#foreigner oc

[yanderedrabbles]

Foreign Yandere x Air Hostess Reader

He's beyond shady. Got connections and friends in all the lowest places. But you're just a little too slow to realise it.

Foreign Yandere who sees you for the first time on his first flight out of the country. He’s a sketchy guy, got a pack of fake passports in a hidden compartment in his bag, but you smile at him like you don’t see the tattoos, the scarred knuckles, the too quick hands.

Oh, you’re pretty. All the cabin crew are, but you’re something new. Exotic almost. Got him wondering exactly how different you are in bed too, got him wondering if you’d put up a fuss if he cornered you in the bathroom. Hell, you might like it. Folk always said foreign girls were down for so much more.

It’s a long-haul flight and your supervisor is bitchy about damn near everything you do. Passengers aren’t much better after twelve hours with their legs cramped up and only shitty plane chow to eat. He can see it wearing on you, can see the way your smile gets tighter after every too sharp complaint. Makes him want to beat their faces into a pulp.

His last straw comes at hour sixteen, when you’re clearly exhausted and one passenger just won’t let up. Practically screaming at you about not getting his specially ordered meal. You’re dealing with it as best you can, but everyone has a limit. He can see the tears starting to brim behind your waterline, can see you struggling to fight them back.

He stands so fast that his seat mate actually flinches. Comes to stand behind you and glares at the troublemaker. The man doesn’t let up, just switches his anger to him.

“You got a problem, huh?”

Foreign Yandere who doesn’t have a lot of English, but he knows a threat when he hears one. He leans down, shoots the man a smile filled with all the menace of a streetfighter.

“What did you say to me?” he asks, in his own language. It isn’t the standard dialect. It’s the regional kind, the type that’s as rough ‘round the edges as its speakers.

The man quails.

 “Sorry,” he mutters. But that’s not good enough.

Foreign Yandere who jerks his head at you, his message clear even across the language barrier.

Apologise to her.

The guy does. Red in the face, resentful about it, spitting his sorry through his teeth like an insult.

You look up at him, the foreigner with the hard eyes, and thank him. In his own language.

Your accent is thick, the pronunciation too rounded on the vowels. But he’ll be damned if it ain’t just fucking adorable.

“Anytime,” he tells you.

It’s not long after he’s back in his seat that you bring him a complimentary cup of coffee and a muffin. The good stuff too, not the swill that usually gets served in economy. He grabs your wrist before you can leave, grip just a little too tight without meaning to be.

“Can I see you again?”

Your grasp of the language isn’t the best, and it takes you a minute to puzzle out what he's asked. When you finally get it, you smile at him and shake your head. Rueful.

“Against company policy to meet the passengers after the flight ends.”

He lets it go. Sighs and says he understands, wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. A surprisingly polite answer from a man who looks like he never hears the word no without following it with a punch to the teeth.

But he doesn’t let it go. Not really. After the plane is deboarded, he skips lines and almost skips customs to keep his eye on you. When you get into a shuttle bus with the rest of your coworkers, he takes careful note of the hotel name scrawled on the side.

His business goes well - if you can call smuggling business that is. The boys he’s dealing with have their own plane to get him home. The kind of small jet that never lands at any airport marked on a map. He slips them all a little something extra under the table and asks if he can bring a guest.

“Will they be conscious?”

He grins. “Not if I can help it.”

Getting you is the tricky part. He borrows a suit and cleans himself up. Shows up at the hotel desk in the middle of the night and tells them he’s here to pick you up for an unscheduled early flight. He knows your name, your company, even your damn rank in the crew. Everything he says checks out. And if the receptionist that calls you thinks he looks a little rough to be a driver, she doesn’t mention it.

You show up with your uniform a tiny bit askew and a sock sticking out of your suitcase. You must have scrambled out of bed without even bothering to double check with your supervisor. Good. The less people that know the better.

He mostly keeps his back to you. Doesn’t want you to recognise him too soon. He shouldn’t have worried. You’re too jetlagged and blurry eyed to even recognise your own mother.

It’s only when you’re in his car and speeding down the wrong highway that you start to get suspicious. Start to come awake fully.

“Which company did you say you work for again?”

He doesn’t reply. You’re going to have to put more effort into learning and speaking his language. No point encouraging you by answering.

“Excuse me?”

You lean forward to get his attention and when he hears your little gasp, he knows the game is up. That you recognise him. Honestly, he’s a little offended that it took you this long. He could keep track of you through a sea of faces back at the airport after all.

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re here. But please stop the car.”

See? You’re speaking his language a bit better already.

“No chance sweetheart. You’re coming home with me.”

He can almost admire your guts when you go straight for the door, despite the speedometer showing over 200. Locked of course. He’s not an idiot.

When he finally arrives at the hangar, it takes him and two other thugs to finally hold you still.

“Fucking feisty thing,” one of them snarls when you land a good kick to his knee.

When he finally manages to prick the injection into your neck, you’re crying so hard that your mascara is running.

“You put up a good fight baby,” he comforts you as you go limp in his arms. “But I just want this more than you.”

His buddies smirk when they look at your body sprawled out on the seat.

“Nice catch. I’m mad I didn’t see her first.”

“You gonna be nice and share?”

That makes him grin. “We’ll see. If she’s too much to handle, well…”

That makes them snicker.

You shouldn’t assume someone’s a thug just ‘cause of the way they look. But in his case, those scars weren’t earned through gentle accidents.

And when he gets you home, someplace probably tropical, someplace where a missing foreigner isn't that surprising a thing, he'll show you exactly how dangerous it is to smile at a criminal and expect him to just let it go.

[keiitopop]

hey man where's your shirt

[myuniverseinabox]

A ref for the WOOFER. Cause Grace is a shapeshifter now, btw 🦊

[thecoolersouthparkforeignkids]

i know you said youre going to sleep but i need to get this idea written down and sent before i forget

*While most of the time when anyone talked to Declan, it'd either be out in public or at the other person's house, with some exceptions. Through the house rang an almost panicked-sounding knock, though it was a rather weak sound.*

-@2-stupid-aussies

(yippieeeee. Ik I'm currently late to college but idgaf)

"The fuck?"

*Usually if someone was going to knock on Declan's door, they'd have the curtesy to text him before, unless this was someone knocking for his dad or Aoife; neither of them being home at the minute. Still, he best answer the door in case it's something important.*

[hazeysmile]

000 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 - pazzi

| Parings: paige bueckers x fem!oc x azzi fudd

| Synopsis: valeria de martel, a rookie foreign basketball player, scores a sponsorship that lands her at UConn, home of the Huskies. She meets star player Paige Bueckers, who’s not too happy about her joining, while Azzi Fudd is super excited to have Valeria on the team. As Valeria settles in, she vibes really well with Azzi, and their connection feels natural. But things are tense with Paige, who sees her as competition. Over time, though, they go from rivals to friends. With her strict parents far away and the pressure of big games, Valeria feels overwhelmed, especially when an old flame shows up at university. Meanwhile, both Paige and Azzi starts falling for her.

| word count: 9.4k

| author note: I just wanted to say this is my first time writing something like this about real-life people. I've never done this before, so bear with me; I’m a novice writer. This is how I portray the people in the story, and I hope you like the prologue. Thank you to everyone who reads!

જ⁀➴ 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗡𝗢𝗦𝗘, 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗔 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛 𝗔𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗠'𝗦 𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘─

Your phone was cradled between your shoulder and ear as you drifted away from your mom's words. She wasn't really worried about your safety; she just focused on your disobedience to your dad and her orders. You hadn't told her about your trip to america, only sharing it with your brothers and uncle—if she knew, all hell would have broken loose.

