#she prob finds things that remind her of her friends a lot

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think every single person in saikis group still sleeps with at least one stuffed animal, or in a few cases wants to but is too insecure to and just has lots of pillows/blankets instead (idc that weve literally seen some of their bedrooms and they arent like this idc idc its the vibe)

its saiki, kuboyasu, and saiko that are too insecure btw👍

yume definitely has the MOST stuffed animals on her bed, i think she barely has space for herself😭definitely makes little outfits for them too, probably has at least one teddy bear that she changes into pajamas every night with her

imu is in second place for the most

aiura only has a few but theyre really big ones, like a body pillow sized tiger stuffy and a unicorn or something like that

teru has a pretty regular teddy bear with various accessories she probably sews herself.. like cute little bows and scarves.. she also has a few stuffed animal keychains, and a couple of cutesy stuffies she got from yumehara

mera used to have a lot of those food themed stuffed animals on her bed, like sushi cats or burger cats if you know what im talking about, but she would get extra delirious in the mornings when she was hungry and try to take bites out of them☠️they are now stored on her desk or in her closet and her bed has just a few bunnies and cats yume gave her

hairo strikes me as the type of guy to keep his childhood stuffed animals and blankeys for the rest of his life because they mean something to him.. so he probably has a standard teddy bear, along with some superhero blankets and some build-a-bear stuffies with fun outfits (i bet you he thought superman and other superheroes were real guys when he was a kid, and looked up to them and wanted to be just like them)

nendo also has his old baby blanket and childhood teddy bear but they are absolutely in TATTERS

akechi has like an ocean themed entire bed i think☠️his sheets and blankets are shades of blue and he has a bunch of sea creature stuffed animals

toritsuka has body pillows but that goes without saying.. i think he also has a batman stuffed animal (or like, a build-a-bear with a batman costume.. because thats what i have lol) which he refuses to admit

saiko and kuboyasu never really got stuffed animals from their parents as kids and never thought to ask for them (neither of them know how they wouldve responded and it freaks them out) but they would always get secretly jealous of other kids who had stuffed animals and cute toys and keychains.. they probably both have some that either they made (yasu crocheting hc🫶) or were given to them recently by the group but they hide them out of embarrassment

saiki prob also has a few from the group and keeps them mostly hidden

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: motherly hashira!reader x the hashira pt 2

characters: fem!reader x muichiro, sanemi, mitsuri, obanai

AN: this is a pt 2 for the request from @danielle-marie

READ THE FIRST PART HERE

MUICHIRO

I LOVE THIS BABY SM U DONT UNDERSTAND

he's the hashira that ur most comfortable around

he was a hashira before u

but u get promoted and its an instinct

child.

must protect.

at first he probably gets annoyed by you

he's not used to someone caring for him the way that u do

but then one day ur sent on a long mission

maybe a few weeks long

and he finds himself missing something

of course he has no idea what it is that he's missing something

he completely forgot about u

but when you get back to the butterfly estate and he sees u

it clicks

he remembers

he missed you

he missed your overprotective nature

he missed your soft caring voice

he missed the way that you brush and style his hair

he REALLY missed that ^

walks up to u, grabs ur hand and tugs u away

doesn't care if you were talking to someone

and doesn't say a word

brings you to his favorite cloud watching spot with a tight grip on your hand

makes you sit down

and lays his head in ur lap

stop im squealing and kicking my feet from the cuteness

SANEMI

my guyyyyyy

have i ever told yall that i love him?

only in every single thing i post

anyways

he HATES you at first

lmfao rip u

your shy and quiet nature reminds him of giyuu

and if theres one person sanemi can't stand

its giyuu

therefore he don't fw u

and doesn't pay u much attention

UNTILLLLL

he witnesses u pulling genya by the ear to the infirmary after a mission

and telling genya tf off for pulling som stupid shit during the mission

+100 respect right there

not only are u actually talking

but ur screaming??

at his brother??

and taking care of him at the same time?????

my guy is lucky if he doesn't pop a boner right there lmfaooo

starts paying more attention to u after that

and is noticeably a lot nicer and calmer around you

will blush beet red and deny tf out of it if the other hashira comment abt his change of heart

but def develops a soft spot for u

MITSURI

SWEETEST HUMAN BEING TO EVER EXIST EVER

she loves u

ofc she does she's the love hashira

but in mitsuri's mind how could she not absolutely ADORE u

not only are you breathtakingly beautiful in her eyes

but she sees the way u interact with the younger slayers

how u genuinely care for everyone's wellbeing

if she wasn't looking for a husband she would wife u tf UP

she still might lol

mitsuri is gonna go out of her way to become friends with you

she's inviting u to her estate for girl's night with shinobu

she's dragging u along to her favorite restaurant for lunch

she's inviting u to join her at the hot springs to relax

she really enjoys ur presence

even if ur shy she thinks ur very soothing to be around

she loves when you do her hair!!

and when u cook for her??

mitsuri alrdy eats a lot

but if u made the food for her??

girl is not letting a CRUMB go to waste

loves the way u take care of everyone

especially when u take care of her

10/10 would recommend a mitsuri

OBANAI

someone pls love this man

he needs it so bad

so dude had SHIT parents

like bad bad

so when he sees ur interactions with the younger slayers he's prob a lil put off at first

like ma'am?

this is the demon slayer corps??

we don't have time for all ur mothering and coddling

but then he's injured on a mission

and waiting in the infirmary for shinobu to show up and patch him up

and then u bust through the doors???

confused asf

shinobu is on a mission and you've been helping out in the infirmary

so looks like ur the one taking care of him today

and turns out his injury is bad enough to land him an extended stay in his lil hospital bed

and after a few days of u taking care of him

with ur red face and soft stuttered words

he learns that you're not so bad

and he actually enjoys being around you

and being taken care of

won't voice this tho

but when Aoi comes in to give him his meds one day he gives himself away by accident

with a

"where's y/n?"

he's a blushing grumbling mess after that lol

after he discharged best believe the next time he gets injured he's not even going to the infirmary

he's hunting u tf down

nobody else gets to take care of him except YOU

and thats period.

