#raising problem solvers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shellshocklove · 9 months ago

Text

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants.

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use.

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic.

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel.

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed.

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap.

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt.

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation.

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya."

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks.

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that?

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you.

You could be brave– Just say it!

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure.

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan?

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home.

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand.

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason.

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped.

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt.

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks.

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form.

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks.

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless.

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck.

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder.

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock.

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand.

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug.

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing.

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass.

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity.

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man.

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away.

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth.

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly.

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out.

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub."

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal.

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to.

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you.

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built.

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles.

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum.

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin.

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans.

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#logan howlett #logan james howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #lumberjack!logan #hugh jackman #*writing #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut

4K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 3 months ago

Text

re the previous ask I do like to think about an AU where the guys are all MDs of some kind working in the same place, like:

Gaz is a neurosurgeon without a doubt. Smartest dude in the room, critical thinker, light on his feet, loves a good puzzle, endless patience. Really intimidating in the OR, but never raises his voice/loses his cool. Can make his residents shrivel up and die with a single "I'm disappointed in you" look.

Price is emergency med. Loves to lead a team, loves a rush, loves a good variety. Excels in fast moving, high stress environments. Loves to knock a combative patient on their ass. Loves himself a pretty paramedic. Workaholic.

Johnny = Internal med. Superb bedside manner, high emotional intelligence. Problem solver. Extensive knowledge. Hopeless flirt. All his patients adore him and send him Christmas cards.

Simon is a Neonatologist. I don't know why. I think it's the big man + little baby thing. Hands big enough to hold an entire life in them. Good with the parents because he's tough love. Patients (usually) thrive. Nice to all the nurses.

#dee I am thinking you of and your dr Riley #tw nicu

777 notes · View notes

starsandsuch · 8 months ago

Text

ATMAKARAKA THROUGH THE HOUSES: how does your soul’s purpose manifest in this lifetime? 💡🦋

Your Atmakaraka is the planet in your Vedic Astrology chart with the highest degree. This planet represents your soul’s purpose in the lifetime.

Your Atmakaraka is called your soul planet or your AK planet. It is the significator of your soul.

The house your Soul Planet is in will paint a picture to how exactly your souls purpose will manifest in this lifetime.

Read my original post on identifying your soul planet: here

Atmakaraka in the 1H:

Your souls purpose is about self development. You’re meant to cultivate your own identity in this lifetime. Your major life lessons relate to being authentic and following your own journey. To develop strong boundaries between who you are vs what your expected to be. You’re meant to do things uniquely in a way that suits you and you only. Disregard the path society sets out for you, and create your own. You’re destined for notoriety and recognition.

Atmakaraka in the 2H:

Your soul’s purpose is about creating stability and security for yourself. Your meant to establish yourself in the material world, and be self-sufficient financially. You’re life’s journey is about sustenance. Sustaining yourself, your name, your possessions, your resources and your money. It’s all about creating and maintaining a proper foundation for yourself. You’re meant to use your voice as a method for fulfilling your purpose. Developing your speech to convey a message is apart of what your soul wants to do.

Atmakaraka in the 3H:

Your soul’s purpose is about communication. How do you express yourself? What mediums help you get your message across most authentically? You are destined to bring a specific message to the world that can only be channeled through you. Your destiny has a lot to do with speech, messages, media and conversation. You are meant to exercise a sense of courage in this life and do things fearlessly. Fearlessly communicating your authentic thoughts to the world. Saying what’s on your heart. Through music, writing, poetry, public speaking and the like.

Atmakaraka in the 4H

Your soul’s journey is about developing your inner happiness. Your meant to do what brings you emotional fulfillment. What makes you feel safe, secure, emotionally aligned? That is what your soul seeks to experience in this lifetime. Alignment with family and ancestors is a key life theme for you. To experience the emotional bond with people you call your family. You’re meant to get in touch with your roots, and align with the foundation of who you are. You’re soul seeks a sense of rootedness to the past in order to cultivate your future. The connection you have with your mother is an important part of your journey.

Atmakaraka in the 5H:

Your destined to express yourself creatively in this lifetime. You’re meant to develop and display your creative talents to the world. Your creative contributions are important, unique, and only can be expressed by you. Your life purpose is connected to performance, arts and entertainment. Through these mediums you are able to express your true soul purpose. Parenthood is a sacred journey for you, where you’re meant to experience preganacy/ raising a child. Your destiny is connected to children in general. Teaching them, guiding them, being involved in their development.

Atmakaraka in the 6H:

Your soul seeks to be of service in this lifetime. You are meant to be a healer. Healing yourself, healing those who need your help. Your power lies in being of service to humanity through your healing abilities. You are destined to overcome adversities and cultivate a sense of resilience. You’ll experience challenges, yet this transforms you into the ultimate problem-solver. You develop impenetrable strength: mentally, spiritually and psychologically. You incarnated because society needs your help, God sending one of his strongest soldiers to help heal the world. You have a special connection with animals in this lifetime. They are your allies in this journey.

Atmakaraka in the 7H

Your soul seeks to connect with others through partnership. Your soul’s purpose involves being in relationships that are fulfilling on a emotional, psychological and physical level. It is in your destiny to cultivate your social presence in the world, being a person of charm, decorum and worldliness. Your major life themes involve how you appeal to people and how you use your social connections to elevate your life. Your soul seeks to be impactful in society, through the social influence you have.

Atmakaraka in the 8H:

Your soul’s purpose is destined towards transformation. You experience blockages, challenges and adversities but come out stronger every time. You’re meant to turn your pain into power, to be an alchemist. Your soul came here to experience transformation. Spiritually, mentally, physically and psychologically. You’ll be faced with many unexpected crises yet your powerful intuition will always guide you. The occult knowledge you have will be key in your journey. You’re destined to experience the power that comes from transforming yourself and your life. You’re destined to leave a powerful legacy.

Atmakaraka in the 9H:

You’re destined to be a guide to others. Your soul came here with the purpose of spiritual evolution. Over the course of your life you’ll have many awakenings, epiphanies and realizations. This leads you to amassing abundant wisdom. You’re destined to teach the wisdom you have to others, guiding them on their paths. Your destiny is a worldly one, where it impacts people on a global scale. Your soul seeks the truth, spiritual knowledge, and the ability to live a life free of falsities and illusions.

Atmakaraka in the 10H:

You are destined to achieve your long term goals and be established in the material world. Your soul seeks achievement in the material world. To be successful , have recognition and status is what you’re here to achieve. Your destined to leave your mark on the world in an authentic way, your here to build and leave your legacy through your career and reputation. You are destined for fame or high status.

Atmakaraka in the 11H:

You are destined to fulfill your wishes and desires. Your life has a lot to do with manifesting. Manifesting your long term goals and unique visions. You are a visionary. You’re meant to focus on your gains in life and how you can achieve success in the material realm. Along the way you are likely to be popular and influential. Your purpose leads you to elevating humanity through your influence, there’s a deeper theme here of you making a difference in the world. Your goals and desires help the collective at large. Through your influence you help shape the trajectory of society.

Atmakaraka in the 12H:

Your destiny is about spiritual liberation. Your soul seeks truth and enlightenment. More importantly it seeks freedom from the cycles of reincarnation. You’re likely here on earth now as one of your final lifetimes. You are an old soul. This means your life is about letting go and not having attachments in the material realm that keep you trapped here. That’s why you’re on a discovery of truth. Dispelling illusions and aligning with your true spiritual journey. Your road is lonely, isolating and harrowing at times, but it’s all for the purpose of aligning you with your spiritual destiny. You are a healer and wise person. Your purpose involves being of service to others. You find it hard to connect to the material world/ mainstream society bc your destined for something greater. You’re meant to fulfill your spiritual goals more than material. 12th house is the “exit”. The spiritual, mystical exit where your soul elevates to the next realm after this incarnation, and you break free from being recycled back to earth.

Your soul planet and your mission in this lifetime

Your 1st house ruler and your unique life path

#atmakaraka #soul planet #vedic astrology #astrology #destiny #purpose #astro observations #astrology observations #sun atmakaraka #moon Atmakaraka #saturn atmakaraka #AK #mercury atmakaraka #mars atmakaraka #jupiter atmakaraka #starsandsuch #2024

913 notes · View notes

keyotos · 1 year ago

Text

➳ you're my achilles heel

summary ⎯ niche microtropes w/ the hsr men! emphasis on the micro (not rlly)

includes ⎯ dan heng, aventurine & jing yuan

tana talks ⎯ who's missed me? i've been gone for a HOT minute, and what other way to come back than kickstarting my 1k event: niche microtropes! more info about that will be here. thank you so so much for 1k!!!!

dan heng

when they both have to share a bed and one of them reveals it was the best night of sleep they've ever had

⎯ dan heng has made a lot of mistakes in his life, and letting march choose hotel rooms has to be one of them.

⎯ granted, he truly thought that march would do a good job at choosing the hotel, financial planning, and of course–choosing the rooms.

⎯ and everything was great. until you and dan heng had to share a bed.

you and dan heng shifted around the bed a few times before finally settling into designated spots. it was decided that dan heng would sleep on the outside, while you slept near the wall. his back faced you as he tucked himself into bed.

⎯ you and dan heng were friends. this awkwardness wasn't normal, and there should be no reason for the two of you to be avoiding each other like you are now. alas, here you are now, laying at least a foot apart.

⎯ the room is completely silent, and a bit cold as well. dan heng felt a breeze constantly grazing his shoulders. yeah. there was no way he could sleep like this

⎯ you, on the other hand, felt too hot. you had most of the blankets on your side and you felt SUFFOCATED. sometimes, it felt hard to breathe. but u weren't sure if that was just nerves or bc of how hot you felt.

