorite character because Tails is the ceo of being relatable. Test tube would enjoy tails because scientist autism whereas ballon would like tails because everyone so mean to him. goo & Suitcase. Fan is a silver the hedgehog fan because I want to kick him onto a flight of staris. Spikey mervert is a fan of Eggman because he's bisexual i didn't know that. Toilet would decide upon one of those robot henchmen duos (ie orbot&cubot). Mepad is my favorite guy of all time and i feel like assigning him anything is biased no matter how correct it is. E102 gamma because gamma is also! .I think Paintbrush would laso like sonic. Marshmallow and apple would maybe like knuckles For different reasons. I am trying so hard to not assign everyone tails fans . You know maybe trophy wouldn't actually shadow fan but maybe homophobic knuckles fan. Maybe. Actually I think Goo would like big the cat. Nickel is dead. Lightbulb would also like sonic a lot of the problem here is im too particular about this stuff like half of theese guys wouldn't care about sonic (series) and the remaining 90% are like really casual sonic fans. Thank you for coming to my large wall of text I don't have a job and was raised in an alternate dimension without sunlight. <-Wow this is just like pokemon ultra sun version and pokemon ultra moon version for Nintendo 3ds family of systems . Or delta rune because the darkener. I think lancer and ii season 1 deltarune chapter 4? Like the mephone4? Like mep. Toby fox.

Sorry if I've sent tis before i wrote this inbnmyy notes while feeling shrimp emotions and don't remember anything I've ever done i am adding dlc to this message as we speak. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

➡️ Suitcasr🛒

☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️dlc ($32.99)

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Untitled by lightchaser :: Source: Flickr / cris717

* * * *

“She had what the Councillor knew, in the technical language of the ballet, as "ballon", a lightness that is not only the negation of weight, but which actually seems to carry upwards and make for flight, and which is rarely found in thin dancers - as if the matter itself had here become lighter than air, so that the more there is of it the better it works.”

― Karen Blixen, Seven Gothic Tales

[popculturebuffet]

Top 12 Captain Holt Plots (B99): RIP Andre Braugher

Andre Braugher 1962-2023

So as if this year hadn't piled enough death on me.. yesterday Andre Braugher of Brooklyn 99 fame died. Braugher was a comedic genius, great at drama and it's sad to see him go just as his career was having one hell of a second act.

Figuring out how to honor Andre.. was tough. I didn't have time for a full review of some of his best episodes, a story arc or the normal things i'd do, and a list of just Holt's best moments wouldn't really portray the characters depth. Don't get me wrong there's a LOT of hilarious little holt moments from "Hot damn!" to "Bam had it both ways" but it just didn't do the character justice. Holt was a character funny for his stoicism, his outburst of emotion clashing with that, and his chemistry with just about everyone on cast.

So I found a comprimise, something small I could do before my two bigger reviews this week, but something that still pays full service to what a great character Raymond Holt was... and how much of it was Braugher's amazing comedic timing and great dramatic talent. Ray MIGHT of existed without Captain Holt, but he wouldn't of been such a JOY to watch every time if it weren't for Braugher.

So I picked my 12 faviorite plots starring Captain Holt. Husband, Captain, Robot. Meeep Morp.

12. VINDICATTTTITOOOOOONNNN (Episode: Monster in the Closet)

Look a lot of this subplot making it here is this moment, from the fist pump to just how Braugher plays the word like an instrument, but the plot itself is comedy gold: Rosa Diaz, bisexual icon, is having a rush wedding to absentee boyfriend and human disaster Adrian Pimento, who returned after months in hiding the way anyone having a normal one does: by hiding in a child's closet.

Naturally this wedding didn't end up happening.. but it did bring us one of Holt's best running gags: his love of balloon arches. It's something that makes perfect character sense: he's a perfectionist, he loves art, and it's just weird enough to still be funny while not so weird you can't understand why Holt would be doing this. Holt pettily popping the ballons when crticized and going into a creative tailspin over minor critcisims is just gold and the payoff, him getting his VINDIIIICAAAATTTIOOOONNNNNN is both sweet.. and purespun gold from the highest of heavens.