As you grabbed your luggage from the conveyor belt, the air thickened with tension. Your mother’s Spanish accent grew stronger, her quick, frustrated curses cutting through the busy airport noise. With a practiced ease, you slung your duffel bag over your shoulder, silently acknowledging the storm brewing in her voice.

Wincing at her shout, her thick Spanish lilt filled through the phone with urgency. "Valeria De Martel, ¿me estás escuchando, joder?"

You puffed out your cheeks, once weighed down by your parents' expectations. Now, across the country, you relished the freedom of your own life. Your father, a successful businessman in Lyon, exuded a charm that drew people in, even when his words were mere bullshit.

Your mother exuded elegance, turning heads effortlessly. Behind closed doors, she revealed a different side. In public, your parents were a powerful duo, radiating confidence and a touch of cockiness. At press events, they charmed everyone with their warmth, but it was all a carefully crafted facade, hiding the complexities beneath.

You argued with your mother on the phone for about ten minutes, your voice rising as frustration spilled over. People around you began to stare, giving you strange looks as you shouted a bit. She had a way of bringing out your anger, and after the heated exchange, you fell silent, knowing you wouldn’t hear the end of it, you just listened.

"Sí, Sofía," you whispered-shouted, mumbling her name just out of earshot, aware that it would only fuel her anger with your blend of French and Spanish accents. "Lo sé, lo sé, acabo de aterrizar. Podemos hablar de esto en otro momento cuando esté listo."

"Valeria, no te atrevas—!" Before she could complete her sentence, you swiftly hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of your jacket. You knew all too well that her voice would rise in a cacophony of shouts and curses, filled with disapproval and words that offered no support.

You didn't exactly hate flying; you loved traveling, even if it meant attending your parents' parties and galas for their businesses. At least you got to see new places. But now, flying on a commercial airplane with strangers felt completely different from the comfort of your parents' private jet.

You hated the long lines at the American airport, the slow check-ins, and the hassle of having your luggage searched. Despite holding a permanent resident card—your green card—given by your sponsor, you felt like an immigrant. "God bless America," you thought, or whatever the saying is.

You were heading outside the terminal because your new coach texted you the contact details your sponsor provided. He mentioned that one of your teammates, KK Arnold, would pick you up and take you to the penthouse your sponsor bought for you. You did some research on the team, and your brother Benjamin helped too, even though he's a plays futbol.

You and your brother Benjamin share a strong bond. Although he's two years older, people often think you’re twins because of your similar looks, with him being more masculine. He’s passionate about futbol; you used to love it too, but your heart now belongs to basketball ever since your uncle Damien taught you the ins and outs of the game. While you were decent at futbol, Benjamin's skills were exceptional, and he was a devoted fan of the Huskies.

As you walked out of the airport, a bright poster caught your eye, reading, "If your name is Valeria, come here right neow! I swear I’m not a stalker, just a girl tryin' to find the one named Valeria in a crowd of people—seriously, where are you hidin'?!" Leaning against a sleek black SUV was a girl about 5'9", her warm brown skin glowing. She had a slightly athletic build, and her dreads were styled half up, half down, framing her eager face. She held the poster with excitement, her energy lighting up the moment.

You instantly recognized her as KK Arnold, the talented point guard for the UConn Huskies. Her confidence shone through, a true reflection of her skills. With your research and your brother's insights about the team, you felt a connection. He trains at AS Monaco, dreaming of joining La Roja, the Spanish national team, yet his heart still beats for basketball.

He stumbled upon the UConn Huskies a year or two back, and his fascination grew into an enthusiastic fangirl. His excitement was infectious, as he delighted you with passionate conversations about every game, sharing the highs and lows with a fervor that made you feel like part of the team.

You blinked, unsure if you were seeing things correctly. There was KK Arnold, holding a bright poster to grab your attention. A laugh escaped you as you read the playful words on it. You walked over casually, dragging your luggage behind you, but before you could speak, she gasped joyfully, dropped the poster, and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Girl, boo! I thought you got lost on your flight! I was ready to turn into a pilot and hop on a plane to find you," she said, her tone a mix of playful and serious. You couldn’t help but laugh, the warmth of her concern wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

As you stepped back from her warm embrace, a soft smile graced your lips. With a thick accent, you said, "C'est un plaisir to finally meet you, KK Arnold. I've heard so much about you, UConn, and of course, your esteemed teammates. My name is Valeria De Martel."

She snorted, covering her mouth as laughter bubbled up, clearly amused by your formality. "Easy, girl! No need to be so formal; I don’t bite. Your accent is as rich as chocolate—me likey! Welcome to America! I’ll be your trusty guide and chauffeur, KK or Papi KK. Now, let’s get you settled into your new home."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you began to place your luggage in the trunk, but KK was quick to intervene. With a determined grace, she took over, ensuring that your belongings were securely stowed away, closing the trunk with a gentle click.

"Hop in, m'princesa. Papi KK will take care of everything; you just sit back and look pretty," she said, standing by the open passenger door and gesturing for you to enter. You couldn't help but smile at her bold demeanor as you settled into the plush passenger seat, feeling a delightful mix of amusement and admiration for her confident charm.

"A charmer, huh? Well, I’ll take it! Just promise me one thing—don't go calling yourself daddy!"

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“How you feelin’, Vee?” KK asked, her voice softening as she caught a glimpse of your contemplative expression. As she made a smooth left turn, the car glided effortlessly down the street leading to your penthouse.

About forty minutes ago, the car was alive with music and laughter as you and KK enjoyed your favorite tracks. She surprisingly loved your mix of Spanish and French songs, along with those catchy 2000s hits. At one point, she sang in Spanish, saying, “Hey, Spanish music just brings out the Spanish-speaking in me!” You both laughed heartily. But now, as the music faded, KK felt a shift in the atmosphere, the playful banter replaced by a subtle tension.

"My hands won’t stop shaking," you admitted, your accent thick as you released a shaky breath.

You felt a rush of excitement, finally free from the strict rules and high expectations of your parents. Yet, beneath that thrill was a wave of nervousness about being in America. Surrounded by strangers, you only knew the UConn team and your new teammates, leaving the rest a mystery. Thankfully, you understood English from your brother and uncle, who spoke it better than you.

You stared out the window, lost in thought, when KK's hand brushed against yours, making you jump. You realized you were fidgeting, and as she gently stroked your hand, a sense of calm washed over you. With a reassuring squeeze, she said softly, "Hey, you'll be fine, bookie. It's just Nika we're meeting outside your residence. Trust me, she already loves you." Her soothing voice wrapped around you, easing your nerves.

As the car came to a gentle stop outside the towering complex, you take in the sleek, modern building before you. It stands tall and pristine, with large windows that reflect the afternoon sun, hinting at the vibrant life within. It feels like a world unto itself, with other apartments lining its elegant facade.

You and KK step out of the SUV, the air buzzing with anticipation. Together, you start unloading your things, the sound of laughter mingling with the soft rustle of bags and suitcases. Each item you pull out feels like a new chapter waiting to unfold in this fresh, exciting space.

As you and KK strolled across the street toward your new home, she effortlessly balanced two duffel bags on her shoulders and two suitcases in hand, her presence a steady anchor beside you. Meanwhile, you were laden with the weight of your entire existence, having transported your life from Lyon, France, to America without leaving a single trace behind.

Your gaze drifted to a young woman casually leaning against the building, her dark brown wavy hair flowing down her shoulders, framing her warm brown eyes. Recognition washed over you—it's Nika Muhl, the Croatian point guard for the UConn Huskies. She's known for her defensive prowess, offensive skills, and exceptional leadership on the court.

As you approached, Nika looked up from her phone, her face brightening with joy. “Beba!” she called out, excitement filling her voice as she rushed toward you, wrapping you in a tight hug. In that moment, nothing else mattered; you dropped your bags, your arms encircling her neck while she held you close, swaying like long-lost friends.