⎯ ultimately, you are the one who has to make the first move.

"dan heng," you turned around and whispered, "are you cold?"

⎯ obviously, he was cold. but was he going to say anything about it?? no.

"i'm fine," he said, still facing his back towards you. "are you cold?" you gulped at the dry response. usually, you find yourself always wanting to talk to dan heng. he was never a boring converser, so why was he acting so strange tonight? but then again, you had no room to talk—you haven't said a word to dan heng until now.

⎯ at this point, you're a little frustrated at the lack of communication between the both of you. so—being the problem solver that you are—you decide to do something about it

slowly, you inch closer to dan heng—just to test the waters, of course. dan heng doesn't reach much, only a small head turn once he feels a dip in the mattress. you take some of the blanket and throw it over dan heng, awaiting his response.

⎯ meanwhile, dan heng over here is internally flipping out. when you inched towards him, dan heng could feel his heart skipping more than a few beats. and when you threw the blanket over him, dan heng wasn't sure if he felt warm due to the blanket or you.

⎯ when he finally turns over, you have to hide your wide eyes and slacked mouth underneath the blanket. you peer back up, and he's staring right at you.

"are... you okay?" you whisper underneath the blanket. "i'm cold," is all dan heng says. you hide your smile underneath the blanket, but you have a feeling dan heng knows you're smiling anyway. he's looking straight in your eyes after all.

⎯ and then you say it. you practically hit the pentagon.

you open up the blanket to where it reveals a dark silhouette of your body. "do you want to share?"

⎯ dan heng practically malfunctions. usually, there are always things dan heng says to fill the silence. he never runs out of words. not in a talkative way like march, but rather, he has an extensive vocabulary

⎯ this time though? haha. very funny. he's gone mute.

dan heng blinks at you while you hold the blanket open. you raise an eyebrow, taunting him. he squeezes his eyes shut, and then reopens them to find you still holding the blanket. was he halluncinating?

"i don't want to intrude." "oh please," you quietly laugh, "we're already sharing a bed. we crossed the line of intrusion a few hours ago."

⎯ and that sounds like a good deal to the both of you. except, one thing.

"are things going to change after this?" dan heng asks you. you're glad it's dark, so dan heng doesn't see you flush, "i don't see why things would change," you say, maintaining a calm face.

⎯ that's enough to get dan heng under the covers with you.

⎯ you two sleep wonderfully the rest of the night—you two even woke up early too. you were the one to wake up first. the sun shone on your face, yet you didn't even feel the glare at all. you felt energized, which was weird considering that you went to bed at questionable hour last night.

⎯ oh, and you also felt a pair of arms over your waist too. and something pressing into your neck. and something wrapping around your legs. and you also feel really hot. is that from the sun????

⎯ yeah. it's going to be harder to keep your word.

aventurine

those dancing scenes where it just so happens that the lighting focuses on the two of you

⎯ lavish parties and extravagant events weren’t new to aventurine, who just so happened to stumble on one of the biggest on penacony

⎯ sometimes, the families hold galas. it’s more of an exclusive thing, so aventurine had to do some awkward mingling in order to get in. that includes a very awkward conversation with a security guard, who kept raising eyebrows at his outfit.

⎯ beforehand, he had no interest in going to this event. however, once faced with the possibility that he could gather intel, his mind quickly changed.

⎯ now, he is standing right next to you, the heir to penacony's iris family. in his short time on the planet, he's seen your face countless times: on billboards, commercials, and next to various items. but seeing it in person?

⎯ way. different.

"you've never been dancing before?" you lead the ipc executive, aventurine, down the halls of the iris family's ballroom. aventurine shakes his head as he follows you, "not once. though, as the iris family's biggest celebrity, i take it you're used to dances?" your eyes widen when you hear him utter the compliment, "i'm... i'm not sure i'm the biggest celebrity," you rub your neck sheepishly. you tilt your head back, "and i don't think i can remember a time where i didn't dance."

⎯ aventurine has one goal tonight, and it's to get information about the families. if all goes according to plan, then he'd have the upper hand on penacony itself, thus being able to use his knowledge as a bargaining chip for the ipc.

⎯ and if there's one thing aventurine is good at, it's bargains.

⎯ so now, aventurine is trying his hardest to charm you into giving out any information. because people like you always talk.

"that must've been nice," aventurine eggs you on, "from what i can tell, parties on penacony are always fun." you let out a small laugh, "i'm glad you think that." the two of you walk side-by-side, and you aren't saying a single thing. aventurine flexes his hand by his side, preparing to make more idle chatter. he's about to open his mouth when a bright, shining light beams onto the both of you.

⎯ from the look on your face, aventurine can tell that you did not like that. he stands there passively, awaiting for your next move.

⎯ what he did not expect was for you to hold out your hand for him.

"um," you clear your throat. your eyes dart around the room and you gulp, holding out your hand, "may i have this dance?"

⎯ aventurine meets your nervous eyes with his wide ones. it looks like the two of you have no other choice. eyes are on the both of you when aventurine takes your hand, and you pull him into a quiet space in the ballroom.

⎯ let's get one thing straight: aventurine does not know how to dance.

⎯ so currently, he's trying to avoid stepping on your toes, while trying to remain in sync with you. on the inside, aventurine is annoyed. there are ears everywhere, meaning that there's a bigger risk. however, aventurine is all about risks, and the night is still young.

"i thought you liked dances," aventurine purposefully whispers into your ear, and he can feel the heat rise up. his voice is sultry and sweet, and he hopes to get you addicted to it soon. you look up at him with crinkled eyes. the light is glaring on you, and it seems like you're glinting instead of shining. "i never said that." aventurine takes notice of the rise and fall of your chest—much faster than when the two of you met. the corner of his lip raises a little bit, "oh, i'm sorry. but are you uncomfortable? i thought you've been doing this for years? let me know if i can do anything to help?" he offers.

⎯ you only smile, and aventurine gives you a polite smile back. he follows your lead, waiting for you to say something, but you only lead him around the ballroom.

⎯ the light is still trailing after you, except it's beaming more on aventurine than you at this point.

⎯ it's beaming more on aventurine. oh. he gets it now.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispers in your ear once again. he has to try his hardest to bite down the smirk that was about to appear on his face. this was going to be easier than he thought. you grab his hand in a tight hold, "no," you firmly state, "we're staying here."

⎯ wow. what a shift of tone.

"i need your help," you mutter under your breath. "help me, and i'll do anything," you look up into his eyes, pleading with him through your gaze.

⎯ aventurine nearly steps on your feet. what?

"uh–what?" aventurine questions you as you keep moving.

"sneak me out of here. we can't go through the doors—there's the bloodhound family everywhere. but i need you to get me out," you beseech. you grab his hand, bringing it up to your chest and slowly sliding it down to your waist.

⎯ aventurine has to remind himself to keep his cool multiple times. breathe in, breathe out. what were you getting at here? why did you want to escape?

"listen, what i said earlier. about the parties. i need to get out," you spin yourself around and back into the blond. "help me," you connect your palms as you circle him, "and i'll help you," you intertwine your fingers together.

⎯ the light still glistens over the both of you. and aventurine thinks two things: he's gotten into something he didn't need to get into, and that he finally has a way into the family.

jing yuan

second chance romance, except the two of you have been keeping tabs on one another the entire time.

⎯ jing yuan's childhood is filled of fond memories: his old master, the bright and sunny days when he would train, and you.

⎯ you, who jing yuan would willingly miss trainings for. you, the brilliant and clever reporter who broadcasted for the people. you, who jing yuan had to let go.

⎯ he'd spend days rereading what you've wrote; whether it be small stories or big news on the luofu. everything you had written intoxicated him. however, all good things have to end eventually.

⎯ the break-up wasn't even technically a break up, because you two weren't even together. the harsh reality was that you two were just friends, so jing yuan has no actual reason to be moping around. people lose friends all the time, and with jing yuan's lifestyle, it was bound to be imminent.

⎯ as the general, jing yuan had new priorities, and it seems like you weren't one of them anymore.

⎯ so, you move on with your career. you founded the xianzhou's very own broadcasting channel, which aired to the millions of citizens across all ships. you're a superstar who hasn't left their core values. rather than the big stories, you focus on local ones. you focus on the people.

⎯ and general jing yuan... focuses on his job. sort of. not really.

⎯ can you really say that a general is focused on his job when he goes missing?

"jing yuan," your side aches once you utter his name, and you suppress an agonized moan, "why are you here?"

⎯ you know what they say, old habits die hard.

⎯ the founder of the xianzhou's broadcasting channel was found in critical condition a few days ago. you had been reporting on the a civil case that had struck on one of the ships, and—next thing you know—blood ran from your fingertips and you rushed into a critical care unit.

"how did you even get here?" you ask as you lift yourself up higher on the bed. jing yuan steps forward, but you move back. "i haven't spoken to you in years. you cut me off, and then you show up now? can i atleast get an explanation on how you found me?"

⎯ jing yuan's silence tells you all that you need to know. you keep up with the dozing general, even if you are off the luofu. because still, even after all these years, your heart trails after him.

"i wanted to see you," jing yuan blurts. his voice is much more deeper than you remember it to be. "so i contacted the hospital and told them that my old friend was in critical condition, and i needed to see you." you scoff, "an old friend is a stretch." you pause and look down at your hands. and then, a thought furrows in your mind. "wait, if you knew where i was hospitalized—you read my articles?" "i've never stopped."

⎯ oh. oh? oh????

⎯ safe to say that you were rendered speechless. the next five minutes were spent by you staring at jing yuan, jaw-dropped and all.