[star-girl69]

After Midnight

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.

feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶

a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!

After Midnight - Chappell Roan

warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”

—-

“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”

This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.

You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.

“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”

Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”

You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.

It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.

Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.

This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.

“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”

You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.

“My ass does look really good,” you concede.

“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”

It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”

She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.

“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.

“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.

Ugh.

Dylan.

Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.

After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.

Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.

“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.

“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”

“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.

The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.

“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.

And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.

—-

Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.

You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.

When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.

Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.

Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.

Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.

Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.

It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.

God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.

It was impressive.

What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.

Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.

You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.

You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.

Besides, it’s not like she noticed.

You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.

“Y/N, babe.”

Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.

“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”

“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”

You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.

“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.

She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”

“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.

Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.

“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”

Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”

You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.

You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.

“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.

You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.

“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.

“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.

You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.

“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.

You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.

But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.

Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”

She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.

“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”

You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.

And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”

Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.

Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.

“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”

“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.

Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.

Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.

“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.

Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.

“Okay if I touch you?”

God in Heaven.

“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.

Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”

You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”

You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.

“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.

A frown immediately forms on her face.

“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”

She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.

Not a bad way to go, though.

“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”

“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”

“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”

It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.

You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.

“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.

She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”

You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.

“That’s a pretty good price.”

You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.

“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”

You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-

“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”

“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.

The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.

It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.

You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”

Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”

You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.

“Ladies, hold your applause.”

“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”

“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”

“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”

“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”

“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”

“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”

“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”

“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.

“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”

You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”

“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”

“Um… why, though?”

“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”

“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.

“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”

Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.

—-

You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.

KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.

You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.

A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.

“Y/N?”

Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.

“Yeah-?”

Oh.

“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.

“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”

“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”

“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”

“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”

Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”

“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”

KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.

“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”

“No, Y/N, come on-”

“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”

“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”

He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well, yeah. But I know him.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”

You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”

You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”

—-

With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.

You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.

“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.

She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”

“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”

“No, I would say you look even better.”

You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”

She laughs. “Workout routines?”

You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.

“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”

“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”

She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.

“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”

“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”

“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”

You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.

“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.

“Course, baby.”

You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.

You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.

You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.

You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.

“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.

“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”

She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.

You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.

You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.

“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”

You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”

She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.

Fuck.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”

You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.

“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.

Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.

Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.

You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.

Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.

“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”

She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“Are you really just any girl?”

“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.

And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.

“Text me when you want your jersey back.”

You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.

“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”

“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”

“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”

This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.

“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.

“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”

“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.

“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.

And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.

But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.

—-

laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔

y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her

jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm

dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering

[mywritersmind]

FOR THE PLOT - KA12

summary : A vacation, perfect timing, and their friends, bring Y/n and Kimi together on a tipsy adrenaline filled night.

listen up : KIMI ANTONELLI X READER! kissing and drinking! my first kimi fic which is super fun to write bc he’s the closest to my age. prob will make more parts!

word count : 1523

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Tan and in a mini dress is all I needed to feel myself again. When my friends said they were spontaneously going to the Maldives, I told them they were crazy and my parents would never go for it. Then they reminded me that I’m an adult and my parents had no choice but to say yes.

I sip on my pina colada, a hand in the air and dancing with my two best friends. Delilah giggles, her braided hair in two thick braids, she looks past me and giggles, “There’s a boy watching you!” A cool breeze blows past us, chilling my skin a bit under the humidity.

I laugh, “Couldn’t have made that less creepy?” Still, I turn around to see a boy indeed watching me. When my eyes meet his, he looks away, talking to his friend before glancing back and smiling softly.

He's cute and I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around the resort until now. He’s got a shorter brunette boy next to him, a tall dark haired boy, and a tall blonde boy dancing up to them with drinks.

I turn back to my friends and laugh, “Dibs on the blonde!” Cara says, pushing her light brown hair over her shoulder while checking the guy out as I laugh and frown down at my drink, empty.

I hop back over to the bar, seeing two of my guy friends, Micha and Jamie both flirting with much older guests. I give them a look to which they both smirk at before ordering another drink.

I hear laughter and what sounds like arguing, turning to see what is happening, I see the two boys pushing the cute curly haired one towards me.

He pushes against them, shaking his head. When he looks up at me and realizes I'm watching, his already burnt cheeks go pinker. “This is Kimi!” The blonde one says, slapping his friend on the shoulder before running off.

“I-” Kimi tugs on the collar of his dark blue button down, “Hi.”

I laugh, finding his awkwardness amusing, “Hi.”

“Sorry about my friends- they act like that a lot… more than you’d think.”

I raise a brow, “Pushing you to go talk to girls?”

He laughs, “Yeah. This is the first time I've actually wanted to, though.” I smile, the bartender handing me another pina colada.

I nod, watching the boy, “I’m Y/n.” He looks relieved when I talk, “I like your accent. Italian?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/n. And thanks, I am italian!” He leans against the bar, messing up his order but laughing with the bartender. “How long are you here for?”

“Got in like two days ago… I’m here for another two weeks!” He seems to perk up at this.

“I got in today! I’m here for two weeks as well.” He takes his drink and the bartender shoos us away. As Kimi walks next to me, I realize that he’s a good bit taller than me.

As we walk away from the party, I see my friends meeting Kimis, they all see us but I can tell they’re pretending to not watch. I laugh a bit as we walk down the beach.

