#I have no idea what I'm doing but I actually like this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crimsoncandy04 · 3 days ago

Note

Have u ever thought of Scara w tentacles😳 like he was an experiment and we are the one in charged of cater for him, then one day he escape and take us with him to breed cause' he really likes us... Idk if it's possible but might lay eggs for him. Please try writing it one day!! Tysm for those fics u feed uso(≧▽≦)o

I should really check my inbox more often than I do. This is literally such a hot idea.

(also just a heads up, I'm absolutely blasted right now while writing this so if it's not perfect I'm so sorry. Cannabis gummies are a double edged sword for me. On one hand I get the BEST ideas to write but then on the other I forget how words work)

Hope you like it;)

You had seen some weird stuff in your 25 years. It was expected though. You WERE working for the fatui and under one of the more deranged harbingers known for fucked up experimentation too.

However, being put in charge of one of the less important projects involving the sixth harbinger had proven to be more than you were prepared to handle.

A LOT more.

You had no idea why he allowed this to happen or if it was just a bizarre side effect of another failed experiment. But one thing was for certain, the sixth harbinger had been altered physical and now needed to be restrained at all costs. He had actual tentacles growing from his back. Like REAL ones. And for some reason they seemed to have minds of their own at times.

Thrashing around and hitting the thick glass of the containment room as if trying to break out while the young man at their base sat on the cold concrete ground and refused to look at you each time you went over to slide him food through a small opening in the wall that your hand could barely fit through.

You weren't important enough to know the details of what went on in your boss's lab but you had to admit that the sentient tendrils were a bit pretty to look at.

They were a deep indigo. Almost black with small barely discernable silver accents along the sides.

They appeared almost metallic in the right lighting and you had to make yourself look away and stop staring sometimes because you didn't want to be rude.

You were here to complete a job and that was all.

Until the night everything went to shit of course.

You were summoned sometime after midnight along with two other subordinates to check the lab for accidents after a security alarm was triggered for unknown reasons.

You rushed in and immediately you felt your blood go cold at the sight before you.

He had escaped.

Shattered glass lay at your feet as well as blood presumably from the guard who was now nowhere to be seen and most certainly dead.

You heard a yell from the room next to you.

"Stay here!" The other man with you insisted as he drew his gun and took off after the source of the cry.

You didn't need to be told twice.

Because right now you were confused but also rightfully scared.

What happened to the sixth harbinger? He never once gave you reason to believe he was distressed or restless before. He never even spoke to you when you fed him and checked the condition of his holding room.

Did you perhaps miss something?

What caused him to suddenly lash out and attack the guard?

And most importantly what happened to-

*PLOP*

You hear something hit the ground next to you and slowly turn your head to look.

You shriek.

On the ground next to you was the decapitated head of the subordinate who had just left to search for the other man.

You immediately tried to run but were stopped in your tracks as something wrapped around your waist and hoisted you into the air.

You tremble and go silent. Preparing for the worst when you look down and meet eyes with the sixth harbinger.

One of his many new appendages coiled around your middle and rendering you helpless as you silently prayed to every archon you could remember that if you were to die here it would be quick and painless.

He narrows his eyes up at you.

"You. You didn't want to try killing me as well?"

You struggle to answer as you shake violently.

"No sir. I see you nearly every day. I assumed something was wrong and that you were seeking help. I didn't feel like it was right to murder you."

"Are you scared?"

You felt your heart race.

Something about his tone seemed off. Different.

Did he...enjoy the fact that you were clearly terrified?

You closed your eyes and sighed.

Alright.

Every life had its end. This was surely yours.

Don't think about it. Go to your safe place Y/N.

You suddenly feel more tentacles slither around your arms and legs.

You immediately open your eyes as you feel them spread your knees apart.

What the FUCK!?

There's a chuckle from underneath you.

"I must admit... I am enjoying your terror immensely."

Obviously.

You feel an indigo tendril slowly slide up your shirt and wiggle underneath your bra. coiling around one of your breasts and squeezing it roughly as you feel your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. It was cold and slimy but thanks to what you assumed was the natural power of the young man before you, the tentacles emitted a gentle electro current throughout their entire lengths and the sensation caused the muscles in your limbs and stomach to relax unwillingly as you were fondled.

The entire stimulation was now sending jolts of unwilling arousal through you. Scaramouche's eyes darken as he feels your nipple stiffen against one of his slick, muscular coils which had wrapped itself tightly around one of your tits and was now rubbing its head against your delicate peak. Making you struggle to stay quiet.

"Your body is betraying you. How does it feel existing in such a delicate and worthless form? I'm not even trying yet-."

Another tendril snakes up your thigh, sliding beneath your skirt, the cool slickness a shock against your bare skin as you didn't expect this so quickly. It inches higher, brushing against your clothed sex.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly at your soft whimpers then, his voice a sinful caress in your aroused mind as you're made to enjoy this against your will.

"I can still feel you with these. You're so wet already. Does it feel good being teased in such a disgraceful manner? Or were you always this much of a slut?"

He grins wickedly, a predatory gleam in his indigo eyes. The tendrils tighten their grip, squeezing and kneading your most sensitive places, stoking the fire within your core. The air crackles with his power and reeks of your excitement.

A small tentacle hooks into the waistband of your panties and suddenly rips them off completely, baring your glistening sex to the cool air. Another one quickly begins to rub against your slick folds, teasing your wet entrance.

"What a cute little hole~ hmm. I wonder what would happen if I-"

The thick tentacle at your entrance instantly rams itself inside in one painful push, stretching your tight pussy and curling in to rub against your sweet spot as it began to thrust quickly. You could only gasp and cry out as you felt another tentacle slither up your thigh and rub your clit at the same time.

Your eyes widened.

It hurt yet it felt like you had ascended to Celestia all at once.

You force yourself to cry out before you went insane.

"S-Scara! Please! It's too big! You're... stretching me!"

Scaramouche smirks up at your quivering body as he feels your tight walls clenching desperately around his invading tendril. He grinds it deeper, relishing your breathy moans and gasps, the electric current making your body shudder with every caress and thrust.

"Too big? Ha. Your greedy little cunt is taking every inch like it was made for it. Like it was made for me."

He pulls back slightly, then slams the tentacle in deeper. The wet squelching sounds of the violation fill the room, mingling with your increasingly wanton moans and whimpers.

"Listen to yourself, enjoying the feeling of being so ruthlessly defiled. You can't deny your true nature Y/N. You're a weak and disposable creature. I've seen how you go out of your way to try and care about me. How you act so..."selfless" and "considerate" when forced to tend to me knowing damn well it was all only to delude yourself into believing you were making a difference. Tell me, was it tiring?"

Tendrils squeeze your breasts harder, the electric shocks making your nipples stiffen into aching peaks. Another then pushes into your mouth, silencing your cries and leaving you gasping around the slick intrusion.

"It must have been exhausting. Pretending like you actually cared so much. Did you enjoy your little charade? Was it nice pretending like you weren't worth less than the dirt on my shoes because you were "helping "?"

Scaramouche's voice is a dark, lustful growl as he crosses his arms and continues to watch as his tentacles ruin you. The tendril pistoning into your cunt speeds up, the electric shocks growing stronger, pushing you closer and closer to a reluctant release.

"Come for me, Y/N. Come on my tentacles like the wanton slut you are. You wanted something like this right? To be seen and "loved"? Well let go then."

As Scara speaks, another tentacle snakes down to your puckered rear entrance. It teases the tight ring of muscle, the electric current making it relax. Slowly it pushes inside, stretching your virgin hole around the slick invader.

"Such a tight little asshole... I will enjoy breaking this in as well. You'll be my perfect little fuck toy, ready and eager for me at all times. How does that sound?"

The tentacle in your mouth begins fucking deeper into your throat, making you gag and choke a little. The one in your ass pushes deeper, stretching you impossibly further now as everything borders on pleasure and pain now in an overwhelming way.

"That's it, just like that. Take it all. Take every inch, every inch of my desire. You'll learn to crave this, to need this, to be nothing but a set of holes for me to fill and use. I'll give you a purpose. A reason to exist. Just like you always wanted."

Scaramouche's eyes blaze with sadistic lust as he watches you try to writhe and struggle, your body shaking with unwanted pleasure, your mind clouding with shame and need. He knows he has you now, knows that he can shape you, mold you, ruin you for all others.

And it's driving him insane.

You had caught his attention long ago but of course you were too stupid to notice. You always thought his tentacles were just being "aggressive". No. He had been trying to get you to say something to him. But every time you just stared at him, gave him a stupid little tray of food that he didn't even need. And then just left.

You couldn't blame him for getting a little frustrated and impatient. You had practically forced him to make the first move here.

A couple of minutes went by and suddenly you feel something else being stuffed into your stretched cunt alongside the enormous tentacle already buried inside.

Two smaller and practically microscopic sized tentacles wiggle in and begin to tease your cervix opening. Slowly coaxing their way into your womb as you feel yourself climaxing from the intrusion.

The tentacles writhe and squirm in your womb, painting your inner walls with their slick, tingling essence.

You suddenly feel a deep pressure as something is pumped directly into your womb. You wince and cum again as Scara begins to forcibly impregnates you with his offspring yet instead of your earlier nervousness or shame, you now feel oddly at ease. As if your new reality finally set in for you.

It was kinda enjoyable.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly as he feels your womb trying instinctively to reject his eggs. But the tendrils hold fast, forcing the small yet soft jelly-like lavender eggs deeper, stretching your most intimate space to its limits.

You had finally accepted your place it seemed. Utilizing your body's full potential from here would be far more easy with you now more willing to endure the process and transformation.

The tendrils continue their relentless assault, pumping more and more of the eggs into you, each one a cruel mockery of a seed, a promise of the countless times he will fill you after this as well. You had one purpose now. To be used, bred like a bitch in heat. All for the singular goal of birthing a new army for Scaramouche and his future plans.

You were important for this reason alone.

"Welcome to your new life, mortal. Welcome to eternity as my personal fuck toy, my breeding bitch, my eternal plaything. And you will love every moment of it. I promise."

A few hours pass and your belly swells quickly. During this short incubation period Scara manages to stretch your holes even further almost to the point of beyond recognition. Three tentacles now thrusted in and out of your ruined asshole and Scara had decided to reposition you both to keep an eye on you and to jam another thick tentacle deep into your pussy and continue to ravage it while he silently marveled at your swollen belly from where he now stood over you.

His hands roam possessively over the stretched skin of your stomach. He can feel the eggs he's planted inside you, each one a testament to his dark triumph, a promise of the future that he envisioned where he was untouchable by absolutely anyone. God or human alike.

"Look at you, already so round and full. And this is only the beginning, my dear. I will fill you again and again, until you know nothing but the feeling of carrying my offspring."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the taut skin of your stomach, his voice a dark, mocking murmur.

"Such an easy bitch to breed, so quick to take my eggs, to let them take root inside you. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant to be my incubator, my vessel. And now, here you are, already looking like a proper mother~"

The tentacles continue their relentless assault, stretching you impossibly further, The one now sucking on your clit pulses in time with your racing heartbeat, pushing you to yet another orgasm.

More tendrils move to your heavy, aching breasts again, squeezing and kneading the swollen flesh. They latch onto your nipples, suckling greedily, the electric currents making milk drip faster as it's quickly consumed.

More time goes by. You aren't sure how much exactly but then.

You feel movement in your belly and an uncomfortable shift as the eggs begin to hatch within you. The tentacles in your pussy immediately slide free and smaller ones seize your battered lips before rudely pulling on them to reveal your now loose and sloppy canal in its entirety.

Within seconds a small writhing indigo tentacle pushes its way out of your cervix and begins its descent.

Scaramouche's eyes widen with a fevered, manic light as he watches the first of his offspring emerge and fall to the floor with a small thud. He leans in closer, his breath coming faster as he watches the next little and writhing indigo tentacle push its way out, covered in fluids and its own natural secretions, a grotesque parody of a newborn.

"Look at that... your womb was actually able to grow these things without issue, your body has given life to my creation. I knew I made no mistake when I chose you for this."

The tentacles in your ass begins to writhe and pulse at that moment, easily pulling free from your body to make room for more of the "children " to emerge. Within seconds they start slipping out of your abused holes like nightmarish serpents and forming a horrific pile beneath your deflated body. Their movements are jerky and erratic, their beautiful flesh glistening in the dim light as they slowly start to slither up your legs in search of the warmth they once knew moments ago.

"Such a good mother, so efficient in your purpose. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant for this. And now, look at you... a true incubator, an ideal vessel for what is to come."

Scaramouche reaches down, his fingers brushing against the writhing mass of tentacles, stroking them like a proud parent would a newborn. They pulse and twitch at his touch, as if recognizing their creator, their master.

"They will be the first of many, the vanguard of a new age, a new era of power and dominance."

Your belly continues to churn from inside, more of the eggs hatching, more of the small tentacle creatures slipping out to join their brethren. The floor quickly fills with their jerking, twisting forms, a nightmarish scene.

Scaramouche's maniacal laughter then rings out, echoing off the walls, a sound of pure, unhinged joy at his dark triumph. He knows that he has won. Because with this plan now in action, no one would be able to oppose him for long.

And the world would be his for the taking.