"how long?" you asked. "too long," jing yuan dryly chuckles. "since i left."

⎯ the air is thick, and things are obviously tense. and there are so many things to talk about. so many things to tell him. such as how you've surfed before (it was a big dream of yours). or how you finally adopted the cat you always wanted (you hope he brings up his lion).

⎯ and while you sit there, you realize that you've missed this. how could you even live without this for hundreds of years? without him? was it surreal to feel so strongly about a person that left so long ago?

⎯ so many milestones missed. so many to make up for. so many things to talk about. so many things to clear up. and you still want to do it all with jing yuan.

⎯ does he still want to do it with you?

you clear your throat, attempting to sit up straighter. you're struggling, and you've never felt so embarrassed in your life. while trying to adjust yourself once more, you see a shadow appear above you, and it's the one and only jing yuan. "do you need help?" he asks, holding his arm out for you as support. you take it gladly, pulling yourself up by grabbing onto his (big) forearm. "thank you," you dust yourself off, checking your side for any rips in your stitches. "now," you begin, letting out a shaky breath, "i think... i think we're overdue for a chat."

⎯ you knew jing yuan. you'd like to know him now. jing yuan knew you too, and now—judging by the look on his face—he'd like to know you too.

god i've missed the hc's so much. like i'm truly going back to my roots here. be honest did y'all miss the hc's too or was that just me????

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #blade x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #CHAT WE ARE SO BACK #jing yuan my pining king you will always be famous even if you got power-crept

862 notes · View notes

ari-orangebox-collection · 11 months ago

Text

When the test subject they told you was aggressive is actually just angsty and autistic

I figured if Wheatley were a human he would probably be part of a team that cares for test subjects. Which involves basic medical checkups and general wellness checks. Maybe in Chells case, since she’s so anti-social, he was tasked to be a sort of companion so they could get more information out of her for testing purposes. :3 he’s classified as a nurse and has basic training in it. But he’s not making sense because he’s kinda scared of Chell at first. She just thinks he’s weird and kinda smells bad.

I have a hc on why Chell is a test subject I’m just gonna try to write it here

Basically her mother was too young and poor to raise a child so she felt it better to put Chell up for adoption. The orphanage she was raised in was being used by aperture to scout out children with certain “exceptional skills”. They noticed that Chell was highly intelligent and a great problem solver, but had no interest in spending time with others. She had no friends. And none of the other children noticed or cared when she left. She was probably adopted by a high ranking scientist and raised for the specific purpose of testing. She has little concept of social norms or things outside of aperture because she was taken from a “normal” environment so young. [like. Before she was 10 maybe? Idk.] but it doesn’t mean she’s dumb or anything, she just doesn’t really get it yk. Sorry if this is actually so stupid and embarrassing ignore me

568 notes · View notes

softspiderling · 3 months ago

Text

your ex don’t do it for ya | m.d

summary:

He inclined his head towards Sam, who was standing in the backyard with a drink in her hand, talking to a cute guy, laughing. Her hand was on his arm, and he was standing a smidge too closer to her. Yeah, okay, you had to admit Miguel might be right about this one.

“So, you see that and you don’t even care?” you asked, turning back to Miguel with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. I don’t care. See what I mean?”

OR; you give friendly advice one time and suddenly you’re the go to relationship expert

pairing: miguel diaz x reader

warnings: miguel and sam are dating at the beginning of this, there’s no cheating, mig and reader only become a thing way after sam and miguel break up. No smut, but alluding to it,

word count: 5,9k

author’s note: i can’t believe this is my first miguel fic. it feels like i’ve written so much for him already but this basically wrote itself 😭 it is also based on my dream, so rlly enjoy whatever my head cooked up! 🫶🏼 @katcoquette hoping this motivates you to finish cobra kai😔

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, you and Tory are too young to get married.”

“What.”

You cracked a grin at your paper, looking up to see your best friend standing in the doorway of your bedroom, looking distressed. Which was nothing new when it came to Robby, to be fair. He had a knack for getting involved in situations that had nothing to do with him.

“I’m just messing with you,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and stretching out your arms. You had been working on your paper for the last two hours, you could use a break, and whatever was on Robby’s mind, seemed like the best bet. “What’s up?”

Robby sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Yikes. You definitely weren’t going to like this.

“Miguel’s going through something and he asked me for advice… I wasn’t sure what to say, though,” he started and you gave him a look.

“… Advice concerning what?”

He pulled a face.

“Sam.”

You groaned, leaning your head back. Sam was… Okay. You didn’t really care for her. The way she treated Robby, kissing Miguel while she was still with Robby, causing the fight that lead Robby to make the worst decision of his life. Yes, he was on good terms with Sam now and yes, his life worked out despite its bumps, but still. You got along with Sam for everyone’s sake, but she definitely wasn’t one of your favorite people.

“They’re definitely too young to get married,” you said and Robby rolled his eyes at you.

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?” you sighed. Miguel and Sam were probably the cheesiest couple you know, what sort of troubles could they be having?

“Miguel feels like they hit a roadblock in their relationship. Now with Sam graduating from UCLA soon... They were talking about moving in together.”

You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, Miguel doesn’t want to do that.”

“What.” You stared at Robby and he threw his hands up.

“Exactly! He said he knew it was the next logical step in their relationship, but he just doesn’t want to.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s what I said!” Robby exclaimed, clearly working himself up and you gently pushed his hands back down.

“Okay, Robby chill,” you told him. “I know you’re a problem solver, but honestly, this doesn’t sound like there’s much you can do to help.”

Robby only frowned at you and you straightened out the frown on his forehead with your fingers. “I mean it. Sometimes, all you can do is listen, alright? And it sounds like you did. So take a breather, give them some space to figure it out.”

He stared at you for a good while and you could tell that he was about to frown again, but he sighed in surrender, nodding. “Okay. Thanks for talking it through with me.”

“course. That’s what I’m here for.”

Robby gave you a small smile, knocking on your desk. “Don’t forget we’re having the party for the gatorade thing next Saturday.”

Gatorade thing, he said. His and Tory’s sponsorship that would be announced to the public next Friday, and the small party for their friends they were throwing at your place.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Considering I live here.”

He gave you an exasperated look and you grinned at him, shooing him out of your room to return to your paper. When Robby left, shutting your bedroom door behind him, you thought this would be the last you’d hear Miguel and Sam’s relationship problems. Come to think of it, Sam and Miguel would probably have worked it out with no problems and go see some condos to rent, but to your surprise, you were proven wrong.

When Saturday came around, and people started showing up at your place, buffet decked out with every single Gatorade flavor there was, you saw Miguel and Sam arrive together, but quickly part ways as soon as they said their hellos.

You were no relationship expert, but that didn’t look like a couple that was excited to move in together. But who were you to judge? You pushed their business to the back of your head and continued to play co-host. A while later, you had finally given up your hosting duties back to Robby and Tory, you were walking around, drink in your hand, when you found Miguel leaning on the wall in the living room, sipping on his drink. He was staring into the distance, like he was on a different planet.

“Hey, you good?”

Your words seemed to snap him out of it, as he looked down to you, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, yeah, sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”

You nodded slowly, taking a sip from your drink.

“Uh huh.”

Miguel paused, his forehead creasing before he let out a soft sigh.

“Robby told you, didn’t he?”

You feigned ignorance, widening your eyes for good measure.

“What? No…”

Miguel gave you a look and you only shrugged with your shoulders. “Hey, you know he’s someone who likes to talk about things that stress him out, and he couldn’t really talk to Tory about it so it was me. And I’m not too thrilled about being dragged into this either, okay?”

Miguel sighed, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just don’t want this to spread like a wildfire. I don’t want to hurt Sam. I just don’t see us living together right now…” he trailed off, staring at the ground.

“Have you ever thought about just talking to her?”

“I have, but she’s just gonna take it the wrong way and it’ll start a fight,” Miguel huffed. “It’s not a problem in a relationship, it’s a problem with me. I don’t want to hurt her, I really care about her.”

“Okay, so you care about her, that’s good, right?” you said, but he didn’t look convinced. “Or… It isn’t?”

“It feels different.”

Miguel frowned, trying to find the right words and you let him, swishing your almost empty drink in your cup. You wished you had filled it up before talking to Miguel, this seemed like a good conversation to have while drunk.

“I care about her, but it’s not the way I felt about her before.”

“Like, that you care more about her, or…?”

“No, it’s like… I used to get so jealous when she was talking to other guys and laughing about their jokes,” he explained. “But now, it’s like, eh, whatever. That’s not right, is it?”

You bit back a smile. “Mig, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It just means that you trust her. Not everyone has to be a raging jealous boyfriend.”

“Not even if she’s flirting with someone else in front of everyone we know?”

“What?”

“So you see that and you don’t even care?” you asked, turning back to Miguel with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. I don’t care. See what I mean?”

Wow.

You let out an exhale, nodding slowly before pursing your lips.

“When’s the last time you guys fucked?”

Miguel snorted and you rolled your eyes. “Sorry, made love,” you said, quoting with your fingers and he huffed.

“That’s not-” he broke off, shaking his head. “We haven’t had sex in a while, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? A week? Two?”

“Try four.”

“Four weeks is fine, Miguel,” you said, but he snorted.

“Four months.”

“FOUR MONTHS!?”

Your voice was louder than intended and everyone around you gave you a look, while Miguel snickered into his cup. You shooed the starers back into their own conversations before turning back to Miguel, slapping his arm.

“Why haven’t you guys had sex in four months? You’ve seen each other plenty,” you argued.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like it anymore,” he said, defensive. “It’s not like she’s initiating either. When we first started dating, we were all over each other, one little touch and I was ready to go but now?”

