#best language translator device

[ausha123]

Enhancing Global Collaboration With Ausha's Advanced AI Translator Technology

In an increasingly interconnected world, the need for effective communication across languages has never been more crucial. As businesses expand globally and travel becomes more accessible, language barriers often present significant challenges. Enter Ausha, a pioneer in the realm of AI-powered translation devices. With their cutting-edge technology, Ausha is redefining how we communicate, making it easier than ever to connect with people from different linguistic backgrounds. This article delves into how Ausha's advanced AI translator technology is enhancing global collaboration, exploring its features, benefits, and real-world applications.

The Evolution of Translation Technology

From Dictionaries to AI Translators

The journey of translation technology began with simple dictionaries and phrasebooks. While useful, these tools were time-consuming and limited in scope. The advent of the internet brought online translation services, which offered more convenience but often fell short in accuracy and context understanding. Today, AI-powered language translators represent the pinnacle of this evolution, providing real-time, accurate translations that facilitate seamless communication.

The Role of AI in Modern Translators

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has revolutionized the field of language translation. Modern AI translators leverage machine learning algorithms and vast linguistic databases to understand and translate languages with remarkable precision. These devices are not only capable of translating written text but also spoken language, thanks to advanced voice recognition and natural language processing technologies.

Introducing Ausha's AI Translator Technology

Overview of Ausha's Product Line

Ausha offers a range of AI-powered language translator devices designed to meet diverse needs. Their product line includes portable voice translators, multi-functional language translator devices, and specialized tools for business and travel. Each device is equipped with state-of-the-art AI technology, ensuring fast, accurate translations across multiple languages.

Key Features of Ausha's AI Translators

Real-Time Translation: Ausha's devices provide instantaneous translation, making conversations fluid and natural.

Multilingual Support: With support for over 100 languages, including regional dialects, Ausha's translators are among the best language translator devices on the market.

Voice Recognition: Advanced voice recognition technology allows for seamless voice-to-voice translation, ideal for face-to-face interactions.

Offline Functionality: Many of Ausha's devices offer offline translation capabilities, ensuring functionality even without internet access.

User-Friendly Interface: Designed with the user in mind, these devices feature intuitive interfaces that make them easy to operate, even for non-tech-savvy individuals.

Enhancing Global Collaboration

Facilitating International Business

Breaking Down Language Barriers

In the business world, effective communication is key to building relationships and closing deals. Ausha's AI translator devices play a critical role in breaking down language barriers, allowing companies to engage with partners, clients, and customers across the globe. Whether negotiating contracts, conducting meetings, or providing customer support, Ausha's language translators ensure that language differences do not hinder business operations.

Case Study: A Global Tech Firm

Consider a global tech firm with offices in multiple countries. By equipping their employees with Ausha's best language translator devices, the company can ensure smooth communication during international conferences, training sessions, and collaborative projects. This not only improves efficiency but also fosters a more inclusive and cohesive corporate culture.

Empowering Education and Learning

Supporting Multilingual Education

In educational settings, language diversity can be both a challenge and an opportunity. Ausha's AI translator technology supports multilingual education by enabling students and teachers to communicate effectively, regardless of their native languages. This is particularly valuable in international schools, universities, and online learning platforms.

Enhancing Language Learning

For language learners, Ausha's devices offer an interactive and immersive learning experience. By providing real-time translations and pronunciations, these tools help learners to practice and improve their language skills. Additionally, the ability to translate voice and text makes it easier for learners to understand context and usage.

Improving Travel and Tourism

Seamless Travel Experiences

Traveling to a foreign country can be daunting, especially when language is a barrier. Ausha's language translator devices make travel more enjoyable and less stressful by providing travelers with instant translations for directions, menu items, cultural information, and more. This enhances the overall travel experience and allows tourists to engage more deeply with local cultures.

Supporting the Hospitality Industry

The hospitality industry thrives on excellent customer service. By integrating Ausha's AI translator technology, hotels, restaurants, and tour operators can better serve international guests. Whether it's assisting with check-in procedures, explaining services, or giving recommendations, these devices ensure clear and effective communication.

Advancing Healthcare Services

Bridging Communication Gaps

In healthcare, clear communication is critical to providing quality care. Language barriers can lead to misunderstandings, misdiagnoses, and reduced patient satisfaction. Ausha's AI translators bridge these communication gaps by enabling healthcare providers to converse with patients in their native languages. This is especially important in multicultural communities and during international medical missions.

Enhancing Patient Experience

By using Ausha's voice translators, healthcare providers can ensure that patients fully understand their diagnoses, treatment plans, and medication instructions. This not only improves patient outcomes but also enhances the overall patient experience by making them feel heard and respected.

The Technology Behind Ausha's AI Translators

Advanced AI and Machine Learning

Ausha's AI translator devices are powered by advanced AI algorithms and machine learning models. These technologies allow the devices to continuously learn and improve from new data, ensuring ever-increasing accuracy and efficiency. The AI models are trained on vast linguistic datasets, enabling them to understand context, idioms, and cultural nuances.

Natural Language Processing (NLP)

Natural Language Processing (NLP) is a critical component of Ausha's technology. NLP enables the devices to understand and generate human language in a way that is both meaningful and contextually appropriate. This includes recognizing different accents, dialects, and speech patterns, making the translations more accurate and natural-sounding.

Voice Recognition Technology

Voice recognition technology is essential for converting spoken language into text that the AI can process. Ausha's devices feature highly sophisticated voice recognition systems that can accurately capture and interpret speech in real-time. This is particularly useful for voice-to-voice translation, where immediate and accurate responses are necessary.

Offline Capabilities

One of the standout features of Ausha's AI translators is their offline functionality. These devices can store extensive language databases locally, allowing for effective translation even in areas with limited or no internet connectivity. This is especially beneficial for travelers and professionals who often find themselves in remote or disconnected locations.

Real-World Applications and Success Stories

Global Business Conferences

At international business conferences, language diversity can be a significant hurdle. Ausha's AI translator devices have been successfully used in such settings to facilitate communication between attendees from different linguistic backgrounds. By providing real-time translation services, these devices ensure that everyone can participate fully, regardless of their native language.

Cross-Cultural Collaborations

In fields such as research and development, cross-cultural collaborations are common. Scientists, engineers, and researchers from different countries often work together on complex projects. Ausha's language translator devices enable these professionals to share ideas, data, and findings without language barriers, fostering innovation and accelerating progress.

Tourism and Hospitality

In the tourism and hospitality industry, providing exceptional service to international guests is paramount. Hotels, restaurants, and tour operators using Ausha's AI translators can communicate more effectively with their guests, enhancing their overall experience. This leads to higher satisfaction rates, positive reviews, and increased business.

Humanitarian Missions

In humanitarian missions, effective communication can be a matter of life and death. Aid workers, doctors, and volunteers often work in regions where multiple languages are spoken. Ausha's AI translator devices have been instrumental in these settings, allowing humanitarian teams to communicate with local populations, understand their needs, and provide timely assistance.

The Future of AI Translation with Ausha

Continuous Improvement and Innovation

Ausha is committed to continuous improvement and innovation in the field of AI translation. By investing in research and development, the company aims to enhance the capabilities of its devices, ensuring they remain at the forefront of the industry. Future advancements may include even more accurate translations, expanded language support, and new features that cater to specific industries.

Expanding Global Reach

As Ausha continues to grow, the company plans to expand its global reach, making its AI translator technology accessible to more people around the world. This includes entering new markets, forming strategic partnerships, and increasing distribution channels. By doing so, Ausha aims to empower more individuals and organizations to overcome language barriers and collaborate effectively.

Integrating with Other Technologies

The integration of AI translators with other technologies holds exciting possibilities. For example, combining Ausha's devices with augmented reality (AR) could create immersive translation experiences, where translations are overlaid onto real-world objects. Similarly, integration with virtual reality (VR) could enhance language learning and cross-cultural training programs.

Contributing to Global Understanding

Ultimately, Ausha's mission goes beyond just providing translation devices. The company aims to contribute to global understanding and harmony by facilitating communication and fostering mutual respect among people from different cultures. By breaking down language barriers, Ausha's AI translator technology is helping to create a more connected and empathetic world.

Conclusion

In today's globalized world, effective communication is more important than ever. Ausha's advanced AI translator technology is revolutionizing the way we interact, making it easier to connect with people from diverse linguistic backgrounds. From international business and education to travel, healthcare, and beyond, Ausha's language translator devices are enhancing global collaboration in countless ways. As the company continues to innovate and expand, the future of AI translation looks bright, promising even greater possibilities for bridging language gaps and fostering global understanding.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Tails headcanon time!

Have any of you guys seen that post about dead names? The one where the person suggests that one should make peace with it so it becomes just a name, no longer associated with them. The one where they suggested doing something like naming a pokemon or something you can take care of after your dead name so you can give it a different association that's more positive

Yeah

I like to headcanon that this is why the Miles Electric is called that

[meilleurchoix92]

Have you ever encountered the frustrating language barrier while exploring new countries? Well, worry no more! Thanks to cutting-edge technology, we now have the perfect solution to overcome this hurdle effortlessly - language translators. These amazing devices support multiple languages and offer unique features that will make your international interactions a breeze. In today's video, we're thrilled to present the Top 5 best language translators that you can get right now, empowering you to break free from language barriers and enjoy seamless communication during your travels. Let's dive in!" THE TOP 5 BEST TRANSLATOR PEN 2023

[yanderenightmare]

your vocab is really rich, what's ur secret

oh! uhm... excellent question!

Read! And every time you stumble upon a word you've never noticed before or know but don't often use, put it in a list, write down its meanings, and try using it the next time you write! (I'll put my list after the cut)

Read different things! Different authors and different styles, especially poetry! I mean, if you're looking to fatten your vocab, reading poetry is one of the best ways to do it. Poetic writers must search far and wide for the perfect words to create rhymes and rhythms and audibly pleasing sentences---they practically do all the work for you! Honestly, I am so serious about this. One of the best things you can do is buy a fat compendium of poetry with all different authors and eras. Get you some Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare if you want to hurt your head. Also! The same goes for music! Try listening to the lyrics---you'll probably hear some words you've never thought of using in your writing.

Here's a cheap trick for bilinguals---write something in your own language and put it through Google Translate. Honestly, I've found so many words just by doing this.

Every time you feel you've used a word too much, or anytime a word bores you to read, search up its synonyms and try using something you've never used before---don't stop the search until you're satisfied. Sometimes, it takes me more time to find just one word than it takes to write an entire post. Not only does this enrich your vocab, but you've probably just written a whole other sentence with newer meanings and more nuance!

Make your own synonym lists! Seriously! Because you can only find that many creative synonyms by searching up "word+synonyms."

Additionally! Think outside the box! Often, the best synonyms are those words that aren't actual synonyms at all. If you read poetry, you'll see poets use unorthodox words in place of something all the time---it's called a metaphor. Take flesh, for example---you can use fat, meat, muscle, brawn, beef---but you can also use cake, down, plume, pillow, softness, etc... I find this one especially useful for writing erotica, as you have to describe a lot of the same actions and body parts over and over and still make it interesting. (I'll add my synonyms list after the cut)

Also! This one is trickier, but instead of using words and synonyms, try making sentences that can replace the word instead---such as longer metaphors and fuller descriptions! This aligns with the literary device of "showing vs. telling." Of course, outright telling has its uses too and should not be disbarred entirely from writing, but often, it's showing that persuades the reader more. For example, instead of saying nervous, make sentences that describe how the character in question showcases nervousness---does their throat close up, do they sweat, do their eyes go wide, do they stutter, do they fiddle with their fingers, pick their nails, bite their lip, kick the ground, hunch their shoulders, look away, blush, flush, cry, run away or do they feel stuck? Describing these things helps the reader better understand the type of nervousness the character is experiencing. Hence, it makes for not only more interesting writing but also clearer writing!

A similar literary device is "focus and expanding," which slows down the reading or puts focus on certain aspects of the text by describing something to a great extent. If, say, this nervousness the example character is experiencing is of great significance, then that's what the readers' takeaway should be. But the reader won't think too much of it if the text simply states that they're nervous without underlining it. Luckily, there are plenty of ways of doing that, firstly through showing vs. telling, such as in the examples above, then metaphorically, such as "the ground seemed to swallow him up, down the guzzle of a monster with an appetite for disaster---darkness ensued like a storm cloud, cold and clawing with a weight heavy enough to nail him to the spot---all eyes were on him, unblinking and all-seeing, no matter what, he couldn't escape, he was stuck, glued to the ground by the soles of his shoes." I mean, the options are truly endless. These metaphors piled together are also a form of focusing and expanding, but you can take it even further than that by focusing on a small detail and giving it significance. For example, say the character is sweating because he's so nervous---you might focus on a single droplet of sweat instead of everything else, "A chill ran down his back. No, not a chill--sweat. Cold and creepily tracing the rigid bones of his spine. He can't move--if he moves, then they'll see. The sweat will seep into his shirt, and everyone will know what a sweaty and pathetic wreck he is. So, he can't move. No, yes, leave it alone. The droplet continues, running down the cold skin of his clammy back, sliding undeterred until meeting the band of his boxers and disappearing in the fibers. He swallows thickly and sighs with relief--only for another to pill at his nape, tracking the same course as the former. A vicious cycle is forming. He needs to get out of there!" And that's focus and expanding, folks! Focusing on something minuscule and expanding it by using it to describe what the character is feeling. It's a way to have a fresh take on something that's been written a thousand times before, such as "he was nervous."

Anyway, I might have gone a little above and beyond, but really, all these literary devices are ways of "expanding vocabulary" or at least giving an impression of it.