#genshin impact #wanderer #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin wanderer #wanderer x female reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #genshin kabukimono #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara

253 notes · View notes

maxwellatoms · 11 hours ago

Note

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

#maxwell atoms #animation art #animation industry

929 notes · View notes

emi-matchu · 3 days ago

Text

I like and agree with this, and also one modifier I'll add is like

if part of your answer is "I want to waste less time scrolling or whatever", that's probably a good idea! the thing about it is that it's a serious project

it won't happen by means of just willpower and yelling at yourself when you "fail"; it'll happen by analyzing the contributing factors that have you falling into that coping mechanism on the regular, and working to address them

Idk I think it's definitely important to recognize that doomscrolling is often not a choice as such, to stop shaming ourselves for not just trivially being "better"; but also that it's often not just some untouchably disabling force of nature bigger than our own power to change, and we can actually treat it as part of our own lives as something to choose to shape

It's good to give ourselves permission to do less! and that's a lot of what I needed to hear the past few years. but now I'm in a life moment where doing less has gotten me about as far as it'll go, and what I need now is to trust myself to solve the puzzle of what's holding me back from doing more, and change it.

I of course do not know everyone's life or what is or isn't possible for them… I just know that, for a long time, I was wrong about what's possible for me.

And it's been going well 🌻

Remember that if you want to do more of something, you have to do less of something else. It's that time of year where people set goals for the new year and they have plans and hopes and it's always focusing on what they want to do more of. More studying, more exercise, more crafting, more socialising, more making things from scratch. Okay, great. What are you going to do less of in order to have the time and energy to do more of those things you really want to do?

#matchusayswords

15K notes · View notes

militaryapple · 1 day ago

Note

Hi, I'm not sure if you're taking request but I love the way you write Caleb ☺️ Is it possible you can do a cute little fake dating troupe in college with Caleb?

It goes like, reader (non MC) and Caleb are friends and reader wanted a bf but she can't find one so she tried out this "men will start chasing you when you have a bf" theory with Caleb when Caleb thinks this is an opportunity to do couple things with his crush 🫢

wc. 939.

add ons: hii yes I can!! so glad u guys love my caleb he's so crazy I miss him

college. it was definitely something. work load 20 times heavier, professors who don’t really give a fuck wether you live or die or right, and dating. how you loathed the couples in your university. was it because you were unable to get a boyfriend yourself? maybe. was it also because half of every guy on campus was either a massive jerk, a guy in a frat or taken? maybe.. partly.. yeah.

everytime you were close to finding a guy, a perfect suitable guy who was funny or sweet or kind— he had to bail or he already had a girlfriend! yeah, total dreamboat. you could only sigh at the thought of you and someone on a date, going to the movies or watching some corny movie. wow you were really single and mindlessly scrolling on social media wasn’t helping your case one bit. post after post, jesus how did they do it? then you had an idea.

maybe you were pathetic and desperate.. oh fuck you’re in college. what’s worse? graduating with no love life or dying without someone who loves you. yeah, you would take your chances.

you silently typed up on your phone “how to become more attractive to men”. was it weird? yes. did you care? not really. it’s not your roommate was here, she would go on about how “life is amazing without a lover!” and “you don’t need to cry over a man!” in which she was silently resigned everytime you brought up how she had a boyfriend. so it’s come to this. better now than never anyways.

“men like taken woman, gives them a chase.” well fuck! that was your issue from the start?! what were you gonna do? get a boyfriend out of thin air to make guys ma— then you heard a knock.

you closed out of the tab as you walk to your dorm door, opening it as your gaze shifted upward, and holy mother of pearls did you find the holy grail. he was your answer.

“hey, pipsqueak!” caleb said as he held his arms out for you waiting for a hug, just to be greeted by a grab on the wrist and a soft ‘thud’ on your bed. you stared up at him, inspecting him closely. caleb was a perfect candidate! he could be your fake boyfriend!

“be my fake boyfriend.”

you were met with small chuckle as he covered his mouth and muffled out apologies. you were embarrassed, god this was embarrassing. if only you could rewind 2 minutes. god god god.

caleb smiled widely, “are you sure you want me as your fake boyfriend? what’s this even for anyways, pipsqueak?” his eyes soften as he got more comfortable on your bed. you could only smile in content. he didn’t say no, so you’ll take that as a win.

“guys are more attracted to you when you have a boyfriend.” you said shoving your phone in his face. he scanned over the phone closely before pushing your hand down to look at you. god were you pretty.

“that’s.. not real pipsqueak.” he said trying to cover his laugh. were you serious about this? you couldn’t actually believe this crap. this is why caleb prefers for you to come to him for this sort of thing, not some lousy thread you found on a very sketchy site. though he couldn’t just trample on your dreams so he went along with it, even if it was funny.

“I’m serious!” you snapped back. “just for a while, until someone shows interest in me! well more interest than my supposed boyfriend.. please caleb?” you begged, and he could never say no to you. you jumped up happily before leaning in for a hug but instead you were met by a subtle push and “ah-ah”. you looked at caleb puzzled as he got up. his arms moving to your hip while he leaned down, his and your breath almost kissing.

“if im gonna be your boyfriend for a while pipsqueak, don’t I deserve a little reward for helping you out?” he smiled, “even if it’s a fake we have to get used to kissing.”

kissing.

your first kiss, would be him.

you stared up at awe, he was handsome. just one kiss, it wouldn’t be bad right? you were flustered but no backing down now. better make this as real as possible.

You nodded in subtle approval before you leaned in, your lips touching as his grip on you held tighter. his free hand cupping your face. he was a natural at kissing, his movements were tender and he was so gentle with you. it was as if he didn’t want to wreck you. caleb moved his head back, breaking away from the sweet moment. “okay then, it’s official.” he said softly.

caleb would take you out often, every week, everyday to be exact and there seemed to be absolutely no luck with other guys. it’s not like it mattered anyways though, you were having fun with caleb, almost like he was your actual boyfriend.

as for caleb, this was perfect, he was almost glad he checked on you the day he did. you were a dream, and this “fake boyfriend” idea? would soon wash away when you start to only think of him as your actual boyfriend. taking you out, kissing you, holding you while you’re upset. everything.

as for the guys who chase you around? haha as if! he personally made sure on your first day of university that everyone knew you were his. well it doesn’t matter, it worked out either way. for both you and him.

188 notes · View notes

loganhowlettshousewife · 2 days ago

Note

okay so feral logan i love him your honor I was just thinking, maybe logan when he's like chapter five-ish(? (like when he's already at peace with both his human and animal side). And idk he gets desperate, and so damn desperate that he's just like feral growling and grabbing and tugging at reader's clothes.

But but with him being actually so desperate so needy that is the reader who ends up taking control in bed and handing him everything he needs in a silver platter. Plain down just feeding him love in a silver spoon typa shit

taking control

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

this doesn’t exactly follow your request but i love the idea of reader taking control in bed so... (also i haven’t written in almost a month so this may be bad)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (m!receiving), unprotected piv, blood, logan’s canon pain kink

series masterlist │my masterlist

logan always takes control in bed. he starts off slow and loving, worshipping every inch of your body until the smell of your arousal is too much to bear and the animal in him takes control. he loses himself to his baser instincts to mate, to breed, to claim.

he’s needy and desperate, taking anything he can get, wanting anything you’re willing to give him. he’s in control, and yet sometimes, while you’re in the throes of passion, you’ll gasp out praise or whimper his name and feel him pause, faltering for a moment, his cock twitching inside you, caught off guard by his desperation to please.

you wonder what would happen if you took control, if you told logan that he had to obey your every command. all he ever wants is to make you feel good, you imagine he’d be so good at following orders.

it’s a thought that’s been running through your mind for days, one that haunts your every thought and yet never comes to pass, escaping you every time logan kisses you with the intention of going further, your brain melting into a puddle, suddenly unable to form coherent thoughts.

you’re dressed in a pretty red slip dress you’d bought specifically for logan reaction, waiting for the sound of the shower turning off, anticipating his arrival into your shared bedroom, warm and naked, hair damp and curling slightly, perfect and beautiful and yours.

you meet his eyes as he walks into the room, his eyes darkening in an obvious display of lust as they trail over your figure. you smile, pleased, as he rushes towards you, dropping his towel in his haste, trapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply.

you melt into the kiss, into the beautiful familiarity of his arms and his scent, into the warmth of his hands on your body. he lets his hands roam and explore your body as if it's both the first and last time he’ll ever have the opportunity, palming at your breasts, flicking his thumb over your nipples, leaving a trail of fiery heat with every brush of his skin against yours.

it’s nearly impossible to pull away, but you manage just enough to mutter the words into the shared air between you, your lips so close to his that they brush as you speak.

“i want to try something,” you say, hesitant, nerves and arousal and excitement mixing into a heady cocktail of sensations, “let me take control tonight.”

logan hesitates, and so you rise onto your knees on the mattress, running your hands over his shoulders and down his broad back, staring into his eyes as you plead gently, “i want to take care of you. you always make me feel so good and i want to return the favour. please?”

you know exactly what you’re doing to him, lowering your voice, giving him your best bedroom eyes, pleading. he hates to say no to you. he won’t say no to you.

logan’s agreement isn’t verbal, rather it comes in the form of his easy compliance as you switch positions. within moments you’re straddling him, grinding down against his hard cock as you mouth wet kisses on his neck and trailing down his chest, biting and sucking at the skin to leave marks. they won’t last and you both know it - you can already see his skin returning to its usual golden colour - and you wish not for the first time that he could keep them, to think of you every time he looks in the mirror, reminded of your adoration.

you reach his happy trail and shift your attention to his thighs, kissing around his cock but never touching it. it’s flushed red, tip leaking, begging for your attention. logan groans, fighting against the urge to grab you, clawing the sheets instead.

“fuck,” he groans, “please- need you.”

finally, you take him into your mouth, savouring the heady weight of him on your tongue. you take your time worshiping his cock, taking him as far as you can and using your hand to jerk off the remaining length of him. you bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around the tip and catching on his slit.

he’s breathless, low sounds escaping his throat every time you take him deeper, swallowing around his cock. it’s unlike the rough growls he lets out when he’s fucking you, his voice a deep rumble uttering your name like a prayer, animalistic and wild and with an edge that would terrify you if you didn’t know him so well. he’s needy, almost submissive.

“fuck, darlin’, i’m close,” logan warns, and you pull off when you feel him start to twitch on your tongue.

“not yet,” you reply, a rough edge to your voice from the strain of taking him. he’s big enough to make blowjobs a challenge, but one that you enjoy, leaving your throat thoroughly wrecked afterwards.

you climb onto his lap once more, kissing him, letting him push all of his restless energy into something, his hands finding purchase on your waist as his tongue explores your mouth, tugging you down so that you grind against him.

“help me take this off,” you tell him, tugging at the fabric. he wastes no time, his claws releasing with a sharp sknt, and in mere moments the pretty lingerie you’d bought is destroyed, pushed off your body and thrown aside by logan’s desperate hands. it doesn’t matter - you’d bought it knowing that logan would likely ruin it.

the sharp metal of his claws brushes against your stomach, the cold making you gasp. he starts to pull away but you grab a hold of his wrist, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss the divots between his knuckles where metal meets skin.

you grab logan’s cock, lining it up with your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. it’s always a challenge to take logan, even with your pussy dripping, slick with arousal. he stretches you out perfectly and for a moment you forget that you’re supposed to be in control, letting him control the pace as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, gentle as you adjust to the size of him.

you give him a warning look, pushing his hips down to stop their movement. logan could easily overpower you and continue, but he obeys, albeit grudgingly, letting you set the pace as you ride him.

the sight of him underneath you is heavenly, and you understand now why he can’t seem to control himself when your positions are reversed.

it doesn’t take long for the both of you to lose yourselves to pleasure, your pace losing its rhythm, logan shallowly thrusting up into you, unable to hold himself back from chasing after the feeling. he can’t seem to form words, communicating his pleasure through animalistic growling and grunting, noises similar to the ones he’d made when you’d first met him and he lacked the capacity to speak.

you know what he needs, and though the position is slightly awkward, you lean forward to lick and suck at his neck, prepping the skin before biting down hard enough to draw blood. the warm, tangy taste of iron fills your mouth as logan cries out, pumping his cum deep inside you as you keep up the pace, your own orgasm so close you can taste it.

lazily, logan brings one hand to rub circles on your clit, providing the exact pressure you need to have you clenching around him as you come.

you collapse onto his chest in the aftermath, enjoying the feel of his sweat-slick skin against yours. you press your fingers over the bite mark you’d made on his neck, pouting at the way it’s already begun to fade, his skin stitching itself back together.

“it takes much more energy when you’re the one doing all the work,” you say, breathless, waiting for your heart rate to slow and stabilise.

he hums, “but you looked good on top of me.”

you laugh, pressing your face into his chest, stifling the sounds with his skin. he runs his hands over your back, lingering on the curve of your ass. it’s intimate without being inherently sexual, appreciative without necessarily pushing for more.

“does that mean you liked it?” you ask after a few more moments of basking in the comfort of his embrace.

“i think i’d like anything as long as it’s with you,” he says, a vulnerable declaration for only the two of you to know, one that squirrels its way into your heart and hides behind your ribs along with every other lovely confession logan has made to you.

“i think i need more practice, so i can figure out how to work around your strength and hold you down,” it’s a throwaway comment, you’re spent and comfortable and used to being able to speak your mind around logan.

his grip on your ass tightens, squeezing the flesh, and his cock stirs where it's trapped between your bodies. his lack of refractory period still occasionally catches you off guard, as it does now, and you gasp at his obvious interest pressing into your stomach.