He looked away, taking another sip from his cup. It really seemed like it was bothering him and you softened a little. While you didn’t care for Sam, Miguel became a pretty big part of your life after he and Robby patched things up, even more so when Johnny married Carmen. If Sam was what made him happy, who were you to stand in the way of that?

“Maybe it’s a stress thing?” you suggested, putting your cup down. “When you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, sex is the last thing you’re thinking about. Let me try something?”

Miguel gave his go ahead with a brief nod, and you placed your hand on his chest. You felt a little awkward, with Sam being right around the corner and you being such good friends with Miguel, but he needed your help, so you placed your other hand on his bicep, like you were flirting with him. The touch was innocent enough, you just wanted to gauge his reaction. When you looked up at him, Miguel’s eyes were wide and you only cocked a curious eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, my libido’s not the problem,” he said in a tight voice, licking his lips before he gently pushed your hands off him. You were only slightly off put, taking a step back, feeling weirdly rejected.

“Well, then I don’t really know what to tell you,” you said, picking your cup back up to hide behind it. “I really think you should just talk to Sam.”

Miguel sighed, leaning his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

“It seems like it might be the only thing left for me to do.”

“PARTY PEOPLE!”

You jumped a little when Hawk came through the door, a speaker balancing on his shoulder, blasting 90’s music, Moon and Demetri hot on his heels. The vibe of the party immediately shifted, with everyone lifting their cups to cheer, pushing Tory and Robby to the front.

“Well, if that’s not the sign to break up this little pity party,” Miguel mused, gesturing towards the crowd. You rolled your eyes at him in exasperation before the two of you pushed away from the wall to join the crowd, with Demetri passing out a weird mix of gatorade and vodka.

The party lasted until the early morning hours. With everyone being so busy, it wasn’t often that everyone could come around, so you used every opportunity to catch up with your friends you could get. When the last people left, neither you, Tory nor Robby were up for cleaning up, so you pushed it for the next morning.

Which you deeply regretted.

It was past noon when you arose from your slumber with only a slight headache pounding in your head. You padded out of your room, and the house was still quiet, so Tory and Robby must still be asleep. As you made your way to the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks, seeing the remnants of the party, groaning.

“I need coffee,” you muttered to yourself, continuing your way to the kitchen.

After some coffee, you felt more awake to tackle the mess in the house, equipped with two trash bags. You were clearing away the empty cups on the kitchen counter when Tory found you, eyes still bleary.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” she said, yawning into her hand. “Have you been up for long?”

“Eh, like fifteen minutes or so. I made coffee.”

You jerked your heard towards the coffee machine and Tory only nodded, walking over to the coffee machine to fix herself a cup without another comment. You were used to it. Neither you nor Tory were morning people; a stark contrast to Robby, who woke up with sunshine in his ass. As Tory finished her first cup of coffee, you were wiping down the counter, because you distinctly remembered Demetri spilling gatorade all over it while he was mixing “vodkarade”, as he called it.

“Hey, thanks again for agreeing to host the party,” Tory said, putting her empty mug in the sink, coming over to help you with the empty bottles, collecting them in a box. “Brandon’s in a mood and I wasn’t going to force him to socialize with our friends.”

“It’s fine,” you snorted with a laugh. “It was fun.”

The two of you cleaned in silence, before Tory spoke up again, her tone hesitant.

“I saw that you talked to Miguel last night,” she started, and you tensed a little, trying to play it off. “Is he okay?”

Did Robby tell her something? Or did Sam?

“Yeah, he seemed fine to me. Why?” you asked back, trying to to deflect. Tory only shrugged, tightening the cap around the empty tequila bottle.

“I don’t know. I feel like he and Sam feel off, somehow. We used to hangout a lot but in the past few weeks one of them always canceled. And last night, I barely saw them together.”

Yeah, it was definitely time for Miguel to talk to Sam.

“Have you talked to Sam about it?” you asked Tory casually and she scoffed, giving you a look.

“No, that would just open a whole can of worms,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “I don’t want to get involved in their drama. I’m just worried.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure out, whatever it might be,” you told her with an encouraging smile, really hoping that you weren’t lying to her. Tory nodded slowly, not entirely convinced as she filled the box with the rest of the empty bottles. The sound of Robby’s feet padding into the kitchen made you both look to the doorway as he paused, his hair still messy from having just woken up.

“Aw, you guys should’ve woken me up to clean!”

With the three of you, it didn’t take long until the house was spotless again. Eventually, Robby and Tory left, because he was taking her and Brandon out for dinner, and you had the house to yourself. After a nice long shower, you settled on the couch, clicking through Netflix to find something brain-rotting to watch, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s me!” Miguel called out over the sound of the door closing again, before he appeared in the living room. “Robby and Tory out?”

“Yeah,” you replied, frowning at the tv. When did they take Law & Order: SVU off Netflix?

“You know you really shouldn’t be leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter when you’re home by yourself,” he pointed out, dropping on the couch next to you.

“Why not?” you asked, eyes still trained on the tv. “I know some karate.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t,” you admitted, finally turning to look at Miguel, an eyebrow raised. He looked unsettled, his cheeks a little red. “What’s up?”

“We had a fight.”

“Of course you did,” you sighed, the picture perfect view you previously had of Miguel and Sam’s relationship fading more and more. “What was it about?”

“I don’t even know,” Miguel groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. “We were just talking about how nice last night was and then she brought up how she saw us talking, and I said that she seemed pretty cozy with that guy and then everything just spiraled from there.”

“So you did care that she was flirting with that guy!” you said, triumphantly, like it was some sort of breakthrough, but he only shook his head, dropping it back on the cushions.

“No! I was just mad because it felt like she was accusing me of something!”

“Well, it sounds like you both accused each other of something.”

Miguel only grumbled something incoherent and you rolled your eyes at him. If this was what it was like to be in a relationship, you were glad that you weren’t in one. You smacked his arm to get his attention.

“Don’t you think that was the perfect time to bring up your thoughts? I mean, you were already fighting, what’s one more thing?”

He peeked an eye open to glare at you.

“I chickened out.”

“No shitting.”

You sighed, turning your body towards him while tucking your legs under your body. “Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but Tory asked me if I knew what was up with you.”

Miguel’s eyes widened comically, and if he didn’t look so panicked, you’d laugh. “She did? What did you say?”

“There isn’t much to say, is there?” you asked back, exasperated. “She’s worried, Mig. Whatever this thing with Sam is, it’s not going to resolve itself, if you won’t talk about it. Actually, I feel like it’s getting worse.”

“I know, I know,” Miguel huffed. “I will, okay? I promise.”

“Hey, you don’t have to promise me anything. You’re the one who’s suffering if you won’t talk to her,” you pointed out and Miguel pursed his lips, nodding.

“You’re right,” he relented, puffing out his cheeks as he exhaled loudly. He reached for the tv remote, zapping through the things Netflix was offering, and you leaned back on the couch, resigned. Despite what you had said to him, you worried that this could affect you more, if it went on any longer. Robby was already in the middle of it, dragging you right with him and now that Tory noticed, it was only a matter of time until more people would say something.

But not your monkey, not your circus, right?

Wrong.

Over the next few days, you spent more time with Miguel than not. You knew he was trying to avoid Sam and you kept reminding him to stop putting it off, but to no avail. Until it was a couple of days since you had seen him, which then turned into a week. It was weird, because you had gotten so used to him, but maybe he and Sam patched things up and he was too busy to let you know. You tried to be happy about it, but a part of you felt a little sick.

“I still can’t believe they’re sending you a driver.”

Robby only glanced back at you with a grin as he packed the last of his bag. He and Tory were headed out to a karate championship in San Francisco and their agency sent them a personal car to take them to the airport.

“You know I could’ve taken you.”

Or Miguel, if he had bothered to show up.

“Nah, we wouldn’t have made you drive through all that traffic, especially by yourself.”

Robby zipped up his bag, shouldering it as he walked out of the house, while you followed him.

“Well, I was offering, so…”

“Offering what?” Tory asked, critically watching the driver stuff their bags into the trunk before looking at you.

“To drive us to the airport,” Robby replied with a small grin, putting his bag on top of the rest of their luggage. The driver made an almost imperceptible face, gently taking the bag to sort it himself. Tory snickered at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Thanks but we got our own driver .”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, shaking your head for good measure. “Wasn’t Miguel supposed to come today? He would’ve agreed with me.”

“Yeah, he was supposed to. But I figured with everything going on right now, I’d give him a pass,” Robby said, brushing his hair back. Of course he did. Your best friend was a saint.

“Oh come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Just because he’s scared to bring up a problem in their relationship with Sam, doesn’t mean he’s allowed a pass.”

Tory gave you a weird look before she exchanged glances with Robby, who looked equally puzzled. Why did it feel like you were missing something?

“What.”

“You know they broke up, right?”

Your mouth dropped.

“What?”

“I thought he told you,” Robby said with furrowed brows.

You let out an indignant huff, shaking your head. “No. I haven’t heard from him for a couple of days, I figured they made up or something.”

“Quite the opposite,” Tory said, wincing. “But they seem to be doing fine.”

Huh.

You couldn’t help but feel annoyed, but there was no time to grill them any further, the driver giving them a sign that it was time to leave.

“Alright, you guys have a good flight,” you said, quickly hugging the both of them. “Text me when you’ve landed. And good luck.”

The two quickly got into the car, before the black, sleek Mercedes pulled out of the drive way. You stayed stood, until they disappeared down the street, like you were frozen in time, your thoughts swirling. With a frown, small sigh, you headed back inside. A few days go by, a couple of messages from Robby and Tory, telling you about their competition and possible new sponsors, but none from Miguel. You tried to give him space, that was what people needed after a break up, right?