I find out Kimi is eighteen and I sigh in relief because so am I. “This is my first real trip without my family.” He laughs shyly, “So far it’s looking up.” He glances at me.

“I think this counts as mine too. I mean- I went to Monza for like two days while my friend went to a race but…” I notice him staring at me and stop talking. “You okay?”

“Monza as in the Italian grand prix?”

I nod, “Yeah! Were you there or something? I’m not really into F1 but my best friend is totally obsessed, she’s the brunette back there eyeing your blonde friend.”

He laughs out loud, shaking his head, “Paul? Yeah well I think she will love him when she finds out he’s an F2 driver.”

“No way!” I drink more, “Funny how things like that happen.”

He nods, running a hand through his curls as we step onto the trail of villas that are perched over the water. He invites me to his deck, I can tell that guys are staying here because there’s board shorts, sunscreen, and cups left.

We sit on the sunken couch, I put my legs under me and turn towards him, his arm around the back. “I really like your necklace.” His hand goes to the chain around my neck, a tiny shell and pearl in the middle.

I bite my lip at his closeness, his hand brushing my chest, “Thanks. I make them.” He looks up quickly as I say it.

“Really? That’s insane!” His hand drops and I smile, my cheeks heating and suddenly I'm very thankful for the lack of light.

“I made this one here actually! I do rings and bracelets as well!” I accidentally start rattling on about what I make and he just sits and listens like I've known him for years. I realize what I'm doing and stop suddenly, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being passionate.” His eyes are beautiful and makes me think this is dangerous. Not being out here with a random guy, but already wanting to kiss him.

His head tilts against his arm, looking up at me with his brown eyes. I have a realization then. It's my last bit of summer, I'm eighteen, I'm alone with my friends, a cute boy is in my grasp.

We sit there for what feels like hours but I'm pretty sure there is only one. He’s so easy to talk to that I don’t know what time it is. I hear the footsteps of people going back to their rooms but after a while, everything is pretty quiet, except for the far away club music at the bar.

I sit up and grin, “Do you wanna go swimming?”

He raises a brow, “Now?”

I glance at the dark water that surrounds us, “Yes!”

That’s how I end up in the private pool that each villa has. It’s lit dimly from above and I'm even more grateful because I'm in my bra and underwear.

For the plot, I remind myself.

Kimi shirtless makes me doing things out of my comfort zone 100% worth it. He’s fucking ripped and I feel my face heating as I eye his abs and arms while he stands outside the water in just boxers. He didn’t change into swimming things because he didn’t want me to feel alone.

He turns around and does a backflip into the water, “Wow!” I laugh, feeling my drinks in me now, “Talented!”

“Ah, love, you have no clue!” He swims towards me, dunking his head and shaking his curls out like a dog. I ignore the nickname and laugh.

“Hey!” I yell, splashing him. He grins at me, his smile is ridiculously attractive.

“You’re cute.” He says quickly, swimming backwards. I laugh and watch him dive under the water.

I feel a hand grasp my ankle and suddenly I'm getting pulled under the water. I kick him and get back to air, laughing so hard that I start to cough.

“Shit are you-” I push him under the water, my hands on his head. We play around, he laughs and splashes me one last time as the back of my head hits the side of the pool.

He floats closer, his hand going to my face scares me at first, but then he softly rubs his thumbs under my eyes, wiping my clearly smudged mascara.

I smile, one hand still on my cheek and the other next to my head, holding himself up. Water is dripping from his curls onto his face but he only seems to notice me.

I bite my lip softly, his eyes going to them. When his eyes meet mine again he starts to speak, “Can I-” I know what he’s going to say.

I kiss him first, my hands on his neck as one of his goes to my waist, holding me up.

He kisses me back immediately, my head hitting the wood behind me and his hand tightening on my waist, slipping down a bit.

The creek of the floors makes us both look up to investigate, the tall brunette from before is like a deer in headlights, “Give a guy some warning!” He says in a British accent.

Kimi just drops his head to my shoulder, shaking it with his eyes squeezed shut, “Ollie!” At the yell, the boy hurries away and Kimi takes a second before looking up at me regretfully, “I’m so sorry.”

I laugh, “Honestly don’t worry.” I pull my hands away from him, “I should go though, need to find my friends.”

His eyes dim a bit but he nods and backs up, “Hey uh- think I can see you tomorrow?”

I step out of the water, stealing a towel and smiling wide with my back facing him. I breathe and turn back to him casually, “If you can find me.”

[randombush3]

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her. 

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon. 

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh. 

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.” 

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it. 

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.” 

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.” 

“You love my accent.” 

You smile. It’s true. 

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night. 

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet. 

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.” 

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck. 

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it. 

And then she looks at her phone. 

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for. 

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen. 

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.” 

She drives. 

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces. 

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then. 

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone. 

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.” 

Her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.” 

She understands you entirely. 

She all but drags you to her car. 

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother. 

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist. 

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport. 

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised. 

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future. 

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that. 

And, oh. 

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else. 

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch. 

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence. 

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door. 

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap. 

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full. 

The room is full. 

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification. 

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.  

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees! 

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you. 

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.” 

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice. 

“Jo…” 

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that. 

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.” 

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.” 

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question. 

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?” 

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away. 

 “Alexia,” you plead. 

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration. 

… 

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to. 

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression. 

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.” 

“You are Alexia Putellas.” 

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet. 

“Your father would love her.” 

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.  

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?” 

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain. 

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.” 

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag. 

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.” 

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.” 

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them. 

…

“Dance with me!” 

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music. 

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all. 

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting. 

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you. 

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?” 

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.” 

They cut the cake. 

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet. 

But, she values your presence. 

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you. 

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English. 

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back. 

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers. 

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful. 

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity. 

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete. 

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards. 

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her. 

…

The tour ends. 