“think you have the energy for that practice now?”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666 @a-leg-without-fear

201 notes · View notes

orimuraa · 21 hours ago

Text

All I need is you on my side - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆dating gamer enhypen ⨾

۶ৎ gamer!enhypen x fem!reader ┆fluff┆kisses, headcanons┆wc 1.1k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: idk why but i really love this idea so i hope it turned out okay 😭 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated 💗

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

let's get this straight

we all know hee is a big gamer nerd

so i feel like he would be the type of boyfriend who really loves having you on his lap while he plays

he's a streamer so the days where he decides to keep his camera off, he likes to have you with him

if he's yelling too loud into your ear, he will immediately mute and start apologizing

heeseung would be a bit anxious at first to let his fans know about you because he's worried about hate, but his fans are all super supportive of you guys

when he kisses you on stream, the chat goes wild, telling you two to "get a room"

gamer hee is overall so happy to have you by his side and he loves you very much

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

at first, jay would be very hesitant about letting his fanbase know a lot about him, but he later on grows to realize that his fans are all so supportive of him

so that's when he will start bringing you into streams if you're comfy

it started with a late night stream where you were bundled in the big white comforter, sitting on the bed and watching your boyfriend play when his chat noticed you

they kept spamming the chat with "who's the cutie behind you?" or "jay can pull?" or "jay, i love you, but i'm gonna steal that girl from you"

it made jay chuckle once he realized what was going on and so he muted himself before asking if you wanted to say hi

he slowly introduced you and said you were his amazing girlfriend (to which you blushed very hard at) before letting you go with a kiss on the cheek

his whole chat went wild and jay made a mental note that he'll include you more

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

just like hee, jakey here is a huge gamer as well

he's just so grateful for his fans so he loves being super open and honest with them

so, with your permission, jake will tell them about you and maybe even bring you onto stream sometimes

while jake is gaming, you're usually bundled up on the bed watching him or falling asleep

jake tries very hard not to wake you but if he happens to shout too loud, he'll immediately cup his hand over his mouth before rushing over to you, lulling you back to sleep with his magical kisses and small apologies

you often times just admire jake when he streams, not paying any attention to the game but more on how amazing and handsome your boyfriend is

oh! alsoo, his chat may or may not love you more than him >o<

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

i'm going to be very honest right now, i do not believe that sunghoon's fans found out about you via a gaming stream

i feel like it would be one of those "building furniture from ikea, come watch me suffer" types of streams and sunghoon would just casually be answering Q&A's when someone asks if he had a gf

he would smirk before nodding and saying "i do indeed, chat. would you like to meet her?" and then rush to go ask you if you wanna say hello

but besides that, he would actually start playing less violent games because of you

he would start an animal crossing stream in the mix of all his COD or whatever streams, knowing that you would come running to play animal crossing with him

sunghoon's happiest when he sees you enjoying something he treasures a lot and he especially loves teaching you how to play certain games

and we can't forget the teasing <3

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

i lowkey think that sunoo would just stream and play things like zelda breath of the wild, animal crossing, or stardew valley

he's just a chill guy <3

so often times, he'll have you in his lap when he streams and plays his chill games

his chat is always happy to see you there and while sunoo is focused on gaming, you interact with the chat and get to know them better

you sit in the comfortable silence, the clicking of his keyboard and the hum of his pc being the only noise

you like to think that other people find the comfort in sunoo's streams just like you do

coming home after a long day and then being able to just relax with sunoo as he games, giggling when you read the things his chat says

yeah...he's your definition of comfort streamer

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

jungwon is naturally very protective of you and so when he introduced you to his chat and fans, he made sure that they were very respectful to you and he would spend hours scrolling through comments, reporting any hate

he does love having you with him while he streams though

seeing you interact with his chat while he plays games with his friends always makes him smile

his chat names him "#1 y/n simp" because one time, he thought he turned off the camera but he must've missed because his whole audience saw him get up and shower you in kisses before going back to his game

he was definitely trending on sns the next day

not to mention, won also loves showing you off though

like i feel like he's the type to playfully be like "i have a gf and you don't" in a teasing manner

but despite this silliness, he locks in on the games when needed, knowing you understand

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

ni-ki would definitely be the type to start out by not showing your face on streams for privacy, but letting his chat know that you exist

but you soon realized that you wouldn't mind being on stream and so the day he revealed you, his chat went crazy

they all love you a lot and they adore seeing you on ni-ki's lap as he games

you're like his cheerleader

you have no idea what's going on in the game but you will clap for him every time you're sure something good happened

if you reward him with a kiss, he'll turn very red and shy before scolding his chat for spamming "simp"

ni-ki can be very noisy when he games sometimes so you have to remind him to keep it down a bit

his apology is a bunch of kisses and a couple whispered apologies

he's tough on stream but only you can bring out the softer side of him, making the chat love you even more

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @miukidoll

181 notes · View notes

nocompromise-noregrets · 2 days ago

Text

wheeee thank you! hmm, let's see!

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring one of the side characters in the collab I'm currently working on, who has grown from a plot device to a fully-fledged character, has been talking at me very loudly all afternoon and evening wanting to give me his take on events. We'd been planning a fic from his point of view, but I don't know if this will be it, as I think my friend has a slightly different take on things, but he won't shut up so I'm writing down what he says anyway XD

3. how you feel about your current WIP I am hugely enjoying this collab, it is an extremely good writing exercise to work with someone whose style and process are so different from mine, and we keep riffing off each other and coming up with new ideas :D :D :D

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for… I really want to write one for Break You But You'll Mend, picking up on all the plot threads I introduced in that one but didn't manage to resolve. One of these days XD

20. in what year did you publish your first fic? 2002! It was an X-Men comics fic which is on my AO3 although I currently have Last Cat Standing on my lap so I can't quite link to it. :D

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that? Not hugely. I wasn't sure about how various aspects of the RPF might go over, not being familiar with the fandom, but I have about four readers who like it and that's actually great :D Other than that I don't really worry any more.

Thank you for asking! Anyone else fancy asking me some questions about fic? :D :D :D I'll probably answer in the morning, as it's time for me to go to bed, or at least it would be, if Last Cat Standing wasn't sparked out on my lap and I can't really move... XD

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

#ask game #go on #ask me stuff!#likethenight writes

9K notes · View notes

captain-huggy-bear · 15 hours ago

Text

The Puck-cident

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood, vomit, injury, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are the unfortunate soul that takes a puck to the face during one of Utah's games, Clayton sees whole thing and demands to be let off the ice.

Notes: By popular demand I have finally gotten around to this fic ☺️This turned out to be like 5.5k so...enjoy?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Everyone always knows there's a risk involved with sitting in the audience at an ice hockey game. The announcers at every game never fail to remind people that pucks can travel at well over 80mph and can go into the audience. Always reminding people to keep their eyes on the puck. But, no one actually ever thinks it'll hit them. You've seen your fair share of pucks caught in the crowds, you've never seen someone get injured.

You've been to so many ice hockey games that maybe you've been lulled into a false sense of security, a sense that nothing bad could possible happen to you, not when you're sat in the stands to watch your boyfriend play. Not when you're wearing his jersey, Keller plastered across the back, number 9 bold and clear. Not when you feel so at home in that space, so secure. Turns out you're terribly wrong.

Normally Clayton's eyes wouldn't have followed the puck as it went out of bounds, normally he'd have sighed and moved to the new faceoff circle, caring very little for what fan had managed to catch it. Normally, he'd be more concerned with the fact that they were in a two goal deficit. But, something made him stop on the ice today, something made him follow the puck with his eyes to its end destination. Eyes widening in horror as the scene started to play in slow motion while he was utterly helpless on the ice, stood there with his grip slacking on his stick.

Clayton never imagined that it would be dangerous for you to come to one of his games because fans getting hit by pucks? Getting genuinely hurt? That seemed like such a fluke incident and you'd never been hurt before, not in all the years you'd been coming to his games. Even before you were with him you'd gone to ice hockey games, not once had you had an issue. But, it sinks in, the reality of it, that it does happen and can happen to you. That it's happening to you right now and he can't do anything to stop it.

The piece of vulcanised rubber that had flown off the stick of the opposing team flies over the glass into the stands and he watches like some sort car crash, a sick slow motion view as the puck finds you, like your name was written on it. It's hard to tell from this distance how hurt you are, or where you were hit, but he can see the crowd writhing around you, the panicked yells telling him enough.

Enough that Clayton's skating towards the bench as fast as he can, shrugging off teammates and referees who try to insist he stays, who keep asking him what's wrong and where he's going. His coach tries the same, stepping in his path, confused as to where Clay's off to in the middle of a game as the captain of the team.

"Keller, what do you think you're doing?"

"Respectfully, Bear, my girlfriend just got hit by a puck going nearly 90mph. I'm going to see if she's alright." His tone is short, clipped, trying to be respectful of his coach, a man he does respect and admire. But he's made up his mind and nothing and no one is going to stop him from going to you right now. He'd sooner quite hockey entirely than play a whole game unsure if you're alright after being injured.

"Keller, the game..."

"Fuck the game, you've got enough players. I need to see her, coach." Maybe it's the wild look in his eyes, the way panic stands out stark and clear. Maybe it's the tense set of his shoulders or the fact that his stick creaks so hard under his grip that it sounds like it may crack. Whatever it is, he isn't yelled at like he expects, no one tells him to go back out on the ice.

Instead Tourigny steps aside letting him past as Clayton storms down the tunnel, passing his stick off to someone. He's barely aware of the fact he takes off his skates, shoving them in someone's arms before he's running out towards the entrance to the stands in just his socks, the only thought on his mind being you and whether you were okay right now.

It's hard to describe what goes through your head when you see the puck coming straight for you, a blind sort of panic that has you freezing in your seat, not that you had anywhere to go to avoid it, not at the speed it had come at you. You're in such shock that you don't really feel much after the initial impact, head buzzing and dazed, neck hurting from the snap of your head backwards, ears ringing as people around you start fussing over you. Someone has you up out of your seat, your arm around their shoulders helping you out of the stands. The feeling of wetness glides down your temple and you raise a hand to your face that comes away red, noticing almost numbly that you're bleeding, blood running down the side of your face, upset because it starts to drip on Clay's jersey, the white one he'd lent you. The fabric being stained, ruined.

"Keller has left the ice, rather abruptly, we're unsure if it's related to the fan in the crowd who's taken a puck to the head or not." Someone has the game station on, clearly enjoying having the commentators speak during the game, the crowd is so loud as you're all but hauled up the stairs to the exit of the stands. You have just enough awareness to wonder if Clayton had seen you get hit or whether he'd been hurt on the ice himself or wasn't feeling well.

You feel like you're going to be sick as you're helped into the main entrance of the arena, lights blinding you, head pounding, the numbness starting to fade in favour of such blistering, aching pain in your head that you can't help but start crying. You feel pathetic, scared, panicked and in pain. You just want Clayton but he should be playing a game right now and the realisation that you couldn't have him with you only makes you cry harder.

It turned into full on sobs when your dizzy, double vision locks on to Clay who's running in just a pair of socks towards you, frantic, helmet being tossed behind him to someone. There's two of him, your vision going in and out but you're so happy to see him that it doesn't matter. So happy that he's here that you can almost ignore the pain, the nausea, and the blood.

He's got you in his arms before you can even comprehend reaching for him, whoever had helped you this far taking a step back to let him take over. He's petrified, you look horrific, blood coating the side of your face and neck, red clotting around your temple. Your eyes unfocused, the white of his jersey bloodstained, tears streaming down your face and he knows someone's calling the first aid team, but it doesn't reassure him when you look like that.

Clay's hands cup the sides your face, your blood is sticky against his palm and he knows he shouldn't be, knows its not anyone's real fault, but he's irrationally angry. Angry at the other team for sending the puck off into the stands, angry at you for always insisting you sit like a normal fan rather than in the box for family and friends, angry at himself for not insisting, angry at Tourigny for trying to stop him from coming to find you, angry that he wasn't with you when it happened. Angry because the alternative is fear and he's not sure he's ready to feel that right now, not sure he can, needing to keep it together for you because you're still crying, clutching onto him like he's the only thing that can bring you comfort right now. He can't help the way he grips you back tightly, trying to reassure himself that you're okay, even as blood keeps flowing from the split skin of your temple.

"You're going to be okay, baby, I've got you...It's okay." It's not, fuck, it's not, but he's trying to stay calm for you, a blank mask on his face rather than blind panic as he watches a stretcher be wheeled towards you. Runs his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you and himself at the same time, he knows his hands are shaking so fucking badly and he hopes you don't notice, hope you feel reassured by him, feel like he's steady, stable.

"We need her on the stretcher, Keller, so we can have a look at her." Clay's attention goes to the first aiders behind you, the stretcher pulled close enough that all you have to do is step back and jump up.

"It hurts, Clay..." You're sniffling into his shoulder, blood getting on the jersey he's wearing, not that he cares. The equipment team are used to getting blood out of things. Two bloody jerseys is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"I know, baby, oh, I know...I'm just going to give you a little boost up, okay? We're going to get you sat up here, okay?" He talks you through each step as his hands find your waist, helping you jump up onto the stretcher. The movement makes you dizzy, nausea filling you to the point where you know you're going to be sick, desperately trying to keep it in, being unable to. You can't help it when you're sick...all over Clay, head leaning forward between your legs as you vomit over his legs, whimpering as you do so.