11. The Disco Strangler Returns (He Said She Said) One of the serious episodes of the series, dealing with Amy and Jake tackling a sexual harassment case and Amy revealing her own assault, was paired with one of the series silliest, funnest b-plots.

This one COULD be here just on the strength of "And you'll here it again" but has way more to offer as Holt chases down his former nemesis the Disco Strangler after he seemingly dies, convinced he's alive while Terry and Boyle are convinced he just can't accept his enemey's death. Turns out their wrong though as the Strangler is alive, worked his groovy voodoo on a way younger woman and has one of the funniest scenes in the show as Holt TRIES to have a big action hero final talk with his nemisis.. only for the man to be largely deaf. It's a gag that shoudln't work but Baugher's commitment to the bit carries it, as does the reality of the strangler being so old and feeble hitting Raymond about his own mortality.

10. The Heists (Various Episodes)

Yeah this one's a bit of a cheat as it was hard to pick just one Heist Plot: After the first two their largely ensemble pieces. But it'd also be criminal to ignore just how SERIOUS Holt takes the annual halloween heists, from training his dog for them, to calling a fake replacement for Cheddar (the goodest of boys) "This bitch?", the Heists brought out the pettiest, hammiest parts of holt and the best of Braugher's comedey from threatning to slit his two protege's "from head to anus and wear them as a jacket", to his flight of the valkyries entrance, Holt was always a delight.

9. Pie (Two Turkey's) The shows final thanksgiving gave us it's best thanksgiving plot, and a nice spotlight on Holt's relationship with his Husband , kevin. Holt's queerness was baked into the character, being why it took him so long to climb the latter and why Kevin takes ab it to warm up to his new coworkers, as most of Ray's past coworkers were racist, homophobic or both. Holt and Kevin were just as weirdly stoic, with Mark Evan Jackson having great chemistry with Braugher.

The couple also just had their own weird things such as getting a special pie every year to get a pie for thanksgiving and finding the hours spent in dead silence on the trip deeply romantic.

Said pie is also what sets off the plot as it goes missing and Holt blames the presicnt and goes into full petty holt mode, one of the best kinds of holt. HOlt isn't the only star here as near constant fuckups and wallpaper Hitchcock and Scully prove useful for once as Holt investigates Rosa, Terry and Boyle. We get great moments from the three too as Boyle calls his own son "a basic bitch" and Rosa reveals an embarassing minons t-shirt as she rebonds with her family post jailtime.

Holt interogating everyone and going full ham would be enough to land it here.. but what elevates it to this slot is the ending: Holt finds out the culprit was Kevin, who hates the pie but would miss the drive. HOlt suggests simply.. taking the drive for fun and Kevin is super horny for that. It's adorable, sweet and a great capper to one of the shows best subplots.

8. Let's Never Talk About Anything (Stakeout)

This is a quick one as it's mostly on the comedy but it's a scenario that's both deeply, deeply funny, and involves one of the shows best duos: Rosa, the stoic bicon herself, and Holt. Both being stoic queer persons, they naturally get along great. And of course it's natural Rosa ends up the one in a very awkward situation through almost no fault of her own: Holt brings his cardboard standee of a human being Nephew named Marcus, whose staying with him for some reason never elaborated upon because Marcus is here for one thing: to date rosa and have one of the best awkward morning afters EVER: He tries to sneak rosa out.. only for Holt and Kevin to naturally both be up, and his using her full name and mild confusion are just.. great. The wrap up, that Rosa and Holt are both FINE not talking about this or anything ever, is great. The followup plot with the two forced into a dinner is fine, but this first interaction and the two being on the same stoic page is gold.