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last. 

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy. 

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes. 

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes. 

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning. 

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys. 

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.” 

“You’re not subtle.” 

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear. 

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone. 

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it. 

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response. 

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.” 

“England has a women’s team.” 

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?” 

“What?” 

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?” 

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.” 

“You’re not answering my question.” 

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.” 

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.” 

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days? 

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.” 

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.” 

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.” 

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.” 

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop. 

…

Things with Alexia are good. 

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you. 

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate. 

They will resonate. 

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree. 

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home. 

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night. 

Gio: Have you seen the new plan? 

Anya: What plan? 

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan. 

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other. 

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group. 

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.” 

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio. 

“It’s your solo.” 

“I don’t care.” 

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor. 

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing. 

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him. 

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night. 

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised. 

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them. 

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now. 

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation. 

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.” 

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!” 

“So what did she tell you?” 

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.” 

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial. 

You can only shake your head. 

You were not given a choice. 

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone. 

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team. 

It goes like this for months. 

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final). 

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either. 

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour. 

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care. 

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day. 

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.” 

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.” 

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.” 

She sighs. 

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have. 

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!” 

“No, that was last month.” 

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…” 

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along. 

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets. 

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you. 

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?” 

“I… I fired her.” 

“Who?” 

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!” 

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!” 

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win. 

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed. 

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss. 

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered. 

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?” 

“I hate watching football with you.” 

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams. 

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.” 

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now. 

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.” 

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.” 

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?” 

“Te lo dije. Nothing.” 

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight. 

“Are you proposing?” 

“Are you saying yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears. 

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind. 

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can. 

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed. 

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed. 

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée. 

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat. 

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun. 

Like, really fun. 

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses). 

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test. 

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt. 

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms. 

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them. 

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read. 

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.” 

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk. 

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?” 

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you. 

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.” 

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap. 

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?” 

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you. 

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now. 

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby? 

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued. 

“Is it mine?” 

“Yes, it’s yours.” 

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates. 

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute. 

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.” 

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.” 

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!” 

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.” 

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better. 

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to. 

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates. 

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them. 

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?” 

“You’re so nosy.” 

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.” 

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched. 

“Ale, tell me.” 

“No. You’re a gossip.” 

“I’m not a gossip.” 

“You so are.” 

“Am not.” 

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?” 

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding. 

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare. 

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.” 

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.” 

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates. 

“Yes! Just tell us.” 

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.  

Alexia clears her throat. 

“I’m sorry. How?!” 

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?” 

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.” 

“Because she’s…” 

“Exactly.” 

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia. 

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.” 

“A horse?” 

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women. 

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London. 

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head. 

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now. 

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks? 

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals. 

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break. 

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.” 

“There is another hour left.” 

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.” 

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.” 

“Don’t… rush,” you groan. 

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!” 

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.” 

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?” 

“One of those massive bars?” 

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!” 

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now. 

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.” 

“No.” 

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow. 

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?” 

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together. 

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything. 

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category. 

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you. 

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic. 

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far. 

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.” 

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way. 

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.” 

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players. 

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this. 

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords. 

“You can.” 

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan. 

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless. 

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.” 

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan. 

“She’s getting quite inventive.” 

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.” 

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.” 

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star. 

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi. 

2019 comes with change — a lot of it. 

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life. 

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms. 

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment. 

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask. 

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you. 

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.” 

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away. 

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.” 

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak. 

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?” 

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” 

She is going to fall apart without you. 

[st4rrl1ghtwastaken]

Intro!! pls read before interacting

So umm. Hi everyone. You can call us Chiaroscuro, or Chia for short :) We collectively identify as nonbinary and bi-ace, but we each have our own genders and orientations. (Alters and emojis under the cut.)

We’re a fictive-heavy traumagenic OSDD system, overall syscourse neutral, but syscourse is not unwelcome because we like watching people fight. (/j but also…not.)

We’re bodily Asian and might post some Chinese stuff occasionally (this is mostly an English blog though)

We do art and write fanfics sometimes (here’s the normal ao3 and the ship writing ao3.)

We have RP blogs for Albedo and Wanderer in HSR and also for Jiaoqiu (both pre- and post-2.5) and Blade. We will also make one for Sunday when we have him in-game.

Friend of @kavzz @chaoticsnowflake-ao3 @catamaurrr-star and @gamingwithsydney :D

🌏pro-LGBTQ+, pro-Palestine, mihoyo-critical 🌏

‼️We have autism, anxiety, NPD and probably a lot of other stuff! This is not ‘bragging’ or anything of the sort, this is a list of things to consider if you interact with us‼️

Posts we’d pin if this wasn’t our intro: a hot take on HSR/Genshin gameplay, list of tumblr resources, art refs for drawing non-white characters, parallels between Sunday, Nahida and Wanderer (+additions from an awesome person), someone’s thingy about why March 7th has NPD, a post about living with NPD, a reminder about cluster B personality disorders, a writing trope i wanna do, something about freedom, something else about masking, help for writing

AND A VERY VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO THOSE LIVING IN THE USA.

~~~~~

No DNI list, but we will block you if we find out you are:

LGBTQ+phobe

ableist (including sanist)

misogynist (including transmisogynistic etc)

racist in any way

offending/pro-contact harmful paraphilia (MAP, zoophile, necrophile etc)

zionist/pro-Hamas

islamophobe/antisemitist

mihoyo apologist

fan of cc!Wilbur and cc!DTeam

kink/porn blog

generally not someone we’re chill with