"I'm sorry...I've got blood on your jersey and now..." You're crying harder now, embarrassment and shame added to the whole issue because you've just vomited over your boyfriend's expensive hockey gear after bleeding over 2 different jerseys. But, Clay doesn't flinch, hands stroking your hair as you lean forward to quell the dizziness. Is it gross? Oh, totally, does he actually care? Not really. It's testament to how much he loves you that the grossness doesn't matter, he'd let you vomit on him a million times so long as he can look after you in the process.

"It's okay, baby, I need you to lay back, okay? They're going to check on your head..." His hands are gentle on your shoulders, pushing you back while helping you swing your legs straight on the stretcher. Clay's fingers brush back your hair as he looks down at your hazy gaze, "I need to go change real quick and I'll be right back, sweet girl."

When he goes to step back you're grabbing his hand with the precision of a star goalie, even with the double vision and haziness you manage to find his hand. The grip you have on him is so tight, scared for him to leave you, scared you'll be alone like this. Even as you know he's covered in blood and vomit and needs to change, deserves to change.

He's right back to stroking your cheek, backs of his fingers gentle on your skin like he's afraid you might break, "I'll be right back, you're not going anywhere without me."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

He tells the medical staff not to go anywhere with you without him. The fear of coming back to find you gone roiling in his stomach, not really wanting to leave you alone but knowing he can't stand here covered in sick. He's so quick, running down the corridors to the locker room to limit how long he's gone. The speed with which he takes off the vomit soaked clothes and sweat stained uniform is probably record breaking and despite the smell of sick he doesn't even contemplate a shower, just throws on some old sweats and a t-shirt, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers before bolting back to where he left you. He can take a shower later, once he knows you're okay, once you're both back home.

You're lying back on the stretcher with one of the first aiders, Clay thinks his name is John, leaning over you, shining a torch in your eyes to check for a concussion when Clay returns. He can tell already that you have one between the dizziness, vomiting and the way you seem to wince at any and all light. It doesn't take a genius to realise the puck to the face has rocked your brain a little too hard.

The middle age first aid looks up at Clayton as he finishes checking you over, Clay coming up on your other side to grab your hand again. The way you look at him, so trusting, so happy to just have him back makes his heart skip a little even as it breaks at how tired and in pain you look.

"She has a concussion and needs stitches, we're not allowed to do them here as she's a member of the public, she needs to go to hospital. It might also be a good idea to get an x-ray, make sure she's not got a fracture or anything like that." John turns to Clayton, pocketing the flashlight. It's not what he wants to hear, Clay would rather hear that you're perfectly fine, but it's obvious you're not. Still panic closes his throat at the thought that you might have something even more seriously like a fracture or worse.

"Does she need an ambulance or can I drive her?" Either way Clayton's coming with you, whether in the back of an ambulance or in the driver's seat of his car. He'll deal with the aftermath of leaving the game later, but right now? You're his priority and he's not leaving you.

"Probably quicker for you to take her yourself, Keller. I can help you wheel her to your car?"

"Thanks, that'd be great, John."

"No problem."

Clay has your hand in his, walking alongside the stretcher as John wheels it down to the parking lot. You're dazed and slightly giddy, laughing at each bump despite the pain and that's more concerning to Clay than the crying. A cloth has been put to your head, held there by your free hand, knuckles tight like you're working off instinct just to keep it there. He's not sure you'd be able to release it with how tight your grip is. He knows head wounds bleed a lot, but that doesn't make seeing the cloth already red with blood, any easier or less worrying.

Clayton's decided he has a new appreciation for how you feel whenever he gets injured on the ice. It's...God, it might be one of the worst things he's ever had to go through.

He's proven right, that you can't seem to let that cloth go when he helps you down from the stretcher and to his car, your hand doesn't move, cloth pressed to stem the flow of blood even when you stumble. He has you in the passenger seat and buckled in as quickly as possible and maybe he breaks a few traffic laws on the way to the hospital, but anyone would. The way you're barely there next to him, so dazed that he's worried the concussion might be something more has him pressing a little harder on the accelerator.

The blood is enough in the emergency room for you to be fast tracked to a doctor and a bed, struggling to sit upright he makes the decision to get up on the bed with you. You rest between his legs, leaning back on him heavily, Clayton the only thing keep you sat upright as the doctor, Dr Pandya, pries the cloth from your hand and assesses the wound.

You shy back into him when the doctor wipes away at the large cut with antiseptic to clean away the blood, only for more to come spilling forth. Clay's arms wrapping tight around your waist, linking your hands with his to give you something to grip onto.

"You need stitches, it's not going to close on its own."

"Okay..." He can tell you're trying to be brave, breathing suddenly heavier, fingers tightening around his until his own start to go numb, but he doesn't complain. Just lets you lean on him, seek support from him.

You're brave throughout the 14 stitches it takes to close up the cut on your temple, more stitches than you've ever had to have in your life. But, you don't complain, don't ask to stop, don't hiss, just let it happen as you grip onto Clay with everything you have. The warmth of his back behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, pressing kisses to your neck, helps. Having him with you helps.

"All done. You have a concussion and need to rest for at least 2 days before you do anything. Avoid bright lights, loud areas. Keep those stitches dry for at least a day, so no washing your hair just yet unfortunately. If it starts to bruise, ice it."

The doctors turns to Clay this time, "If she starts to seem confused, keeps vomiting or just doesn't seem to be getting any better then bring her back in. But she should be tired for the next few days but start to feel better soon."

"Thank you," You're quiet but polite, not wanting to be rude when someone has taken the time to help you even if it is the doctor's job to do so.

"Thanks, Doc."

There's a quick sort of turn around in which Clay fills out the necessary paper work, financial details, insurance and the like before he's helping you up and out of emergency room.

All you want is to sleep, curl up in bed with Clayton and hide from the pounding in your head, the bright lights and loud sounds of the outside world only making it worse.

He's calmer on the drive home, no more traffic laws being broken even if he grips the steering wheel a little tight and keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, assessing. Some of the panic has eased, but not all. You're still hurt. Concussed, stitched up, definitely going to bruise and swell, and in need of rest. Rest he can't be there for the entire time because of his job. He might have gotten away with leaving the game tonight, but he knows he'll be expected at practice tomorrow, knows he'll be expected at the home game the day after and that means hours of time in which you're alone. He hates the idea of it, already running through a mental list of people he could call.

"I got blood on your jersey..." You're sniffling again when he pulls the car into the driveway, putting it in park. He turns in his seat, leaning an arm on the headrest to watch you. You're staring at the blood stains on the jersey you're wearing, tears dripping down your cheeks and it's...it's so silly and so sweet that some of that panic eases further.

"It's okay, baby, the equipment guys can get the blood out."

"Really?" You look at him so hopefully, so innocently happy. He hates that your reaction is like that because of your injury, at the same time finding it amusing, a small smile reaching his lips for the first time since he saw you take a puck to the face.

"Yeah, baby, they're great at that..."

"Oh..."

There's a beat of silence where you just blink at him, sighing out each breath like even that's too tiring right now. There's blood crusted around your stitches that he knows you're going to get annoyed with while you can't get water near them, bruising starting to pop up around that side of your face, swelling beginning to show and make you look a little lopsided.

"Let's get you inside and into some comfy clothes, yeah? You tired?"

"Really tired..." You blink all slow at him, eyelids feeling supremely heavy and he knows you're going to be out like a light the moment he gets you into the bed. That's reassuring in a way, that you'll find it easy to rest, at least tonight, before the aches fully settle in.

He's tries to be quick getting round to your side of the car but he's starting to feel just as tired. A combination of playing half a game of pro-hockey, the anxiety, panic and worry over your wellbeing, being thrown up on, going all the way to hospital and back, all working to make Clayton feel like dropping where he stands. But, like always you're his priority.

His hands reach for yours, tugging gently to pull you from the car, "Okay, out you get, baby." You go willingly, letting him guide you from the car and through the house. Letting your brain shut off because he's got you. You trust him to guide you around obstacles, through doorways, a level of trust that Clayton can't help but feel honoured by as you let him sit you on the edge of your shared bed.

You blink up at him all slow and sleepy, shoulders slumping and he's certain if you laid down you'd be out in seconds.

"Arms up, baby." You don't question him, don't hesitate, arms straight in the air with the sort of sluggishness that tells him even doing that feels hard right now.

Clay's careful of your hair and your stitches as he pulls the bloodstained jersey over your head, throwing it in a corner to take back to the rink to salvage. You leave your hands up as he helps you out of your undershirt and replaces it with one of your favourite big comfy t-shirts. You don't drop your arms until he tells you to, the sort of obedience you fall into around him because he takes care of you so well that you trust him more than you trust yourself.

"Wanna shower..."

"You can't get your stitches wet yet, sweet girl, tomorrow night I'll help you shower, but not tonight, okay?"

"Okay..." He knows you hate it, your routine is like clockwork. Every evening you shower, washing the dirt and grime of the day away, and breaking that is upsetting to you. But, you trust him. You listen without protest and let him lay you back so he can wriggle your jeans down over your hips and off your ankles, socks coming with.

"Up for me, baby." You reach for him from the first word, arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his chains as he lifts you to your feet, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls the covers back.

He settles you in against your pillow, swinging your legs up and pulling the covers up to your waist as you cling to him. Your fingers don't detach from his chains, holding tight to him so that he can't pull away, hovering over you.

He's so handsome, maybe it's the concussion talking, but he's always so handsome. Your free hand reaches for his cheek, tracing the skin beneath his eyes and he can't help but smile at you, at the soft way you're gazing up at him. Still dazed, but oh so loving.

"You okay, baby?" He huffs a laugh down at you, teeth peeking out and you love that smile, god it makes him so pretty. So, so pretty. Even prettier when one of his hands cups your cheek like that, long finger stroking the skin gently where your cheek lifts from grinning up at him all dozy.

"Mmm, you're really pretty."

"I think that's your concussion talking, sweet girl." His fingers graze the swollen skin by your stitches lightly, not hard enough to hurt or sting, but a reminder to himself that you've got 14 stitches right now. That right now you're brain is a little scrambled.

"Nuh uh...you're always pretty...I got really lucky." You might be concussed but you know it's true. Clayton's so handsome you spend half your time wondering how you managed to bag him because he could have any woman he wanted and instead he chose you. This handsome, beautiful, kind, caring man, a pro-athlete, and he chose you. Normal, little old you.

"Wrong way around, I'm the lucky one. You took a puck to the face for me, that's pretty hardcore, baby." The blood around your stitches is dry and flaky, proof that today wasn't just a dream or imaginary. Proof that his girlfriend had taken a puck to the face, survived and only vomited once, pretty hardcore.

"Didn't mean to..."

"I know...it worried me though, just glad you're okay."

His fingers caress your skin as silence over takes the two of you, just gazing at each other as each of you feel the other under your fingers. To feel the way you graze the tip of his nose, how you tug a little on his chains to bring him just an inch closer. It's grounding to have you in his hands like that, to feel your warmth, to know you're going to be fine even if he'd been scared today. The whole thing has just solidified in his mind how much he loves you, how much he'd be willing to do for you, to give up for you. That you're it for him whether you realise that or not.

You take a shuddering breath, eyes shifting away from his like you're embarrassed by what you're going to say next even as your fingers tighten around his chains and keep him close. His blue eyes fixed on you, attention unwavering and loyal.

"I was...I was scared I'd be alone...just wanted you..." Your head isn't quite as fuzzy as earlier, but you can remember it clearly. Feeling the panic at the thought that you wanted Clay but he wouldn't be there...then the joy at seeing him, the relief as he ran out in full gear except skates, socks only on his feet.

"You thought I wouldn't be there?"

"You had a game...a-and I didn't know if you'd seen it happen...thought you'd still be playing." It's like you're ashamed for thinking he wouldn't be there, and while he hates that you did, he understands why. There was no guarantee he'd have even know you were hurt, it was just by some fluke of luck, by sheer chance that he'd actually watched the puck fly into the crowd for once. Even then, in some arenas would he have even been able to tell it was you?

"They'd have had to chain me to Schmaltz to keep me on the ice, baby. Always going to be there for you, no matter what. You first. Hockey second." He means it. Hockey has been his life since he could put on a pair of skates, and he'd worked hard for it, always having to do 10 times what the bigger guys did and do it 10 times better. But, you? You're it for him you'll be it for him when he retires from hockey, when he can no longer play and that? That's worth more than a game, even a game he loves. It's practically a proposal in itself, a promise to you because he never wants you to think he'd pick the game over you, especially not when you're hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The smile you give him is blinding, so full of love that he wants to bottle it, memorise it to keep for those bad days. For the days when they've lost a game, for the times when he needs a reminder to keep pushing, to keep going.

"Come to bed?" You try to tug him again by his chains but he unfurls your fingers gentle, one by one, smoothing over your knuckles in reassurance.

"I've got to shower baby, but I don't want to leave you alone..." The idea of taking his eyes off you, of not being able to see that you're okay for even a minute makes him feel sick.

"You smell like vomit..." You wrinkle up your nose, scrunching your face like you've only just realise that he smells. Your hands pushing on his shoulders a little, moving him away rather than closer and he can't say he blames you. Even he's over the smell now.

"That's your fault, baby."

"'m sorry..." You mumble, warmth flooding your face at the memory of throwing up on him, his hockey gear taking the brunt of it rather than the floor.