“I’m so happy you’re finally here. Coach has been talking about you since summer." Nika whispered against your neck, and you smiled. You were supposed to arrive earlier, but your parents had complicated things. “Damn, I must be popular then. Everyone seems excited to meet the new girl,” you teased, your thick accent adding a playful touch.

Nika stepped back from the hug, her hands resting on your slim waist, a playful glimmer in her eyes. “Yeah, duh! It’s been forever since we had a foreign player. You’re a total mystery since you don’t show up on social media,” she said, a small frown hinting at her disappointment. She clearly wanted to see your high school highlights or any gameplay, but found nothing.

“Hehe, you’ll just have to see it in person,” you teased, your smile bright and inviting. Nika smirked, knowing there were indeed video out there. Your Instagram was filled with edited highlights from your international championship win at just 15, a vivid snapshot of your journey that you and your brother had crafted together.

"Alright, alright, what we’re not gonna do is leave me out, new bestie! Save some Valeria love for yours truly, KK Arnold," she chimed in, her voice light yet tinged with a hint of faux jealousy as she observed the two of you, feeling a touch sidelined.

"Could never forget about you, bestie," you replied, your fingers slipping from Nika’s waist as you wrapped your arms around KK's shoulders for a warm side hug.

"Now, let’s head up to see your new place—and my new home, of course, if it vibes up there. Paige might have to start lookin' for a new roommate because I’m totally movin' in with you!" KK declared, her playful tone laced with an undercurrent of seriousness. As you withdrew your arm from her shoulders to grab your luggage, Nika swiftly intervened, hoisting two duffel bags over her shoulders while you were left with two suitcases. Together, the three of you stepped into the building, an air of excitement enveloping you as you made your way toward the elevator.

KK swiped her key card against the elevator panel, and the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, sealing us inside. “This shit is fancy, not gonna lie. At least no one can just waltz up here; they need a swipey swipe,” she laughed, her joy infectious, making you and Nika giggle along with her.

As we chatted, Nika and KK noticed the striking partial heterochromia in your left eye, a detail that stood out beautifully. They also caught glimpses of the tattoos peeking from your neck, while the rest remained hidden beneath your clothes. You shared that you had braces in the past, recently removed, and their surprise was clear; they had thought your smile was naturally perfect.

When the elevator dinged, announcing our arrival on the 42nd floor, the doors opened to reveal your new home. Before you could step out, KK was already out the door, luggage in hand, and the sight sent you and Nika into fits of laughter. It was a funny moment, watching her act as if this place was hers, while you and Nika followed behind.

“Hey Vee, would it be cool if I moved in? No bullshit." KK called out, stepping into the living room—a space that effortlessly blended modern simplicity with an air of dark elegance. She flopped onto the couch, her feet kicked up, and her arm draped casually over the backrest.

“God damn, you really are a princessa,” she murmured to herself, taking in the vastness of the room.

You, Nika, and KK meandered through the expansive living area, which was bathed in a warm, natural glow from the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the stunning city skyline beyond. The walls, painted in a deep charcoal gray, provided a sophisticated backdrop for the sumptuous deep blue velvet sofas, their plush cushions beckoning you to sink in and relax.

At the heart of the room, a sleek, low-lying coffee table crafted from polished steel and glass commanded attention, surrounded by modern sculptures and art pieces that lent an air of creativity. On one side, a large flat-screen TV was seamlessly mounted on the wall, framed by a minimalist media console in a matching charcoal gray, offering ample storage for entertainment essentials while maintaining an uncluttered aesthetic.

You three entered the spacious kitchen, a place that exuded a sense of dark elegance. The tall black cabinets reached up to the ceiling, beautifully contrasting with the bright white marble countertops. Soft recessed lighting filled the room, highlighting the central island that served both as a prep space and a casual dining area. Sleek stainless steel appliances, including a double oven and a roomy refrigerator, blended into the design, making everything easily accessible. The glossy dark backsplash added a touch of sophistication, while clever storage solutions hinted at luxury.

"Damn, this feels like a scene from a dark romance novel," KK said, and you and Nika nodded, imagining the kind of rich, ruthless businessmen who might inhabit such a space—only this time, it was a penthouse instead of a mansion.

"I know, right? Those rich, ruthless businessmen from those dark romance stories." Nika chimed in, as if reading your mind.

"You just took the words right out of my head," you replied, your accent thick as you bypassed the studio room. Your gaze was drawn to the inviting balcony. In a rush, you all made your way to the glass door, flinging it open to step out onto the medium-sized balcony, the vibrant city sprawling below you.

The modern oasis unfolded before you, a stunning blend of minimalist design and sleek sophistication. Dark wood decking contrasted beautifully with contemporary metal accents, creating an inviting and stylish atmosphere. A chic outdoor sofa paired with a glass-top coffee table formed a cozy lounge, while carefully arranged planters added a splash of greenery. The compact outdoor kitchen and a small bar had Nika and KK buzzing with excitement.

"We don’t even need to hit up a bar anymore; we can just grab drinks and whip them up here." KK exclaimed, her enthusiasm bright as you leaned against the railing, soaking in the breathtaking city view. Your phone buzzed softly with missed messages from your parents. Were you going to answer? Nope! Would they be mad? Definitely. Did you care? Not at all; they were far away.

KK joined you, gripping the railing and leaning forward to shout, "WE GOT A FUCKIN' NEW TEAMMATE! HER NAME IS VALERIA DE MARTEL! WATCH THE HELL OUT, UCONN HUSKIES ON TOP, IT'S KK ARNOLD HOE!" You and Nika exchanged amused glances, stifling laughter as you watched KK turn around, her triumphant smile beaming like she had just won a grand victory.

As we stepped away from the balcony, excitement pulled us toward your master bedroom. KK gently opened the door, its soft creak unveiling a space filled with warmth and style. The walls, painted a deep charcoal grey, wrapped the room in a cozy embrace, while detailed molding along the ceiling. Rich black velvet curtains hung gracefully, framing the large windows and allowing just a hint of soft light to seep in.

In the center of this oasis was your grand king-sized bed, with a plush headboard that invited relaxation. The bedding was a luxurious mix of silky sheets, a chunky knit throw, and an array of soft pillows, creating a perfect spot to unwind.

Across from the bed, a sleek flat-screen TV blended seamlessly with the decor, while stylish nightstands held elegant lamps that bathed the room in a warm light. A chic leather chair nestled in the corner.

Your walk-in closet was a dream come true, displaying a carefully chosen wardrobe that reflected your unique style. Custom shelves showcased each piece like treasures, while the en-suite bathroom sparkled with modern luxury. A deep soaking tub and a refreshing rain shower awaited, all set against dark marble countertops that gleamed softly.

You and KK stepped into your bedroom, a soft sigh escaping as you both collapsed onto the bed, the sheets wrapping around you like a warm embrace. In that moment, you felt a deep sense of belonging in this new space—one that was all your own. It might not have the luxury of your parents' grand mansion, but its cozy charm was a perfect fit for your hearts.

"Damn, this has really changed how I see things. Paige will have to find a new roommate because I’m moving in with Vee! This bed feels so forbidden and divine; I’ve never experienced anything like it." KK murmured, her voice muffled by the plush pillows, surrendering to the comfort that enveloped her.

"So, beba, are you excited to be here? 'Cause I’m seriously thrilled for you—!" Nika's enthusiasm spilled over, only to be playfully interrupted when KK shot her a look. Nika rolled her eyes with a laugh, backtracking. "Sorry! I mean, we’re excited for you to be here," she said, gesturing between herself and KK.