NEW WORDS

Manically---like a maniac

Despotic---like a dictator, having unlimited power over someone, often using it unfairly and cruelly

Chasm---a deep fissure, like a ravine, wound, or metaphorical rupture

Shunts---track-change basically, scoots to the side

Dearth---a scarcity or lack of something, a shortage

Raucous---making a harsh or loud noise

Innocuous---not harmful or offensive---harmless and safe, but also bland and unremarkable, maybe even a little boring

Lanyard---the woven necklace of a festival pass

Gossamer---fine spiderwebs, almost mesh

Cossetted---care for and protect in an overindulgent way

Beribboned---decorated with many ribbons

pupil-fat---cool way of saying enlarged pupils

Chitters---snickers, like a bird

Decadent---corrupt, depraved

Blotting---either soak up and absorb, or stain, or obscure

Barbell---a bar “pole” with attachments on each side

Bunting---of animals, when they butt or rub their head against you

Garnet---red

Cherubic---angelic, plump cuteness, quality of a child

Haunches---hips

Sodden---soaking

Waxing poetic---speaking in a flowery or poetical fashion

Inkwell---a container for ink---a dark well

Rend---tear in two, or more pieces

Ebb---recede, go back, like a tide wave

Webbed---like a duck's feet

Cloying---sickly sweet

Saccharine---oversweet

Apple of your cheek

Swathes---wrap, swaddle

Shroud---obscure something

Moonstone---to describe something grey and dusty, but pretty

Kinked---tangled, messy

Leaden---heavy, dull, slow or the colour of lead, grey

Stygian---devoid of light and brightness, hellish

Flaxen---of hair, champagne colored---ashy blonde

Tepid---lukewarm

SYNONYMS

Related to sucking cock:

Swallow

Glug

Drink

Eat

Guzzle

Receive

Take

Suck

Suckle

Slobber

Gargle

Gurgle

Drool

Gulp

Gobble

Stuff

Glut

Choke

Gag

Lap

Lick

Kitten-lick

Slurp 

Allow entry

Related to kissing:

Kiss

Lock/brush lips

Tongue-feed

Suck faces

Smooch

Peck

Snog

Canoodle

Related to biting:

Bite

Graze

Nip

Nibble

Sink teeth into

Chomp

Related to crying:

Whimpering

Mewling

Bleating

Whining

Snivel

Sniffle

Cry

Sob

Bawl

Hiccup

Spluttering

Blubbering

Coughing

Croaking

Related to pre-cum:

Ooze

Leak

Weep

Well

Drip

Dribble

Flow

Drain

Bleed

Sweat

Seep

Pill

Pearl

Cry

Related to fear and panic:

Hysterical

Wild

Manic

Uncontrolled

Unrestrained

Frantic

Frenzied

Restless

Hectic

Sporadic

Swivel-eyed

Related to screaming:

Scream

Yell

Wail

Yelp

Yip

Yammer

Squawk

Howl

Squeal

Shriek

Related to moaning:

Moan

Whine

Yelp

Purr

Hum

Croon

Related to overstimulated moaning:

Mumble

Croon

Warble

Quaver

Burble

Bumble

Hum

Slur

Ramble

Mutter

Whisper

Stammer

Stutter

Scramble

Jumble

Muddled

Babble

Blubbered

Splutter

Blurt

Related to groaning:

Groan

Grunt

Growl

Grumble

Grouch

Hiss

Guttural

Feral

Rusty 

Throaty

Wet

Sloppy

Related to angry noises:

Howl

Roar

Bark

Grizzle

Grump

Related to surprise or fear:

Gasp

Gulp

Choke

Suck in a sharp breath

Flinch

Jump

Jostle

Wince

Hiss

Pull back

Related to comforting:

Coo

Fuss

Comfort

Hush

Shush

Tsk

Mollycoddle

Nurse

Cuddle

Babying

Consoling

Soothe

Loving

Smothering

Hug

Hug tight

Cocoon

Snuggling

Swaddling

Rock back and forth with

Cosseting

Petting

Overwhelm

Related to begging:

Beg

Pleading

Pray

Bargain

Related to soreness and pain:

Ache

Sore

Throb

Swollen

Fattened

Welted

Related to taking cock inside entrance:

Swallow

Receive

Take

Suck inside

Stuff

Fill

Allow entry

Submit to

Ease inside

Bully inside

Squeeze inside

Force inside

Push

Pry

Related to how the hole squeezes:

Kissing

Fluttering

Hugging

Pressing

Squishing

Squeezing

Tightening

Pulsing

Related to a wet hole:

Slush

Squelch

Squishy

Creamy

Sloppy

Wet

Soaked

Slosh

Sop

Cry

Slick

Weep

Drool

Gush

Swollen

Velvety

Gummy

Cotton

Silken

Satiny

Related to thrusting:

Squeeze into

Pound

Jam

Ram

Rut

Loll

Rock

Thrust

Stuff

Bottom out

Fill

Fit

Nestle

Cram

Prodding

Poking

Kissing

Hammering

Jack-hammer

Smack

Slap

Ream

Related to pleasure:

Ecstatic

Opium-eyed

Euphoric

Elated

Thrilled

Blissed-out

Rapturous

High

Cloudy

Numb

Related to overstimulation:

Overstimulated

Outdone

Aching

Burning

Sweating

Feverish

Delirious

Febrile

Numb

Immobile

Dazed

Dull

Related to being dumb, high, or overstimulated:

Ditzy

Dumb

Clumsy

Silly

Foolish

Giddy

Brainless

Dizzy

Fuzzy

Dopey

Whimsical

Fickle

Featherbrained

Daft

Hare-brained

Awkward

Graceless

Blundering

Bumbling

Klutzy

Clueless

Cloddish

Dense

Related to the body and the flesh:

Tender

Supple

Soft

Creamy

Plush

Doughy

Cakey

Downy

Pillowy

Malleable

Squeezable

Biteable

Pliable

Touchable

Putty

Plume

Related to cuteness:

Cute

Cherubic

Adorable

Sweet

Soft

Precious

Darling

Lovable

Endearing

Baby

Related to weak or smallness:

Breakable

Brittle

Weak

Fragile

Dainty

Delicate

Frail

Flimsy

Vulnerable

Petite

Small

Little

Tiny

Feeble

Defenseless

Powerless

Helpless

Worthless

Hopeless

Related to struggling:

Struggle

Winding

Striving

Straining

Toiling

Playing

Wriggle

Wiggle

Twist

Shake

Tremor

Shiver

Quake

Related to men:

Vulgar

Loud

Oafish

Rough

Rude

Rustic

Gruff

Gross

Doltish

Barbaric

Bearish

Beastly

Churlish

Coarse

Swinish

[amberarmedheart]

In Defense of John Watson and the Importance of the Besotted Narrator

Every couple of years, the world as a collective likes to ruminate and come up with a new adaptation of the stories of Sherlock Holmes, every single new one promising to be either "The Ultimate Adaptation" or "Holmes for the New Era", there is no in-between. And it is understandable, this amazement and awe we hold for the beloved mysteries, they are classics for a reason.

And despite that, time and again I see creators of tv shows, pastiches, and movies, neglect the most important aspect in every single Sherlock Holmes' story: the immovable presence of John Watson. Some even going as far as turning Watson into a villain, a caricature of himself, or even erasing him completely from the narrative. "After all, the important one is Holmes, isn't he? He is the genius, and Watson is there just his biographer."

That is the capital omission to me when it comes to any of the adaptations, because it ignores the vital part that Watson plays in Holmes' life. Watson is the companion, he is the bridge between the "normal" world and the genius that is Holmes' deductive brain. He is, for a lack of a better descriptor, the translator between what jumps in judgement and reasoning Holmes' brilliant mind comes up with, and the layman's language.

There is a reason why we as readers come up with the idea that Holmes is smart beyond his quirks and his drug addiction, beyond his ignorance of anything and everything that in his opinion doesn't help him solve the cases that distract him from the boredom of normal life... and that reason is that John Watson is the person narrating the whole thing. We are not introduced to Holmes through an omnipresent, anonymous narrator which is the case with other books. We are thrown in the middle of a mystery from the start the same way that Watson is unexpectedly thrown in 221b.

What we think of Holmes, what we feel for him, it is all because Watson wishes us to experience. The stories themselves carry with them one of the best storytelling devices graciously blended into the narrative, which is the fact that Watson is an incredibly good writer, so much that the public gazes into the spotlight where Holmes is and in most cases ignores that the one shining it down is Watson himself.

Creators who like to ignore Watson and his function in the narrative tend to see Holmes as their own self-insert: a super smart man whose genius cannot compare with the mediocre world population and who can barely tolerate their stupidity, basically a gift to men from god and who has to be worshipped for it... When the reality is that every single thing we perceive from Holmes is because of how Watson sees him.

Watson is our unreliable narrator, his descriptions and impressions of Holmes are the ones that are weaved into the story; even goes as far as giving us a glimpse of Holmes' opinion about it through the way the consultant detective sometimes accuses Watson of adding too many embellishments to his narrations. If we see Holmes as an incredible genius, as someone whose intelligence is above the rest of the world, it is because Watson says so. With every passing story, we come across different characters that every once in a while whose first impression of Holmes has been influenced by what they themselves read in Watson's stories... All in all, the in-universe characters falling under the same influence we, as readers, are.

John Watson's love for Holmes is one of the main plot points in the story, we see its evolution the same way as one normally goes through different stages of falling in love. We see Watson's first infatuation, his interest in what makes Holmes what he is, first in a superficial way and later on with every new story. We see them have misunderstandings, which most of the time end up in a deeper appreciation of Holmes as a person.

All culminating in the incredible rendition of The Final Problem, which could easily be seen, without little effort, as Holmes' planning his own death. By what means we are never completely sure, to be honest, since we can only see it through Watson's deep grief. It is true that Arthur Conan Doyle's plans were to end Holmes' adventures with the short story, but even with the author's motivations being the main recourse behind its inception, there is no doubt when reading the story that the focus of the narrative is Holmes' spending his last moments with Watson.

The subsequent creation of The Empty House and further adventures after that, diluted partially the importance of the whole ordeal, but gave us a different insight of Holmes and Watson's relationship. Through that lens, we as readers witness the evolution of it, the toll that Holmes' fake death had in both his biographer and his own author, adding depth through the strain put by the facade.

E. W. Hornung made one of my favorite homages to Holmes and Watson through his stories of The Gentleman Thief, and put a greater emphasis on the strained relationship between the two characters after the fake death. He gave his besotted narrator another source of turmoil: the fact that while Raffles (our stand-in Holmes) was away living life and even having a romantic interest, Bunny (his Watson) ends up falling in disgrace after being sent to jail.

A.J. Raffles' stories lean on the importance of the unreliable, uselessly enamored narrator, to the point that Hornung didn't shy away from having Bunny refer to Raffles as handsome and attractive in many different instances. He understood how there is no Holmes without a Watson to appreciate him, how their dynamic is the fuel behind the success of the whole series.

And ultimately, that it is impossible to have a good story without a good storyteller.

[imninahchan]

⌜ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: strangers to lovers, my poor spanish skills, casual and unprotected sex [you can't do that, c'mon!], readerʼs a brazilian woman, some portuguese words, dirty talk, age difference, finger sucking, male oral, manhandling, light pussy spanking, ʽpapiʼ, dumbification, dacryphilia. ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹ʼ𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ꒱ sooo never thought about posting something in eng but @femmechaotic (thx baby) showed me her translation and i gave it a second chance. This was originally written by me in portuguese, thatʼs why the reader is brazilian. Eng is not our first language, sorry for any mistakes, just posting for the fun of it♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 HE'S THE KIND OF MAN YOU'LL ONLY MEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME ─────

You realized this from the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time. Sitting a couple of tables away from his, on the balcony of the hotel lobby.

You simply couldn't help but notice it: the thick strands of dark hair, how his hands run through it, as the gentle morning wind blowed. The basic white tank top, a coat hanging over the chair next to him at the table. His big and pointed nose, his eyes hidden mysteriously behind the lenses of the fancy sunglasses.

He's definitely not Brazilian. You could tell just by the food he chose from the buffet on his plate. Youʼre just so genuinely intrigued by the whole set of ongoings, obsessed with watching him, that you forgot about your own — boring — breakfast. The buns were cooling next to the black coffee in the porcelain cup.

You wanted to open the messaging app on your phone and send a sassy comment to your best friend, saying something like: “omg u won't believe how cute is the guy i just saw”, but you didn't even have time for that. The man raises his chin, with his attention shifting from the phone device in his hands to noticing your presence ahead.

You look down immediately, feeling as if you had committed a crime and you've just been caught in the act. You bite your lip, trying to hold down a childish smile, like a vicious little girl. Your palms starts sweating; suddenly cold. The intention was to keep yourself busy with the porcelain cup in the short meantime, trying to deal with the awkward sensation of being caught.

Itʼs not working, of course. You didn't know whether to drink or not, sometimes you try to sip the hot liquid, but you give up halfway through, lost like a robot in a breakdown. And when he raises his eyes once more, in the same direction as you looked for so long, the man's gaze meet yours again.

It feels, apparently, like youʼre going to faint, to actually die, Jesus! You've never felt so embarrassed in your entire life and you insist on thinking about how you're never gonna be able to eat, think or breathe while being in this crime scene — also known as the balcony of the hotel lobby.

“Get up, then!”, you think to yourself. You pick up on a couple of the cold buns from the plate, taking a sip of the — now cold — coffee, and walking towards the lobby. Like, damn, youʼre not even dressed up, maybe the clothes are not so bad but you donʼt even have any makeup on or hair done the way you liked it so much (and did it religiously every day).

But there is an actual explanation for you not being ready. The plan, initially, was just having breakfast and enjoying the view for a short period of time, so you could visit the downtown in Madrid afterwards. Now, you are running away like a criminal, with your mouth full of bread heading towards the elevator.

When you finally thought that the closing of the gray automatic doors would mean freedom, your heart has one more reason to flutter, as soon as the man steps into the cubicle before he could lose the sight of you.

You decide to chew more quickly, hiding the other roll of bun between your hands. Standing next to you, he takes off his pair of glasses, holding his coat and a crossbody bag.

He looks at you.