Sitting on the couch, some mindless tv show running in the background, when your phone pinged. Quickly, you picked up, thinking it might be Miguel, but there were no new messages.

“Ugh!” you groaned, tossing your phone into the corner of the couch. This is the fifth time you were imagining your phone going off. Crossing your arms, you stewed in silence, your head spinning.

“No, because fuck that,” you finally muttered to yourself, grabbing your phone, keys and rushing outside the door, taking your car to Miguel’s place.

The drive didn’t take long, most of it done on autopilot while you were going through what you would throw at his head and before you knew it, you were pulled up in front of his place. You made quick work of parking and then, you were already pounding on his door with your fist.

“Hey asshole!”

The door opened, and Miguel stood in front of you, his eyes wide.

“Jesus, what is going on?”

You glared at him, poking his chest with your index finger. “So I’m good enough to come to when you’re having problems but I have to hear it from Robby that you and Sam broke up?”

Your voice was loud, undoubtedly offering free entertainment to Miguel’s neighbors but you didn’t care. Miguel cursed under his breath, grabbing you by the wrist to drag you inside, shutting the door behind you. You frowned at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well?”

He shook his head at you. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you okay… I was…” he broke off with a huff, running his hand through his hair. You only stared at him expectantly and Miguel avoided your eyes, starting to pace back and forth.

“When Sam and I broke up, we talked and it just made me realize some things, okay?” Miguel explained, sighing. “I just needed some time to think.”

“Realized what?” you asked, but he only wrung his hands, unable to look you in the eyes as he kept pacing back and forth. You let out a loud sigh, throwing your hands up.

“Miguel, what?”

Miguel looked at you, taking a deep breath before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. You froze, not having expected it, and as soon as he noticed your lack of reaction, he pulled away, stepping back, his eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down to you so you could kiss him back. The kiss started out slow at first, before it started to deepen, with Miguel backing you up against the wall, your head meeting the back of his hand instead of the wall. The kiss turned messy, hot, tongues interlocking, and you were gasping into his mouth. This is not what you had expected to happen when you came here to yell at Miguel because of Sam.

Sam.

Miguel’s ex.

Whom he just broke up with.

“Wait wait wait wait,” you said, pulling away as you caught your breath, ignoring how Miguel was chasing after your lips. “What are we even doing right now?”

He quirked a grin at you. “If you’re still questioning that, I’m definitely doing something wrong,” he murmured, leaning in to pepper small kisses along your neck. You leaned your head back against the wall, sighing softly, letting yourself be selfish for a second, before you gently pushed Miguel away, who looked at you in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, and he was looking at you at you with those big brown eyes, and you only groaned, turning away.

“Miguel, you and Sam just broke up, I’m not gonna be a rebound hook up, not with you.”

His eyes softened a little, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Sam and I didn’t just break up,” he started. “When we finally sat down to talk, we both realized that our relationship had ended a while ago. Somehow, somewhere, we both lost our feelings for each other. I still care about her,” he clarified. “But not the way I used to. Not the way I care about you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your mouth opening to interject, but Miguel pressed a finger on your lips.

“Just let me finish?”

With a sigh, you nodded, and he continued.

“I thought something was genuinely wrong with me when I stopped being attracted to Sam, but when you did that thing at the party… I realized I just wasn’t attracted to her anymore. So I guess I did feel a little guilty when Sam accused me of letting you feel me up while I was still with her, even though she was just trying to have a talk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, while he smiled down at you.

“I guess I always thought you were pretty, but I never realized how pretty you were until that night. And it didn’t help that you kept trying to give me advice to patch things up with Sam, even though I knew that it was getting on your nerves.”

Scoffing, you gave him a look and Miguel only laughed, shaking his head.

“Trust me, this is not a rebound hook up. I wouldn’t risk our friendship nor my relationship with Robby for that.”

You still weren’t entirely convinced as you thought it over in your head. “And you’re sure about that?”

“Yes, a 100%,” he confirmed, his hand cupping around the side of your neck, his touch gentle as his thumb gently caressed along your jaw. “Okay?”

You breathed out deeply, like you were collecting all the bravery you could muster, before you nodded, your lips tugged into a small smile. “Okay.”

Miguel leaned in to kiss you again and you eagerly returned it, wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss deepening. It didn’t take long for Miguel to pick you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom, where he quickly made you forget everything but the two of you.

“I’m really glad you came here to yell at me.”

You were still catching your breath, chest heaving and that was the last thing you had expected him to say, out of all things. You glanced over to Miguel with a grin, his curls sticking a little to his sweaty forehead. The sun was shining through the window, reflecting the small specks of gold in his eyes as he looked at you. He looked kind of beautiful in this light, despite the sinful things he had just done to you.

“That a kink of yours, Diaz?” you teased, reaching out to gently brush his hair off his forehead and he only rolled his eyes at you fondly.

“I’m just saying. You coming here gave me the push I needed. I don’t know how long I would’ve just tried to avoid you,” he admitted, scooting up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. “I’m not a confrontational person.”

“Excuse me?” you laughed, glancing over your shoulder in disbelief. “I recall you confronting Robby multiple times before you guys finally made up.”

“That’s different, I had no chance of losing a fight to Robby.”

“Okay El Serpiente,” you snickered and Miguel only squeezed your waist in retaliation, even though you could feel his mouth curve up against your shoulder blade.

“Speaking of Robby,” Miguel started, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How do you plan on telling him?”

“Wait, why do I have to tell him?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“You’re his best friend.”

“You’re his brother.”

“You’ve known him longer. And you live with him,” Miguel pointed out and you sighed, absentmindedly tracing circles into the back of his hand.

“Fine, I guess you make a good point,” you admitted with a pursed lips. “Honestly, I think he might be fine with it, it’s just gonna be an uncomfortable situation, like having the sex talk with your parents.”

“I don’t know whether I should feel insulted or honored.”

You laughed, but before you could reply, you could hear the distinct sound of the front door open.

“Mig, was that your front door?” you whispered, alarmed and he only looked at you confused.

“Miguel? You home?”

Both of you blanched when you recognized Robby’s voice, starting to panic.

“What the fuck is he doing back already?” you hissed and Miguel only shrugged, his eyes darting around his bedroom, trying to find a good hiding spot.

“Miguel?”

“In the bedroom, sorry I’ll be right out!” Miguel yelled back but you could hear Robby’s footsteps come closer, so you did the first thing you could think of: Hiding under the cover and lay as flat as possible.

“Hey, were you just talking to someone?”

Robby’s voice sounded close. Too close. You could only hope he wouldn’t see you behind Miguel.

“Hey man.,” Miguel greeted him, too cheerful to be inconspicuous and you bit back a groan. “Um, no, just here by myself.”

“Okay… Sorry to barge in here like this, I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Damn Robby and his big heart. “- so I thought I’d come check up on you. By the way, you haven’t seen her around, have you? I saw her car on the street.”

Damn it.

“What? No, haven’t seen her for a few days,” Miguel said, shifting under the blankets. “Maybe she’s just visiting someone in the neighborhood.”

“Hey if she’s around, how about the three of us go grab a bite?” Robby suggested. “Let me give her a call.”

“Wait, Robby-”

Your phone started to ring, echoing in the bedroom, in the back pocket of your jeans.

No no no no no no no.

Suddenly, your phone stopped ringing and the silence that followed was deafening. For a few seconds, no one said anything. Until-

“That better not be my best friend under your covers.”

With a defeated sigh, you slowly emerged from under the blanket, peeking at Robby from behind Miguel, a sheepish smile on your face, which your best friend only met with a blank stare.

“Hey Robby, what if you go wait in the living room for us and we’ll be right out…?” Miguel’s suggestion was carefully worded, like he was trying not to set him off and Robby only blinked at you, before sighing, turning to leave.

Miguel glanced back to you, his forehead creased in worry. “That could’ve gone better.”

With a frustrated groan, you let your head fall back onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, cursing whatever God that set this in motion.

“You should go.”

You and Miguel both said at the same time, before looking at each other, frowning. After questioning your life choices that led you to this moment, you and Miguel both got dressed to meet Robby in the living room. He was sitting on the arm chair, with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read.

“Someone should definitely go,” Robby said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel sighed, a pained look on his face.

“This is my mom and sensei all over again,” he muttered to himself before leaning towards Robby, clearing his throat. “Look Robby, obviously we didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“How long has this been going on exactly?”

You and Miguel exchanged a look before you turned back to Robby. “Well, today…”

Robby squinted his eyes at you, then, he looked at Miguel. “When you told me you kind of had feelings for someone, that would be.”

“Me.”

“Her.”

“Did you know about this?” Robby asked you, accusatory and you only frowned at him.

“What? No! I came here today to yell at him because he didn’t even tell me that he and Sam broke up, I didn’t intend to-”

“Okay okay I don’t need to hear all that,” Robby quickly interjected, waving his hands at you until you stopped talking. His eyes kept darting between you and Miguel, like he couldn’t quite decide who to yell at first. Then, he sighed. “I guess I somehow should’ve seen this coming… You guys happy like this?”

You turned to Miguel, who was already looking at you with a smile on his face. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, you guys make me sick.”

A pillow was thrown in Robby’s direction, which he quickly dodged with a laugh. Meanwhile, Miguel scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Robby watched you for a second, before he shook his head.

“At least dad’s gonna be thrilled,” he snorted and you only rolled your eyes, leaning back into Miguel, who furrowed his brows.

“Why thrilled?”

“He always wanted us to date,” Robby explained, speaking over your loud ew. “At least one of his sons is following his wishes.”