~~~~~

headmate tags:

vengeful god turned college student 🌀🪷 (icarus, he/him)

don’t mind me lol 🧹🫧 (misha, they/them)

teyvat’s greatest magician 🪄 (lyney, any pronouns)

everything’ll be ok 🏵️ (navia, she/her)

i’ll always be the final victor ♠️ (aventurine, he/they/it/xe)

reminder to take care of yourself 🌻 (beetle, they/xe/he)

paradisaea aka 🦜 (paradisaea/🦜/kav/kaveh, any pronouns)

every day is sunday 🦋 (sunday, xe/fae/they/it)

swamp cryptid elio 🦌 (elynas/elowen/elio, any pronouns)

wielding both pen and sword 🌧️ (xingqiu, he/she/they)

WHO’S PILOTING THE FLESH MECH?? (when we don’t know who’s fronting)

there will be more tags later on.

~~~~~

content tags:

st4rrl1ght yaps: /silly stuff

zhenyu writes: writing stuff

calx sketches: art stuff

qingque plays: gameplay stuff

wolfe socialises: social interactions

icarus exists: /srs stuff

riri thinks: mental health stuff

~~~~~

expect to see:

art

reblogged stuff

memes

mental health stuff

~~~~~

what’s ok?

asking questions about our gameplay

rambling about HSR/Genshin lore in a long ask

asking questions (about the blog or the mods)

anons (or blogs in general) vibing in the inbox

mentioning us in fanart/reblogs/polls etc

mental health rants (excluding selfharm/suicide)

~~~~~

what's not ok?

irl shit unless we're close (inclusing donation asks)

harassing us about our views

invasive questions

NSFW (this is a safe space for minors!)

kys/kms jokes

generally being mean to mods in a /srs way

~~~~~

stuff we like:

Genshin Impact

HSR

art

music

cats!!

acting like we’re god /lh

~~~~~

stuff we don’t like:

mihoyo (the company)