"It's okay, I'll go shower, but you'll okay if I leave you for a few minutes?"

You nod your head gently, carefully because nodding too much hurts right now. Clayton presses a quick kiss to your forehead, avoiding the swollen areas of your face before leaving you.

He's no nonsense about it all, washing with a precision and speed that would make the army consider recruiting him. He's thorough, however, skin scrubbed down until he smells like your vanilla body wash and not vomit.

Clay doesn't faff with clothes, just shoves a pair of boxers on and curls up next to you, you're already asleep, mouth open slightly, the tiniest hint of drool at the corners. Endearing. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you gently closer until he can curl around you like that might keep you safe from any further puck based incidents.

Clay doesn't sleep...not well at least. He spends half the night just watching you breathe, scared that if he closes his eyes something might happen. A total of 3 hours all he gets, so when the doorbell rings shrill and loud at 7am all he can do is groan loudly and burrow his face into your shoulder.

The doorbell rings again and he's swearing under his breath because if it's a sales person or a cold caller he might actually commit a crime. All he wants it to stay curled up with you, maybe get some more sleep now you seem a little perkier, eyes blinking open and more coherent than they were yesterday.

"Clay...the door." It's your worry about ignoring it that has him groaning, stretching and shoulders popping as he stumbles out of bed.

"I know, baby...stay here."

He doesn't even bother putting on clothes, just walks to the door in his boxers. Your head might still be fuzzy but you can't help the way your eyes trail over his back, the way his arse looks in his boxes, the thick set of his thighs. You're almost certain he puts an extra little saunter in his step because you're watching.

He kind of hopes whoever has disturbed his rest with his injured girlfriend gets the shock of their life seeing him open the door in just his boxers. Unfortunately, it's just Kesselring, who has seen him in his boxers more times than he can count, completely unphased.

"What're you doing here, Kess?"

"Came to check on Mrs Keller and brought a gift," The taller man holds up a little gift bag and as much as Clayton wants to slam the door in his face he doesn't, just stepping aside to let Kess in.

He leads him to you, where you're wrapped up in all the bed blankets, making yourself a little cocoon and your face brightens at seeing one of your favourite members of his team. Kess is only your favourite because he lets you go round to see the cats whenever you want, whether he's there or not. Or that's what Clayton says to ease any of that ugly little jealous side he has that occasionally rears it's head. Even knowing that Kess treats you more like a sister than anything else.

"For you Mrs Keller," Kess hands you the gift bag even as you swat at him weakly. He'd been calling you that ever since Clayton announced you were dating...the alternative wasn't much better, referring to you as the team mom because Clayton was the team dad.

"Thank you, Michael," You pull out a wad of tissue paper, unfurling it to reveal the last thing Clayton ever wanted to see.

"You brought the thing that nearly killed my girlfriend into the house?" He's actually irrationally angry at the rubber. The black has been cleaned, not a speak of your blood on it and the edge has been covered in white stick tape. In black sharpie, 'the puck-cident March 2025' has been written in Kess' chicken scratch handwriting.

"Kells, it's a puck."

"It nearly killed my girlfriend. It's evil." He sneers at the inanimate object in your hands.

"Clay," you're laughing at him, giggling at the way he glares at a piece of rubber, "It's sweet...Michael, it's very sweet." You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him because it is thoughtful in a weird sort of hockey logic way. To bring you the puck that gave you 14 stitches, like it was some gaming winning puck you scored with.

"Well, figured you might want a souvenir from your puck-cident," Kess grins at both you, the pun so bad that Clayton and yourself are both groaning at him.

Clayton pointing to the door, this time with humour in voice, head shaking, "Out! That was so fucking bad, man!"

"I'm going, cap, Jesus! A guy can't do anything nice these days! What a pucking crime!"

"Kess!"

#huggy bear writes #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

157 notes · View notes

purplereina11 · 1 day ago

Text

You were a 24 year old football photographer, set up on a blind date with none other than the Alexia Putellas.

Word Count: 7.7K

No idea why I'm nervous to share this one! Hope you like it

You’d lived in the La Montesa part of Barcelona for nearly 2 months now, you’d slowly got your apartment sorted in that time, it wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to be but it was beginning to feel like home. You had your prints on the walls your many plants that were hanging on by a thread dotted about the place, you had your balcony, you could only just about fit a chair out there but it was outdoor space and you adored it.

You were a women’s football photographer you’d met Carla Garcia, FC Barcelona Feminis resident Social Media admin, by chance at a Manchester Unite home match where you worked and became good friends, it was a virtual friendship with only a handful of face to face meetings and visits but it was like you’d known her for longer than you had. You’d really opened up to her in the year you’d known her, you told her all about your troubles with having the wrong friends and relationships which caused a breakdown of communication with your family when drugs took hold and you became a shell of your former self.

She told you of a position at FC Levante Badalona’s club, the women’s team were looking to really embrace social media and elevate the social footprint of there platforms they had. Carla rang you excitedly one evening when she’d used her many connections to get you a call with the head of media at the club she told you she was quite excited to speak to you after seeing your work on Manchester United’s social media platforms.

Paulina expressed rather quickly into the video call the job was yours if you wanted it and the club would do as much as they could to help you with the move, you loved your time with the English club but there was nothing holding you there anymore and you wanted to push out your comfort zone and take on a new challenge. You wanted to cut ties with old friends who were trying to sneak back in and moving over a thousand miles away surely would do that. Granted you only knew Carla who had her own life and group of friends in the city but that was no less than you had in England, it was more in fact.

One evening in your apartment you were reading one of your many books that lived on your coffee table, when your phone unexpectedly began ringing, you smiled seeing it was Carla, “Hi”

“I have no idea how to even begin this conversation” You laughed softly, not that you’d be laughing much longer when she finished what she was saying, “Are you busy Friday? I have a friend I want to set you up with, you don’t have much choice I told her you’re going already, tables booked for 7pm”

You had four whole days to wait until your date, four whole days of wondering who it could be as Carla refused to tell you, four whole days of self doubt and your mind playing cruel tricks on you of worst case scenarios that could happen. Your date could turn up see you sitting there think god no and leave again, not turn up at all or even worse leave you with a very long awkward evening when you found nothing in common and were stuck with mundane polite chatter.

You came into the city in Carla's car, she had picked you up to drop you off since you barely came this far in so you had no idea where you were going, or so you told yourself it was more likely for her to make sure you actually went and didn’t stand her friend up. You touched your stomach the nerves over taking you as she pulled over stopping the car, this was so far out your comfort zone you were walking a tightrope on whether you might vomit or not.

“Go”

“They definitely speak English? You know how awful my Spanish is”

“Yes” Carla smiled, “Go before she thinks you’ve stood her up, its booked in my name”

You finally peeled yourself out the car, you barely even shut the door before Carla took off leaving you on the pavement alone, you turned to look at the front of the place. It looked fancy. Far too fancy for how you were dressed. You were comfortable it was the only thing you felt you could control so you went for blue jeans a plain white tee and threw a longline beige blazer over the top, you looked down at your outfit choice, the fifth one you’d had on before Carla arrived. You were doubting it again but you couldn’t do anything about it now, you took a breath and headed in side the door the soft music and polite chatter filling your ears.

You followed the waiter through the restaurant you were seemingly far into the establishment, as you rounded a corner you spotted her and your breath caught. In what world did Carla think setting you up with none other than Alexia Putellas was a good idea. She was incredibly out of your league, the contrasting lifestyles, the age difference. Not to mention she was Spanish and your GCSE Spanish years just weren’t coming back to you at all. You couldn’t even remember the translation for hello yesterday. Come to think of it as you neared and her eyes trained to you coming up from her chair to stand aside it, you couldn’t remember it now.

“Hola.. Alexia” she said with no expression before her lips spread into a little smile on her face, your eyes glanced down to the floor ever so briefly as you joined in European culture more prevalent outside of England and air kissed both sides.

“Hola..” You tried and cringed at yourself inwardly, before taking a seat placing your bag on the floor. “Y/N” you focused on the flickering candle in the middle of the table as she got back into her seat before raising your eyes, “It’s nice to meet you”

Alexia nodded the sentiment back, “You to, I’ve heard a lot about you”

“I can’t say the same” You cleared your throat, clearing the surprise, “Carla didn’t tell me who I was meeting tonight”

“And you still came?” Alexia asked raising her eyebrows, she could not have done that and it was evident by the face she was pulling.

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, your nerves drying your mouth uncomfortably so, “She picked me up and dropped me off, I don’t think there was any chance for me to not be here tonight”

Her smile was sweet, there was an innocence with it as she sat rigid in her chair your own sign she was in fact nervous, the second being she was fiddling with her knife in her right hand, her eyes however stayed on you the whole time. It felt as though she was gauging you, trying to gather a first impression, work you out. “I couldn’t of done that, took some guts”

“Well as my teacher used to say, you miss all the chances you don’t take so, here I am.”

You couldn’t get over the smile, it seemed so genuine it wasn’t big it didn’t even alter the rest of her face but it gave you a little glimpse that she wasn’t overly disappointed to see you sat opposite her. “Well I’m glad you showed up, whether forced or not” you smiled down at the table, Alexia couldn’t help but stare into your eyes, they held a lot of depth to them. Ironically like the ocean to which in her mind she’d compared them to, they were a gorgeous blue that only was accentuated by the brown tone of your skin. “What are you wanting to drink?” Alexia asked. You leant down to pluck some glasses from your bag, she laughed gently to herself her forearms coming onto the table, “Are they even real?” You looked up from the wine menu you were attempting to read, “They have no glass in them”

Your lips curled ever so slightly as your head went back down something Alexia only caught with her closeness, “Can we drop it? I’ve picked the wrong ones off my coffee table?”

“What looks good?”

You lifted your head up slightly frustrated with yourself, sliding the little book around the candle towards Alexia, “I have no clue, I can’t see a thing” You both laugh as you shook her head at yourself, trying to hide your embarrassed blush. You patted the back of your hand onto the book now in front of Alexia, “Right glasses or not I still have an inability to read Spanish” You watched Alexia thumb go between her teeth as she had a read of the options, “Anything standing out to you?”

She reached a hand without looking at you, “Can I borrow your glasses?” She rose her head and clearly was proud of her self when you were amused by her. She was funny, she did not give that impression from clips you’d seen of her playing. She looked intense.

You pulled the glasses off your face, “.. sure” you flopped your wrist to hold the glasses towards her Alexia gently taking them and placing them upon her own face.

“What wine do you drink?” She asked turning a page, you couldn’t believe how easy this felt, even if it was early on in the evening. Alexia rose her eyes when you didn’t speak, “Why are you laughing?”

You shook your head, “Nothing, just they suit you, bet you’re one of those annoying people that can pull just about anything off” The coy smile on Alexia’s face and a hint of redness at the compliment made you answer her question and put her out her misery, “I drink anything, I prefer sweet though”

The waiter smiled with a helpful smile, “Hola, podrías traerte algunas bebidas para empezar?” He asked and you helplessly looked to Alexia who closed the wine book over as she spoke, “Cuántas copas con el vino?” He asked making a note

She held up two fingers, “Dos for favour” and just like that he was gone, “I ordered you and I a bottle to share”

“Thank You”

As she fiddled to stand the book back up she posed a question, “So why am I funny in the glasses?”

“I have no idea, the laugh was involuntary”

Alexia looked briefly to you her eyes focused on the candle, she seemed nervous to hold eye contact now your attention was solely on her, “Is this where we ask polite questions like what’s your favourite colour?”

You sucked your teeth as your eyes twinkled with amusement, “Guess”

“Guess?”

You nodded folding your arms on the table, “Yeah, have a guess what my favourite colour is” Alexia really seemed to think about her answer her gaze glazing over as she stared out at the restaurant.

You tilted your head ever so slightly patiently waiting as you watched the cogs turning behind her eyes, “Yellow” she exclaimed as if her calculations led her to the only obvious answer left

She’d only gone and guessed your favourite colour on the first try, which was easy to do seeing as before she exclaimed yellow, you didn’t even have a favourite colour. Until she chose yellow for you. You won’t ever look at yellow the same now, the colour forever linking with this woman before you and this wild night you still couldn’t believe you’d agreed to. “You’re right”

Alexia was so excited smiling like a little kid being told Santa had been the night before. “Si? No joke?” You nodded to confirm she was in fact right “What do you think mine is?”

“Green” You smiled as Alexia knitted her brows together, at your quick guess, “I’m right aren’t i?” You asked smugly

“How did you know that?”

“You’ve worn a jacket and Nike’s, both are a shade of green, educated guess”

“Well aren’t you observant” Alexia mumbled, you seemed to loose her for a second as if contemplating something her eyes surveyed you “You have very beautiful eyes” she shocked you both with that comment

“Really?” You pushed, you needed her to elaborate, she broke eye contact as the waiter came with the bottle in a bucket and two glasses he offered for you both to try it but Alexia waved her hand she spoke to the gentlemen smiling and he took his leave after Alexia politely declined his offer to pour the wine.

“Yeah” She confirmed, the air felt thick again as your eyes were locked to one another, like you were trying to build a bridge between your two minds to find out what the other was thinking, “I think it’s because they’re so blue”

“What about them, is it just because they’re blue?” Having Alexia compliment you was an ego boost you needed, you wanted more. You had to hear more. Just to reassure you that she wasn’t disappointed by who sat opposite her.