“Let’s just wait before we tell people,” Miguel said, rubbing your arm. “Enjoy the peace and quiet before the crazy begins.”

You nodded in agreement and Robby only shrugged with his shoulders. “Fine with me if it means you guys keep the PDA to an all time low while we’re in public.”

“Didn’t you literally make out with Tory in front of like thousands of people on live tv?” you argued and Robby shook his head.

“That’s different. The world champion title was on the line.”

With a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I hate karate.”

“Hey!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: your honor I love them

#miguel diaz x reader #Miguel diaz #Miguel Diaz x you #Miguel diaz fanfiction #Miguel diaz fanfic #Miguel diaz fic #xolo maridueña #cobra kai #ck

163 notes · View notes

inkberrytales · 2 months ago

Text

The Great Mystery of Why We’re Still Packing Schoolbags Like It’s 1950

Picture this: children march into school with backpacks packed like treasure chests and pencils sharpened as if they’re swords for battle, hoping they’ll emerge ready for a world that’s spinning faster than a squirrel on a wheel. But what if the lessons they’re learning today are as outdated as a map to a kingdom that no longer exists? I’ve spent years observing young minds in both the classroom…

View On WordPress

#adaptability in kids #critical thinking skills #education reform #future of learning #outdated education system #raising problem solvers #technology in schools

0 notes

emsartwork · 4 months ago

Text

I know the poll wanted to see the winx in nymphix but my brain latched onto the background fairies and would NOT let go so uhhhh here

Francis, Fairy of Laughter, is still Whimsiican from @stormcloudquill fan planet, just slightly adjusted her magic winx form here (my magic winx doesn't do big accessories like hats lol)

Miky, Fairy of Stone, is Ohmish. She's a preppy rich girl, but is genuinely sweet and bubbly

Francine, Fairy of Rivers, Lucidus Lynphean. She's calm and graceful but can be a bit clueless and spacey.

Amaryl, Fairy of Brilliance, has Ohmish ancestry but was born and raised in Magix City. She's pretty much like canon and can be a little bitchy haha

Nova, Fairy of Comets, is SoLuna Solarian. She eventually leaves studying to work in government on Solaira

Varanda Di Calisto, Fairy of Extravaganza, is Sol Solarian. She also leaves Studying magic as it was largely pressured by her parents, she completely leave Solaria and joins an asteroid colony as a performer.

Alasie, Fairy of Ice, is Glatellic. She doesn't have any personal beef with Icey but doesn't like how she's represented the events on Glatelle. She lost her eye in the chaos but still has family there and is pursuing magic as a means to help rebuild.

Ahn-Sa, Fairy of Love, is Zhenese but raised on Magix, her parents fled Zhen early on in the Civil War. She's a little mischievous but very kind.

Khadija, Fairy of Rythm, is Koyuvian. She's high energy but is very go with the flow and non-competitive, just happy to be here typa vibe.

Katriel "katty", Fairy of Animals, is Eraklyan. CAT GIRL. also a very astute observer and problem solver (she prefers to be a problem causer tho).

Silica, Fairy of Glass, is Zenithian. Another problem child for the intellectual value system of Zenith, Silica is very dyslexic and a kinetic learner. She still struggles with class work at Alfea but they have less emphasis on perfect grades than Zenith does.

Prisca, Fairy of Trees, is Dominian and Vaonaaj, raised on Vaonaa. She's low key Alfea's resident fuckboy, but more in the sense that every student has had a crush on her at some point and less that she plays with people's feelings lol. (SHE'S ARO ALSO SO)

Luluah, Fairy of Electricity, is Androsian. She's very gregarious and is always planning a party or other events.

Otensia, Fairy of Mind, is Koyuvian and Silva Lynphean. She's a bit of a stick in the mud but can loosen up if given time and some understanding.

263 notes · View notes

arieswritez · 2 months ago

Text

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 4

chapter 3

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! MENTION OF ANIMAL DEATH, reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you’ll miss it), SADIST MARK, violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, so . . gore, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he’s a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; [the fuckin' thought of you with somebody else, i don't like that.] . . actually, if you even consider leaving i'll lose a couple screws in due time, i'll stop breathing and you'll see the meaning of stalker when i pop out the dark to find you and that new dude that you're seeing with a attitude - IFHY (tyler the creator)

there was blood on mark's hands.

syrupy and wet.

the distinct stench of iron rot fogged up his senses.

blood clots stuck like soft gelatin between his fingers. stretching, snapping webs of gore whenever he opened and closed his hands.

still warm as he switched on the water from your sink.

the suds from your hand soap came up a copper brown, adorned by tiny rivulets of red as he dug beneath his fingernails to scrape away any remnants of viscera.

dna washed away by tap water.

his skin purified once again.

mark looked up and met the eyes in the reflection, making sure to pick off specks of skull fragment and the fatty tissue of brain matter from strands of his hair.

what a fantasy.

a blink and it's all gone.

just like you.

you and your attention.

your undying devotion. a huff and the flame gets snuffed.

better yet. . you light and pass the torch to someone fucking else.

it's no good.

there's no use being mad at you and your uninspiring devotion. how special is your love, really, if it is so easily obtained?

and why does the fact that it no longer belongs to mark so upsetting?

why'd the realization that anyone who called you pretty would have you fantasizing about baby's breath bouquets - something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in your shoe - make his blood run that much hotter?

why'd it make him stare down into the sink, faucet running, as he tried to slow down his breathing? gripping the edges of your porcelain sink until he heard it creak. counting forwards to a hundred, then back again.

he did all the things the therapist his mother took him to recommended he do when those feelings came up. things to see, smell, and touch, and taste. but the only thing that came through the ringing in his ears was the vivid fantasy of tearing your boy apart.

he could see the light leaving his eyes. he could smell the acrid stench of piss running down the coward's leg. and god knows he'd only ever touch him to dispose of his body.

and at the end, he'd taste the tears collecting at your cupid's bow when you sought comfort in his presence. just like the old days. it'd all be worth it in the end.

. . he shouldn't have read your dairy.

not because debbie raised him to 'respect privacy' - because who doesn't keep shit in their notes app in this day and age? - but because it put him in a shitty mood.

but he was also glad he did it.

it revealed what your problem was.

and mark's always been your problem solver.

mark was imaginative.

mark was smart.

mark was also patient.

surely, you'll get bored.

you'll preoccupy your mind with mundane things: how the world spins, for example. what you'll make of yourself. what people will think of you.

ouroboros: swallowing yourself whole trying to find the beginning to the end.

will you be loved? how will you be loved?

you're a glutton obsessing over not being enough in the first place. more, more, more.

you'll dizzy yourself.

come full circle, nausea and vertigo, habitually crawling back to him.

you're a distracted little thing.

you always have been.

it's in your nature.

mark tries not to be too hard on you about your romantic pursuits.

after all, you'll go after what you think you deserve.

and if that's dysfunction, then so be it.

however. . . your standards could be a little higher. had it been any other person occupying your mind. . mark wouldn't have cared.

oh, not at all.

he cares fuck all about your meaningless schoolyard crushes but the one thing that boils mark's blood is all of the abuse.

the hoops you have to jump through for the smallest shred of applause.

and really, how pathetic do you have to be? why can't you see that he's using you? as entertainment. as a pet. as a clown.

and what you don't understand is that deep down. . mark and your boy aren't all that different.

which explains why you like him so much.

mark and your boy were sharks.

your boy could smell your blood from a mile away; see the desperation in the way you sauntered past him, salivating at the thought of being the apple of his eye.

he saw you for what you were: prey.

and they saw right through your flimsy little costume of new clothing and perfumed wrists.

your boy and his group of cronies didn't laugh at your jokes because they thought you were funny. they laughed at the idea of you believing they found you entertaining.

your mediocre attempts at relevancy were funny - hilarious, even - because of how eager you were to impress them.

and the only reason why they hadn't used and discarded you like a plastic bag with warm dog shit inside of it was because they were more than happy tossing a coin into traffic, making you fetch just so they could entertain themselves watching you get hit by a bus.

but everything for your boy, right?

you and that fucking boy.

whatever it is, mark's more than willing to find a way to make all of that stop. he's devised some plans to make everything go back to the way they used to be.

it'd always been you and mark.

mark and you.

he planned to keep it that way.

and so, he was on his best behavior.

he'd let you have your boy.

he'd push down the bile that crawled up his throat whenever he imagined his hands on you. whenever he saw your face light up whenever your phone pings with a notification.

mark can be a very good actor.

he'd act as if his stares weren't deadly when you looked up and caught him looking at you. he could melt those icey eyes, the ones that glaze over in anger, and turn them into their usual warm brown.

he's on his best behavior.

attentive, even.

he's so, so interested in what you've got going on.

who are you talking to? yes you can tell me. no i won't get mad. yes. i promise. him? yeah, I remember. why didn't you tell me?

no, i'm not mad.

good for you!

no, i won't threaten him.

who do you think i am~?

mark knows better than to be outright poisonous towards you. not when there was another boy willing to stuff your pretty little head with cotton.

you are far too sensitive to hear anything that isn't a candied lie. if he plays nice, it gives him the upper-hand.

there is no need to vent to a diary when your best friend is sitting in front of you, doe eyed and innocent, the way he pretended to be when you two were twelve and his mom would check up on you in his room. or when teachers would walk past and he had to pretend he wasn't pressing the sharp point of his pencil into your thigh.

mark loves your parent(s).

they aren't that much different than you.

in fact, mark has come to find that there aren't many people that match him in terms of intelligence.

he can see why you came out the way you did. un-special, if he's feeling kind. the other word he'd like to use is not nice to call someone.

pining after approval, your parent(s) were very easy to like.

very easy to control.