loud noises

bright lights

dogs sometimes :(

~~~~~

st4rrl1ght yaps: /silly stuff

zhenyu writes: writing stuff

calx sketches: art stuff

qingque plays: gameplay stuff

wolfe socialises: social interactions

icarus exists: /srs stuff

riri thinks: mental health stuff

(that’s prob all, but might add more next time)

[ibee00725]

YOUR YUU LOOKS SO CUTE LIKE A PENGUIN...

But beside that I would love to hear about her personality. is there any characters she particular likes(romantic or platonic) or any characters she dislikes? 🙏✨

SKFJSKF PENGUIN IBEEYUU 😭😭🫶🫶

i filled out this chart:

-ibee!yuu dresses in lolita, so shes def gonna be bffs w people active w social media and into beauty/fashion (cater/vil)

-friends w lilia (emo/goth solidarity fr)

-ambivert personality fs, opens up gradually but is hard to approach at first (rbf 😔 i promise shes not mean shes very silly)

-prefers savory things to sweets

-i live for ships where both parties have the same aesthetic/interests so i made my goth!malleyuu dreams come true 😭😭💪

-malleus and ibee!yuu bond over their love of gothic architecture, considers mal a close friend, understands his feeling of loneliness 😔🤲 def considers mal a person she particularly likes 😉they talk about the stars a lot, esp during their evening walks, cloudwatches in the daytime

-sebek finds her a little offputting 🫢 ibeeyuu thinks its bc of her outfit but its actually bc of how close she is with mal and sebek doesnt rlly trust her 😔 oo misunderstanding!! (sebek likes the fit tho, reminds him of dolls from Briar Valley) prob in the future the misunderstanding gets cleared up and he becomes a little brother to ibeeyuu (absolutely no sebek slander!!)

-halfway thru writing this i realized i forgot to put arrows for Jack 🧍‍♀️ theyre def more than acquaintances but less than friends, ibeeyuu likes people who are honest and uphold their values 👍

-absolutely scared shitless of floyd, no one in platforms can outrun the beanstalk of a dude😭 he thinks theyre friends tho LOL like its a game of who can run from who 😭

[chaoticspeedrun]

Heya beautiful, How's your day going? Pretty well i hope!

So you obsessed with some turtles too i see,especially the blue and purple one...

Well,i addicted to the blue one so,hear me out about that precious boy with reader (female or neutral your choise) in this scenario a little bit long:

The reader had some heavy problems in mind,she already know the turtle a some time so often they help her but this time,she make everything to be by herself without anyone. But our baby blue just wanna help so he goes to the reader's apartment and somehow maneged to be there making her feel better.

But

She just feel like that cuz she's throwing the problems on him without noticing. At some point,the two of them are hunging out watching a movie or sum and because of some fight play they end up kissing,and she notice in that moment what has bein going demanding to him go away.

Ashemed,she try to explain things ending up in a discusion about that but (after some angst moment) they make up for it and boom,confession and happy end! (Cuz i live for the happy ending 😊

Sorry if its to long or confusing,you can just ignore without probs bth,thank you for seeing this,bye bye!

Aaaaah! This ask hit a little close to home, I always overwork myself to much trying to do things alone, thanks for your ask! I hope I understood your idea correctly and that you like it! :)

Overworked

Pairing: Rise!Leo x GN reader (No use of Y/N)

Type: Oneshot

Summary: Reader wants to do this huge project themselves instead of relying on their friends, but Leo is dead set on helping.

Warnings: Slight angst.

MASTERLIST

Once you'd moved out on your own, and started college you felt like you were finally completely independent and in charge of your own life.

But recently since you'd started your internship you started noticing that might not be really true.

From the moment you moved out, the turtles had helped you with almost everything you'd needed, carrying the furniture inside your new apartment, decorating, setting up your electronics and bringing little gifts and stuff you would need that you had completely forgotten to get, like a microwave, some kitchen utencils, etcetera.

And the rest of your life wasn't any different.

Whenever you needed help with school work, Donnie was always ready and happy to help, he had already saved you anytime a file was deleted accidentally or your computer froze.

Food was never an issue, because Mikey loved popping in and cooking with you, teaching you new recipes, making sure the fridge was always stocked and always sending you back home from the lair with leftovers.

Raph was frequently checking in on you, worrying about how you were doing, reminding you to pay your bills, and he always knew when you had an appointment or important project.

And Leo, Leo was always there for anything you needed, wether you just needed a good laugh, someone to listen to you or if you were too anxious to make a phone call. He would offer to walk you home when you were out late, or portal something in when you forgot it at home.

The turtles were a constant in your life and you loved them to bits, but as you started calling Leo right after receiving a big project for your internship you had an epiphany.

Why was your immediate reaction to call Leo for help?

You immediately hung up before the phone could start ringing and took a moment to think.

The project you'd just been enthrusted with required a lot of networking, especially since you needed to find promoters and convince some higher ups to attend, which is why you'd thought Leo could help you.

But how would you prove you could take care of such a thing if you always had your friends doing everything for you? If you relied on Leo to get what you needed you wouldn't learn anything, no, you needed to be more independent and fend for yourself.

Resolute on this you started making a list of possible promoters to contact.

-

It'd been weeks since you started this project and the turtles were getting a little worried, especially Leo.

Ever since the project started they barely saw you, if at all, Mikey had popped in a couple of times wanting to cook with you but you always apologized and told him you'd already ate.

Raph would check on you, but everytime he did he seemed more worried, convinced you weren't sleeping well, but you'd tell him you had everything under control.

Donnie hadn't been worried, until he waltzed in to your apartment and saw you with a spreadsheet of things you needed to get done twice as long as the ones you made for your school projects where he had helped you and you both still hadn't slept much.

Leo was sure you were being consumed by stress and had immediately offered to help.

"I can do this myself Leo! Don't worry." you said.

But he did worry.

The others had begrudgingly accepted that you wanted to do this by yourself but Leo just couldn't.

He'd been crushing on you for so long, he loved hanging out at your apartment, loved being useful to you, loved it when you'd ask him for anything, if you said jump he'd ask how high.

Not that he would let you know that.

So how could he just let you do this all by yourself when it obviously was too much? What kind of knight in shining armor would he be if he just stood by while you wasted yourself away?

He'd just pay you a little visit to cheer you up.

-

Your hair was a mess from your hand going back and forth over your locks and pulling every once in a while, your lip had been bitten to the point it was bleeding and your eyes were red from staring at a screen for so long.

You kept convincing yourself that it would just take a little more, you could push through! But the spreadsheet glaring at you through the screen said otherwise.

You were about to stand up for another cup of coffee when the telltale sound of Leo's portals came from your living room.

"Knock knock~" Came his voice through the door of your room and you sighed before standing up to open it.

You were greeted with Leo's big grin which faltered just slightly at seeing you before going back to normal as if nothing had happened.

"Well hello, going somewhere?" He asked jokingly and you rolled your eyes walking around him to the kitchen.

"Just for coffee, what are you doing here?" you asked while you took out the coffee beans and he followed.

"Just wanted to hang around, I know you're busy but I thought some company might do you good" He answered easily making you look at him and his innocent smile with skepticism.

"Just to hang?" You asked and he nodded eagerly.