7. Apparently That's a Trigger For Me (The Box)

This is another one that has a strong moment couched in, but really the Box is just a very strong episode, a tense 22 minutes as Jake and Holt team up to try and get a confession out of a local dentist played by sexiest man alive Sterling K Brown, who does great getting under their skin, including with said doctor bit as Docterates are a bit of a trigger for Holt. the episodes fantastic chess match between our faviorite duo and Brown is just fun to watch and it's only this low because Jake gets the big finale. But Holt's oh damns are still vital. As is his over the top reservation cancelation. God bless this man. I miss you andre.

6. They never actually said No (Full Boyle)

Like, really, ALL of these there's a classic gag couched in here as Holt explains how he formed his black gay and lesbian police orginzation: he pitched it to his fellow entirely white and certainly straight cops who laughed their asses off.. then went ahead and got the funds since they were too busy being jackassses to say no. Dark, hilarious, and perfectly showing just how much shit holt's been through trying to get here.

And that background helps shape this plot which while not laugh FREE is mostly anchored on the good Captain's character journey: when a younger officer plans to challenge holt for predsency, Holt, as you'd expect digs in and refuses. He's not at full ham yet, but he's still fully willing to fight tooth and nail for this, that after all he had to go just to make this group, brian wouldn't understand

It's Gina of all characters who points out that's why he made the group. So younger officers wouldn't have to go through that. Brian has new ideas to genuinely improve and open up the doors for more queer black officers, and Holt recognizes that and steps aside.. though if he screws up he will impeach him. He's happy for him but he will impeach him.

5. I've Glanced At His Work Satchel (The Honeypot)

This episode's a-plot is just one long hilaroius bit of holt deadpanning as he gets a new assitant to replace Gina.. only to find the guy flirting with him. Having his tie slightly ajar and inviting him to a barrel museum counts as flirting in Holt's book. Turns out Gordon is a spy for our heroes latest nemisiss, corrupt comissioner kelly, and this brings this plot to ahead as finding out, and getting evidence hw as actively spying on them finally gets rid of the old bastard. It's a nice payoff.. but it's really here because Holt declaring a barrel museum an erotically charged atmosphere is classic deadpan holt. If you want premium deadpan holt, this is your episode.

4. Terry Come Here and Dangle Me Off the Edge of this Building (Bad Beat)

This episode is one of my faviorites, having both a lot of rich character stuff for holt.. and a lot of funny deadpan for holt.

This ep reawakens something that's mostly come up previously as a joke: holt had a serious gambling addiction in his past and when Jake and Terry come to him for help with a poker case, Holt's forced to join in as the two have obvious tells.

Holt's relapse is a nice mix of hilaroius and deeply troubling: he's betting on childrenj's gymnastics (No jayla don't drop the baton!) runs up to the roof when the pagent's cut off and as seen above wants Terry to dangle him over a roof.. Braugher does a hell of a job threading a very narrow needle here: Hotl's antics are funny, but still jarring enough to be worrying.. .and the laughter stop when Jake pulls the one card he has... he'll tell kevin, an idea alone that DEVISTATES holt as he can't put kevin through that again.

Unfortunately it's not THAT easy as Holt goes rogue.. then nearly gets captured, having to use improper grammar and admitting he needs help. Ther'es no easy answers here and while granted Holt's addiction never comes up again.. it's a sign addiction dosen't go away easily and everyone needs help.

3. The System (Moo Moo) Props to Brooklyn 99 as depsite being a cop show, it pointed out many a problem in the NYPD and police in general long before George Floyd made it too loud to ignore for us white dumbasses.

This episode is the main showcase of that: while the show had plenty of corrupt cops for our heroes to foil, Moo Moo shows the system ITSELF is broken and ther'es no easy answer to fix it.

The setup is simple, heartbreakingly common, and painful: Terry goes out at night in his nice neighborhood looking for one of his daughters "moo moo", her faviorite toy.. only to get accosted by a police officer, with only the fact he IS an officer making this end well.

Terry does try to handle this peacefully, inviting the guy to lunch, and trying to explain why racial profiling him like that was fucking awful. The officer dosen't listen, only thinks he was wrong because Terry is also a cop, and is generally a dick.