— Enzo — he says, and from the way he announced his name, you can tell by his accent that he speak Spanish. You swipe the back of your hand over your mouth, wiping away any remaining crumbs.

— Oi... hmm — You stammer the response in Portuguese, automatically panicking again for a few seconds when realizing that your brain couldn't think of a greeting, even in your first language. After some quick struggles, you tell him your name.

— ¿Eres de aquí? ¿de Madrid? (Are you from here? From Madrid?)

— Ahm... — You stutter, again (unfortunately). — Brasil!

He smiles.

— Ah, sí. Brasil... ¡Es un lugar magnífico! (Oh, yes. Brasil... It's a wonderful place!) — and praises. But his gaze turns sharp, he needs to know: “Entiendes lo que digo, ¿no?” (Do you understand what I say, right?)

— Sí, sí! (Yeah, yes!) — you return with a wide smile back at him, almost hyperventilating.

Your desperation is pathetically noticeable, itʼs cute actually. He watched you, smiles softly, almost like a chuckle. The curiosity gets into your nerves, you wanted to ask more questions, extend the conversation, but the elevator reaches your floor, and you leave, too withdrawn to say anything.

“Shit”, you curse at yourself, it wasn't so difficult to have a decent small talk, you should've said something, anything. You brood all day long, thinking you're such a dummy for missing the opportunity. Why did you have to act like a stupid teenager, huh? Then, after what happened, not even the museums — that you were so excited to visit — were fun anymore, no place in this goddamn city could take away that little thread of regret from you.

In the next day, however, you go down for some coffee at the same time as you did the other day, with the foolish intention of trying to see him again, and thatʼs it, it worked; like a freaking miracle. The man was sitting in an armchair in the lobby, it seemed like he was waiting for you too, what were the odds?

You can even feel your legs wobble.

— ¡Buenos días! (Good morning!) — he greets you. — ¿Cómo se dice ‘Buenos días’ en Brasil? (How do you say ‘Good morning’ in Portuguese?)

It takes a few seconds for you to think and say it back, ‘Bom dia’ (Good morning), you respond. He smiles.

— Es muy parecido (It's pretty similar) — he comments, awkwardly. Then, looks at the buffet, “¿Vamos?” (Shall we?)

Although he sometimes used terms that you completely donʼt know the meaning of and have to ask him to explain again, the conversation is, apparently, going very well. You discover that he is older, Uruguayan, and not Spanish as you immediately thought he was. You tell him a little about the country you come from, and he gets enchanted by the way your accent pronounces his name. Enzo. Paying attention to the ʽzʼ sound, unlike the pronunciation in Spanish.

it was with his company that you explored the city. The both of you went to a small square together, had some ice cream, met tourists hotspots, then chatted while exploring a little shop nearby. You hated to admit it but the situation was indeed romantic. Later in the afternoon, you were taken by him to a bar.

There, the conversation extended even further, including the beer you guys shared. When you didn't understand anything he said, (what was quite often in the conversation) you just laughed, your cheeks getting really hot and red from smiling that much. Honestly, you could leave him talking to himself for hours, just because you loved the husky sound of his deep voice and his pair of brown sparkling eyes.

It didn't mean that you were in love or anything, right? Besides, there was no way you could fall in love in such a short period of time.

But the heat you felt emanating from your own body definitely meant something. It could be because of the dark blue button-down shirt — these pieces never fail to be attractive, right? —, or the silver ring that caught your eyes every time he articulated with his hands in the air. Even his perfume... ah, the perfume! A fragrance that filled your lungs, woody but with a slight sweet note. Projecting all day long, torturing, practically inviting you to bury your face in the curve of the moreno's neck.

At nighttime, he takes you back to the hotel: his excuse was that he wanted to help you with the shopping bags, as if you had bought all of Madrid. And it was supposed to end there, at your hotel room door, simple as that. He hands you your things, and the most he does is lean over, slowly, as if he is silently asking for permission, and so, he places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, millimeters away from touching your lipstick-painted lips. But you hold his hand, before the man walks away down the hall, you donʼt let him escape.

He approaches you again, his other hand touches the corner of your face. Warm, affectionate. ¿Qué te pasa, nena? (What's wrong with you, baby?) The focus of his brown eyes are on your mouth now, the question is whispered, seductive. The touch of his fingers bypass your jaw until it gets on your chin. ¿Quieres algo más que un beso? (Do you want something more than a kiss?)

Youʼre not sure which words to use, which command to prefer. In fact, you donʼt even want to be thinking. You want to shut your brain, to be so dissociated so that only your body can enjoy the moment. You wrapp your arms around him, your face can finally hid in the curve of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his. You hear the sound of his chuckle, feeling his big hands being placed on your waist. ¿Qué quieres? Dímelo. (What do you want? tell me)

You look up to him, shy. The tip of your nose rubs against his, creating a friction that, just because of the absurd proximity, makes everything even more tense, burning erotic.

— No Brasil — you say, trying to hide it by biting your lip —, se diz ‘foder.’

Enzo's smile grows, almost in slow motion. “Foder” (fuck), he repeats the word in a whisper. Again, you donʼt even have to think much to understand. Everything sounded similar, and it seemed that your mind was connected to his by a chaotic carnal desire.

The Uruguayan's lips meets yours; his hot tongue brushes against yours. Your bodies take on a life of their own. Little by little, the main setting stopped being the hotel hallway and became your room. The door gets closed with a gentle push from his feet, while the chosen path is towards your bed.

His hands moves up from your waist to grab your blouse and take it off from your warm body. When you lay on the mattress, supporting on your elbows, itʼs the cue the man needeed to messily pull down your shorts.

— ¿Quieres ponerte de rodillas? (Do you want to be on your knees?) — he asks, as he unbuttons his own blouse. The sharp look he gives you, bathed in desire, delirious. On his lips, you notice the smudged red of your lipstick. — Correrme en tu boca... (Cum in your mouth...)

Maybe itʼs your mind lost in urgency, because you donʼt process what was said to you. You keep your eyes still, your mouth half-open, taking in air, panting. So pathetic that all he does is laugh at your face, running his hands through his hair instead of going straight to the belt of his shorts.

— ¿Qué? ¿No lo comprendes, no? (What? you don't understand it, do you?) — the tone used with you bordered mockery. And contrary to what you would normally feel like, it gives room to a sick feeling, butterflies in your stomach, you feel even more horny, stimulated. He leans in close. — Mira. (Look)

And as if you were learning something for the first time, you imitate him when he parts his lips. You let the man's thumb drag over your lower lip, and then his middle and index fingers together slide over your tongue, until they occupy your mouth. “Así” (like that), he pushes and retreats with his hand, in a slow, sensual movement, “Metértelo en la boca.” (Put it in your mouth)

Ah, now you understand him well. Your face burns, the wet way the fingers come out of your mouth, a little strand of saliva kept resisting in the distance, itʼs wanton. You nod, kneeling on the wooden floor, eyes glued to him unbuckling his belt until you could have his erection in full view.

You part your lips once again, as you were ‘taught’. He fills your mouth, up to a point where your nose touches his crotch, and comes back, completely wet. It allows the Uruguayan to control the pace, to catch the corner of your face. You raise your gaze to his, surrendered not only by the lasciviousness of what you were doing, but also by the beautiful view you had of his face from that angle.

Enzo uses the index finger of his free hand to run down the curve of your nose, affectionately.

— Qué ojitos más bonitos... (You have such beautiful little eyes) — he praises you, with a smile. At that moment, you could swear your heart felt like it exploded. — Eres tan bella, nena. Preciosa. (You are so beautiful, baby. Precious) — he sighs, his head falls back, then to a slide side angle. He looks at you in such a mischievous way that you avoid returning the look. — Me encantaría correrme en tu boca... pero prefiero guardarlo todo para dentro de ti. (I would love to cum into your mouth... but I prefer to keep it all inside you)

You get taken back to bed, easily manhandled by him when you silently gave up control of the situation. He comes over, dangerously close, unlocked the front fitting of your bra, getting lost between your breasts as soon as he releases them from the tightness of the piece. You hold onto his hair, restless under the delicious sucking of his tongue, the wild bite of his teeth. You gasp, having to move away from the black threads of his hair while his mouth travels down your belly.

He releases you from the last piece of underwear too, the wet kisses were loud and pornographic, crackling on your skin. The tip of his big nose rubs lightly over the area where he knew your sensitive clit was. His palm run through your wetness, the chill of the his silver ring sliding across your boiling skin.

He clicks two, three slaps in a row that makes you shudder, whimpering softly. Enzo smiles, he didn't need to, but he returned to that mocking tone from before, of someone who had to calmly spell out the commands so you could understand.

He brings his hand to your lips, gave a little tap on the top, de aquí, and then went all the way down again, leaving a wet trail until he gave your pussy another tap, a aquí. And itʼs these little details that makes everything even better. It makes you feel so dumb, foolish, but itʼs so strangely good...

When he puts himself inside you, you lock your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him dominate everything in you. He, however, insists on eye contact, lifting his torso, resting his forearm against the mattress, to look you in the eye. He smiles, panting like you; moaning low, hoarse. At first, slow, but soon he surrendered to the speed, to the sharp sound of your moans with each stronger thrust.

And there where so many thrilling impulses, fuck it... You want to cover your mouth, close your eyes to try to contain yourself. Itʼs the nasty noise of your bodies in shock, his deep voice, the scent of his hot skin. Youʼre so sensitive that your eyes get wet, a little tear runs down your cheek.

— Oh, no... Perdón, perdóname, cariño. (Oh, no... I'm so sorry, honey) — he stops, his thumb wipes the tear from your face.

'En—', you even started to want to call his name, but the frustration of no longer receiving the same thrilling sensations and to the same extent was such that you only knew how whine; your mind melting, finally murmuring “Dale, dale, papi.” (Give it to me, please, daddy)

Enzo smiles again. He leaves a few kisses on your lips, repeating your words between the kisses, as if he was making fun of your desperation and also the term you used to refer to him.

— ¿Más rápido, hm? Más duro? (Faster, hm? Harder?) — he turns you over on the bed, putting you on all fours. The dirty talk makes you smile, dumb with lust already, clinging to one of the pillows. The Uruguayan's body lead over yours, bringing his mouth close to your ear. — Tranquila, nena. Te daré todo lo que quieras. ( Calm down, baby. I will give you everything you want.)

[wearebarca]

7. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,4k

A/N: Feedback is always nice. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

Rosalie knew before she opened her eyes that she wasn’t in her bed. The stiffness in her neck was indication enough, along with the slightly rough feeling of the wool blanket she kept as a decoration on her couch. An unknown alarm was blaring from her phone on the coffee table. Suddenly, the memories from the night before  started to come back to her. How good it was to be wrapped in the footballer’s arms, how warm and safe it felt. She was probably the one who set an alarm to make sure the photographer wouldn’t be late for work.  The simple thought put a smile on the woman’s face.

 A quick look around her kitchen told her that most of the dishes were put away and a cup of coffee along with a note were waiting for her on the counter. 

“ I have to bring Nala home before training. You looked too peaceful to wake up. Thank you for yesterday, I really needed it. See you at training bonita.”

Ale

The photographer took the note and pinned it on her fridge. Every time her eyes strayed to it while getting ready, she could feel butterflies fill her stomach. The brunette hopped quickly in the shower and changed into her day clothes before heading out for the training center. 

The first thing she noticed upon entering her office was the small brown paper bag which seemed to be the source of the delicious smell lingering in the room. There could only be one person responsible for such a gesture. The fluttering feel from the morning came back full swing as the photographer pulled out a fresh pastry from the bag. 

Her morning was quite slow. She had tasked some of the junior photographers to attend training to allow her to finish answering some emails and send the contend Martina was waiting on for the next social media campaign. Rosalie’s morning was surprisingly productive considering the stiffness in her neck. The only thing that pulled her out of her work induced trance was the repeated buzz of her phone. When the device kept vibrating after a good five minutes, the brunette finally checked her screen to see what was going on. She was surprised to see the nicknames of several girls from the team appear on her screen, with the first notification being “Capi has added you to the chat”. Most were welcoming the photographer to the group and the rest were discussing the team bonding night organised by Ingrid that would most likely take place two weeks from now. 

Deciding she would read everything later, she left her phone on her desk and focused on finishing a few tasks before lunch. When she arrived in the cafeteria, she was immediately called by Mapi and Ingrid to join them and the rest of their group. The brunette grabbed her food and took the last available seat, which happened to be next to the Spanish captain. 

She was leaning with her elbows on the table, her hands holding her chin up and listening intently to what Patri was saying. Only, as soon as the brunette took her seat, her focus shifted. 

« Hola, » she said with a lazy smile stretching on her lips. Patri was aware of their budding friendship, but so far had not been aware of a deeper connection blooming between the captain and the photographer. Now, with her friend who had seemingly forgotten about her in order to engage in a conversation with the Canadian, it was clear that something more was happening.

“Did you sleep ok?”

“Yes, thank you, I didn’t even realize that you left this morning.” The photographer said a little embarrassed by how hard she was sleeping. They were leaning close to each other in order to keep a certain level of privacy in a table filled with their friends and colleagues. “ How did you sleep? Can’t imagine my couch would provide the best sleep.”

“I slept good actually, but I can’t say it’s because of your sofa no.” She said with a smile. 

Patri, still amazed by what was unfolding in front of her, tried to catch Pina’s attention by elbowing her in the ribs. “¿qué es?¿qué es?”

“¿desde cuando?”

“no sé” Pina said, watching the two women converse in front of her. “tengo curiosidad por saber que esta pasando”

“Le preguntaré a algunas de las chicas sobre esto.” Patri said, getting up to bring back her tray. 

The week passed on quickly for everyone. The team was preparing for their game next wednesday and the media team was working extra hard to provide the fans with fun content with their favourite players. Rosalie was able to get out of her office more, and take back her place as the main photographer present during the training sessions. More than ever, Rosalie was appreciating the little routine she had formed, but now, there was a new element present in her daily life. Every lunch, she would spend it with the team in the cafeteria, more precisely with a certain blond captain. 