"Just to be around my dear friend while they go through their whole reserve of coffee in one try" He said and managed to pull a small smile out of you.

You sighed looking back at him "Alright, you can stay" You said looking at him softly while he grinned and added water to your coffee maker.

After that a couple days went by were Leo like clockwork portaled into your room to hang out keeping you company while you worked, which was actually great for your mood.

You started laughing more, eating better and best of all you had actually slept a whole 5 hours undisturbed since Leo started coming in.

Leo's company just made you feel way better than when you started, it must have been because he kept making jokes about what you were doing or the people who you had to contact but were stressful to work with, or sometimes he'd give you a massage while you leaned over your desk and refill your cup of coffee.

It was sweet, and the more you thought about it the giddier you felt.

And then finally, the last checkmark on your spreadsheet was checked off, the project finally finished for the time being.

You leaned back on your chair to stretch when you heard the sound of Leo's portal opening on your living room, you excitedly rushed over as he made his way through, just when the portal disappeared and he looked at you you jumped to his arms, he caught you wide eyed and looked down blushing as he saw you grinning at him.

"I finished! My project is done!" You said and he beamed down at you hugging you back and twirling you around.

"That's great! How are you feeling?" He asked and you giggled.

"I feel great! Accomplished! I can't believe I did all of this by myself! I told you I could do it" You said with sparkling eyes and in your excitement you didn't notice how Leo flinched slightly.

You separated yourself from him and started your way towards the kitchen "Wanna watch a movie? Your pick"

Leo agreed and soon you were both on your couch with a big bowl of popcorn already half finished and legally blonde playing on your TV.

As the movie progressed you started joking around with renewed energy, repeating the dialogue and acting out the part, at one especially ridiculous interpretation by Leo you started laughing wholeheartedly at him.

"Oh? You think you can do better than me?!" He asked grinning as you kept laughing

"I know I can do better, for such a drama queen your interpretation of Elle is terrible" you said and he gasped loudly placing a hand over his chest

"How dare you insult my acting, come here!" He said and his hands flew to your sides to tickle you, you screeched trying to get away from him as your laughter grew and he grinned wildly.

"LEHE-HE-OOOOH STO-HOHOP!" you stuttered between laughter as he kept going, leaning further over you.

Trying to squirm away from him you ended up falling from the couch and dragging him with you, with a huff you both ended up on the floor trying to catch your breaths from laughing.

When you looked up his face was right in front of yours and you noticed how adoring his gaze was, his eyes softening as you both seemed frozen in time.

You reached up to his face with your hand and he leaned towards it with a soft sigh.

You both started leaning closer and the past week went through your mind, how Leo was there with you while you were almost pulling your hair out from stress.

You felt one of his hands on your waist, remembering how kind he was as he massaged you while you pushed through your project and your back hurt horribly.

His breath against your lips and the smell of coffee from him reminded you how he kept filling your cup as you checked your spreadsheet.

How last night as he did you excitedly noticed you'd finished more calls and e-mails than you thought you had.

The space between your lips was gone and Leo was kissing you as you closed your eyes fully, laid on your living room floor, your hands went around his neck as you pulled him closer and you felt him sigh happily, smiling slightly into the kiss.

Your thoughts, intrusively took you out of the moment as you recalled you never called the chief of administration, you'd been dreading that call because he was just nasty.

But last night it was checked off your spreadsheet.

Your eyes were suddenly open wide as you recalled how many check marks on your spreadsheet you HADN'T marked, they just appeared, you're sure of it.

You stopped kissing Leo and he leaned back a bit, his eyes fluttering open until he noticed your expression, his heart sinking as he noticed you looked angry.

Before he could say anything you started sitting up making him fumble away as you spoke "You need to leave."

His eyes were open wide and he looked devastated "I-I thought that yo-"

"Leo" You said firmly stopping him in his tracks "I need you to leave, we'll talk tomorrow"

You couldn't look at him, couldn't look at what expression he was making, a flash of blue illuminated the room for a moment and then he was gone.

You laid your head on your hands as your thoughts went wild.

Everytime Leo left the room to get you more coffee, to go to the bathroom or get you food, when he came back the finished tasks on your spreadsheet increased.

Leo had been making those calls for you, he'd been deceiving you and letting you believe you'd done everything yourself, did he not trust you could? Did you rely so much on him?

The project was done, but you didn't feel accomplished at all.

-

When you woke up you had a headache, and you couldn't stop thinking about Leo.

The scene were you told him to get out after you kissed kept repeating through your mind like a broken record and you winced.

You shouldn't have done that, you liked Leo, you'd liked him for so long but you were so angry that he had deceived you.

You took out your phone and started typing on your chat with him.

"We need to talk"

Not much later the sound of Leo's portal made you walk out of your room.

You were greeted with the sight of the usually confident turtle looking anything but confident, his pose was relaxed but you could notice the slight hunch of his shoulders, how his eyes looked tired and would glance everywhere but you, and how his usual easy smile was nowhere to be seen.

You felt terrible about it, but you needed to stand your ground about what happened.

"Did you call the promoters for me?" You asked straight to the point and saw his eyes widen slightly before he looked down.

He didn't answer but it was enough.

"Why?" You asked searching desperately for his gaze "Didn't you think I could do it myself?"

"Of course you could, I just..."

"Then why?! I told you I wanted to do it myself! It was my project, I wanted to show I could do it alone!" Your voice grew louder and so did his as he glared at you.

"But you didn't have to! I just wanted to help!"

"But I didn't want your help!" you yelled

"Why not?! What did you need to prove?!" He asked frustrated.

"That I don't need to rely on you guys all the time!"

He scoffed "You weren't sleeping or eating properly! You can't prove you don't need us if you faint from overworking yourself!"

Your eyes widened as you registered his words and he winced but kept going, this time his voice lower almost a whisper.

"Did you regret kissing me?" he asked and your heart broke for him as he once again turned his gaze to the floor.

You swallowed your anger for a moment.

"Of course not" you told him as you walked closer, he looked back up at you nervously and you continued "I was mad, because I realized what you did and I felt like you didn't trust me, like you didn't believe I could do things myself."

"I do" He mumbled "You are more than capable, I know, it's just, you looked so exhausted and I just wanted to take a little of that weight off your shoulders."

You took one of his hands on yours and sighed "I know...you're right, I wasn't taking care of my health."

"But you asked me not to and I went behind your back, I'm sorry" He told you regretfully looking deep into your eyes.

Finally you smiled softly and squeezed his hands.

"It's Okay, thank you for worrying about me" you answered and he gave you a small smile back.

A moment of silence passed between both of you before you spoke again "Leo?"

"Hm?"

"I like you."

His eyes widened as he looked at you, his face slowly becoming a darker shade of green "you do?"

"Yeah" your smile grew slightly.

"You really do?" He asked again earnestly, lifting your hands with his to the level of your chests.

"I really really do, I've liked you for a long time now."

You heard Leo make a small excited sound on the back of his throath before he jumped into your arms, hugging you tight as he kissed you again.