"But I'm more excited than she is." KK mutters to herself, though the words escape her lips just loud enough for you to hear. You can't help but snort, rolling over to catch Nika's gaze. KK, sensing the pull of sleep, sits up, knowing all too well that surrendering to the comfort of the bed would mean drifting off.

"Yeah, I'm excited too, but honestly, I'm also a bit nervous. My hands were shaking earlier, but KK helped settle my nerves. It's just... fitting in here, in this new country, and with the team. Will they see me as a stranger or an outsider?" you confess, your voice a delicate blend of uncertainty and a hint of excitement, though the weight of doubt lingers heavily in your mind.

"Trust me, they won’t treat you any differently than they treat us. They’ll love you just like we do. They’re genuinely eager to meet another foreign basketball player; they’ve been talking about you all summer, waiting for your arrival since you were supposed to come then." Nika reassures you, settling beside you and rubbing your back in a soothing motion, her tone enveloping you like a warm embrace.

"But be ready; Paige might be a tough cookie to crack," KK chimed in, her smile radiating warmth as she glanced at you.

You blinked, trying to process the flurry of information. The prospect of meeting more people so soon after your arrival made your heart race, and a nervous bead of sweat formed on your palms, prompting you to discreetly wipe them on your black cargo pants. "Why is Paige Bueckers a tough cookie to crack? Wait, a party? When? Where? For how long? I just landed in America for the first time; can't a foreigner catch a break?" You rambled, your French accent lending an air of charm to your flustered words.

"Well, last year, she tore her ACL during a game and had to sit out for the rest of the season. The coach basically banned her from practice and the gym, which left her feeling isolated. She was crushed about missing out on playing, but now that she’s back, her competitive spirit is fiercer than ever. No one takes this sport as seriously as Paige does. She might see you as a potential rival, like one of those cocky ass basketball players who only care about themselves. So, she’s a bit on guard right now. But trust me, once she meets you and gets to know you, you two will become great friends, just like me and you." KK explained, her gestures weaving the bond of your friendship into the conversation.

But that only sparked your curiosity. They say curiosity killed the cat, and it had led you astray more times than you could count. This time, however, you held back your questions. KK and Nika caught the flicker of intrigue in your eyes, and KK added, "Just remember, I was here first, before Paige. We’re besties for life."

"We were thinking of inviting them over to your place, if that's cool with you. We could bring some ice cream and make our own bowls—nothing too fancy, just a chill hangout with the team and you," Nika said softly, her hand gently rubbing your back as you nodded, welcoming the idea. "But we have practice in an hour, so we need to leave early since your home is about 30 to 40 minutes away from campus. You can relax here or take a nap; we’ll be back around seven or eight, so just be ready."

With that, Nika stood up, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she moved toward the bedroom door. KK, however, groaned, reluctant to leave the warmth of the cozy bed. With a sigh that echoed her reluctance, she rolled out of your bed, "See you later, Vee." As they stepped out, you fell back onto your bed, stretching out like a starfish while your gaze wandered up to the new ceiling above you.

Exhaustion finally washed over you after that grueling eleven-hour flight. You slowly pulled out your phone, your heart sinking as you saw ten unread messages and two missed calls from your father. He was more intimidating than your mother, and the thought of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Alongside that, there were five missed calls and twenty unread messages from her, a reminder of the whirlwind of family life waiting for you.

Amidst the chaos, you noticed unread messages from your uncle, your brother Benji, and your older brother Marco, which brought a soft smile to your lips. But the weight of sleepiness was heavy, and before you could even think to reply, your phone slipped from your hand, landing gently on your chest. Your eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The UConn Huskies packed into the elevator, their chatter a lively symphony of excitement and laughter, buzzing with the thrill of finally meeting you. Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware, lost in the depths of slumber, your new bed cradling you in its embrace. It was 7:54 P.M., and Paige, on the other hand, had been dragged from her dorm by none other than her best friend, Azzi Fudd. Reluctantly, she had agreed to join this little gathering, Azzi adamant that she needed to connect with you, the new freshman now that you were part of the Husky family.

As the elevator ascended, Paige leaned against the wall, a look of mild disinterest etched on her face. Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her snug dark gray Nike tech zip-up jacket, perfectly accentuating her lean, athletic frame. A gentle ding heralded their arrival, and the doors slid open to reveal your inviting abode.

Stepping inside, the girls' excitement was almost tangible as they took in the spaciousness of your home. They explored every nook and cranny, while Aubrey, Sarah, and Lou made a beeline for the kitchen, arms overflowing with bags of ice cream, condiments, and an enticing array of toppings and syrups, their eyes sparkling with the promise of indulgence.

"Damn, she's loaded; she could seriously be my sugar mommy," Azzi quipped, her eyes glimmering with playful mischief as she absorbed the inviting atmosphere of your penthouse. The air was thick with a rich tapestry of scents—an intoxicating blend of incense and deep chocolate, intertwined with the warmth of aged wood and leather, evoking the essence of spiced red wine.

Paige rolled her eyes, a hint of disapproval crossing her face, though she couldn't deny the allure of your home’s fragrance. No way she’d ever admit that, though. KK nodded in enthusiastic agreement with Azzi's words. "I already told Vee I'm movin' in; Paige is just gonna have to find a new roommate." At that, Paige snapped her head toward KK, disbelief etched across her features.

"You just met her, and you're already thinking about moving in? What if she's not who she seems—maybe just a cocky, two-faced bitch hiding behind a sweet smile." Paige interjected, her voice low and laced with skepticism. KK shot her a sharp look, while Azzi gently nudged Paige, silently urging her to hold her tongue.

Nika rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defiantly. "Paige, chill out; she's really sweet and cool."

"Girl, boo, right! She's already stirring up trouble without even meeting my new bestie." KK replied, a teasing smile creeping across her face as she plotted how to wake you up, her excitement bubbling over. "Now let me go wake my bestie boo up!"

With that, she dashed upstairs, her footsteps light and eager, while Nika followed closely behind, anticipation dancing in her eyes as she prepared to witness KK's playful attempt to rouse you from your slumber.

"Paige, can you just put on a friendly face for a bit?" Azzi whispered, her tone laced with a mix of hope and exasperation as they made their way to the kitchen. "We’re really just trying to get to know her."

Trailing behind, Paige exuded a palpable reluctance. "Honestly, I didn’t want to be here at all. You dragged me along after I said no more times than I can count. What’s the point of meeting yet another cocky bastard who thinks they’re the best thing since sliced bread?" she replied, a hint of disdain coloring her words.

Azzi let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off a headache. As they entered the kitchen, they found Aubrey perched casually on the expansive countertop, effortlessly tossing grapes into her mouth, her demeanor relaxed as Sarah leaned against the sink. Lou stood nearby, animatedly discussing you and your quirks.

Sarah caught sight of Paige and Azzi as they sauntered into the kitchen. "Wait, Paige, hand me your phone real quick," she declared, her tone abrupt yet laced with urgency. Paige raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across her face, but curiosity soon took the reins. With a languid motion, she retrieved her iPhone 14 Pro, the sleek device glinting in the light, and handed it over to Sarah, the screen already illuminated.

Aubrey gracefully slid off the countertop, positioning herself like a shadow behind Sarah, while Lou stood to her right and Azzi took up a spot on her left. The trio formed a tight circle, their energy palpable as Sarah focused intently on the screen. "What the hell are you doing on my phone, Sarah?" Paige's voice was tinged with a mix of intrigue and mild alarm as she caught a glimpse of Sarah's determined expression.

"I'm just trying to find Valeria's Instagram to see if she's posted any highlights." Sarah replied, her tone casual yet purposeful. In an instant, Paige lunged forward to reclaim her phone, but Sarah deftly pulled it out of reach, a playful glint in her eye. Aubrey and Azzi gently placed their hands on Paige's chest, holding her back with a teasing restraint.