As they grew closer, the rest of the team noticed the growing chemistry. With the realization came the teasing, which Alexia shot down pretty quickly. Even if these girls were her family, she did not want her private life to be the subject of discussion among them. But even with her efforts, the whole team was soon aware of the clear interest the women had for each other. 

Even with the thought of the photographer in her mind, Alexia was still dead focused on training. Her comeback after her injury had not been an easy road and the pressure of getting back to her old standards was a heavy load on her shoulders. Her appointment with the physio had been full of warnings against overtraining and focusing on a slower but safer road to full recovery. 

Alexia knew all of this. She knew that overworking herself would only slow her down in the end. But she was stubborn. The guilt she felt for her club, her teammates, the fans, who had yet to see the return of their queen, was simply too strong. 

She wasn’t surprised when Monday , two days before the game, she felt some discomfort in her knee. It wasn’t pain, yet, but it was enough to allow fear to grasp at her mind. 

Rosalie could see it from the sidelines, the anxiety slowly creeping in the blonde’s eyes. She was slower than normal, running through the drills with a carefulness she hadn’t seen her use before. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the change in intensity. Jonatan soon after called for the captain who immediately ran to him, making a tremendous effort to hide the slight limp she had developed in the course of the session. 

Their exchange was fast. Alexia clearly seemed to want to finish this session and was arguing her case with as much intensity as she would with a ref during a game. Jonatan stayed strong, even with the captain towering over him. 

At this point, their argument had pulled the attention of several of the girls. Rosalie lowered her camera, not wanting to breach what clearly was a conversation meant to stay between player and coach. When she realized that Martina failed to show the same respect as her, she positioned herself between the pair and the head of media’s phone. 

“ I doubt this is the entertainment the fans want.” She said with a raised eyebrow. She had heard from the players how Martina could sometimes be invasive but she hasn’t seen her cross the line just yet. 

A dry laugh escaped Martina’s lips as she finally lowered her phone. “Si, si, you are right.” She said as she moved farther on the sidelines. Rosalie turned back around just in time to see Alexia storm off the pitch, leaving a discouraged Jonatan behind. 

“ Thank you Rosa.” Mapi said, approaching the photographer. “ Ale would have been livid if this came out in one of her instagram stories.” 

“Would she really?”

“ She has before.” Mapi said with bitterness in her tone. 

“ I’m starting to understand why Alexia is so wary of the media team.” Rosalie made a move towards the tunnel but was stopped by a hand on her wrist. 

“I know you want to make sure she’s alright, but for now Ale needs a minute to process.” Mapi said with a sad smile. Rosalie knew the Spanish woman was right, and she could not just leave practice to go comfort the captain. 

“ Oui, oui I understand.” She said, picking back up her camera. The rest of the practice seemed to drag on to no end for the photographer who wanted nothing more than to see how the blonde was doing. 

Once training was over, Rosalie learned that Alexia had been sent to the physios to assess the situation. Not wanting to disturb the professional, she went back to her office to work in the editing of the pictures she had taken. 

Once again, her afternoon seemed a lot slower than usual, and for one of the first times since she had started this job, Rosalie left her office at the same time as the rest of the staff. 

Lucy and Keira could not believe their eyes when they saw the Canadian walk out of the building. 

“Are you feeling alright Frenchy?” Keira asked, almost worried for her friend.  

“Oui oui, I just thought finishing early would hurt once in a while.”

“Who are you?” Lucy asked, grabbing the younger woman by the shoulders. 

“Non mais voyons lâches moi.” The brunette said, laughing loudly. 

“Wanna come by for dinner? We could watch a movie or something.” Keira asked, happy to finally have the opportunity to finally spend some time with her best friend. 

“Sure! That’s a great idea!” They all walked together in the parking lot, discussing what they would watch, when a specific dark grey cupra caught the attention of the photographer. 

“Isn’t that Alexia’s car?”

“Yeah, I thought she left at the same time as the rest of us.” Lucy said, checking her watch. At this time, the medical staff had already left and no one was left in the gym. 

“I hope she’s ok.” Rosalie said as she came to a stop half way to her car. Lucy and Keira could practically see the dilemma forming in the younger woman’s head. They knew that she would not ditch them, even if her heart was telling her to go see the Catalonian.

“Go.” Lucy decided for her. Rosalie sent a thankful look towards the couple as she turned around and almost dashed to the training center. 

She let her instincts guide her to the pitch, where she found the blond sitting alone on a ball. She  took a seat next to her. They stayed silent for a while, until the blonde was ready to talk 

“I am not playing on Wednesday.” The blonde said, her gaze not leaving the pitch. “They want to prevent further deterioration.”

The brunette shuffled closer to the footballer. “Can you still train?”

“ In the gym, yes, and light drills.” She said sadly. 

Rosalie took a second to take in the footballer's sad features. With her foot, she kicked the ball slightly under Alexia, just hard enough to make her lose balance and slide to the floor. As soon as the ball was free, Rosalie dashed down the pitch to the nearest goal and sent the ball in the top right corner. When she turned back towards the blond, she was still sitting on the floor with a very cute and confused expression. 

“Come on! What are you gonna do about that?” The photographer yelled arms in the air with what Alexia thought was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. 

“Are you scared of an amateur, La Reina?” Rosalie knew she had her now. Alexia got up and slowly jogged to the goal to retrieve the ball. She kicked it in the brunette’s direction and stood a few feet away from her. 

“ I just know that you  are no amateur Rosalia.” She said with a soft smile. 

As soon as the brunette touched the ball, Alexia’s whole demeanour changed. Her face was the epitome of focus and her whole body tensed, revealing her taut muscles. The sight was intimidating to say the least, but Rosalie was not going to let the opportunity to show off a little pass. 

She dashed forward, ball at her feet, pulling all the tricks she could think of. She was fast, but Alexia seemed to be able to predict her every move and soon enough, the photographer ended up on her ass, no ball in sight. 

A loud laugh was heard behind her. She turned around to see Alexia with one foot on the ball, seemingly trying very hard to keep her composure. 

“ You’re fast, and skilled, but a tiny bit predictable.” She said, offering a hand to pull the photographer up. 

“Rematch.” Was all the photographer said as she took the ball from the blond and positioned herself once again. Alexia smiled at the brunette’s eagerness. She had found someone as competitive as her. 

They were at it for  almost an hour, with Rosalie successfully scoring a grand total of seven times against Alexia who blocked at least twelve attempts.

 Rosalie, unsatisfied with these statistics, almost begged the footballer for one last attempt. Whoever won this, would win the whole game. 

“ I think I have you now Reina.” Rosalie said with a cheeky smile. 

“ Don’t get so cocky now bonita, I won’t go easy on you.” The nickname made the photographer blush furiously, but she refused to let it distract her. She finally launched her attack , but Alexia’s response was so fast Rosalie wasn’t even able to register what was happening. She was left standing alone in the field while Alexia was already halfway across the pitch, sending the ball in a perfect arc in the opposite goal. 

Rosalie sat on the grass and let herself fall on her back dramatically, arms in a cross. Alexia retrieved the ball and ran back to the photographer, flopping down almost on top of her. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs, but she made no move to get out from under the blond. 

“ I think it is safe to say that I won.” Alexia said, still laughing. No answer came from the brunette, who was too mesmerized by the blond’s eyes and the feeling of her weight on top of her. 

Her smile softened as her eyes shifted to the captain’s lips. Alexia seemed to finally notice the position they were in, as well as how little space separated the two. She could feel the rapid pulse of the photographer, which matched her own. The pull was magnetic, and every second passing seemed to eat away at the woman’s resolve. 

They did not know who reached for who first, their movements almost synchronized. 

Her lips were even softer than Rosalie had imagined. They fit perfectly on her own and it felt like something had just clicked. She could feel the tension in the captain’s body slowly fade away, as if she was melting in their embrace. The shift of weight brought the delicious feeling of the footballer’s body moving on her, which pulled a small moan from the brunette. 

The sound caught Alexia’s attention. She smiled into the kiss, which made the smaller woman pull away slightly. When she saw the happy expression on the footballer’s face, she smiled and angled her head away, embarrassed by her body’s reaction to the blond. Alexia’s hand came up and caressed the photographer’s cheek before diving back in for a slow kiss. The contrast between Alexia’s callous hands and her soft lips made the photographer’s head spin. 

They pulled away when oxygen became an issue. Alexia thought, as she looked at the smaller woman who’s pupils were blown and lips swollen from their kiss, she realized that she needed to see more of this blissed out version of the photographer. 

Rosalie’s expression changed, mistaking Alexia’s silence for regret. “I’m so sorry I didn’t want to overstep I’m…” she was interrupted by the feeling of the blonde’s lips back on her. 

“ Don’t apologize, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” She said with a smile. They got back up and retrieved their bags. None of them uttered a word as they walked back to their car, content in the comfortable silence. Alexia stopped next to the photographer’s car, holding the door open for Rosalie. 

“Thank you,” Alexia said with a shy smile. “I needed this.”

“Which one, the game or the kiss?”

“I think it’s safe to say both.” She said with a grin. 

Rosalie had a love-hate relationship with her phone. She liked the convenience of having a decent camera always with her, but she hated the constant buzzing and being bombarded by text and notifications. She kept her phone on silent outside of work hours.

 If she had it on, she would have seen the notification of a new instagram story on the club’s account. She would have seen that she had been tagged in it, along with Alexia’s account. She would have seen the massive wave of messages flooding her dms. 

Instead, it was in her bed , when she reached for her phone in order to set her alarm, that she realized exactly how invasive the head of social media could really be. 

The video wasn’t too bad really. It captured the moment of the photographer’s fall after she had lost to the captain and Alexia toppling on her a few moments later. To anyone else, it simply looked like two friends having fun after a long day at work but to the women’s football community, it was a lot more. 

Emotions flooded the brunette all at once. Never would she have thought that her privacy would be so easily exposed to the world. She never wanted to be thrusted into the spotlight, and all this attention made all the color drain from her face. 

The feeling only grew much worse when Rosalie thought of Alexia. She knew how the blonde felt about her life being exposed to the public eye. 

Rosalie didn’t sleep that night, and the consequences were very visible the next morning when she pulled up at the training center. She had ignored all of Ingrid and Mapi’s numerous calls and texts, and only answered a thumbs up to Lucy and Keira’s worried messages. 

For the brunette, it was impossible to think about anything else than Alexia’s reaction to all this. The facility was quieter than usual, due to the fact that Rosalie had opted to arrive later to avoid crossing paths with anyone. Surprisingly, Ingrid was sitting in the lobby, and got up as soon as she saw the Canadian enter. 

Rosalie froze and didn’t move when the Norwegian made a move to hug her. «How are you? »

« Worried.» the photographer said in a small voice. « My phone won’t stop buzzing. »

The raven hair girl tightened her hold before letting go and grabbing her arm to start guiding the brunette down the corridor. 

 « The media team and the coaches have called a meeting to deal with the situation. Alexia is there as well. »

« How is she? »

« Very angry. » Ingrid said. She panicked a little as she saw her friend’s face fall. « Not at you Rosy! She’s in this state mainly because this time, Martina dragged someone dear to her in this mess. »

Rosalie blushed slightly at that and stayed silent for the rest of the walk. They arrived in front of a room where loud and rapid Spanish conversations could be heard through the closed door. Ingrid sent an encouraging look to the photographer before pushing her inside the room. 

Inside was a long table where Jonatan, Sara, Marcelo, Martina, Alexia and another man she did not recognize were all sitting. The room went quiet as the Canadian entered. Jonatan got up and smiled at the nervous photographer. 

« Bon dia Rosalie, take a seat. » he said motioning to the open seat next to Sara, which happened to be right across Alexia. Just like Ingrid had said, the captain looked livid, anger overtaking all of her features, making her look cold and almost Dangerous. 

« Hey, I’ll translate if it gets too fast.” Rosalie sent a grateful nod her way, but when the conversation started back, they had switched to English to make sure the photographer would follow. 

“ As I was saying, it is simply unacceptable to use the player’s personal life to promote the club. Let’s not forget that this video was taken outside of training hours and I am certain none of the girls gave their consent to post this.” Jonatan said, turning to Rosalie to confirm his statement. 

“ I never gave my consent, nor was even aware of being filmed during that time.” She said in a shaky voice. 

“ But you were at the training centre. That makes it ok to film since what happens inside these walls is club business.” Martina said, clearly trying to justify her actions. “ It was a wholesome moment that attracted a lot of attention to the club.” She added. 

Every word coming out of the woman’s mouth seemed to chip away at Alexia’s patience. She decided that she had been silent long enough and it was time to show just how angry she truly was. 

“ Attention? You exposed us for attention? You forcefully pulled Rosalie at the forefront of an obsessed fan base who’s been harassing us for the last 12 hours, for attention?” She said, the sound of her voice getting louder and more aggressive with every word. 

“You don’t realize the impact your actions have on other people. As players, we know that we are constantly being watched and that our lives are but a source of entertainment for others. But Rosalia never asked for any of this. She doesn't deserve this violation of her privacy.” She added, sending a look in the photographer’s way. One that greatly reassured the brunette. Alexia was trying to protect her. 

“We are tired of the abuse the head of social media  has perpetuated and the team, along with the coaches, ask management to take action against the perpetrators.” Alexia sat back in her chair. The rest of the table was silent, waiting to see who would dare speak after Alexia’s declaration. 

Finally, the man Rosalie did not know coughed a little and spoke in spanish, too fast for Rosalie to be able to understand properly. 

“He said that from now on, Marcelo would be acting as head of social media and that every post Matina would prepare would have to be approved beforehand.” Sara whispered to the brunette. She turned just in time to see Martina’s face fall and Alexia’s smirk appear. 

“There is still the matter of the video itself.” Marcelo said, pulling out his computer. “Millions of people have already seen it. Taking it down now would only attract more attention to it.” He said, turning his screen so they could all see the statistics. 