Alexia was trying her best to not smile but the corners of her mouth were giving her away and the little sparkle in her eyes showing how her seemingly brown eyes had flecks of green in them, “I think it’s because they’re blue but they also come with that smile, it makes them sparkle when you do” You were nodding eyes narrowed said wry smile on your lips, “Are we opening this wine then?” she cleared her throat like she was pulled from a trance your eyes had her in

You saw an opportunity and took it, “You have beautiful eyes to” Alexia didn’t raise her head from the menu, but you saw her blush making that wry smile you had widen in pride you’d made the great Alexia Putellas the person the team you worked with speak as though she was this great untouchable unmovable figure blush. Your tongue made a brief appearance across your bottom lip when she rose her eyes, your eyes locked with hers again, you broke it after a few seconds, “We probably should decide what we want to eat before he comes back”

Alexia hummed, as you began opening the menu on the table, she seemed to not be able to avoid meeting your gaze having a silent conversation between you as much as you couldn’t either, “You don’t like getting into trouble or something?”

“You kidding?” You adjusted in your seat to sit more straight backed as your eyes scanned over the menu, realising you weren't quite as nervous as your body language and positioning would have anyone believe, “My middle names trouble”

“What is your middle name?”

“I’m not telling you that”

“Why?” That clearly peaked Alexia’s interest her arms resting over the menu she should of been reading her body leaning forward, “Come on, i’ll tell you mine”

“It’s not a tit for tat situation” You closed your menu over already decided on what you wanted, “It’s on a need to know basis”

“What basis grants me the need to know”

“When you need to know I’ll let you know” The feeling you got by being able to make Alexia laugh and grin practically ear to ear was a tad overwhelming, it was like you’d just won gold in the sport of, well being able to make a reported stoic women look anything but.

“Please do, I’m curious now” Her attention went back to the menu as you task’d yourself with opening the wine and pouring two glasses, “Gracias” it was a treat to your ears to hear her speaking Spanish, it was captivating, you wouldn’t have a clue what she was saying but you could listen to her speaking Spanish all evening. You found her accent when she spoke English, charming, it endeared you to her if she wasn’t doing that with her personality already. “So how do you know Carla?”

“Um” You placed your glass back down, “We met, in Paris. I was at Parc de Princes with United, I don’t know why she was there but we got talking and followed each other on Instagram and just kept in touch, she quite quickly became a really good friend of mine.”

Alexia looked a little confused you thought this is where it would all go down hill, she clearly didn’t know what you did for a living, what had brought you to Barcelona in the first place. “United?”

“Manchester United in the WSL, I was a photographer for the women’s team.”

Realisation hit Alexia, “Oh, so you doing a similar job as Carla?” You nodded, “You still with United?” You shook your head just as the waiter came to take the food order, as Alexia handed off her menu she asked, “You don’t do that anymore?”

“No I still do that, but I do all the social media side of things now to”

“Dare I ask who for? I assume thats why you're in Spain”

“Why are there clubs that would make you leave?” Alexia sipped her wine her eyes questioning you silently over the rim, “I’m scared”

She put her glass back down, “Don't be, just say it, I won’t leave.. maybe” she teased with a flick of her eyebrows that made your stomach churn

“Badalona” you confirmed and she tilted her head

“Could be worse, I can forgive you for that”

Your lips were brought back into your mouth briefly before you spoke, “Very gracious of you”

“I don’t remember seeing you at the games when we’ve played them, i think i would remember you” You tried to not overthink the intimation behind her words, it could mean a lot of things and you couldn’t let yourself go down that road, not here. Not now.

“I only joined two months ago” You spoke softer, “Did Carla not say?”

Alexia shook her head, “No, I got told she had a friend she wanted me to meet, I said no. I don’t like blind dates.”

“Yet here you are” Alexia just shrugged at you, she didn’t offer you any explanation nor did it seem she wanted to, it made you wonder what changed for her, what did Carla say that changed her mind? Did she get a name? A picture? “Did she kidnap you from your home and bring you here to?”

Alexia smiled raising her eyes from her finger running along the rim of her glass, that was seductive in itself, it was flirtatious, “No, I came of my own free will.. I was intrigued”

“Gosh, I don’t want to know what Carla told you” In truth Carla told her nothing, Alexia got a name and shown a picture of you, she wanted to see those eyes in person in all honesty truth.

“Just that you can’t speak Spanish to save your life” she got that information after agreeing to this evening.

“That’s a lie I can say hospital” Your mouth dropped as Alexia actually rolled her eyes at you shaking her head lips curling at the edges

“It’s said the same almost, it doesn’t count”

“So does! In the context of speaking Spanish to save my life” You put her hand out as your elbow rested on the table, “Right?”

“Maybe” her chest moved as she silently laughed at you, you couldn’t read her eyes, “Carla did say you were funny”

“Am I funny?”

Alexia tilted her chin down ever so slightly as one corner of her mouth turned up, “I’ve laughed at you a few times does that count?”

You silently said oh come on with the face you pulled when your head turned to the side, “No”

“In the context of finding you funny” You took a deep breath shaking your head as she proudly smiled successfully teasing you, “You’ve made me laugh, right?” She mimicked your hand from earlier,

“You’re not funny”

You were trying and failing at stopping yourself from smiling, she leant closer a finger pointing at you, “Are you sure, there’s a bit of a smile there”

“I’m laughing at you does that count?”

Alexia’s whole face lit up as she laughed at you sitting back in her chair, “Touché” She drank some of her wine, “You’re funny” You smiled triumphantly as Alexia conceded with a smile of her own, she took your glasses off handing them back over, you felt her watching you as you leant down to your side putting them back in your bag. “So you’ve been at your job 2 months now you’ve said?”

“You can’t even say Badalona?”

“No”

You giggled to yourself as your eyes were down on yourself fixing your jacket, “Yeah I’ve been at Badalona 2 months now”

Alexia gave you an unimpressed look before speaking ignoring your giggling behind her hand as you leant on it, “How are you finding it?”

You looked up, meeting her gaze. "Honestly? It’s a bit overwhelming. The culture shock is real, and while I love the city, I’m still figuring everything out. But I’m excited about the potential of the job and the projects I can work on and just see where I can take it really."

She nodded, her expression softening. "It can be tough starting fresh, but the city has a way of welcoming you. Just give it time, and it will feel like home."

Your heart warmed at the sincerity of her words. "Thanks, I hope so. I'm trying to immerse myself in everything—food, culture, the language. But I’ll admit, the language barrier is a bit of a mountain."

Alexia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You know, a lot of the foreign players that come into Barcelona say that but they soon pick it up.”

"Really?" Your words were hopeful because so far your attempt at picking up the language and been hopeless

“You do have a head start knowing Spanish that would save your life so you can pick it up even quicker than them” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

You chuckled, your cheeks warming at her playfully teasing you yet again. “You’re annoying.”

"I know,” she said with a playful smirk

The waiter returned to your table, placing your food in front of you. As the aroma filled the air, you felt a wave of comfort wash over you. You were sharing this meal with Alexia, and the nerves that had initially consumed you began to dissipate.

As you both dug into your meals, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about your favourite foods, shared funny stories from your past, ones that didn’t give away any of the negative parts of you. Alexia was easy to talk to, her laughter infectious, and every smile she offered made you feel more at ease.

"So, what’s your favourite thing about being a photographer?" she asked, her eyes focused on you, genuinely intrigued.

You thought for a moment, reflecting on your journey. "It's the ability to capture moments that tell a story, to freeze a feeling in time. I love being behind the lens, seeing the world from different perspectives. Plus, in women’s football, it’s incredible to see the growth and recognition the sport is finally getting."

Alexia’s expression turned thoughtful. "I completely understand that. I often feel like my journey in football is about more than just the game. It’s about paving the way for future generations, breaking barriers, and showcasing the talent that women possess."

"Exactly! And it’s inspiring to see someone like you leading that charge," you said, your admiration evident. "The impact you have on young girls is immeasurable really I see that with the way the girls at Badalona have spoke of you.”

She smiled, a hint of humility in her eyes. "Thank you. I just want to do my part. But enough about me—tell me more about your journey. How did you get into photography?"

You launched into your story, recounting your early interest in photography, how you started with landscapes, and eventually transitioned to sports because as the youngest of your siblings you were dragged along to sport games and you’d bring your camera along for something to do and found a love for photographing sports, in particularly football. As you spoke, you noticed how Alexia listened intently, nodding and occasionally interjecting with questions that showed genuine interest. Something you’d never experienced before when discussing your absolute favourite thing in this world. You were normally met with laughter ridicule and the age old question that you despised. When are you going to get a real job?

Time passed, and before you knew it, your plates were empty, and the restaurant was beginning to quiet down.

"Okay, let's do a fun one," Alexia proposed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "If you could go and live any moment in women's football history, what would it be?"

You paused, pondering the possibilities. "Hmm, that's a tough one. I think it would be something monumental, like the first women’s football World Cup match. To see the joy and pride on those players’ faces, knowing they were paving the way for the future."

"That’s a good choice. I think I would have loved to see the moment when we first played Camp Nou, I don’t feel like I got to take in the moment like I should or could have because I was so focused on the game. The emotions in that moment would be priceless."

You both smiled at each other, the connection deepening as you shared these thoughts. The waiter returned, offering dessert, but you both politely declined, too full and content with the evenings food offerings already. You felt a sense of warmth and connection that was unexpected yet exhilarating. You had come into this date feeling out of your depth, but now, it felt like you were slowly uncovering layers of a potential confidence in yourself and who you were was actually good enough.

You and Alexia had a playful argument over the bill before she relented and let you split it seeing just how stubborn you could be. She followed behind you out of the restaurant out into the crisp air of Barcelona at night, “Do you um” you looked to Alexia when she spoke coming in to step with you on the pavement away from the restaurant, “Do you have somewhere to be or do you fancy going for a drink? I know a great spot” she posed to you

You paused for a moment contemplating the implications before offering a smile, “I have no where to be”

As you walked side by side, the streetlights illuminated your path, creating a soft glow around you. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and chatter from nearby cafes and bars, enhancing the sense of adventure in the air. Neither offered a word as you walked in complete comfortable silence, your attention on the architecture of the buildings around you so much so you wished you had your camera to hand some of the building were completely stunning.

As you approached the bars entrance, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter greeted you. You stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around you like a welcoming embrace. The walls were adorned with vintage photographs, and the atmosphere was vibrant yet intimate. It was giving romantic. Alexia moved through the bar every so often looking back to make sure you were close and still following as the crowd got slightly more compact, you soon got out the other side guiding you to a lift. “Un minuto Alexia” A voice called you tried to find it in the crowd but you couldn’t place the person until a young women who took a second to take you in came and look to Alexia swiped a card the doors opening. You felt a slight encouraging push on the small of your back from Alexia a silent you first, you stepped inside with her following behind, the woman leant in pressed a button touched her card to a little black box. “Diviértete chicas” she smiled stepping out and the doors closed and off you were going.

“My cousin” Alexia offered quietly over the lift music, it was giving James Bond the vibe, you half expected when the doors opened to be met by attractive men in suits holding guns at you but instead you were met with a stunning view of the city.

“Oh, wow” you were breathless as you stepped out onto the rooftop, it was breathtaking the city by night you could see La Sagrada Familia in the distance completely standing tall in the view the magnificent building it was all lit up. You’d been here two months and still yet to go see it, it had been bumped up your to do list quite rapidly seeing it from this distance and still being impressed by it.

Alexia interrupted you gazing flicking her head to tell you to follow her, you followed dutifully behind, there were only a few other faces up here, she motioned for you to squeeze around the table with a fire pit in the middle to settle on the sofa, “What do you want to drink?” Alexia asked, “Espresso Martinis are good here”

“I’ll have one of those” you smiled, “Thank you”

You watched Alexia disappear out of view before you took your phone from your bag, you had a few texts from Carla

I hope you have a nice time

Alexia is a good person

Just be kind and I promise you’ll have a nice time with her

You smiled at the messages sent not long after she left you all those hours ago, you were shocked to see the time was nearly 11, you’d met Alexia at 7 o’clock, you were replying when Alexia rounded the corner with two cocktails

Yeah she’s lovely, this wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it would be 🤍

You locked your phone slipping it back into your bag beside you, “That was quick”

Alexia grinned as she settled onto the sofa beside you, placing the cocktails on the table. "The bartender knows how to work fast" she said, handing you your drink. "I hope you like it."

You took a sip, the rich flavour of the espresso martini dancing on your tongue. "Wow, this is amazing! You were right."

She leaned back, visibly pleased. "I told you! It’s one of my favourites. The perfect blend of coffee and sweetness."

As you both relaxed into the plush sofa, you took a moment to soak in the view yet again. The city sprawled out beneath you, illuminated by countless lights. The Sagrada Familia stood majestically in the distance all light up your eye naturally staying on the stunning building, a reminder of the artistry that defined Barcelona. It's history.

"Isn’t it incredible?" Alexia said, breaking the comfortable silence. "The way the city transforms at night. It feels completely different, doesn’t it?"

"Definitely," you agreed, your eyes still captivated by the twinkling lights. "It’s like a different world up here." You were speaking so softly to match the aurora of the rooftop and the silence despite being in the middle of the city, soft music in the background and the giggling woman in the corner with her boyfriend canoodling.

You both sipped your drinks, letting the ambiance wash over you. The warmth of the fire pit flickered nearby, adding to the cozy atmosphere. It felt intimate, the kind of setting that encouraged deeper conversations. "So," Alexia began, her tone shifting slightly with your body following it turning ever so slightly to face you. “Tell me about your family.”