This leaves terry, who has a promotion on the table, with a fairly simple path: report the son of a bitch. Except .. HOlt dosne't send it in. Holt wants Terry to stay quiet, so Terry can get promoted. it's one of the oldest fights in a broken system: Should you make noise and take care of something horrible immdeitly, or stay quite and let harm go on so you can do more good later. The latter is clearly Holt's go to not out of corruption but out of survival: as a black gay cop, he had no real allies for the longest time, and thus had to simply keep his nose to the ground and work his way up to where he had real power. Terry on the other hand, argues, rightly that he dosen't want another man like him to go through this, one without a badger and that his career... simply isn't worth more innocnet black men being arrested falsely. There isn't an easy resolution with both acknowlding each others point: Holt supports terry and gets the guy fired, but Terry is passed over impliclty as a result and admits he could've impacted more change. Terry still did the right thing.. but it wasn't the easy thing. Police.. .simply aren't set up to properly police themselves and change is needed and it was noble of b99 to point that out without going over the top with it.

2. BOONNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEE (The Skyfire Cycle)

Okay look while this plot is good on it's own (I"m teaching father the math!) it's up this high ENTIRELY due to the Bone Scene. You've seen it, i've seeen it, it's the reason this plot goes from "pretty good" with Rosa seeing through holt's math problem to his marital issues and need to get laid, and Amy trying hard to impress her dads and acting lik ea grossed out child anytime holt's sex life comes up. This bit belongs to braugher.. but you NEED Beatriz and Fumero to set it up so perfectly and react so great to it.

Rosa being rosa just comes out and says "You just need to bone" and holt LOOOSES IT.

Every line from that moment is pure poetry from Braugher's mouth, from his squeaky "what'dyousay" to his shakesperean "hooooowww dare you detective diaz I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER." and of course his glorious shouts of BONE and BONNNNENEEEEE while he VIBRATES ON HIS DOORFRAME. His quick yups in the resolution are the cheery on top of the greatest comedy sundae ever conducted by man. Sports. This subplot hinges on one joke.. but when it's the series best joke, it's REALLY hard to argue. It's only not #1.. because our #1 is CRAMMED with jokes near this level.

Ding Dong The Wuntch Is Dead (Ding Dong)

Ding Dong is one of my faviorite episodes of B99. Even it's subplot's grown on me with Terry bending a quarter in mid air and the strawberry basket. But let's face it while the subplot is.. kay, it's the main event that makes it a classic and when I do the inevetible top 12 list, possibly for feburary, this episode is almost guarnateed a spot for damn good reason.

If your wondering why I haven't brought up Holt's legendary rivarly with Madeline Wuntch it's because while their all fucking gold, their teid into larger plots. And while this one kinda is, with Wuntch's death wrapping up Holt's time as a patrol officer, it's really just there to sned the character off and give us one of the funniest episodes in human history.

Everything about Holt's petty rivarly with Wuntch that makes it one of the best thigns in the show is on display here and the shock I had to the opening of ding dong was palpable: Holt's making his usual jabs, calling her a korean tolilet ghost (and having gone to korea just to find new monsters to call her).. before Terry, trying and failing to head this off drops the bomb: Wuntch is dead. Naturally Holt dosen't buy it, assuming we'd hear the children singing (all the childrne everywhere), and having to see her body for himself. Given their rivarly and what an elaborate scheme Wuntch left FOR her funeral, it's not hard to see why.

What follows is the very best of petty holt from the glory that is BAGEL, BAGEL, to his assumption ET is a monster because "he caused quite a comotion), Baugher is at his PEAK this episode comedically, handeling his Rival's death with joy and too many lines to count, with Amy's horror and Rosa's unabashed joy at his pettiness being perfect bounce off points.

Add in comedy legend Micheal Mcdonald as Wuntch's nephew playing her rival, a fake funeral and an attempted funmeral full of balloon arches and bright pastels and you have one of the greatest peices of televesion comedy ever. Rest in peace Andre.... your dearly missed.