"Aht aht, let her find the damn Instagram. You're acting like we're watching porn on your phone." Aubrey chimed in, a smirk dancing across her lips. Lou's curiosity mirrored Aubrey's, both eager to see what would unfold. Meanwhile, Nika and KK were busy scouring YouTube and TikTok for your highlights, but their efforts yielded nothing. You simply didn’t exist on social media, or at least not under the terms they were searching for.

"Hell no, I don't want that girl in my search history," Paige shot back, her tone thick with disdain and contempt.

Sarah, brushing off Paige's words, swiftly dove into the digital realm, her fingers dancing across the screen until she unearthed your Instagram profile under the username "Val_Astral." The aesthetic was strikingly minimalist; a blacked-out profile pic that hinted at mystery. Your bio was a cool mix of flags—France, Spain, Brazil—alongside your age, 19, punctuated by a basketball emoji. A powerful quote captured the essence of your spirit: "No soy quisquillosa; solo sé lo que merezco."

With a raised eyebrow, Sarah observed the follower count—17k—and mused, "For 17k followers, I lowkey expect like a million or something." Her gaze shifted to the two posts, one from five years ago and another from four. Intrigued, she tapped the video from five years back, which boasted a staggering 6 million views and over 1.9 million likes.

The video unfolded, revealing a younger version of you, a teenager with a tousled manbun, sweat glistening on your brow as you caught your breath. Clad in a bold black and red jersey emblazoned with the number 44, the matching shorts hung loosely at your hips. You stood amidst a swarm of reporters, microphones thrust forward, their eager inquiries echoing in the air, capturing a moment that was both electrifying and overwhelming.

Questions in rapid French flew around you, like "Quelle a été la clé du succès de votre équipe tout au long du tournoi?" and "Pouvez-vous décrire les émotions que vous avez ressenties lors du match final?" Sarah and Lou translated the French words for their friends, helping them understand better.

You answered the barrage of questions with an air of quiet confidence, your breath coming in soft puffs as you lifted your shirt to wipe the sweat from your forehead. The light glinted off your slightly toned abdomen, a hint of four-pack abs shimmering in the glow, each droplet of sweat accentuating the moment. Your voice, light yet imbued with a hint of raspiness, flowed with a thick French and Spanish accent, the black braces behind your crooked teeth adding an unexpected charm.

Behind you, Paige leaned against Azzi, her gaze fixed on the screen as she watched the video unfold. Her expression was a mix of disinterest and curiosity, pondering why this seemingly mundane clip—just you conversing in a different language—had amassed a staggering number of likes and views. It was dull, almost hypnotic, threatening to lull her into a state of slumber.

“Valeria,” began a young reporter from L'Equipe, her voice wavering slightly in the face of your imposing presence. "Félicitations pour votre victoire ce soir. Une performance phénoménale, en effet. Vous êtes devenu le joueur vedette de la France, nous éblouissant avec 63 points à couper le souffle, 18 passes décisives, 8 blocs, 6 interceptions et 7 rebonds. Mais la vraie question est la suivante: saviez-vous que votre équipe gagnerait ce soir?"

When Lou and Sarah heard the French reporter's words, their mouths fell open in astonishment at the remarkable stats from the championship game you had just triumphed in. As Sarah and Lou translated for their friends, Aubrey’s eyes widened in disbelief, while Azzi stared, caught in a blend of intrigue and shock. Paige, however, remained skeptical, convinced it was all a fabrication of fake news and sensationalism, yet they all leaned in closer, captivated by the unfolding scene.

A palpable silence filled the air, thick enough to be felt, as the anticipation became almost unbearable. Your lips, adorned in a deep, almost vampiric red, curled into a slow, barely perceptible smirk. Your gaze, devoid of warmth yet piercingly intense, was accentuated by that striking heterochromia eye, sparkling with a chilling confidence as it locked onto the reporter.

"Est-ce que je savais?" you echoed the young reporter's question, your French tinged with a subtle Spanish accent that only sharpened its impact. You paused, allowing the tension to swell, each heartbeat amplifying the suspense. "Let's be clear about something, chéri.. I don't 'know' things. I dictate them. So yeah, I fucking knew. From the moment I stepped onto that court. I knew. This entire goddamn championship was mine to take."

"Et franchement," You tilted your head, your chillingly confident gaze sweeping over the stunned faces of the reporters. "quiconque pensait le contraire est un putain d'imbécile."

The atmosphere crackled with tension, your casual arrogance hanging in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating any attempt at a comeback. One journalist, visibly shaken, stammered as he tried to formulate a follow-up question, but you silenced him effortlessly with a dismissive wave of your hand.

"Maintenant, si vous m'excusez," you said, your voice dripping with a blend of cockiness and elegance, "J'ai un trophée pour célébrer. Essayez de ne pas vous mettre en mon chemin." With that, you turned and strode away, leaving a trail of bewildered reporters in your wake. The echoes of your chilling confidence lingered long after you had departed. The victory may have belonged to France, but tonight, it was unequivocally yours; you owned the court, and you were fully aware of it.

"Haha—my performance tonight? Flawless. Mon tournage ? Mortel. La victoire ? Une putain de formalité." Your voice rang out as the video morphed into a captivating edit, the infectious rhythm of "Hmm - HotHeads" setting the stage for a breathtaking showcase of your court prowess. Each frame unfolded like a masterful painting, illustrating your finesse—sinking three-pointers, executing mid-range shots with precision, and gliding effortlessly to the paint for layups. You dazzled with slick passes, leaving defenders scrambling, snatching the ball with an ease that seemed almost choreographed. Your leaps were nothing short of poetry in motion, swatting shots away and claiming rebounds, orchestrating flawless assists that left the crowd in awe.

Once again, your voice pierced through the edit, brimming with confidence: "I'm just quicker, sharper—I'm just straight-up fuckin' better!" The scene captured the moment you drained a three-pointer, the ball swishing through the net as you locked eyes with your opponent, flashing a cocky three-finger salute, a smirk dancing on your lips.

In another electrifying clip, you crossed up your opponent with lightning speed, sending them sliding across the gleaming hardwood floor. Laughter erupted from you, a joyous sound that filled the air as you launched yet another deep three, not even bothering to watch it fall—your instinct told you it was a sure thing. You strolled away, confidence radiating from every step.

Then, your voice returned, rich with a blend of accents—Spanish intertwined with French. "Yeah, we won," you drawled, the satisfaction evident in your tone, a perfect finale to the exhilarating display of your undeniable talent. "But let's be honest without me? They wouldn't have stood a fucking chance. I carried that team on my back, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. This trophy? It's basically mine." As the montage unfolded, you sank a stunning buzzer-beater from half court in the final quarter, the ball arcing gracefully through the air before swishing through the net. The moment was electrifying, a perfect climax to your highlight reel. As the video faded out, the victory felt palpable.

"Damn, that was cold." Aubrey said, her voice filled with admiration and disbelief at your incredible high school highlight. "That edit is fire." Lou exclaimed, her accent adding a melodic charm to her words, clearly mesmerized by the stunning edit and the perfect track that accompanied the edit.

Azzi and Sarah nodded in awe, their eyes sparkling with admiration, while Paige scoffed, disapproval etched across her features. She couldn't overlook the way you seemed to overshadow your teammates, your confidence bordering on arrogance.

"Did you see how she just basically shamed her own teammates? Seriously, do we really want someone like that—who doesn't give a flying fuck about us at all? She only cares about herself and her image." Paige shot back, her voice slicing through the admiration like a knife, laced with disbelief and indignation.

All eyes turned to her, the tension palpable. Sarah rubbed her neck, deliberately avoiding Paige's piercing gaze, while Aubrey and Lou exchanged knowing whistles, diverting their eyes. Everyone recognized that Paige spoke a harsh truth, but who would dare to voice their agreement? Not a chance.