"i just don't know if they've told you, yet. . it seems kinda unfair that i'll be the one to say." mark mutters under his breath, tracing shapes into the dining room table as your parent(s) sit across from him.

"mark," your parent reaches across the table, hoping to grab his hand, only for mark to pull it out of their reach. "if something's happening. . we want to know. we need to know."

"it's just that. ." mark pauses, gives a few seconds to really build the tension. "it's a bit embarrassing."

super.

he's worried about you, you see? there's a group of guys you've been chasing around in school. . and mark doesn't think they have your best interest in mind.

mark has heard. . things.

but you've gone cold on him.

he's worried you might be. .

well, he's worried you might be having sex.

with a few. .

. . all of them?

oh, who gives a shit? the more the better. and the more mark spills, plucks things out of thin air, the more petrified your parents look.

he makes sure to say it.

sex.

hisses, purrs it, whispers it like it's such a bad word.

he even wills himself to look embarrassed, averting his eyes like it's a shameful thing.

it brings him back to the day debbie caught him with some girl after a baseball game.

she had just been some random. a shiny object that called mark's attention. something he could put his dick into while he tucked his face into her neck and imagined the sounds you'd make.

his mom should've known he was already having sex. however, having been caught with his pants down and balls deep in someone wasn't necessarily the way he planned to break it to her.

he heard his mom and his dad arguing in the next room that night and, coincidentally, nolan came in and gave him 'the talk' to the best of his ability.

humans are fragile, mark.

yes, they are.

but the bruises on her were not his fault.

she was soft.

and she'd liked it.

nevertheless, your parents are not as forgiving as mark's.

they promise him it's not a big deal. that he did good. that he's good.

a good kid, a good student, a good friend.

but as soon as he's gone, he knows they are searching your room top to bottom.

he flies up to your room and peeks in through the curtains to watch them toss open closet doors, rummaging through clothing, bookbags, notebooks, whatever they can find.

and finally, your bed.

your diary with all the juicy, dirty - downright violent, jesus - fantasies mark wrote by forging your handwriting.

and your nightstand.

wherein tucked underneath your cute underwear lays a shiny pack of condoms.

at least you're being safe.

you'll never hear the end of it.

it's too good to miss and mark doesn't care if he has to wait all day for you to get home. he wants to watch your everything crash and burn.

not that he'll have to wait much, anyway.

your parent's on the phone, trying to contain red hot anger from spewing out like a backed up volcano, hissing at you to get home, now.

you poor thing.

you poor, poor, thing.

you don't know what to tell them when they toss the pack of condoms at your feet.

when they shove the journal in your face, showing you all the depraved things you wrote in that cute little scrawl.

the boys, the nights out in which you claimed to be at mark's: helping him out with a project.

yeah, right, stop lying, already!

"give me your phone. now."

fingers feverishly tapping and swiping, going through texts as tears stream down your flushed face.

you've got a date tonight.

and you hadn't told your parent(s).

what a coincidence, oh my!

your boy must've planned to seal the deal that night. and mark would be damned if he didn't have you first.

mark doesn't need to worry.

that's definitely not happening now, is it?

in fact, you won't be able to go anywhere that isn't class for the rest of the school year. not unless you're monitored by mark. and isn't it embarrassing, mark having to be some sort of guardian?

"I thought you were smarter than this."

and you're too good to yell back.

you're too good to argue and try to explain that it wasn't you.

you didn't buy condoms. you didn't write that. you didn't do anything.

but if it wasn't you, who was it?

who did?

you look every bit of a cornered animal. it's very you: to freeze in situations like that. back to the door, facing the window just enough for mark to be able to peek at every emotion going past your face through the crack of your curtains.

he watches it flicker past your eyes, the way the muscles in your neck tense up when you squeak out those ugly, strangled, sniffed out cries. the ones you try to hold back when you're crying alone in your room and you want no one else to hear them.

the ones you'd let out at your desk when you were itty bitty and your parent had dropped you off at kindergarten, promising you they'd be right back, but they never were.

you are so much like the way you used to be.

mark wishes things hadn't changed.

he wishes you were just as innocent, as good. he wishes no one would've turned you into what you are now.

he wishes you wouldn't have been stupid enough to let them.

you don't say anything.

you don't even push past your parent when they're done berating you, just stare down at the floor until their mouth has dried, and they shoulder check past you.

you only slowly turn to push the door closed, grab your computer and send a message to the only person you think you can confide in.

he arrives in ten minutes.

enough to make it believable, climb up a tree and sneak into your room.

you fall into his arms immediately, sobbing.

mark hopes you don't feel him smiling against your shoulder as he comforts you.

your boy has been different since the last time you talked to him. distant, distracted. different. you catch him zoning out whenever the two of you are studying in the library, not reciprocating when you try to play footsies with him.

you're not sure if it has to do with the night you had to cancel your date. sure, it was last minute but he'd told you that it was okay. but with everything going on at home, you don't have the patience to hear him lie.

"seriously, what's up?" you ask, kicking his shoe softly.

your boy looks up at you.

his eyes used to gleam with confidence. the type of cockiness that'd make your cheeks burn and butterflies flutter like mad in your stomach. but they looked empty then. he looked like he hadn't slept well. that night or the one before.

he looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. you leaned forward in response, your curiosity peaked.

"this is going to sound weird but. . do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched?"

you blinked.

"uh. . hm. ."

come to think of it. . sometimes you did. you've been sensitive to eyes on you since you can remember. the hyper vigilance is something you've grown accustomed to, making peace with the fact that it might not be a curse after all, and instead some sort of safety feature.

but it felt different.

not like the irrational tickle in your stomach whenever you think of a possibility. but the speckling feeling across your skin, crawling with a million legs, the kind that makes you hallucinate a breath against your neck. the type that has your head rolling, looking for an intruder.

nothing.

but you didn't tell your boy.

because your boy was talking about himself and you've learned to insert yourself into it could be rude.

you settle with saying, "what do you mean?"

he shrugged a shoulder. "i dunno. watched. I get that sometimes. see something from the corner of my eye. and when I turn to look it's gone."

you felt your heart pick up speed. strange. the same thing had been happening to you.

you let out a nervous laugh. "if you're saying this to scare me I'm gonna get really mad, y'know?"

"i'm serious." he said, almost urgently. "and here's this: i was walking to my car after baseball practice and found some weird red shit smeared across my windshield."

he's fucking with you.

surely, he is.

this must have something to do with the rumour circulating around school. the one in which they've seen a figure whizzing past. the one in which that figure is the reason in which some animal carcasses have been found in the baseball field, mutilated like some sort of fucked up science experiment. a villain that's found a hobby in terrorizing the town, perhaps.

"it's probably nothing." you whisper, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"probably." he responds.

he doesn't look convinced.

and he doesn't reciprocate when you try, again, to get his attention.

your boy was gone.

gone, gone, gone.

word around the school was that he'd transfered.

but that started to feel suspicious when the students noticed the smell.

something easy to dismiss at first.

the kind of funk attributed to warm weather and not enough deodorant. growing boys and their scattered hormones.

and then it grew.

bold, loud.

ugly enough that it couldn't be ignored.

sour.

downright rancid.

and it was all coming from your boy's locker.

it got so bad a janitor had to pry his locker open.

and that's where they found a decomposed animal, tire marks through the middle of the delicate body. maggots swarming in the orifice where the eyes used to be.

you don't remember when the last time you saw him was.

you don't know if you ever will.

with his past time of mutilating animals and collecting roadkill, you're not sure you even want to.

and if you did, the only thing you'd ask is why?

mark seemed the least surprised about it.

he hadn't so much as grimaced as he told you the story of his locker being pried open.

the stench was the worst thing, apparently.

although, it wasn't enough to deter his appetite as he popped grapes between his fingers, making sure to squirt the juice onto you as he described fat, wriggling maggots falling off in swarming little balls off of the carcass.

you shiver, skin crawling, staring at the pile of homework before mark.

now that your boy had vanished into thin air, his entourage wanted nothing to do with you. you figured it was only normal. you were all preparing for finals, applying for college, planning ahead.

still, it hurt.

it hurt to think you almost had it, almost had him, but it was all taken away. you're not sure why you feel that way, but you do.

and the only thing keeping you afloat is the fact that you've found your way back to mark.

it reminds you, he'll always be there for you.

no matter what.

it's nice, you think.

spending time with your best friend.

even if it means doing mark's work again.

CHAPTER 5

#mark grayson x reader #alternate mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible #invincible x reader #yandere mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #bpd king #he just like me #srry for my disappearance #i was going insane #it will happen again #sinister mark #sinister mark x reader #invincible variants

130 notes · View notes

obvi-the-best-soph · 8 months ago

Text

we're all bound to break. (chapter 2)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: R tells alexia about her parents but makes alexia promise not to tell the team. alexia agrees of r agrees to speak to the team psychologist/ try and improve her eating and general health. either the team find out through social media or listening to r in an interview getting mad/ upset about a question about her parents. r blames alexia for telling people bc she hasn’t told anyone else. alexia comforts her + happy ending

word count: 2,123k

summary: you tell the team about your mami and papa, alexia helps you through it, an interviewer asks a tough question, and you're paid a visit from someone who is less than friendly.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: disordered eating, mentions of vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, struggling alone, eating while recovering from an ed, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 3: here

a/n: hey! ive had a lot of requests for chapter two of this story, its taken me a while because i didn't really get any requests and i was struggling for ideas, so it has taken a month, but the long awaited second chapter is here! i didn't really follow the request too closely, but I think it turned out alright, hope you do too. requests are always open. <3 :D

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

You froze. You assumed there were still tear tracks down your cheeks, your eyes still bloodshot, and clearly, Alexia knew something was wrong. But she didn’t seem to know what.