“My family is a complicated one” Alexia listened intently, her expression thoughtful. Your eyes moved down to the drink in your hand you took a sip sitting up to place it on the table before sinking back down on the sofa, both your heads barely visible over the back of it you were that comfortable on it. “I don’t like talking about it”

You chanced a look at her, the soft glow of the fire reflecting in her eyes. "What’s your go-to drink? Is it as sophisticated as you are?"

You chuckled, thankful she changed the subject without fuss or further questioning. "Depends on the occasion. If I’m feeling adventurous, maybe a fancy cocktail, but most days, I’m just a beer and pizza kind of person. What about you? Do you always order espresso martinis, or is that just for impressing me?"

She laughed, the sound melodic and inviting. "Oh, you caught me! I only order them when I’m trying to charm someone. I guess I’m trying to establish a vibe here."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your lips. "Well, I’d say it’s working. But now I’m curious—what else do you do to charm someone?"

Alexia turned her head from you, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she reached forward to place her drink on the table next to yours “I might throw in a few compliments, maybe get a little laughter going, and definitely some good eye contact."

"Good eye contact, huh?" you replied, replaying all the moments her eyes would always somehow find yours, gaining her attention back her cheek resting against her shoulder as she watched you. "So, like this?" You locked eyes with her, holding her gaze just a moment longer than necessary.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she chuckled, breaking the intensity. “Like that is just fine, I think you’re catching on quick”

"Just trying to keep up with a professional footballer," you teased. "It’s not easy."

Her eyes twinkling with challenge she whispered out. "Maybe I should give you some tips on how to handle it."

You leaned your head back into the sofa as you moved your weight onto your right hip to angle towards her like she had you, you were intrigued. "Oh, I’m all ears. What’s your best advice for someone trying to impress a football superstar?"

"Humility and discretion is key," she said, her voice low and playful. "And a little mystery never hurts. Keep them wondering what you’re thinking."

You nodded, feigning seriousness. "So I should just stare at you blankly, then?"

Alexia burst into laughter, her eyes sparkling. "That’s not quite what I meant. But it might work if you do it with the right amount of charm!"

You nodded yet again, “I’ll be sure to report back when I try it on one of the professional footballers at Badalona” You felt a flutter of pride at your tease you shared a smile and eye contact before she rolled her head to look out at the view again. The rooftop became your own little world, a sanctuary where you could connect and explore each other’s minds oblivious to who was around it could be empty or packed for all either of you knew. So intently focused on one another.

You caught Alexia eye you out the corner of her eye, “You got your eye on someone then?” there sounded like a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“No, thought it might make a good TikTok” she smiled shaking her head at your joke. You glanced over your shoulder at the couple before you found Alexia already looking at you when you turned your head back. “Maybe I should start my own TikTok for some dating tips,” you suggested playfully, your heart racing as her gaze lingered on you. “After all, who wouldn’t want to learn how to charm a superstar?”

Alexia chuckled, her laughter mingling with the soft music that floated through the air around you. “I’d watch that! Just make sure to include the part where you stare blankly at them,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The two of you shared a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and watching the stars twinkle above. The atmosphere felt charged with a mix of excitement and an underlying shift of flirtatious banter between you that neither of you could ignore.

In the midst of that silence, you felt the weight of her gaze, a warmth radiating from her presence that made your heart race. The flickering fire pit cast a soft glow on her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her smile and the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. It was intoxicating, drawing you in deeper. “Have you ever considered that the stars might be watching us right now?” you asked playfully, the corner of your mouth lifting in a teasing grin. “Maybe they’re taking notes on our date.”

Alexia chuckled, tilting her head back to gaze at the night sky. “If they are, I hope they’re impressed. This is quite the evening.”

You laughed, “I’m definitely impressed. Not every day you get to share a drink with a football superstar on a rooftop in Barcelona.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she turned her gaze back to you, her expression softening. “And not every day I get to share a drink with an incredibly beautiful woman who has a way of making me laugh.”

You felt a surge of warmth at her compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in her tone. “You’re making me blush,” you admitted, a playful grin spreading across your face.

“I can see that,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. “It's cute.” The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter giving way to a deeper seriousness. You both leaned in slightly, as if the world around you had faded away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment. “Can I confess something?” Alexia said, her voice dropping to a softer tone.

“Of course,” you replied, intrigued by her shift in demeanour.

“I was really nervous before we met. I had no idea what to expect,” she admitted, her gaze steady on yours. “But honestly? This has turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Your heart swelled at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through you. “I feel the same way. I was so anxious, but being here with you… I’m really enjoying myself”

“Carla will be unbearable when she finds out”

You laughed Alexia’s eyes lowering to your hand on her forearm the first physical contact you’d had, “I’ll leave that joy with you”

“Gee Thanks”

“Welcome” you smiled sincerely at her.

Alexia glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe it’s already midnight,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “Time really flies when you’re having fun.”

“It really does,” you agreed, a hint of reluctance in your tone. Part of you didn’t want the night to end.

“How you getting home?”

“Uber” she nodded at your answer like it was the correct answer

“Well, I’ll wait with you, I can walk from here”

“Is that safe?”

She softly smiled at you almost like she appreciated you cared, “Yes, shall we have one more before we make a move?”

You began to pull yourself up from the sofa you’d both slouched down sitting extremely comfortably, “I’ll get these”

As the night warned it was drawing to a close, your nerves were spiking again, you really didn’t want this night to end. In the past when hearing stories of two women meeting on a first date and stayed that evening and never left. It baffled you how someone could do that. You certainly couldn’t. But stood here now waiting for the bartender to make your drinks, the feeling of dread of having to part from her filling you up, the notion didn’t feel so far fetched anymore.

You smiled when she looked to you with a pleased smile as you returned, she genuinely looked happy you’d returned, “Here you go”

Alexia sat up as you perched on the edge as you both took a sip as she placed her drink on the table you didn't know whether it was the fire pit or Alexia's continued gaze but your cheeks felt warm.

You smiled as you settled back onto the sofa, the glow from the fire pit enveloping you both. Alexia's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes twinkling in the soft light.

"You know," she began, her voice low and intimate, "I'm really glad Carla convinced me to come tonight. I almost said no."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What made you change your mind?"

Alexia's lips curled into a small smile. "She showed me a picture of you. Those eyes of yours... I couldn't resist the chance to see them in person."

Your heart fluttered at her admission. "Well, I'm glad you did. Though I have to admit, I was terrified when I saw it was you sitting at the table."

"Terrified?" Alexia chuckled. "Why's that?"

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you admitted, "Well, you're... you. I was worried I'd make a fool of myself or that we'd have nothing in common. Or I wasn't good enough for your time or something"

Alexia's expression softened at your final comment, her eyes warm as they met yours. "And now?"

"Now..." you paused, gathering your thoughts. "Now I'm just glad I took the chance. You're not at all what I expected."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

You nodded, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "Definitely. You're funny, kind, and so easy to talk to. I feel like I've known you for ages."

Alexia's face lit up at your words. She reached out discreetly, her fingers brushing lightly against yours on the sofa cushion between you. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat. Alexia's eyes flickered down to where your hands touched before meeting your gaze again.

"I feel the same way," she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. "There's something about you that just... draws me in."

The air between you felt charged, thick with possibility. You found yourself leaning in slightly, pulled by an invisible force. Alexia mirrored your movement, her eyes darting to your lips before returning to your eyes. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft music and the crackling fire. "I don't usually do this with someone I've just met, but..."

Your heart raced as you anticipated her next words. "But?" you prompted gently. You silently begging her to put you out your misery and finish that sentence.

"But I really want to kiss you right now," Alexia admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Time seemed to stand still as she waited for your answer but you were waiting for her to follow through on her words, you brought your face closer to hers the spacing slowly fading, her eyes went to your lips as your noses brushed as she closed the gap you'd left, your eyes closed and it was the most soft sweet connection of your lips with another’s you’d had. They were pressed together for four Mississippi’s, not that you were counting, you felt breathless when her lips left yours your chest had for sure flushed under your tee but neither of you made a move to create a distance.

She smiled first before you laughed ever so softly, her smile grew.

"For the record" You whispered, "I really wanted to kiss you to"

Her thumb came up to hold your chin and she did it again, that sweet crush of your lips, her mouth opened and closed again around your bottom lip before she released her gentle hold. You watched her throat bounce as she pulled herself away, "I'm really glad we got that second drink"

You began laughing softly which made her smile grow, you reached for said drink and took a long sip, dutch courage you probably should have had before the kiss. "Me to"

You were soon back in the comfortable bubble with Alexia resting back in the sofa drink in hand smiling as you continued having free flowing conversations, "What's your middle name?" You tittered at her bringing that back up.

"Promise me you won't laugh" Alexia simply rose her eyebrows, "Elsa"

"Like out of frozen?" her brows had changed from curiosity to confusion in a flash

"And that's why I don't tell people" You touched the back of your hand to her bicep ever so briefly.

"Let's stay calm Elsa, I'm nice and toasty don't fancy being frozen" she laughed her arms coming over her chest when you back handed her arm with a bit more force this time.

"Don't call me Elsa"

Alexia narrowed her eyes that mischievous glint back again, "Oh I am so calling you Elsa" her lips broke into a smile before you both started laughing yet again.

"Alexia" Alexia sat up looking over shoulder to the voice, you remembered that voice it was the woman from the lift, "Nena, ya cerramos, tendrás que irte, lo siento." Alexia nodded sitting back again she pointed at your phone just sticking out your bag.

"Do you want to order your uber, they're closing so they're kicking us out"

"Geez, what time is it?" You got your phone, "You know we said one more an hour and a half again"

"We've really nursed those drinks"

You sat up looking behind you at Alexia still lay back, "To busy chatting, you really can chew a girls ear off"

"Charmingly I hope" You out the corner of your eye caught her smiling as you did so pulling your app up, "All good?" you nodded slipping your phone back into your bag as Alexia got to her feet moving out from behind the table you soon followed suit back into the lift you came out of two and a half hours ago.

The benefit of living in a city was as you came out the bar back onto the street your Uber was already waiting, "Thank you" you looked to Alexia, "I've had a really great night"

Alexia silently opened her arms you stepped forward to accept, your eyes closed when one arm came around your body and another hand rested on the back of your head. "Me to"

"Get home safe"

Alexia nodded as you pulled the uber door open, she simply nodded you shared a little smile as you shut the door and she waved you off into the night. Leaving her behind a grinning mess.

Alexia took a shot coming here tonight and it turned out to the perfect one.

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

Like I said nervous about this one 🙈 let me know what you think

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

322 notes · View notes

gayofthefae · 3 days ago

Text

Thinking about how Will is fully able to flirt but cannot handle being flirted with and the deeper reason that actually is

Will has settled for the idea of never being with Mike. Even referencing coming out to Mike he only ever frames it as not wanting to "lie to Mike" and simply wanting to share "the truth" with who he "care[s] about the most". Never an expectation or attempt at reciprocation. It is consistently based and in reference to how he feels about secrets from his loved ones, and only ever mentioned in reference to actual romance by El.

He has settled. But the thing about settling, part of it inherently that is under-talked about, is the part where you find ways to love your life. Settling is not resigning, that would be super depressing, because when someone settles it is them committing to a lesser life than they had dreamed because more is not an option for them. It is out of their control or the wrong choice somehow, and in those situations, you make the best of it.

So to Will, he will never have Mike. In fact, in all likelihood he will never experience romance. In his entire life - even if he die of natural causes in old age and not monsters at 15. But you make the best of it. And it's logical:

If Mike fully does not reciprocate, is oblivious to his feelings, and repeatedly affirms that he didn't mean what he said that made it seem like he was uncomfortable and he is totally fine - like the audience believes (again, BECAUSE Will believes this and is the one telling this story in s4) - then there are absolutely 0 consequences to having an ambiguous flirt here and there. No one can fault him, it's the closest he will ever get to romance as a queer person, so he takes what he can get. No damage to Mike and El's relationship. No discomfort to Mike. Hell, Mike doesn't even really notice.

So Will's expectation is occasional, one-sided flirting. A sort of playing pretend I suppose. And Mike smiles and that can be part of the game. It makes sense. Because often, he doesn't say anything back.

He just smiles...except for once

I always want to jokingly yell at my screen in this moment "what do you mean you're shy now? YOU initiated flirting with HIM"

but it does make sense given his expectations; given the history I hadn't tracked before from his perspective. Not only are his expectations of a lack of matching energy (as I have pointed out repeatedly before, genuinely should not match if unreciprocated - could even just be the comment vs silent smile thing they had going before) completely realistic, they have also been proven in practice!

And I always want to tease him that he started it but really, he didn't. Because any time he does this, it has 0 intention to "start" anything. Not even this much of an exchange. He's doing it for himself, to play pretend. It's like Mike is breaking the fourth wall.

It was completely plausible for him to act coy and surprised by Mike here, as if Mike had initiated this tone, because even something as simple and small as this had *never been reciprocated like this before*. The rest of the conversation is Mike's traditional pace in terms of romantic-adjacent to Will, but participating in the playfulness is new.

I like to tease him in my head. But Will being flustered by a natural response to his statement and the tone he himself set is logical. Because to Will, in a way, Mike can't see him. Mike doesn't know he's doing this, and Mike certainly can't engage.