“ The response is mainly positive and Alexia told me that the messages she’s been receiving are mostly positive.” The new head of socials turned towards the photographer. “ What about you?”

“I haven’t read anything really, but none of my notifications stood out.” She said pulling out her phone and opening the app for the first time since the night before. 

“ So it seems that for now, most people see this as the friendship we all know you two have. This is good. I think that the best course of action would be to leave it up, and simply continue our posting habits as usual, but featuring the other players more.” He said with confidence. 

“ We need to give the fans something else to focus on. We can post a fun interview from media day today along with an update on our injured players.” The solution seemed like a good  plan to the rest of the staff who all agreed and stood up. The man Rosalie had yet to know the name walked out first, followed closely by Martina who looked dead set on trying to explain her point of view. The fact that she seemed incapable of understanding what she had done was wrong baffled the brunette. She really did not regret her actions and Rosalie was starting to think that her consequences weren’t harsh enough. 

From the corner of her eye, the photographer saw Alexia abruptly stand up and bolt out of the room. Her instinct told her to follow, and she was glad she did because she arrived just in time to see Alexia trap Martina against the wall. 

“¿Viste algo más anoche?” She asked in a low, menacing voice. Her tone gave Rosalie chills, and she didn’t know if it was because of fear or something else. 

“No, me fui justo después, lo juro.” Martina said, visibly shaken by the taller woman’s action. Alexia released her and stormed out towards the locker room. When Rosalie passed her, she sent a strange look her way, as if she was trying to see something that would have evaded her keen snooping skills. 

Her gaze made the photographer feel uncomfortable as she quickened her steps. She pushed the door of the locker room and found Alexia, head in her hands, sitting at her cubicle. 

“Ale…” At the sound, the captain’s gaze met her own and Rosalie saw for the first time how Alexia truly felt about the whole ordeal. Fear and panic was visible in her hazel eyes as she stood up to pace around the room. 

“You shouldn’t be in here.” She said, eyes to the floor. “If someone sees…”

“Everyone is on the pitch, it's ok.” Rosalie could see Alexia getting agitated , so she decided to take a seat in the closet cubicle to her, on the opposite side of the room. 

“I knew this would happen. It’s always the same thing with your team.” She said, still pacing.

“My team?” Rosalie said incredulously. 

“Si, you can’t stop putting your nose in other’s lives and it’s hell for the rest of us.” Alexia said, stopping in her tracks to look at the brunette. 

Rosalie was too stunned to speak. Her expression was a mix of hurt and sadness that broke the captain’s heart as soon as she saw it. 

Rosalie knew that Alexia was angry and it was this anger that pushed her to say these things, but she couldn’t help how bad she felt after hearing it. 

“ I thought you knew I wasn’t like this. I would never breach your privacy like this.” 

“ I know, I know.” Alexia said, trying to calm down. “Maybe we should just be colleagues,” she said in a small voice, incapable of looking the photographer in the eyes. She knew that if she did, she would cross the room and take the smaller woman in her arms, apologize and tell her that everything would be alright. 

“Is that what you really want?” 

“Si.” 

“Then there’s nothing I can do but respect your decision.” Rosalie said in a sad voice. She turned around and walked out of the locker room, leaving Alexia alone. 

As soon as the brunette left, Alexia sat back down. She felt like her legs weren’t able to carry her anymore. Her hands were shaking and a heavy feeling lingered in her heart. 

She knew that what she had just done was cold, but it was the only way she could protect her from the scrutiny of the public eye. She knew Rosalie was like her, a very private person and the moment the photographer crossed the threshold of the confederation room, she could see from how small she looked, how much this was affecting her. Distancing herself from the French-Canadian was the only option to keep Rosalie, and herself, out of the spotlight. 

When she finally mustered up the strength to get out on the pitch, her eyes immediately scanned the field for the family silhouette of the brunette. She only found one of the other photographers and the rest of the media team. Thankfully, Martina was nowhere in sight. 

Alexia walked to the huddle in the center of the pitch and took a spot next to Lucy. The woman turned around and sent a glare her way, almost frightening the captain. The rest of practice was hell for the midfielder. She made mistake after mistake, missing targets on her passes and unable to complete plays that she usually had no difficulty doing.    

She simply could not stop thinking about how it all went down this morning. She knew that it would be hard to stay away from the photographer, especially now that the feeling of the woman’s soft lips was ingrained in her mind, but she had not planned feeling this sort of withdrawal so soon. 

As soon as the photographer reached her office, the tears that were threatening to fall ran down her cheeks. It was all too much at the same time for the woman. Her phone blowing up with various messages from fans, her anger towards the former head of social media, Alexia’s rejection and the workload that came a few days before a match, was simply more than what she could handle emotionally. 

So Rosalie did what she always did when it became too much. She buried herself in her work and training. She spent her whole day barricaded in her office, arranging the photoshoot schedule for the next month and working on the fan project. She skipped lunch and stayed well after the last staff member had left. She ignored the messages from Lia and Leah who had seen the story and wanted to know if their friend was alright, and sent a quick answer to Lucy, who she had briefly talked to before hiding in her office. She needed to be alone, isolate herself from the world for a bit. 

Having the match here in Barcelona came as a relief for Rosalie who didn’t have to take the team bus or interact with anyone before the actual match. She had tasked the other photographers to take the arrival pictures and was able to receive and edit them in her office while everyone was preparing. 

With Alexia on the bench, Rosalie found her job sligh harder than normal due to the piercing gaze she could feel on her back. It took every ounce of self control to not turn and meet her gaze head on. She knew that if she did, she would forgive the blond for the harsh words she had said. So she focused on her job, and did not linger on the pitch once the team secured the win. 

The rest of the week stayed more or less the same for the French-Canadian. Wake up, run, breakfast, work, strength training, sleep then repeat.  She had declined coffee with Ingrid and Mapi and had yet to decide if she was going to show up at the team bonding night, which was scheduled in 3 days. 

All week she could see, as well as the rest of the team, that Alexia was clearly not in the right mindset. Her temper was short and she easily lost her patience when training wasn’t going the way she wanted. The whole team had come to fear the blonde and simply did not know how to approach their captain. 

When it became clear that Alexia’s mood wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Mapi decided that it was time to have a talk. Which is why, when the midfielder was sulking all alone on the sidelines, she was swiftly grabbed by the jersey and dragged in the stands.

 From their spot, they could see the rest of the girls doing drills and for a moment, Alexia was able to take a breath. She had loved watching her teammates practice when she herself could not play. She used to close her eyes and visualize herself back in the field. But for now, she was focused on the reason why her friend had dragged her in the stands in the middle of training. 

The tattooed woman stayed silent while she kept looking at the blonde in the eyes. 

“What?”

“You are going to talk to me now.”

“What about?” Alexia knew exactly what Mapi was hinting at, but she still tried to act confused. 

“ You know exactly what I’m talking about, now spill.” Mapi said with a stern expression. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s the same thing every time any of us gets close to someone. We get exposed and our whole lives are scrutinized. I don’t want this and I am pretty sure she doesn’t want that either.”

“You are scared.”

“No.”

“Alexia, you can’t let this dictate your life.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t be distracted by all this. I can’t have people think football is not my priority.”

“They won’t. Ale you are human, you are allowed to have a life outside of football. We all saw you with her. You haven’t been this happy in a long time.” Mapi said, trying to reason with her friend. She could see that beneath this facade, the woman was simply scared to allow herself to thrive outside of football.

“It’s too late now, she probably doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway.” Alexia said.

“ I know for a fact that isn’t true. She cares about you too Alexia. Make it right.” Mapi got up and made her way down the stairs, leaving Alexia alone to think. She knew her friend was right, and she knew that the true motivation behind her decision to cut ties was fear, but the feeling was still so potent that the blond could simply not allow herself to act on her emotions. 

Alexia did not go back to practice, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the photographer who was currently dying under the harsh Spanish sun. Even after last week, the brunette still caught herself seeking out the captain on the pitch. She shook her head and tried to focus back on her job, but the heat combined with the exhaustion caused by her excessive training and lack of proper sleep was a deadly combination. 

One second she was up, the next she was on her ass with her head on her knees, concentrating hard on staying conscious. The first to notice was Lucy, who bolted across the pitch, followed closely by Sara and Kiera. 

The last thing the photographer saw was Lucy crouching down in front of her, and the feeling of her hand on her forehead before the world went black. 

Rosalie woke up in Sarah's office with her head pounding and vision blurred. As soon as she opened her eyes, Lucy was all over her, making sure that the girl had everything she needed. The older English woman managed, after some arguing, to convince Rosalie to take the rest of the week off, since she had already finished her work and the rest of the photography team could manage without her just fine for two days. 

A knock suddenly echoed in the room and a silhouette blocked the frosted glass of the door. Lucy stood up from the chair and opened the door slightly before sliding out once realizing who was at the door. Rosalie could not clearly see who was at the door, but she could hear the faint sound of talking 

“Lucia I just want to know if she is ok.” 

“ I’m telling you she’s fine. It’s just exhaustion Alexia you can relax.” Rosalie could hear a long exhale that most likely came from the blonde. 

“Alexia, if you care about her so much why did you treat her like this.” Lucy asked. The captain stayed silent, but Lucy learned a lot more from the blond’s silence than any word could explain. 

“Make it right ale.” Lucy said, echoing the words Mapi had said to her just a few hours prior. 

Rosalie heard some footsteps and soon after, the door opened softly and a disheveled blond head poked through. Once she saw that the brunette was awake, Alexia realized that she had not planned what she would say to the photographer. 

“Hey..” Her voice was so hushed and shy that Rosalie almost didn’t hear it. 

“You can come in, you don’t have to hover at the door.”

“I won’t disturb you too long. I just wanted to see if you were ok.” She said, finally stepping in the room. 

“Just a bit dizzy still, but I’m fine.” She said,

“Good.” She stood awkwardly for a moment, looking around the room unable to look the brunette in the eyes. 

“I am sorry about the things I said. I was stressed and did not think before speaking.” Alexia finally said, taking  the few steps separating her from the chair next to the exam chair. 

“It’s ok, it was the stress talking, I can understand that this kind of pressure is hard to deal with.” The younger woman said. She couldn’t deny that the initial reaction had hurt her but after a while, especially after seeing the echo it had online, she was able to understand why one would react like that. “ But I want you to know that I don’t appreciate how you blamed me and my profession for someone else’s actions.” 

Rosalie could excuse the reaction, but this part still stung. “ I am not like that, I respect and value the privacy of every player in this team.”

“I know. I am truly sorry.” The brunette offered a smile which was answered by Alexia’s shy one.

“ Do you need me to drive you home?” Alexia offered.

“Thank you but Lucy has that covered I think.” 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Alexia asked with the slightest bit of hope in her voice.

“ I think I’ll take the next two days off and work from home if they need me.” 

“ But I’ll be there at team bonding night on Friday. The girls won’t let me miss it after disappearing on them these past two weeks.” She added when she saw the blond’s shoulder fall at her previous statement.

“ Good, I am glad you are ok Rosalia.” Alexia said, standing up and making her way to the door. “ I would like it if we could start over, be friends again.” The blond added.

“ I think we can do that.” Rosalie said with a smile.

“ Ok, you take care of yourself Rosalie please.” Alexia said before walking out of the room, leaving Rosalie alone, feeling the best she had all week.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay, any of ur yautja OC reacting to low spice tolerance GN reader eating spicy food, and they’re just a mess after the first bite, tongue on fire, lips numb and their chugging anything that’s liquid, but still continuing eating the spicy food, it just sounds funny asf. 😹

Low Tolerance

Pairing: Uihoy (male Yautja) x Vic'tao (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1823

Summary: Between the three of you, only Vic'tao loves and even craves hot foods. When he has to chance to take the two of you to an upscale restaurant, he snatches it up. He's only able to get take out but he doesn't complain. You didn't realize how much heat Vic'tao could handle.

Author Note: I don't know if you know me in real life because this is me. Mild is too hot for me. I cannot handle spicy food once-oh-ever. I'll start to flop over and die.

Masterlist

Ao3

Both of your feet were thrown over the armrest of the copilot chair. A tablet sat in your hands, occupying your mind until Vic’tao returned to the ship. Uihoy was in the captain’s chair and going through all of the checks of the ship. You peeked over your device to stare at the handsome, bulky form of Uihoy. He was leaned forward, typing away at the console in front of him.

In the light of the ship, his purple scales reflected the light. You couldn’t help the soft smile to spread across your features, head tilting slightly to the side. How did you get so lucky with not one but two amazing mates? They had stumbled into your life unexpectedly. Here you were now, the third addition to their small group. The best mates you could ever ask for.

“Why is little ooman giving Uihoy that look?” the purple Yautja spoke up without taking his bright eyes off of the console. Whoops, caught red handed.

Heat bloomed to life under your cheeks but you didn’t look away from him. “Can’t your mate not admire the catch I’ve caught?” you drawled with a cheeky smirk. Uihoy huffed with his upper two mandibles quirking up. Ah, you got him.

A hum tumbled out of his throat. “Yes, little mate can. But if looking continues, might as well come over here. Uihoy feels a bit… lonely.” You rolled your eyes and closed the case on your tablet.

“Vic’s been gone for less than five minutes. You’re already lonely?” you teased him, a sparkle in your eye. It was a hard draw between the two of them on who’s the most needy. Each have their differences. Both need their own requirements met every day. That’s not a complaint. You loved them. You would do a lot for them.

Uihoy took his eyes off of the screen in front of him to turn his direction at you. A small pout molding his features. You sighed dramatically before slipping off the chair. The tablet was left on the seat. You meandered over to the hunk and stopped in front of him. A short purr left his throat. He leaned back and invited you to his lap.

Just like before, you sat in the same position. The best position to relax in. Uihoy carded his thick fingers through your hair and let his hand sit against your scalp. You leaned against it and let your eyes drift shut. Comfortable.