“I- uh- what? There’s nothing wrong. Just… tired is all.” You try to explain, stuttering out an awful and clearly fake excuse. “You look tired too, maybe you should go to bed and we can talk later?”

“No,” Alexia states firmly, sitting down on your bed next to you. “Chica it smells like sick in here, have you thrown up?” she asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well not really, I think I just ate something bad earlier, it was only a little bit-” You attempt to lie again, but she cuts you off.

“Stop bullshitting me amor, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” she says. That’s the thing, Alexia’s a problem solver, a bit like a man, just wanting to fix everything for everyone so we can all be happy with no problems, but she couldn't fix this. Mami is dead. Papi is dead. They are gone. You can’t undo death, no matter how hard you try.

After nearly 20 minutes of back and forth, “There’s something wrong.” “No, there’s not, I’m fine,” Alexia pulls out the big guns, completely oblivious and unaware of how big they are now.

“Superestrella, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to call your parents and you’ll have to talk to them. Please, just tell me, I only want to help. I hate seeing you so introverted and quiet all the time, I miss your laugh, guapa.”

And with that, the guns are fired, and the dam is broken. You burst into another round of tears, burying yourself into Alexia’s side, head on her chest. Between sobs, you manage to get out the words,

“You can’t help! No one can help! It’s all ruined!”

before falling asleep from the effort of crying and earlier, denial. Now, Alexia is seriously worried.

Alexia lets you sleep on her for a moment before carefully manoeuvring you to lie down and slipping out of your room. Once in the lounge area, she sits down on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her thinking position, because she was thinking pretty fucking hard right now. What on Earth had happened? What had gone wrong to make her happy, giggly, pestering Superestrella, so- so…. Broken?

Finally, she decides to call Mapi, she knows that Mapi was out late celebrating last night too, and is probably also dealing with a killer hangover, similar to Alexia’s currently, but she deems this important enough to warrant a call.

The phone rings three times before a very croaky-voiced, tired, and generally-recovering-from-being-completely-plastered sounding, María León is heard;

“What Alexia?”

“Mapi, sorry, I know now probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s Y/N, she-”

Before Alexia can even get a word of an explanation in, a now far more awake and alert sounding defender is cutting her off, clearly very worried, “Chica? What about her? Is she- is she okay? What’s wrong?”

That morning, it was organised that at training in a few days, Lucy, Keira, Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid would sit you down after training, and you would talk.

It’s been a couple of days since the Champions League final, most members of the team are still on the winning high, while others are starting to settle a bit, but today is the first training back since the big game. You go about training as normal, struggling your way through it with next to no will to live and an empty stomach, but when you’re in the locker room, Alexia taps you on the shoulder. You two haven't spoken much since the other morning after her night of celebrations.

“Hey, a few of us just want to have a quick meeting with you before we go today, sí?” she says, her tone softer, more gentle, than usual.

You nod awkwardly and finish changing before heading to the meeting room Alexia had told you to meet at, only to find 5 of your teammates sat there, watching you like you’re a Porcelain doll that could shatter at any second, and that was slightly true.

“Um, hola Todas?” (Hello everyone.) you say with slight suspicion, eyeing them one by one as you slowly sit down in a chair at the long glass table. There’s a collective murmur of “Hello”s in various languages before it goes quiet again. Alexia speaks up first;

“Superestrella, we’ve all noticed something is wrong, and we just want to help. Truly, that’s all we want. You are usually all sunshine and rainbows, but recently you have been walking around like you have rocks in your pockets and a storm cloud over your head. Por favor niña, déjanos entrar. (Please girl, let us in.)” she says in a slightly pleading tone, the other women are all looking at you sympathetically.

“I- nothing is wrong. I’m just… uh… tired! I am tired. We have been training a lot recently so I haven’t been feeling the best recently! That’s it. Si. Estoy cansada. (I’m tired.)” you reply quickly, desperate to get out of here and back into bed so you can continue wallowing your sadness and grief, alone.

They all give you soft, yet slightly unimpressed, looks of ‘Come on. We all know that’s not it.’

“Chica-” Mapi starts, but she’s cut off by Lucy’s thick accent,

“Y/N please, let us in. You know we would never judge you or anything like that, we just want to help, as Alexia said. Teammates are here to support you off the pitch just as much as on it.”

“Yeah, what Lucy said. We love you like a little sister, Y/N, and we’re worried about you.” Keira adds.

A collective nod and hum of agreement spread through the room. You sigh. It was getting harder and harder to pretend.

“I- ugh. Okay. Fine. There is something wrong.” You finally relent, the lump already forming in your throat, the familiar glass returning to your eyes. The 5 women around you perk up a bit, glad you’re starting to open up, even if it’s only a little.

“What is Cari? (Cariño- sweetheart.)” Ingrid speaks up for the first time, her accent thick as always.

“It’s… it’s my parents.” They frown. They knew how close you were with your parents, especially your papa, so what could be wrong that has to do with them? You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tears falling silently down your cheeks, you’d gotten good at crying quietly, preparing to voice the words aloud for the first time. To make it all real.

“They- they’re- they- died. Dead. Gone.” you open your eyes to find 5 women staring at you in horror, eyes wide, mouths open, and sympathetic looks from them all. But it was Alexia’s face that made the tears fall, she was the only one who knew how you really felt, who truly understood. It was her arms that you felt around you first, she didn’t say anything, she just held you for a while.

After a few moments, you spoke up again, your voice a little more steady this time.

“It was 2 weeks before the Champions League final. I got the call from the police back in (your hometown), they- they were driving home from our match, there- there was a drunk driver. The driver hit them at nearly full speed, they- they didn’t survive the impact.”

The horror on the women’s faces only grows, Alexia’s grip on you only tightens.

It’s a good few minutes before anyone says anything else, and the one to speak up this time is Lucy.

“Oh god Y/N, that- that’s awful. Why on Earth didn’t you tell us? We would’ve helped you, supported you-” her tone, growing slightly frustrated and upset, is cut off by a firm pat on the thigh by Keira, telling her to cool it a bit, the defender going quiet.

“I- I didn’t tell you because…. Because I didn’t want you to pity me, to treat me differently, and you guys already worry about me enough, so I didn’t want to add to it right before the final. And also… I just- I just couldn’t say it out loud. Not then. It was too soon…”

That conversation or “meeting” as it’s now referred to, went on for a long time, feelings were discussed, tears fell, hands trembled, and eventually, you and Alexia were left to go home, and you felt a whole lot lighter… possibly because it had been 3 days since your last meal, or possibly because you had finally confessed your secret.

When you arrived back at the apartment, Olga was anxiously waiting there for the two of you. During the meeting, the subject of your eating had come up, you had confessed to skipping meals and intentionally not eating, and agreed to try harder to fuel your body the way an athlete should. Clearly, Alexia had shot Olga a text or something before we arrived, as there was a bowl of your favourite sitting, waiting on the table. Eli’s (Alexia’s Mami.) homemade paella and blue Powerade. Gently, Alexia sat you down at the seat in front of it and sat next to you, she put the spoon in your hand and made you eat a few bites, and then she just slipped into conversation with you, a random conversation, about school and friends and the new set pieces, etc. And before you knew it, you had been so distracted that you had eaten the whole bowl without even thinking about it. It felt… good, being full that is. Alexia smiled softly when she saw your small smile and took your plate up to the sink, before sending you off for a bath and a nap with a kiss on the forehead.

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, you were asked to do an interview. Where you would be talking about the Champions League final, what it was like to score both the goals for Barca, one in the last few minutes too, how you celebrated afterwards as you were not allowed in the changing rooms, but worst of all, a question you weren’t expecting, weren’t ready for,

“So Y/N, everyone is very familiar with your papa, your biggest fan, often seen wearing your jersey and waving his flag, but he was not spotted at the final, we were just wondering, is he okay, or just sitting somewhere else?” The interviewer asks with an unknowing and innocent smile.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can respond, you manage to keep the smile on your face, and voice steady (barely).

“Oh, yeah, no. He, um- Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it.” You say with a curt nod and ever so slightly pursed lips, the interviewer getting the hint not to pry any further on the question.

That night, you were curled up on the couch, laying across is, your head in Alexia’s lap, crying… again. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. It had scared you, Alexia understood, she knew how hard it was to talk about it (from personal experience), especially if you aren’t aware the subject will be brought up. Alexia whispers soothing Spanish words, her nails scratching your scalp calmingly, when there’s a knock at the door.

Alexia frowned and looked at the clock, it was 7pm, not usual visitor time, no one was meant to be coming around, Olga was out of town with friends… who was it? She carefully moves your head from her lap and kisses your forehead before going to answer the door, as she walks over, you prop yourself up on your elbows a bit to see who it is.

The midfielder opened the door to find a woman standing there, she was young-ish, probably younger than Alexia, mid-twenties maybe, but rather… uptight looking. At first, you couldn’t see who it was, the woman and Ale exchanged a few words before Alexia stepped aside, you and the woman now having a clear view of each other…

Your expression changed quickly, features hardening, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You practically jumped off the couch in anger, stomping up to the woman, and standing very close to her. With a cold look and tone, you spoke to her;

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía (aunt)?” you spat the last word like it tastes fowl in your mouth…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you are wanting a third chapter, please don't just say "chapter 3 pls" or something like that, please give me actual ideas or requests in my inbox. kind critisms is always welcome too. thank you for reading! 😊💖

tag list: @multifandomlesbianic

#alexia putellas #lucy bronze #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #keira walsh #ingrid engen #olga rios #woso #woso communtiy #obvithebestsoph

203 notes · View notes