This is Mike engaging. This is Mike *participating*. This is Mike acknowledging 'you just pitched me a line, and I'm taking it this time'. And in a way, this is also one of this micro-reveals you get in your life. This is also Mike saying 'I'm not oblivious to it and I never have been, I just didn't engage until now. But now I am. (And none of those smiles were that oblivious either)'.

And the other stuff Mike says afterwards is much more similar to things he's before, so it didn't always click for me the specifics. But I get it now. I get why this is different than all those other times. I get why he grabs the painting on his way out. Will learned something about Mike from this conversation.

It's absolutely tiny. Two lines. But there is one moment in the series where they have truly reciprocated and interestingly enough, it's this. We always get "if we're both going crazy we'll go crazy together" "yeah" "it was the best thing I've ever done" "..." even "the last year has been weird, you know? And Max and Lucas and Dustin, they're great, they're great, it's just-it's Hawkins, it's not the same without you. And I feel like maybe I was worrying too much about El and, I don't know, I feel like I lost you or something, does that make sense? I have no idea what's gonna happen next, but whatever it is, I think it'll be easier if we're team. Friends - Best friends." "Cool." (WILL BYERS OH MY GOD!! 'cool'???)

but this was two-ways. And it quickly ended because then they kinda didn't know what to do, understandably. This is basically a long and queer trauma way of saying that that look from Will is a completely logical moment of "shit, I didn't think I'd get this far".

Analysis on Mike's perspective/behavioral shift to respond in this scene

#will analysis #stranger things #byler #byler flirting #will byers #will byers is gay #will byers motives #expectations #byler analysis #byler povs

137 notes · View notes

ladyloveandjustice · 2 days ago

Text

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

#writing #book talk #sorry...sometimes the tone of a thing gets to me even if i also don't care for the subject

6K notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

This isn't really a request to make anything more just a rant!

I'm just imagining SAHSRAU somehow managing to pull reader into the game and when they arrive they are just the God Emperor from 40k. Like, decked out in gold armor, long flowing hair, 14ft tall (GE is tall as hell), a Perpetual so they can't really stay dead, and some serious psychic capabilities.

It has me giggling just thinking about how some of the characters would react, especially the more devout ones. Maybe the Amphoreus npcs have an actual existential crisis seeing someone so godly compared to the titans, characters like Sunday and Argenti literally kissing the ground reader treads while others like Ruan Mei and Herta are have a singular focus on figuring out all of the readers ins and outs (more so than before).

This is an idea I've been playing with for a while now ever since I found out about this kind of AU and it's finally gotten to the point where I just want to rant on and on about it lol

No, but this is hilarious to think about. Like, imagine you get sucked into HSR, expecting to just be you, and instead, you show up looking like you walked straight out of Warhammer 40K fanfiction. Gold-plated, towering over everyone, radiating sheer divine energy—an actual god, not just a theoretical one.

The believers would either be weeping in joy or having the worst identity crisis of their lives. The Amphoreus people, who already revere the Titans, would take one look at you and just—malfunction. Like, 'oh. Oh no. We were wrong. We were SO wrong.' You’d probably get a mix of panicked bowing, desperate prayers, and people straight-up running because what does this mean for their entire worldview??

Sunday and Argenti? Absolutely losing it. Sunday would be preaching your name before you even say a word, while Argenti—this guy is already ridiculously devout—would be trying to single-handedly knight you with his banner. Probably vowing to crusade in your name while you’re just like, "Dude, chill, I just got here."

And then there’s the scholars. Ruan Mei, Herta, maybe even Screwllum—they’d take one look at you and go, "Science has failed me. I need to know EVERYTHING." You’d be subjected to so many tests, not out of doubt, but because they literally cannot fathom how you exist. Ruan Mei would be poking at your energy like "Okay but why does your aura feel like an eldritch horror and a divine miracle at the same time?"

Also, the Vidyadhara might just spontaneously combust from the sheer scale of your existence. They already believe in reincarnation and divine cycles—imagine how Dan Heng would feel if he realized you’re a Perpetual. "Wait. You don’t die? Like, at all? You just come back??" Meanwhile, Jing Yuan would be sipping his tea like, "Well. That’s new."

I also love the idea that even the Aeons don’t know what to do with you. Nanook, who is literally trying to destroy all gods, might take one look at you and just… pause. Like, "Huh. That’s not supposed to exist." Meanwhile, Xipe, the one obsessed with worship, is probably LOSING IT because they finally have something worthy of praise.

This concept is gold (literally). Keep ranting, because I love this! 🤭💖

153 notes · View notes

dailydoseoffanfics · 3 days ago

Text

⭐️ SELF AWARE FORSAKEN AU (GENERAL HEADCANONS)

⭐️ a/n: my first x reader post that i actually wrote (i think) heh. /silly ANYWAYS this idea has been my brainrot for a while and TBH i'm not sure if I'm able to execute it well but. fuck it we ball 🔥🔥🔥🔥 ALSO I'M ONLY GOING TO DO NOOB, TWO TIME AND CHANCE FOR NOW CUZ THEY'RE THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT I HAVE SOME IDEAS FOR.... (DON'T WORRY I'LL MAKE ANOTHER POST ABOUT THE OTHER SURVIVORS AS WELL)

⭐️ warnings: possibly ooc but I DON'T GIVE A SHITE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥 (kinda), also really fucking long

⭐️ reader is gender-neutral so they/them pronouns are used!

You're a really normal fan about a Roblox game called "Forsaken".......yeah.....totally a really normal and sane fan about that game. But lately, you've noticed something weird about the characters you're playing.

The characters have varying reactions into finding out they're being controlled by something....or someone (you).

⭐️

NOOB (Noob uses they/them pronouns btw if ya'll forgot!)

Bro has NO clue what's happening right.

It was that one specific round, the usual running away from killers, hiding behind walls hoping that they don't get spotted. It just another round. Or so they though.

During that round, while they're in hiding, they felt some type of.....warmth.

They ignored it at first. Could be just instincts.

But this warmth was....growing? In a way that this warmth was growing stronger, and they feel this type of.....force.

It was controlling their movements, and Noob could hear a faint voice.

Noob is looking around, their mind running places. What is going on? Who is controlling them? And WHY are they doing this???

Noob felt their fear increase. It was already bad that they're getting chased by killers every single round, but when they become aware of this type of, weird force, that's somehow controlling every single of their movement, and hearing a voice that's so far yet so close? Not too mention that Noob didn't even know who you are, no face, no name, nothing. Noob just thought that they lost their mind for good.

What's even worse is that they don't if they can actually trust you. For all they know, you might be some kind of sadistic person that controls people for fun and takes pleasure in seeing people suffer.

That's why Noob tried to stop whatever force this is. Keyword: tried.

No matter how much effort they put into escaping this grasp, like trying to go into an opposite direction or just standing still, it wasn't enough.

Eventually, when the round ends, Noob is just in their designated room, laying on their bed, wondering what in almighty christ just happened.

Their mind kept replaying that incident. Genuinely WHO WAS THAT PERSON? AND WHY WAS THIS PERSON CONTROLLING THEM? WHAT DID THEY EVEN DO TO BE SUBJECTED TO...WHATEVER THIS IS???

Their paranoia is multiplied by 10x. Every new round, their face is noticeably more fearful, they're more jumpy, and they're looking around EVERYWHERE. They look like they're on a brink of a mental breakdown. Usually the other survivors got used to Noob's shakiness, but when the survivors noticed Noob getting jumpscared by literally any sounds, that's where the suspicion comes in (Two Time was the first to notice).

Even if Noob feels dread whenever they feel that same warmth, somewhere deep inside of their mind, it feels..... oddly calming?

Overall, Noob is NOT having a good time. Noob will flat out NOT trust you in the beginning, and probably thinks you're up to no good, so they'll try to avoid you as much as possible (even if they fail everytime). You're gonna have to be REALLY patient with them, Noob being trapped in this time-looping game is already bad enough for them. (Think about this video LMAO)

⭐️

TWO TIME (also uses they/them!)

Two Time is......perplexed. They don't know how to feel about this.

Before Two Time gained awareness, Two Time noticed Noob being more jittery than usual. So they confronted Noob about their behavior lately, and (tried to) comforted Noob. (I headcanon Two Time to be a pretty observant person, and while Two Time is usually closed off, they interact with Noob the most. Second being Elliot.)

So this situation about some kind of....force....controlling Noob? Hm.

Two Time thinks about that interaction, and doesn't just brush that conversation off. They will keep in mind of that, questioning about this "force", with furrowed eyebrows and a questioning gaze on their face as they walk down the hallway of the cabin they live in with the other survivors. (I also headcanon Two Time to be kind of...an overthinker. A great listener, but I think they would think too much about things. ALSO also feel like they're generally an anxious and paranoid fella, and it's canon that they're a little crazy in the membrane, so uh, they're pretty much unstable.)

And that's where it happened. Right after that interaction with Noob with a new round started, they felt warm. The type of warmth Noob described, a type of force that's controlling them.

Two Time felt their blood ran cold. Oh...wow. Two Time understands Noob's fearfulness now.

Immediately doing everything on their willpower to escape out of this force even just for little. They're LOCKED THE FUCK IN trying to stand like a statue (with the survivors giving Two Time weird looks and YOU, my dear player, being confused by this absurd behavior your character that you're playing as right now is showing).

Unfortunately, Two Time's attempt was futile, as their legs are jerked forward, forcing them to participate in the round. Throughout the round, Two Time's mind is running a marathon, while also making more attempts to get out this..warmth feeling off of them.

When the round ends, they would....keep this as a secret for some reason. We all know that Two Time's an enigmatic person, they want secrets to be kept as secrets. (Even then, their weird behavior earlier might've confirmed Noob's suspicion that there was, INDEED, something is controlling them.)

I feel like bro would just go from "OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS SHIT HOLY SHIT I DON'T LIKE THIS PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE" to "wait.....what if they're some type of god...omg am i the chosen one ?!?! 🤯🤯🤯"

So the more rounds you played, the more they're starting to think that you're.....a type of deity. And they're slowly starting to stop their escape attempts of the "force".

It's canon that Two Time used to be a part of a cult that believes in the concept of respawning, and this belief grew stronger as time went on, so Two Time thinks that they've been blessed by the gods, and while Two Time can't really hear well of what you're saying, YOU might possibly get them out of this hellhole.

So basically, they slowly went from dreading your presence to......seeking your presence.

Doesn't help that they're pretty unstable though. My guy's gonna look STRAIGHT at you the screen with a smile that you don't whether they despise you or they worship you, which scares the LIVING shit out of you, making you exit out of the game QUICKLY.

And when you exit the game, the warmth automatically disappears from Two Time......which Two Time immediately felt disappointed with. They didn't mean to make you scared! They just wanted to know more about you!

Yeah, Two Time's bummed about that, but now, you're on their mind, and their feelings is having a battle of whether they should be weary of you or trust you.

(Will they eventually be obsessed with you and be desperate of your approval making them do anything, and by ANYTHING, they do for you? Maybe......possibly......likely....)

Overall, Two Time won't trust you at first. But overtime, they'll think you're like a deity or something similar, which is where they'll let you do whatever you want with them. (And where their obsession slowly starts.)

⭐️

CHANCE (canonically uses he/they!)

Chance is.....confused by all of this.

Chance was the third person to notice Noob's weird behavior. Overtime, they also noticed Two Time being...more in La La Land as well.

Chance just shrugs it off. Eh, he just thinks both of them are generally paranoid, and doesn't think too much about it.

HOWEVER, something weird happened to Chance today. When a new round started, they felt something.....odd in their body.

They felt warm, but a type of warmth that is....controlling his movements.

.......Ooooookay. This is weird.......... DEFINITELY weird.

Chance is caught off guard by this, and while some type of force is making him go to who knows what, his mind is jumbled.

Bro is CONFUSED, BEWILDERED, SURPRISED. He's having profound feelings of confusion.

They would be a teeny tiny bit scared at first, because, WOAH, HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS GOING ON????

But eventually, they would become....curious about this force.

Not only do they feel this type of warmth, but they also hear a voice as well......the voice's too muffled. Chance thinks it's probably his luxurious headphones, so he takes them off. The voice's still too muffled, damn. (You definitely noticed Chance taking off their headphones. You immediately go suspicious. Is your mind playing tricks on you or was this just a new animation apart of the new update that the developers forgot to mention?)

I feel like Chance would be the most calm about this. His canon personality type is ENFP, and ENFPs are usually social and open-minded, so I definitely see Chance wanting to know more about you. He doesn't think of you as a scary individual, and yea sure, he may be a little bit on edge, but he feels like you don't seem to be a bad person, which is why Chance becomes interested in you.

Chance would try to communicate with you by looking at the screen and giving you a smirk......which you immediately close your laptop.

Chance feels the warmth disappear, he feels like that one Spongebob meme that has a teardrop, while you on the other hand, feel like you're going insane.

Welp, guess he's gotta find a way to talk to you without making you feel scared.

He wonders if you'll like his pet bunny, Spade.

Overall, the most chill about this situation. He wants to interact with you more.

#💫🌈📝 starbles' writing #forsaken #forsaken x reader #happy (late) valentines' day <3 #take this as a (late) valentines day gift AHAHAHAHAH #two time x reader #chance x reader #noob x reader #SHED N ELLIOT N BUILDERMAN N 007N07 N GUEST ARE NEXTTTTT #STAY TUNEDDDDD

120 notes · View notes