“Vicky better hurry his yellow ass up because I’m starting to starve!” you groaned and reopened your eyes in a dramatic flip of your head. “What’s even this place called again?” All you remember as Vic raved on about the restaurant was the fact it was best place for food. He said he was lucky to be able to get take out from them. Though, it would’ve been better to sit down. Not that he knew but it was an educated guess.

His claws carefully ran down your scalp. You instantly were mesh in his hold. “The best translation to English is ‘Mama’s Fish Bowl’,” Uihoy answered your question. You couldn’t help the snort and peered up at him with a raised brow. “Don’t judge the name before trying the food. Little ooman may regret it.”

Not that you were making fun of the name, but it’s such a… cliché. You believed the translation was off. Some languages just didn’t work with English over even any other language on earth.

Both Vic and Uihoy were well adverse in a lot of languages. But, even they will fall back onto their translator for a smooth transition. Maybe, this was one of those times the language just doesn’t work.

“What kind of food do they serve?” At first, you didn’t think anything wrong with that but realized different pallets and culture. Of course, the food was safe for you. This isn’t going to be like asking if it was like Italian or Mexican. This was an alien cuisine. That didn’t stop you from being curious. What type of food was it like?

He continued to softly scratch at your scalp, making you putty in his hands. “That’s for little hunter to find out when Vic’tao comes back.” You sighed and rolled your eyes again. Damn him. Your eyes drifted shut as you turn your head towards Uihoy and looked up at him. “But trust when said this is damn good food.” Another smile broke across your features.

You lifted a hand to cup his jaw. “I do. A lot. I trust both of you with my life.” He tilted his head to nuzzle against your palm. A short chuff came from the giant.

“What are the two love doves doing without me?” A familiar voice filtered into the space. You twisted around in Uihoy’s lap to see Vic’tao strolling into the cockpit. Both of hands full with bags. Your eyes widened at the sight. The two of them ate a lot but that much food should feed the two of you for a few days. Perfect, leftovers!

A groan escaped you. “Finally, you’re back! We’ve been waiting years,” you taunted him with a grin showing off your teeth. The yellow Yautja scowled at you and strolled further into the room.

Both of the bags were set down on the chair you once sat in. Then, the male spun on his heel and was strutting away. “Uie, you want Cn’tlip?” Your face scrunched up at the name of their beer. It was disgusting. Uihoy chirped his answer. Vic was gone again, heading to the kitchen for said drinks. You only had what was safe for a human. Water and some sort of carbonated drink that tasted like Pepsi. Once in a while, they’ll be able to pick up what tasted like Sierra Mist. That stuff was a special occasion though since it cost so much and was rare.

As soon as Vic was gone, he was already back. The beer like drink soared through the air. Uihoy snapped his hand out and snatched it cleanly through the air. Your soda was also thrown across the room. You barely had enough time to reach out and clumsily catch it. “Vic’tao! Careful,” you scolded and glared at the laughing Yautja.

The male made his way back over to the chair. Take out boxes were set out. Some of it left inside of the bags. This felt like a classic moment back at home. You would be alone in your apartment, having take out after a grueling day at work.

Two boxes were set down in your lap. You quirked a brow before Uihoy set the beer in a cupholder and grabbed the top one. “That for little hunter.” A purple finger pointed at the white box left in your lap. You opened the box, eyes scanning over the contents.

Steam first met your nostrils before your eyes began to water. You held back a cough. “Ehm… is this spicy?” you questioned and looked over Vic to turn your head away from the flavors trying to kill you.

Said Yautja peered over his shoulder. “Yes, mild though.” He opened a box and took a lung full of the scent. Then, he paused. “Wait… C’jit. You’re ooman.” You raised a brow and snorted. After all this time, it still slips his mind. Never in a dangerous, harm situation though. Never.

“It’ll be fine. I think. I’ll just give it a try. How about that?” you attempted to resolve the situation. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. Yet, here you are, with a low tolerance. You instantly knew you were going to regret this entirely. But, the two of them went out of their way to get food, specially food for you that’s human safe.

Vic’tao gave you a skeptical look. Uihoy’s hand tightened in your hair. “You don’t have to eat it if you know it’ll hurt you.” You gave the Yautja a look.

“I’ve got this. Promise.” He looked a little longer at you before relenting and returning to his own buffet in front of him. You looked down at your food and took a deep breath in. Yes, you were going to feel pain. A lot of pain in less than five minutes.

You picked up the utensil and dug into the noodle like dish. The noodles were main red and orange colors, much different then what you’re used to back home. Despite the heat, the smell of it was delicious. No wonder this place was a hit if you couldn’t tell by the scent. Then, you carefully scooped the noodles off of the fork.

At first, flavors bursted on your tongue. You groaned and leaned against Uihoy. God, this was the best food you’ve had in a long time.

Then, your lips began to go numb. The rest of your mouth bursted into flame. Your jaw dropped as you tried to cool it down by breathing heavily.

“You good?” Vic’tao laughed while watching this unfold in front of him. “I told you, you don-“ you interrupted him by raising a hand.

“All finah. Ah eak. Goo… good,” you choked out and started to chug down the closest drink to your hand. But… that only made it worse. You winced before downing some more noodles. There were some hardy choices you are regretting at the moment. Despite the heat though, the flavors were amazing.

Drool started to drip from the corner of your numb lips. You slurped it back up and tried to finish off your drink only to find out it was gone. You find the second closest drink and started to down it as well. The taste fought off the heat for only a moment.

It only got worse. You quickly packed up the box, threw in back into Uihoy’s lap as you sprinted to the kitchen. “Muy mouf is on firer!” you screamed and about smacked into the cockpit door when it didn’t open. You slipped past and gone you were.

By the time you returned, the fire was mostly subdued. You slowly walked back into the cockpit, a slice of bread in your hand. Both of your mates were holding back their laughter and watched you. You held up the piece. “I found bread,” you mumbled through still numb lips.

Uihoy nodded and hummed. “How’s the mouth?” Your eyes narrowed on his purple scales. You bit off another chunk of the bread. It helped fight off the heat.

“Fine.” You climbed back into Uihoy’s lap without another word and slow chomped down on the noodles again. Your bread helping along the way.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Wait

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble - 1.5K WC

Part 1 (you are here!)

Part 2

Part 3 NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: arranged marriage, soft Feyd, comfort, kissing, def not how this psycho would truly act

——————————————

You rubbed your hands together clumsily, your palms sweaty. You fidgeted with your gown; a beautiful iridescent white that glimmered in the black sunlight of Giedi Prime. You felt the sweat on your makeup covered brow. You had only met your soon-to-be husband the day prior. He looked quite dashing in his all black armor. His gaze was unreadable, inquisitive. His eyes never left yours, even when he leaned down to kiss your knuckles. His uncle, Baron Harkonnen, introduced you to him. Feyd Rautha. You had heard the stories, the gruesome rumors. And by the way he looked at you, you felt small. Felt as if he could crush you at any moment. And now, as you stood at the altar, him before you, you felt that exact feeling. Small, scared. His touch was gentle when he took your hand, snapping you back into the current moment. You listened to the small translating device in your ear, translating the strange Harkonnen language into the common tongue of Galach. Your hand shook as Feyd slipped on a black ring, one matching his.

Then you heard the fateful words, “Kiss the bride.” said the officiator.

Your eyes flicked up to Feyds. His were confident and strong, the complete opposite to your scared, anxious ones. He tilted your chin up slightly before leaning down and pecking your lips. The masses cheered as you were escorted away by your ladies in waiting. Friends you knew you could not trust as they were likely spies for the Baron.

You were finding Giedi Prime to be a very lonely planet.

Your ladies carefully removed your dress before adorning you in a much shorter, sheer one. Meant to entice your now husband, Na- Baron Feyd Rautha. The title felt unfamiliar on your tongue. As did yours, Na - Baroness. You waited in your apartments, watching the black night and the fireworks that splotched themselves in the sky. The breeze of the night held you as you waited. You were almost chewing your lip raw as you tried to calm your body. Knowing what would happen tonight frightened you. It did not sound pleasant when your governess described it to you as you traveled to Geidi Prime. She did her best to prepare you but all you knew was you feared this night with Feyd Rautha.

Your thoughts haunted as you heard the door slide open and closed, your new husband standing in the doorway. You made your way to the bed, sitting on your knees in the center of it. “Welcome Na-Baron.” You said quietly.

He made no noise as he shifted around the room, discarding his armor until he was in nothing but loose pants. He started to watch you again, observe you. He watched you lay down, spreading your shaking legs slightly. He could see the glimmer of tears in your eyes. Your fists clenching the sheets. You hesitantly pulled at the shoulders of your nightgown, ready to expose yourself fully.

“Stop.” He said.

You sat up, pulling your dress back up and holding it close to you. You had never heard his voice before, it was gravelly yet smooth. “What?” You asked, tears still spilling from your eyes but you quickly wiped them away with a sniffle.

“I won’t share your bed. Not until you want me to. I’m not a brute.” He said as he cut his palm, wiping the blood on the white sheet next to you.

You watched him do so with an open mouth, “What if I never want you to?” You whispered, gaining the courage to look at him.

He paused for a moment before shrugging, “They expect an heir at some point. But I assure you, I will not touch you until you want me to. If you ever do.” He paused before motioning to the swipe of blood on the bed, “That should hold them over. Once they think you are no longer a maiden they will happily wait for an heir to arrive, no matter how long that takes.”

You saw him walk over to the black couch on the opposite side of the room, laying down, he turned away from you. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t expect so much restraint and compassion from a man as supposedly psychotic as Feyd Rautha. You laid down, watching him as you waited to sleep.

——————————————

Flashes of black and white clouded your mind, you had no real grasp on what was happening but you knew you needed to escape. You knew the primal fear that settled in your gut as you ran. You ran only to feel a gladiator's knife bury itself in your chest, you screamed before the world went black.

You shot up, a sheen of sweat covering you as you let out a final shriek. Your hands felt over your chest, finding no wound or knife protruding from you. You did, however, feel hands holding your arms. You looked up, eyes meeting Feyd’s which looked concerned. You scooted as far back against the headboard as you could to put space between the two of you.

He released you immediately when he realized it was him you were scared of. A pang of hurt chipped at his armored heart. “Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“Nightmare. I’m so sorry to have woken you Na- Baron it won’t -“

“Feyd.” He said, interrupting you. “I’m your husband, call me Feyd.” He asked, a small glimmer of hope in his otherwise black eyes.

“Feyd…” you whispered.

His name sounded sweet on your tongue. He smiled gently, something you had yet to see his stoic face do. You nodded at him, agreeing to use his name. You both watched each other in the dim light of the room. He sat on the edge, arms length away from you.

Bravely you reached for his hand, pulling towards you slightly as you sat up, resting against the headboard with his large hand in your lap. “How do you feel about this? The marriage.” You asked, gesturing between the two of you.

Feyd paused, thinking his answer through. “Neither of us had much choice, I know this. But I wish to serve you adequately as a husband.” His thumb smoothed over your palm.

“And love? Do you ever wish for that?” You asked him. He didn’t answer so you answered yourself, “I do, perhaps we can find things to love in each other.” You said, looking off into the void of darkness in the corner of the room.

“It was my first kiss today, did you know that?” You rambled on.

Feyd watched as you caressed his fingers nervously. You weren’t afraid to be touching him. Or talking to him. “Is that so?” He asked.

You nodded, pink tinging your cheeks in embarrassment.

“How did you feel?” He asked, his voice light, as if he were relaxed.

“I felt… strange. As if my stomach were about to drop and fly away all at the same moment.” You told him honestly. He chuckled slightly, in turn you gave him a smile back. “Was I bad at it?” You asked, face scrunching up at the thought of embarrassing yourself or displeasing the Na-Baron.

“It was lovely,” he started, moving to envelope your cheeks in his large, pale hands.

Your heart was racing, your stomach felt just like it had at the altar, and an unfamiliar heat was pooling between your legs. Your eyes locked with his, absorbing everything he said and did.

“Do you want to do it again?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

You don’t know why, but you nodded. He gently brought your head to his, molding your lips together. Feyd was gentle and sweet, kissed full of passion and restraint. Something overtook you, you kept your lips on him longer. You nipped at his bottom lip, earning a groan from him as one of his hands dropped to your waist. Your hands melted down his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your fingers. You felt how fast his heart was going as well, mimicking yours. Chaste kisses quickly turned into making out, you doing your best to follow Feyd’s lead. As his lips left your mouth, he kissed down your jaw to the crook of your neck. You could feel him sucking marks into your skin. You let out a sigh, never having felt like this before.

When one of Feyd’s hands landed on your thigh your body jerked backwards, trying to get out of his hold. He stopped his movements, eyes finding yours. “Forgive me, I got… carried away.” He sighed, relishing in the feel of how your lips felt on his.

“I liked it.” You said, unable to look at him, “but… can we not do anything else tonight?” You asked sheepishly.

Feyd nodded swiftly, agreeing as soon as the words left your mouth. “As you wish.” He responded.

“Would you stay with me?” You asked as he moved to return to his spot on the couch.

His eyes scanned the bed before he shuffled in next to you. You closed the space between you two, cuddling into his arms. His arms encircled your waist, you pecked the corner of his mouth quickly, “Good night, husband.” You said sweetly.

“Good night wife.” He responded as he rubbed circles into your back while watching you inhale and exhale.

—————————————

Naboo’s Note:

Hello! First dune fic! Love it because I love that bald megamind lookin motherfucker. Hope this one is good, if it’s not or has spelling/ grammar errors please know I typed this on my phone half asleep and did not review it at all. Will be writing more for my bald boyfriend, talk soon! Thanks for all the likes and comments! XOXOXOXXOXOXO!!!!!

Taglist: @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk

[darlingmbappe]

When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months. 

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll. 

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows. 

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

 “Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you. 

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge. 

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it. 

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. 

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people. 