"C'mon, P. That was literally high school; she was just 14 or 15, winning a huge championship like that. You weren't even in France that day." Azzi broke the silence, her voice steady and calm. She could feel the weight of Paige's sharp gaze on her, a momentary pause hanging in the air as she continued. "You have no idea what she was feeling in that moment. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was on top of the world after dropping 63 points and walking away with a big trophy."

"Yeah, Paige, chill out. Nika and KK say she's coo peeps; give her a shot." Aubrey added, her tone soothing as she rested a hand on Paige's shoulder. Yet, despite the comfort, Paige remained tense, muttering curses under her breath—a silent rebellion known only to herself.

"Alright, let me hand P her phone back." Sarah said, returning the device. Paige immediately dove into her Instagram search history, swiftly deleting your username with a flick of her thumb. Just as she was about to voice her thoughts, KK's voice broke through the tension, shifting the atmosphere once again.

"Girl, boo! I was just waking you up!" KK exclaimed, rolling her eyes with playful exasperation, a teasing smile illuminating her face. Nika couldn't help but chuckle, her mind drifting back to the moment KK had roused you from your dreams. You lay there on your side, blissfully unaware of the delightful chaos that was about to unfold around you.

KK nestled beside you, positioning herself a mere seven inches from your face, gently tapping your cheek while whispering softly, "Wake up, babygirl! Come on, wifey—our tiny tornadoes are downstairs plotting their next snack attack, and they need their queen to lead the charge!"

With each persistent tap, you groaned, and as your eyes fluttered open, you were met with KK's radiant grin, startling you to the point of tumbling out of bed with a loud thud. Nika erupted into laughter, and KK seized the moment to tease, "You know you drool when you sleep?"

Her voice dripped with playful mockery, and embarrassment flooded your cheeks as your hand flew to your mouth, wiping at the corners as if to erase any trace of your slumber. Your cheeks burned with a rosy hue while KK snickered, and Nika simply reveled in the joy of the moment, laughter echoing in the air.

As KK took the lead in choosing your outfit, her approach mirrored a mother’s care on a child’s first day of school. With a playful sparkle in her eye, she couldn’t help but tease your quirky Bugs Bunny UGG slippers. What started as a simple task quickly evolved into a lively dress-up session, completely overshadowing the ones waiting downstairs.

KK carefully selected a stylish yet casual look: a black Big Worm graphic sweatshirt that hung just right, teasing a glimpse of your toned abs whenever you reached up. The dark gray, baggy sweatpants sagged slightly, allowing the edge of your white Calvin Klein boxers to peek out. Your dark gray UGG slippers rounded off the outfit, enhanced by a spritz of Dior Sauvage cologne. Though she considered taming your wild hair, KK decided it was perfect as is—messy yet charming.

Your outfit beautifully showcased the intricate tattoos that adorned your arms and neck, each design a captivating mix of flowers and vines, as if they were alive. The delicate patterns wrapped around your fingers and flowed down your forearms, with slender vines dancing gracefully. KK admired them, her fingers lightly tracing the ink, captivated by how they enhanced your look.

"I finally managed to wake our sleeping beauty!" KK called out, playfully pulling you along toward the rest of the team, who erupted in laughter and teasing applause.

A nervous smile crept onto your face—not from shyness, but from the excitement of meeting Americans for the first time in a new country. As your gaze swept over the girls, you were enveloped in warm embraces and friendly high-fives, a delightful surprise that swiftly banished any lingering doubts. The atmosphere buzzed with energy as your new teammates playfully jostled one another, eager to decide who would be the first to engage you in conversation.

Before long, you found an instant connection with Lou. The two of you effortlessly slipped into conversations in Spanish and French, delighting in the rhythm of your words. Lou laughed at the speed of your speech, her dialect slightly different yet harmonizing beautifully with yours. The other girls watched with smiles, their faces lighting up despite not understanding a word. They were simply thrilled that you had found someone to relate to, not only in basketball but also in language.

Aubrey glided in, effortlessly commanding your attention—a moment you had been eagerly awaiting, thanks to your diligent research on UConn. Your hands met in a cool, casual dap, a gesture that felt both familiar and inviting. "Hey, I'm Aubrey Griffin. So awesome to finally meet you, Valeria. The coach, KK, and Nika have shared so much about you!"

A gentle smile graced your lips as you responded, your accent rich and warm. "Same here. It’s an honor to play for your team, and a true privilege to be in America." Aubrey's grin blossomed further as she casually draped her arm over your shoulder, guiding you toward Paige and Azzi, who were engaged in a hushed exchange.

Azzi chastised Paige for her somewhat childish antics, while Paige, ever the defender, insisted that her skepticism was perfectly reasonable. Azzi, with a knowing glint in her eye, encouraged her to stop behaving like a child.

"These two lovely people are good friends of mine and also your new teammates—"

"Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers, right?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, feeling Aubrey's arm slide away from your shoulder. Azzi greeted you with a radiant smile, her eyes shimmering with warmth and friendliness, while Paige exuded a cool detachment, her expression suggesting she couldn’t care less about your presence or the fleeting moment.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. Valeria De Martel at your service," you proclaimed, your signature accent dancing through the air as you extended your hand toward both Paige and Azzi. Azzi nudged Paige, a hint of urgency in her gesture, but Paige remained unmoved until KK broke the silence.

"Aye, P-Boogers! You really gonna leave my bestie boo hangin'? Or are you just gonna keep actin' like the ultimate nonchalant dreadhead? You need to greet my girl Valeria, aka Vee, with the green!" KK snapped her fingers, her tone teasing yet insistent. Paige rolled her eyes, the very picture of casual indifference, but finally, she reached out, grasping your hand in a grip that was surprisingly firm.

Your eyes widened at the strength of her handshake, a spark of unexpected electricity coursing through you. A grin tugged at your lips, and your heart fluttered as her piercing blue gaze met yours. Yet, within those striking depths lay an unmistakable air of disinterest and ennui, as if she were trapped in a moment she wished to escape—an unvarnished truth that lingered between you, palpable and raw.

She stood tall, exactly six feet, her lean athletic physique accentuated by the fitted dark gray Nike Tech sweat outfit that hugged her frame just right. There was an undeniable magnetism about her; her long ash-colored hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, allowing her fair skin to radiate under the soft light. High cheekbones framed her face, and the sharp angles of her sculpted jawline made her look both fierce and stunning.

You found yourself lost in her presence, staring with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. When she tried to retract her hand, your grip tightened instinctively, as if you were trying to hold onto the moment itself. "Can you let go?" Her voice was a captivating blend of husky softness and firm demand, slicing through your daze.

In an instant, you snapped back to reality, blinking as a rush of embarrassment colored your cheeks. You released her hand like it was a live wire, your own hands flailing in a nervous dance. An apology tumbled out in French, completely unplanned, as you felt the weight of all the eyes around you. The other girls erupted in laughter at your awkwardness, their amusement clear, while Paige shot you a look of annoyance, as if your flustered charm was more of a bother than a delight.

"Cálmate, cálmate, Vee. Eres bueno; no quisiste decir nada con eso." Lou's voice broke through the tension, her rich accent wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing your frayed nerves. Just as you were about to let another apology slip from your lips, Azzi appeared, her presence radiating warmth as she pulled you into a cozy embrace. That familiar flutter ignited in your chest, reminiscent of the electric jolt from Paige's handshake.

"She isn't mad, so no more apologies." Azzi chimed in, her tone a gentle melody that brushed against the shell of your ear. "But damn, you look even better in person than in that video." Her words were soft yet firm, sending a delightful warmth cascading through you, your cheeks flushing as Paige shot you a glare, her irritation a riddle you couldn’t quite solve.

"My, my such a silver tongue, ma bella. I wonder if it tastes as sweet as it sounds," you whispered, your accent rich and inviting. Azzi's lips formed a delicate "o," a blush blooming on her cheeks, even though the French words slipped just beyond her grasp. There was something undeniably enchanting in your delivery, a charm that seemed to captivate her completely.

"I might've missed the words, but the way you said that? Damn, that was hot. You're such a tempting charmer with that pretty face of yours—care to say it again but slower?" Her lips brushed against the shell of your ear, igniting a spark that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The warmth of her breath danced against your skin, a tantalizing whisper that lingered long after she pulled away. Her hands, strong yet gentle, settled on your lower back, a perfect blend of softness and strength that spoke of countless hours spent on the basketball court.

As you leaned in closer, your arms draped over her shoulders, you noticed how she stood just a fraction taller than you. It was an unexpected advantage that made your heart race with excitement. When she uttered those words again, her voice a sultry blend of mischief and allure, your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t anticipated her playful flirting, and the way she teased you sent your mind spinning.

She pulled back slightly, her gaze locking onto yours, and the lingering sensation of her lips against your ear left you feeling breathless. The warmth in your cheeks betrayed you, a rosy hue blooming as you stared into her deep brown eyes, which sparkled with warmth and a magnetic charm.

You didn’t even realize that the other girls in the kitchen were watching with amusement, their eyes glinting as they lowkey hyped you up, caught in the electric vibe of the moment. Lou was in the corner, her voice ringing out in Spanish, cheerfully urging you on, her energy infectious. But then there was Paige, the lone dissenting voice in the crowd, glaring at you with a look that could freeze flames, rolling her eyes as if this whole scene was beneath her.

Yet there you were, completely lost in Azzi’s gaze, the rest of the world fading into a soft blur. It felt like a bubble had formed around the two of you, isolating you from the laughter and chatter of the kitchen. Just as you thought you could drown in those deep, captivating eyes, a sharp throat-clearing from KK sliced through the air, yanking you both back to reality.

KK stepped in, her arm sliding between you and Azzi, disrupting the magnetic pull that had drawn you together. As her hands trailed down from your lower back, you reluctantly pulled your arms away from Azzi’s shoulders, the warmth of his presence slipping just out of reach. “Aye, aye! PDA, y’all! Damn, you two looked like you were about to eat each other’s faces—straight disgusting!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with playful mockery as she faked a gag.

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a blush blooming as you glanced at Azzi, who was equally flustered but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face.

"Lo siento, let me try this so-called American ice cream for the first time," you muttered, your thick accent rolling off your tongue as Nika gasped and rushed over, her arm slinging around your shoulders like a warm embrace.

"Wait, seriously? You’ve never had ice cream?" Nika asked, her eyebrow arching in disbelief. You shook your head, a sheepish smile creeping onto your face. Your parents had always been too fancy for such simple pleasures, opting for elaborate desserts crafted by chefs, while you and your brother Benji usually whipped up sweet treats for each other. Ice cream was definitely on your must-try list, but somehow, it had always slipped through the cracks.

"Don't worry, Beba! You're gonna love it. We’ll make sure you have the best time in America so you can leave a five-star review," she joked, and the room erupted in laughter, your chuckle mingling with theirs, the tension of the moment melting away like ice cream on a hot summer day.

As the night wore on, the welcome party turned out to be a blast. All those doubts and nerves you had felt earlier were tossed aside, replaced by a comfortable sense of belonging. Laughter filled the air as you and the girls began crafting your ice cream bowls. Nika and KK enthusiastically threw out suggestions, and you settled on mint chocolate chip, drizzling it with chocolate syrup and sprinkling on colorful chocolate sprinkles.

"Hold up, let me pull out my phone. I gotta get this on camera.” KK exclaimed, her excitement palpable as she whipped out her phone, ready to capture the moment of your first ice cream experience. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, the blush creeping in as Azzi and Nika teased you, giggles bubbling up around you, especially as they noticed your red ears.

Meanwhile, Paige remained mostly quiet, her gaze occasionally fixed on you with a sharp intensity. Each time she heard your voice or caught a glimpse of your accent, her eyes seemed to sharpen, as if she were trying to decipher a puzzle that intrigued her.

The basketball team and Azzi were definitely tuned in to your little ice cream adventure, their eyes dancing with amusement as you cautiously dipped your spoon into the bowl. With a mix of anticipation and trepidation, you lifted a generous scoop to your lips, and as the chilled mint chocolate chip met your tongue, it was like a burst of pure joy. The sensation was heavenly—until a sharp chill shot through your tooth, prompting you to instinctively blow on it, which only made the girls roar with laughter.

KK's laughter rang out loud and clear, a vibrant melody in the midst of the chaos. "Naw dawg, that ain't soup! What you blowin' on it for? You think it’s gonna start a fire or somethin'?!" she teased, her voice echoing off the walls as the cold creaminess melted in your mouth, leaving you in a state of blissful delight. You swallowed the first bite, still feeling the coolness linger.

“It made my toof cold,” you muttered, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, your thick accent adding a layer of charm to your words.

“Yo, ‘toof’?” Aubrey exclaimed, her voice dripping with playful mockery. Sarah doubled over, clutching her stomach as laughter erupted from her. Lou, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, raised a hand to her mouth, but it was a losing battle; she burst into fits of giggles that only fueled the hilarity of the moment.

As the six of you dug into the ice cream bowls, the joy of the evening wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. You had to admit, ice cream was a delightful treat, even if it did send shivers through your teeth. The laughter and camaraderie filled the air, creating a backdrop of warmth that made you feel right at home, despite the initial nerves. In that moment, surrounded by friends and laughter, you realized that this was exactly where you belonged.

Azzi nudged her best friend Paige, who was practically glued to you with her piercing gaze. You felt it, but you were too caught up in the hilarious banter with Sarah and Lou, the three of you tossing around jokes in French, laughter bubbling up like the fizz in a soda. It was a lively scene, filled with warmth and camaraderie, but Paige's intensity was hard to ignore.

"You know you been shooting daggers at the new rookie all night." Azzi's voice sliced through the playful chaos, soft yet firm, as if she were trying to break through the stubbornness that often characterized her best friend.

"Yeah, like how you been eye-fuckin' her the whole night! Might as well just suck her face off." Paige shot back, her words a low murmur meant only for Azzi's ears. Her gaze flickered back to you, burning with an intensity that could probably ignite flames.

Azzi's breath hitched at Paige's words; she knew her friend wasn't wrong. She had been staring at you, captivated not just by your looks but something deeper, something that felt familiar yet elusive. It was a mystery she was determined to unravel, even if she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet. As the laughter continued to flow around them, Azzi couldn't help but wonder what it was about you that had caught her attention so completely.

"P. I wasn't eye-fucking her! What's your animosity towards her anyways? She's new to America and a freshman, that's all?" Azzi shot back, but Paige just rolled her eyes, arms crossed tight across her chest. She simply didn’t trust you, and that was that. She didn’t get what everyone else saw in you.

"I just don’t trust the Frenchie, that’s all." Paige shrugged, and before Azzi could even respond, she was already striding out of the kitchen. You glanced up from your ice bowl, catching her leaving with that unmistakable look of boredom plastered across her face.

[enden-k]

almost forgot how healing it is to just sketch ur ocs after shit work until youre too tired

[oc-factoids]

Tag the OC that speaks a foreign language

[pastelshroomsbasement]

more doodles in coming 🫣🫣🫣🤩🤩🤩

[short-story-unhappy-ending]

ACT ONE STARTS: April 4, 2025.

Kyle's life is thrown into chaos when his family temporarily takes in Charli, a sharp-tongued, Haitian-Jewish girl with no patience for his attitude. Meanwhile, Kenny tries to win over a fiery chef's brigade, testing his skills and resilience.