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes. 

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand. 

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions. 

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more. 

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body. 

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again. 

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life. 

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine. 

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks. 

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic. 

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified. 

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous. 

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake. 

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy. 

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could. 

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough. 

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making. 

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress. 

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception. 

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks. 

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face. 

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her. 

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne. 

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head. 

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive. 

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood. 

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.” 

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. “Right.” 

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite. 

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up. 

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better. 

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly. 

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back. 

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly. 

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it. 

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it. 

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes. 

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished. 

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to. 

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position. 

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax. 

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether. 

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?” 

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home. 

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.” 

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay. 

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress. 

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards. 

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was. 

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now. 

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight. 

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show. 

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom. 

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite. 

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks. 

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner. 

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin. 

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming. 

Two lines. Pregnant. 

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering. 

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips. 

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went. 

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated. 

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you. 

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @footballfeverr @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona

[biahouse]

Important, Gregory House x Reader

(This is my first story on Tumblr, and also my first Gregory House story. English is not my language, technically all of this is Google translate, so I apologize for any mistakes. But I hope you like it, I have a lot of ideas about our crazy doctor)

You love House. He doesn't care about anyone, but he cares about you. That's something, right?

The first time you met Gregory House was at your job interview.

You knew House's fame in the medical field, so your dream was to work with him and learn about his somewhat orthodox methods.

What you didn't expect was to be completely enchanted by the man 15 years older than you. House was moody, irritating, stupid, arrogant. A card-carrying asshole.

But there was something that made you suspicious every time he entered the diagnostic room. However, you weren't the only one.

You were good at hiding your crush on House, but Cameron always let it be known how much he liked his boss and what deeply upset you.

You were nothing compared to Alisson Cameron. Cameron was beautiful, kind, hardworking, confident. Everything you could never be, even if you tried hard.

That's why you shelved your feelings, buried them at the bottom of your chest and tried to hide as much as you could.

3 years have passed since you joined the team, and now with the departure of Chase, Cameron and Foreman, you were the only original member and House became more and more dependent on you. You have now done the work of four people.

And like a good doctor, you did your best to treat every patient who arrived at the department in the best way possible. But it was exhausting you.

The dark circles became increasingly prominent. You were sure you had lost 2kg in that week alone, since you didn't have time to eat and your hair fell out more and more every time you combed your hair.

But it was three weeks after you were working almost alone in the diagnostics department that your body reached its limit.

House and you were discussing what could be ailing an elderly man when he came up with a really interesting theory.

As always, you were sent to do tons of tests, but the moment you got up from the chair, your entire body lost consciousness.

“House” you mumbled the man’s name as you felt your entire vision blur.

"Yes?" The man responded, distractedly analyzing the symptoms chart.

"I think I'm going to pass out" was the last thing that came out of his mouth before the world went black.

•••

You heard the machine beep before your eyes could discover the place around you. It was hard to open your eyes, the bright lights of the hospital room shining brightly into your eyes.

You could feel your throat dry, and the various threads clinging to your body. It was uncomfortable and you tried to adjust yourself on the hard bed.

"I wouldn't move if I were you" House's unmistakable voice sounded in the room and his gaze shifted to the man lying on the bedroom sofa. "Welcome to the world of the living"

“Hi,” your voice sounded hoarse and you coughed, feeling your throat raw.

"Here" House stood up at an impressive speed and handed him a glass of water with a straw. You sipped the liquid with relief, your throat feeling better within seconds.

"How long was I gone?"

"2 days" House limped so he could check his devices. "You were exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished. New diet?" The man joked.

"The patient..." You started to get worried about the man they were treating.

"You're impressive" House looked at you curiously. "I tell you she's a living dead woman and you care about the patient."

“I’m fine” You waved your hand at him.

"It's not what your scans say" He shook the folder in his possession. "Why didn't you tell me that you couldn't do everything alone?"

“Because I can do it” You insisted.

"You're going to have a week off, until you can recover. In that time, I'm going to review some resumes, you need help" House said once again looking deeply at you.

"Why? You don't want new people on the team, you hate change" you tried to argue, knowing what the man was like.

"But I care about you. I think that's more important than my distaste for people" His admission scared both of you, but neither would admit it."Rest, I'll be back in a bit, with something called food"

And with that he left the room. Leaving behind your flushed face and your racing heart.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Chess and Feelings

Just so ya'll know I have like four to five tabs constantly opened just for the translations and historical info

And also I found a better site for Old Norse lmao so Horror won't be speaking in runes anymore hopefully unless I can't find translations and there is only runes available

Also I don't know how phrases are constructed in Old Norse so I just take the English and translate word by word

But yeah I'll make it work lmaoo

First

Prev

Next

Also I actually wanted to write more but it's taking long because I'm inexplicably tired so I decided to cut the part here so ya'll don't have to wait too long :') so yeah excuse the shortness

@ancha-aus pspspsps come here pspspsps

There was a V on today's date on the calendar. V for vacation. Dust had vacations this month, and he completely forgot about that. He should have guessed it, he usually never had a day off on a Saturday unless he was on vacation the next week, and vacations meant being paid less, which also meant he'll need to buy less to save more because the bills would be the same price, which also meant that what he was going to buy now would have to be his last spent of the month.

He had found an English to Old Norse dictionary on one of his town's bookstore website and if he bought it online now he could go get it from the store the next morning.

Dust was staring at his computer screen when he heard Horror sit next to him.

- Hvat ir sá ?

He asked, pointing to the screen. Dust wondered for a second if he was talking about the computer or the dictionary, having guessed that the viking asked what it was with his tone.

- It's, uh... to understand you ? Uh.. wait.

He went back on his other tab, and typed "to understand" before translating. "vita".

Horror nodded, he didn't know how an image was going to help Dust understand anything but he guessed it might be a sort of sacred thing that Dust could look at and receive answers, maybe it was from the gods ?

- You, uh.. wanna do something ?

Dust asked. Everyone was occupied: Cross was as usual guarding the door, Nightmare was reading a new book on the tablet, and Dust had found his old kaleidoscope he gave to Killer and that he hadn't let go off yet, the only one not doing anything was Horror.

Horror looked at him, and looked at the computer, waiting for Dust to translate. He didn't know what that thing was, but Dust could make it talk his language. Dust tried different words to have the best translation possible. "Tafl, háttr, tefla", "game, activity, play". Horror nodded and pointed at "game", he could play games, he was good at table games.

- Okay uhhhh wait a sec.

Dust went back on Google to look for the kind of games vikings used to play, and apparently they played chess, their own version of chess of course, it was called hnefatafl and was played by two people, fortunately the game became popular enough to be commercialized in Dust's time, which meant he could easily find the rules as well as apps to play.

- Okay wait, I'll grab my iPad it'll be easier than on the computer.

He said as he got up and quickly left to go in his room, looking through his nightstand to find his old iPad with a cracked screen. He turned it on and installed the app on his way back to the table where Horror was waiting for him. He put the tablet down on the table, between the two of them, with the rules on his computer.

Horror looked at it curiously, recognizing one of his favorite games, but finding the board quite weird. Was it how boards looked like at that time or was it another magical device of Dust that could replicate board games ?

- Oookay, so uh.. you have to touch the screen to make the pieces move.

Dust showed him by moving his first piece. Horror looked at it for a while before slowly pressing a finger on the screen and dragging it to where he wanted his piece to go, and to his surprise, it went there. He smiled as he looked at Dust, proud to be able to make the magical device follow his orders. Dust smiled back.

- Cool, so, uh, my turn I guess.. ?

He checked the rules again, and moved his piece. Horror moved his after him, and the two could soon enjoy a nice game of ancient chess, not aware that they were being watched.

Cross was looking at them, or more precisely he was looking at Dust, his words running in his head over and over again: Dust thought he was doing a good job, he smiled at him and told him he did good ! Was he proud ? He wanted him to be proud, he wanted to make someone proud for once, he knew he wasn't the best knight, he was too emotional, too anxious, he talked either too much or not enough, he was even one of the very few knights who didn't come for a noble family, so having someone tell him he did good and smile at him brought so much warmth in his soul. Dust was nice, he welcomed them in his house, made great efforts to communicate with all of them, he was so smart, and he didn't let himself succumb to panic or despair, he didn't think twice before making them come inside his house. He was impressive. Cross... admired him.

He wanted to talk to him but he didn't know how, as he had to stay by the door in case someone broke in and even then he shouldn't be distracted from his work by chatting, so he looked at him from afar, he watched him play some game with Horror. Horror seemed nice too, he looked strong but he wasn't aggressive, Cross could tell he perfectly controlled his strength, he was rather calm. He was warry of him at first, but the viking never showed any signs of being a threat. As for Killer... he couldn't quite tell what Killer wanted. The way the roman often looked at him with his big wide empty sockets always sent chills all along his spine, how he often checked his blades in the moonlight, but he didn't seem to want to attack and looked more curious about his surroundings than anything. Nightmare of course wasn't a threat, it was clear he was a noble and took too much care of his appearance to engage in a fight, and even so Cross wasn't even sure he knew how to fight, at least not in a real fight. None of them seemed dangerous, but Cross still had to be prepared, and so he couldn't lower his guard to go and talk to Dust even though he quite wanted to. He had to stay here and watch, that was his job, and hopefully if he did it good then Dust would smile at him again...

- Damn you're good.

Dust admitted to Horror, having lost three times in a row against him, but he still put on a good fight, he was really close to winning !

Horror smiled, Dust was a strong opponent, he liked playing with him, he liked the simple fact that he choose something from his culture, that he tried so hard to integrate him, he really was a nice guy. He gave him a pat on the shoulder, with much less strength than the previous night, he didn't want to launch him across the table after all.

They looked at each other for a minute before Dust got up.

- I, uh.. I'll make food, uhh... matr.. ?

He tried hesitantly before relaxing when seeing Horror smile and nod at him, he felt quite proud of himself for catching a few words.

- Cool, so uh.. I'll go.

He quickly went to the kitchen. He hated how awkward he sounded all the time, and it seemed to be stronger around Horror, probably because he couldn't use the vocal command with him and had to look on specific sites, so he actually had to search for the correct translations and he was always afraid he would say something totally incorrect or possibly rude, but so far Horror only smiled at him and gave him time to find his words... he really wanted to do good for him, to at least try to establish some amical bond with one of them, in case they would stay in his apartment for a while...

It would be good to have a friend in this mess.

Really good.

[carionto]

I'm gonna go for a quick run

Being on space stations is all well and good fun. And work. And people. Most of whom you like. And snacks. God, space snacks are the best, half the time the Aliens who bring them are like:

"We read this may be poisonous to Huma

They never get a chance to finish that sentence before I grab whatever it is and munch it down. Pretty much every time it's real spicy or oddly invigorating, it's a nice pastime learning what everyone's shocked expressions look like. Okay, I've had to go to the clinic a few times, and one time I was in a coma for two weeks, but I'm still alive and kicking!

There is the downside of all the noise when everyone talks. The translator unit does dampen to almost nothing everything it translates, but my left ear is sensitive so I tend to take that unit off whenever I'm off the clock. Let me tell you, when everyone is used to hearing everything in their tongue at normal volumes, many end up developing a much louder natural voice.

It gets real confusing sometimes. One thing I have begun to notice is the accents - everyone has very distinct ones. The translator normally renders in a neutral tone, and only adds a slight tinge for the more culturally prominent accents so people understand they are from a different major section of their respective race. But without it, there's so much to each language. At this point I can recognize twenty different clicking sounds that are the same word for this one species.

However, the cafeteria is a hellhole. A radio emitting white noise in a blender that's being microwaved is a peaceful and melodic tune compared to the mixture of thousands of every conceivable noise an organic creature could make. And many more I thought they couldn't - what kind of nightmare anatomy makes a sound that I can only describe as a sickly polystyrene foam mule getting squeezed in a rusty vice.

What kind of ears think that sounds okay?

What kind of noise do they make when making l

actually I don't wanna think about that

I'm just...

gonna go for a run now.

_____________________

Several minutes later.

Among the friendly chatter and typical gossip you find at lunch hour, people started hearing a rhythmic thumping sound regularly coming and going. After the third round, someone decided to investigate and opened their pad to tap into the public camera system. Switching from one to another, they suddenly screamed and dropped their device in shock.

It was Human Hanson. He was in his protective suit. Running in laps.

Around the OUTSIDE of the station!

[aonungslvr]

five fingers ?!

pairing ; tsu’tey te rongloa atey’itan x f!navi! reader

taggings ; 🪽🐾 (pinch of 🍂)

notes ; dialogue in bold is spoken in na’vi, dialogue in italics is spoken in english

summary ; after the arrival of jake sully, tsu’tey notices his mate taking an interest in the dreamwalker — why?

2.1k words

as the tsahìk spoke, ending her conversation with the alien, you found yourself more concerned with the new creature himself. neytiri had said eywa gave her a sign? what’s more interesting then eywa choosing a demon!

despite the harsh atmosphere, full of angry warriors, your yellow eyes glowed in fascination at the human, him being the first of his kind you’ve ever seen.

obviously there had been talk of the new shorter and paler species destroying your home. the forests being torn down, air becoming thicker, and of course the giant devices they landed on your land. however, due mostly to tsu’tey, you had been able to keep away from their machines and people, until now. but hey, it wasn’t your fault this guy tumbled into the forest!

of course, tsu’tey in his anger caught wind of your sudden attraction towards the false navi.

“just what are you staring at?” he spoke in a prying tone, though he already knew the answer.

“a human ma tsu’tey! a real one!” your voice was full of interest and excitement, and you could hear the smile in your tone.

you peered from behind your mates back, and if he wasn’t there, then there’s no doubt you would be up in the five fingered man’s face poking and prodding to your hearts content.

“look at his hands! he’s got an extra finger!”

at this point you were nearly jumping up and down, causing tsu’tey to hiss at the guy who called himself “jake sully.”