Kyle and Charli begin a fake relationship to fend off school drama and unwanted advances while unresolved tension sparks between them.

With Cartman scheming, a winter dance looming, and school gossip at an all-time high, Kyle and Kenny must step up—one to protect his heart and the other to prove his worth. Can Kyle overcome his insecurities and admit his feelings for Charli before she leaves? Or will their story end in the same chaos it began?

Act One of my South Park comic Short Story; Unhappy Ending drops April 4, 2025!

[dream--interrupted]

dreaming

[melodyartist]

Do you think you could do asks for Demeter or is it just The Odyssey/Iliad/Epic characters?

Sometimes some others get some space🌼

Demeter:"Don't take it for granted, but not everyone has this kind of studies, even if there are specific schools to study the subject in depth. Nowadays such things are branches of science and I leave everything under the watchful eye of my niece Athena and sometimes Techne. I still jealously guard my Mysteries, Demetrios is keeping them close"

[swordmaid]

talking abt the hag romance murder mystery au that now transformed into a much more bigger and elaborate murder mystery/film noir sequel bg3 au with a friend last night and here’s shri’iia, about to participate in a swanky party wearing a disguise 🤭

[incorrect-sp-oc-quotes]

Angel: *About Jo and Declan* Awh, they’re a cute couple, aren’t they?

Tesni: They certainly are standing next to each other.

[myuniverseinabox]

Mark's beast form! He was long overdue for an update.

Shifting into this beast is a tiring and unpleasant process for him (and he's also not proud of it), though he does it more often than he'd like to admit.

[thecoolersouthparkforeignkids]

who else waiting for that fag to show up?

(how to summom nick 101: call him a fag)

(Fr)

“He better not show up. I’ve been given another gun and I’ll shoot that fairy.”

“You’re a fucking fag too, you retarded leprechaun.”

“Let a girl say she’s bi and she suddenly thinks she can say faggot.”

“I said fag, actually, stupid prick. And since when do you care, you’re as white as white gets you ginger fuck and you still said-“

“I was rapping it! It doesn’t count if it’s in a song. I’m not racist, me and Tolkien are homies.”

“No you’re not! You literally, just yesterday, said, and I quote, ‘Where is he really from anyway?’.”

“It was a genuine question!”

“As genuine as when your da says he loves you.”

[hazeysmile]

↳ ☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐 𝗠𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽

𝘼

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘___ ✦˚🪐'

࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑「 ✦ 𝙿𝙰𝚉𝚉𝙸 𝙓 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝙾𝙲 」ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"❝𝙊𝘜𝘙 𝘉𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘝𝘌

𝘌𝘈𝘊𝘏 𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙

𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗦❞"

volυмe : ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▉

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: 𝑴𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

Craving

/ ˈkreɪvɪŋ /

noun

An intense and often overwhelming desire for something specific, often accompanied by a strong emotional pull. It can range from a simple longing to a powerful urge that captivates the mind and heart. Craving can inspire action, driving individuals to pursue what they yearn for. While it can lead to fulfillment and joy, it may also bring frustration or disappointment when unfulfilled, highlighting the complexity of human emotions and desires.

(ＳＹＮＯＰＳＩＳ)

Valeria De Martel, a rookie foreign basketball player known for her dazzling versatility, scores a sponsorship in France that opens the door to her dreams in America. She transfers to the University of Connecticut, the home of the iconic UConn Huskies. There, she meets star player Paige Bueckers, who isn’t exactly thrilled about her arrival, while Azzi Fudd, Paige's best friend, radiates excitement to welcome Valeria to the team.

As Valeria adjusts to her new life in America, she unexpectedly clicks with Azzi, their connection feeling almost preordained. Their chemistry is effortless, filled with laughter and a shared sense of adventure. Meanwhile, Valeria faces tension with Paige, who sees her as a rival. Yet, as they navigate their differences, the rivalry slowly transforms into a genuine friendship, built on understanding and shared moments, creating a bond that promises to last.

In the heart of Connecticut, Valeria is caught in a whirlwind of stress and chaos. Her strict, unsupportive parents are thousands of miles away, and she feels completely out of place in this new world. It’s like she’s drowning, and the only thing keeping her afloat is her friends, Paige and Azzi. She leans on them, desperate for their support, craving their presence like it’s the only thing that can save her—especially now that an old flame has transferred to her university, stirring up feelings she thought were long buried.

With her unsupportive parents and her siblings unexpectedly visiting, the pressure just keeps piling on. Valeria’s juggling the intensity of national basketball games, feeling the weight of each moment as if it might crush her. Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi can’t help but fall for the same girl.

「 ✦ 𝙈𝘈𝘐𝘕 𝘾𝘈𝘚𝘛 ✦ 」 ______ ・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・

𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝙄𝘼 𝘿𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙇── 𝟢𝟤.𝟢𝟫. 𝟤𝟢𝟢𝟥 | uconn rookie. 𝟧'𝟣𝟣" | combo guard-small forward | #⁷ | ambivert | sly fox | 𝟤𝟢𝟣𝟪 ᴜ¹⁶ champ | fine arts.

"𝒘𝒆𝒕𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌? 𝑷𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒐, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒎'𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝑵𝑩𝑨."

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙂𝙀 𝘽𝙐𝙀𝘾𝙆𝙀𝙍𝙎── 𝟣𝟢.𝟤𝟢.𝟤𝟢𝟢𝟣 | uconn huskies | 𝟨'𝟢" | point guard | #⁵ | extrovert | german shepherd | hdfs.

"𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒕, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆."

𝘼𝙕𝙕𝙄 𝙁𝙐𝘿𝘿── 𝟣𝟣.𝟣𝟣.𝟤𝟢𝟢𝟤 | uconn huskies | 𝟧'𝟣𝟣" | shooting guard. #³⁵ | golden retriever | communications.

"𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌, 𝒊'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔."

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄....

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

・𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄・

➊.) sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴏᴋᴇɴ - ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

➋.) ᴘʜᴀᴍ - ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs

➌.) ᴄʜʀɪs ɢʀᴇʏ - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ɢᴀᴍᴇ

➍.) ᴡᴇᴇᴋɴᴅ - ғɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ

➎.) ᴊᴀᴄᴇ ᴊᴜɴᴇ - ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

➏.) ᴛᴏʀʏ ʟᴀɴᴇᴢ - ɪɴ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ

➐.) ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ - ʙᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ

➑.) ᴋᴏᴅᴇ - ғᴇᴇʟɪɴ' ᴍᴇ

➒.) ᴘɴʙ ʀᴏᴄᴋ - sᴇʟғɪsʜ

➊⓿.) ᴄʜʀɪs ɢʀᴇʏ - ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴄs = ғʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋs

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ = ᴛɪᴍᴇsᴋɪᴘ

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

「 ✦ 𝘿𝘐𝘚𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘐𝘔𝘌𝘙 ✦ 」 ______ ๋࣭ ⭑🪐'

This story features Azzi and Paige, two beautiful women in a modern AU. I'm crafting a narrative around them without assuming their sexuality, based on my perception of these real-life individuals. The plot explores a polyamorous three-way relationship with a lesbian theme, so if you're homophobic, please exit; otherwise, welcome! The narration shifts between second person, first person, and third person. I don't know much about basketball beyond the basics, as I'm more into softball and baseball, but I'll do my best. Constructive criticism is welcome, but no hate, and please don't plagiarize my plot. I'll post it soon!

「 ✦ 𝙒𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 ✦ 」▃▃▃▃ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, sᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ᴅʀᴜɢs, ʀᴀᴄɪsᴍ, ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ sᴍᴜᴛ (ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴇᴛ), ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛ, ᴀʙᴜsᴇ