“he is nothing but an alien. will only bring harm.”

“gosh tsu’tey you never have any fun!”

as the crowd began to disperse at the exit of the tsahìk and olo’keytan, you tried your best to run up to jake before being held back by a growling tsu’tey. you would’ve protested for hours if your mate didn’t drag you back to your shared kelku like a run away nantang before you even got a word out.

later on that night, as tsu’tey patrolled the forest on his ikran, he let his thoughts get the best of him. he couldn’t wrap his head around why his mate was interested in this intruder of a man.

“wooah! jake you have hair above your eyes!”

“uh..what?” the newcomer still wasn’t accustomed to your language, so he relied on neytiri to translate.

“she says you look weird.” she spoke as she snarled.

she was clearly still angry her mother had placed her in charge of the training behind an avatar.

you weren’t all too familiar with the human language yourself, so you nodded in glee at hopes he understood what neytiri had said.

you ran your fingers around jakes face and eventually moved onto his hands, where you still couldn’t get over his extra finger.

“neytiri! ask him what this is!”

the dreamwalker was already looking at his appointed mentor, now turned translator.

“she wishes to know what you call your demon finger.”

“this little thing?” he moved his pinky up and down, taking it away from your grip.

“it’s..said called ‘pinky’”

you giggled at his attempt to speak in navi, which horribly failed, but you still got the message.

“pinky..” your whispered the foreign word to yourself while staring and holding onto jakes ‘pinky.’

it was around this time that tsu’tey had returned from leading the other hunters and it was obvious to the clan due to the roars of their ikrans.

“tsu’tey has returned! come jake!” you grabbed him solely by his pinky and did ur best to drag him with you.

despite him not being able to fully understand your language, he was able to make out the name “tsu’tey” and that scared him, considering he tried to kill him when jake first arrived.

“tsu’tey? the mean looking one? look i’m not sure if that’s the best idea..”

he began to trail off, listing different reasons for him to stay behind until a smack from neytiri shut him up.

“silence! just follow!”

if she was being honest, she wouldn’t be too against the avatar getting a beating from the olo’keytan-in-waiting, considering how awful jakes training is going.

as the three navi approached the large group of hunters being welcomed back, you began looking for your mate amongst the crowd. it didn’t take long for you to find each other as tsu’tey had been searching for you as well.

what he wasnt expecting, was for you to drag along the new demon behind you, only letting him go so you could embrace your mate. jake stood confused, and a little worried, behind you as tsu’tey stared daggers into his whole body. neytiri was close behind, only able to roll her eyes at the exchange.

“welcome back love! oh i missed you tons, what kinda food did you bring back? were u injured at all? how are the rest of the hunters?”

he was quickly bombarded with questions and yet still couldn’t take his eyes off the man who stood behind you. though at this point, the human had begun to talk to neytiri about the concept of hunters in the clan.

“what? oh..yes.” he answered vaguely as he looked back at you, realizing you had asked him some questions.

“tsu’tey you know what else jake has? he has hair on top of his eyes! oh-oh and his extra finger is called a ‘pinky!’ isnt that cool??”

you only spoke with happiness, filled with your new interest, but tsu’tey remained disgusted at the fact you had been spending more time with the human. he tightened the grip he had on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him and farther from jake.

“ah well..that’s great ma (y/n)..”

he was able to conceal his anger from you the best he could, it worked easily with you not being able to comprehend how anyone could hate this new creature.

later that night as you prepared dinner with the food the hunters had brought back and the help of your mate, tsu’tey decided to start a conversation.

“so..that human, jake sully, you’ve been spending a lot time around him, yeah?”

he tried his best to just sound curious and hide his true emotions towards the demon.

“oh yeah! he’s super cool tsu’tey! he has all these different stories on how life was back on earth, and his language is super funny too!”

you went on about more things that interested you about jake sully until an idea popped in your head

“i don’t think you guys have ever formally met, aside from when he first arrived, right? why don’t i arrange a meeting with all of us! you, me, neytiri, and jake!”

tsu’tey almost cut through his finger at this proposition, given he was cutting fruit for your meal. he debated with himself whether or not he should share his concerns until he glanced up at you.

you were smiling. the only emotion running through your veins at the time was joy, and your mate would be damned if anything he did would even have the slightest chance of taking away your happiness. so, he sat in silence.

“so what do you think?” you pried for an answer.

“i’m going to be quite busy with the warriors for the next few days, you go without me.”

you frowned and let out a little disappointed sigh,

“if you say so..”

a week or two later you sat alone with neytiri, as she had told you she would like to speak to you about something.

you both sat on the forest floor, you possessing a mix of excited and curious on your face, as she looked worried.

“so? are you gonna tell me?”

“my eywa (y/n). you can be so impatient!”

you giggled and pushed the taller woman’s knee, hoping to get her to spit out whatever she wanted to tell you.

she took in a breath and leaned in towards your floppy ear, whispering what she needed to get off her chest.

“oh my eywa, seriously?!!! oh neytiri this is amazing!!” you were quickly silenced as neytiri covered your mouth with her hands.

“hush! you are too loud for own good! do you just want to tell the whole clan??”

you tried your best to calm yourself down and speak calmly,

“are you going to tell him?? should i tell him?? does he already know?!”

“nobody knows! and it will stay that way.” she thought to herself for a moment, “unless..”

“unless..?” you dragged on.

“fine. come closer.”

the sun began to rise, lighting up the kelku of you and your mate, tsu’tey. he had already been awake and was enjoying his morning holding onto you in your shared hammock. as the sun hit your eyes, you began to stir awake.

“mm..time is it.?” your voice was still full of sleep as you clung onto your lover.

“the sun has just risen,” he spoke softly as he brushed his fingers through your braids.

you shot up quickly once the gears in your head started turning, neytiri!

“hey you okay? lay back down love,” tsu’tey pawed at your arm hoping to bring you back down with him.

“i’m sorry dear i really am! i forgot i was supposed to go fetch jake this morning!”

at the mention of jake sully, tsu’tey sat up as well, finally giving up on keeping his questions inside.

“jake? why? it’s barely morning my love, why don’t you fall back asleep with me.”

“eywa i wish i could, i really do, but i need to go get him!”

before you could get out of the hammock, you were pulled back down by your much stronger mate.

“you would choose jake over me? you have been hanging around him too much these past weeks.” he finally spoke out.

“huh? oh it’s no-“ you were stopped with more of tsu’teys recent concerns.

“you hang out with him nearly everyday, does he make you happier then i do? do you like his human stories more than you like my hunting ones? you do remember that he’s a demon, right?”

you tried to intervene and explain what was really happening but you couldn’t manage to get a word out.

“have you chosen him over me? have you forgotten we are mated before eywa? it seems you have decided to put this ‘jake sully’ above me.”

you sat in shock, unable to even speak. as you blinked repeatedly and tried to tell him what was really happening until a knock at your kelku stopped you.

“(y/n) you promised! you were to lead jake towards the tree of souls so i could tell him!” it was neytiri, complaining on how you were late to your duties.

tsu’tey paused, looking between you and neytiri, who had now entered your shared space.

“am i interrupting something?” the navi woman spoke, concerned seeing you and tsu’tey half asleep in your hammock together.

you looked back at tsu’tey and explained what neytiri was talking about, “you think to much for your own good sometimes. the only one who wants jake around here is neytiri.”

she yipped in shock at what you had just told your mate, the man being trained under her father, who would most certainly tell him.

“(y/n)! i told you to not tell anyone!!” she complained, you giggled and continued explaining.

“you are the only man i want tsu’tey. i cant even imagine myself looking at anyone the way i look at you.”

you placed your hands on his face and cupped his cheeks, embarrassing him infront of the blue woman who stood in your doorway watching.

“i love you tsu’tey te rongloa atey’itan. and i see you, i can never have that with another man.” you waited for his response.

his eyes were wider, and he looked at neytiri, eyeing her towards the exit.

“oh, right, yeah i’ll go. hurry up in here i still need (y/n) for this!” she spoke as she finally left the couple in peace.

unable to find the right words, your loving mate opted for kissing you instead. it was full of passion and love, as tsu’tey could finally stop worrying if his beloved would leave him for a human.

“i..am sorry for assuming ma (y/n). i was worried is all. a new man enters my home and suddenly my mate spends all her time with him.”

you nodded understandingly and went on, “the only interest i have in jake is his ‘pinky.’ i quite enjoy the human customs he has.”

much like weeks prior, a new idea formed in your mind.

“say, tsu’tey…would you like to join me as we lead jake to neytiri, where she can confess her feelings?” you smiled through your words.

he let out a rare laugh and confessed, “i would love too.”

hello everyone ! this is my first time attempting writing anything, so i hope it’s okay! i love tsu’tey probably more then average so i just had to start with him <3

[gemini-sensei]

Jaime Reyes x HoH!Reader Headcanons

Chubby!Fem!Reader ○

💙 Jaime is so sweet and he's doing his best, but he's overprotective at times. He thinks he has to do more, and it's nice when he's helpful, but he doesn't. He doesn't mean anything by it, he just has this idea that he has to do the most for Reader so she doesn't have to do more. She has to assure him constantly that she's okay and doesn't need him to do everything for her.

💙 On the other hand, if they're in a crowded, busy place and she doesn't hear him, he won't get louder but tap on her shoulder or snag her shirt sleeve if they're moving through places so they can stock together. It's no worry though because Khaji Da always has her in its sights/sensors.

💙 I feel like Khaji knows a lot about human culture, but maybe not everything. I think it would be cute if Reader wears hearing aids and Khaji Da is fascinated by them until it has fully inspected and studied them. Just the idea of Dangerous Alien Weapon loving nonviolent devices makes me giggle.

💙 Carries an extra set of noise-canceling headphones/earbuds around for her, especially when they're going out to a crowded place. The headphones especially help protect her ears when he wants to take her flying. He has one arm around her soft waist and his other hand keeping her headphones on, but Khaji is also helping hold onto her so they're good to go.

💙 If Reader uses Sign Language, Khaji learns and understands it very easily. Jaime does too, but Khaji usually ends up translating and Jaime finds it so annoying when he's just trying to have a conversation with his girlfriend.

💙 Loves chilling with Reader and holding her curves while they watch TV or a movie. If he ends up on the news, he doesn't really want to watch himself on TV but she does and so he'll watch her watch him on TV because he thinks it's cute. It doesn't matter what they're saying about him, the "great Blue Beetle" saving the day once again is the usual story, but she just likes seeing him in action.

💙 Him teaching her to dance, but the music can bother her ears on any given day if her ears are irritated, so he hums the melody as they go through the moves. She eventually knows it so well that she hums along.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #53 – Binti by Nnedi Okarafor

This is one of those works that has been vaguely on my radar for years and years now – I have entirely lost track of the number of places I’ve seen it recommended as some of the best or most original science fiction of the 2010s. So when my hold finally came in on it, I went in more or less blind – which was, frankly, a fatal mistake. I bounced harder off of this than I have very nearly anything I can remember – if it was any longer I probably wouldn’t have bothered finishing the story. I got the whole trilogy as a compendium, and I’m certainly not going to force myself through the rest of it. Which is a shame, because there are plenty of original ideas in there, but (to me, at least) it’s an absolutely brutal failure of form and execution.

The story follows the eponymous Binti, a prodigy and savant in mathematics and the quasi-magical ‘harmonizing’ – creation and manipulation of electric currents. At age 16, she received accepted into the planet-spanning Oomza University and, despite the clear disapproval of her family and her people’s traditional isolationism, she runs away from home and aboard an interstellar transport to take her away. But when the ship is attacked by the Medusae – an alien species with a grudge against the university – a personal keepsake that turns out to be a powerful ancient relic allow her to survive when every other passenger is slaughtered where they stand – and eventually even communicate with the aliens who have seized the ship. She learns that they attacked as part of a plan to steal back their leader’s stinger, and convinces them to let her be their ambassador and attempt to get it through negotiation with the university administration instead. After she proves her willingness to argue on their behalf, they agree – and once they arrive at the university, the administration does as well. Both she and the young Medusae she forged something of a friendship with are welcomed as students, and she has to reckon with the dramatic changes being tested and healed by the medusae caused in her. Fin.

That is much more of a plot summary than I usually write for these things, but I guess my first big issue with the story is just that that’s basically everything that happens in the book? This feels like it could be quite easily cut down to a tight, compelling short story – or else expanded into a full novel, with enough space to give things time to breathe and allow for foreshadowing with more subtlety than a sledgehammer to the face. As is, the story feels both kind of meandering and like the plot beats are a first draft that never had the space to go back and add any real interest or surprise to them.

Which would honestly have been far more forgivable if not for the prose. This is shelved as young adult but in terms of sentence complexity and the way things are phrased it honestly feels closer to middle grade? Or, at least, every sentence was very simple and very explicit and direct, in a way that I quickly found clunky and then intensely grating to read. A friend described it as reading like it was translated from a different language, which doesn’t seem to be the case but I honestly wouldn’t be at all surprised.

Everything is also just thematically very convenient, I guess? Not even that the random relic Binti found in the sand as a child and keeps as a good luck charm turns out to be a hyper-advanced technological plot device, but that for unclear reasons the otjize dye that she (and the very real Namibian Himba ethnic group she’s a member of) use to plait and colour hair is to the Medusae a miraculous panacea which heals scars none of their own technology (capable of creating interspecies hybrids and inducing mutations with a single injection) could touch. Which is a level of thematic bluntness that’s just much more fitting for a children’s story than what I went into this expecting or hoping for.

I could go on, but there’s not really any point – to be positive, the worldbuilding hinted at is intriguing and evocative like absolutely everyone says it is. The whole reading experience was just a terrible failure of marketing, I think – I can’t recall the last time I read a book I ostensibly should have liked that is quite so forcefully Not For Me. Which is odd, because I actually quite enjoyed the other novella of Okorafor I read. But then, Remote Control was written six years later and for an adult audience.