You laughed into the kiss surprised before kissing him back, your hands on his shoulders now as he pulled you as close as possible to him, you teeth bumping against each other because you both couldn't stop smiling long enough to kiss properly.

You spent the morning in his arms, you'd talk more about what happened later, but you were sure Leo wouldn't deceive you like that again, for now you just wanted to enjoy as he churred, nuzzling into your neck.

[journalsouppe]

My spread for To The Moon! A friend recommended me this game and although there were a lot of things I really liked about this game, I really really don't like sad stories so this particular game just wasn't for me. The storytelling and art and music was all super well done!! I just hate reading or watching something that will leave me depressed afterwards.

So I do recommend this game if you like sad stories and my score is very subjective to my personal tastes, so don't let that deter you if you are interested in this game. I also gave Celeste a low score even though if I had watched a playthrough instead of playing it, it would've been way higher (I hated the mechanics but loved the art and storytelling). It's just not for me and that's totally okay!

Writing typed below! + extra blurb

rating: 7 played: su 2023 port: pc (steam) fave? N replayable? N recommend? Y

Comments:

"he likes cats" "why does the world have to be so complicated"

i'm worried this will turn into a horror game lol. the art reminds me of the witch

so many rabbits

"you neurotypicals" i... don't think this convo has anything to do with neurodivergency

the environments are so gorgeous

repetitive gameplay- slows down storytelling

i like river's expressive eyes

cute lighthouse scene

if i had known the gameplay was this simple i prob wouldve watched keith or a similar lets player

aww pretty horse

oo it's getting creepy

why is neil missing

^ LMFAO NVM

OH SHIT

fucked they made him forget his own brother

NOT JOEY THIRD WHEELING

damn i do not like the mom

the fair is really cute

the river name scene is pissing me off (as someone who has such a rare name ive never met another person with my name irl or online, river is not that uncommon of a name T_T_T_T_TT_T)

awww his brother's back

the memory tech stuff is very confusing

idk why eva was so sketch i think neil wouldve agreed to it

why was the pill addiction relevant?? did i miss something??

Game notes:

beautiful music and pixel art

point and click walking

collect orbs to unlock memories

puzzle grid for memories

whac-a-mole with pretty janky controls

apparently you can move with arrow keys T_T

"combat" scene with dodging and shooting

Summary:

Although I liked the story and thought the thing was very wellmade, this game just wasn't my particular cup of tea. Similar to Celeste, I prob would've liked it if I had watched it instead. It's a depressing tale esp after realizing all the work you do is just some simulation and joey still died and river still died heartbroken. It's absolutely a game I'd recommend for people who like sad/sappy stories but it's not something I'd personally replay. Idk if I'll watch or play through the extra content, again this story just made me kinda depressed and i don't enjoy this feeling. I'm also confused why they acted like river's diagnosis was taboo or smth, she had smth like autism right? Why did they say so... The art style is very cute and the animations were done incredibly well. The environments were especially superbly made. The controls were a little odd esp for the mini games. A little disappointed I didn't learn to use the arrow keys until the last ten minutes of the game. Eva and Neil were fun characters, i liked their dynamic. I understand the structure of the story and finding key pieces of their life, but the gameplay got pretty repetitive and tedious until the switch in act 2/3. Overall, a good game with beautiful designs and simple mechanics. If you like sad/tragic stories then I def recommend. This game reminds me a lot of UP (the movie) so I think MC would really like this game (an old teacher of mine).

Also a little note on my comments for autism, I also have autism so it just felt a little weird playing this game. I'm sure the attitudes around autism were much different in the time they were depicting (probably around the mid to late 20th century) but it still rubbed me the wrong way that it seemed everyone treated river poorly, especially her husband. And I also just hate miscommunication tropes so bad so part of that really played into some of the diagnosis and storytelling. Again, not a game for me personally and these were just my critiques but I'm not actually or seriously offended by this game, I just hate sad shit!!!!!!

[genderqueerdykes]

Sometimes I feel really upset that I'll never really be able to 'pass' as not woman, (probably w/o hrt that is), and it sucks getting misgendered so easily. Like when I look at myself in the mirror I don't see a woman but then I go out and most strangers don't hesitate she/her-ing me and idk what to do to get people to like not say that lol. Like my hair is the longest it's been in 2 years, (I'd buzzed it all off the past like 6-ish years), and I really like how it looks and don't want to cut it off but even when I had the short hair I was still being called 'she/her'. And then there's the voice which is probs a big factor in the way I get gendered and well....

Idk, I don't want to let strangers affect my perception of myself but it's hard not to feel kinda bad when people dont perceive me the way me and my friends do :(

Sorry if this is probably a repeat of another anon or ask you've received, feel free to ignore this.

hello there, i'm sorry other people are making you feel alienated from yourself- strangers and social transition are often the hardest part of being trans and a lot of people end up staying in the closet because of these things, so i understand why it's feeling so overwhelming for you. it's not an easy thing to cope with and i'm sorry to hear it's made you feel this way

unfortunately, people are often raised to make assumptions about strangers based upon how their bodies look and their voices sound, because folks are taught it's "polite" to aggressively gender a stranger to affirm them. it's not really your fault, it's parents failing to teach their children that people can come in any shape and form, and that person's fault for not learning how to respect other's boundaries. it's a cultural and societal failing

if you're able to, try to remind yourself that you know who you are. you don't have to identify a certain way because of the she/her's. i know they hurt to hear, but that doesn't mean they're right about who you are. they know nothing about you, they've never truly gotten to meet you, and they're making a very baseless and shitty assumption. a lot of people choose to see the she/her's in a drag queen way, and i think it helps to remind yourself that pronouns don't = gender and that person literally doesn't know your identity, so they're not correct. you are the expert on yourself

sometimes vocal training without hormones can help, sometimes changing the way you dress can help, and some folks use makeup to make their faces look more masculine. there are a few ways you can change the way others see you without hormones, i hope you're able to find something that works for you. at the very least, i'm glad your friends understand you for who you are. it may help to see if you can reach out to any lgbt organizations in your area, and see if you can hang out with other queer people who don't judge folks based off of opinion and voice. having a community can help a ton. even online communities can be super helpful

i hope you're able to find a way to feel a bit better, i know people can be very shitty and make assumptions that hurt us, it's a massive failing on society's behalf to take care of all of us, not just some of us. it's not fair, and it's okay to be hurt when people address you incorrectly. i wish you the best of luck, take care, and stay safe out there, if you need anymore help feel free to ask

[zagged-again]

hard to believe that it isn't ai generated :( lol saw some ppl commenting how it looks ai generated. can't blame em

its gonna take years for even a trailer to come out but what are some things you're wishing to see in the movie? i hope the one guy from the concept art is her love interest, but most likely hes prob not. based on the little info we got on it, how do u think its gonna play out? any theories?

would be cool if they have a spin off series of her and her possible friend group's adventures in nyc

Yeah :(

I think it's possible he's a love interest but the romance won't be a big focus. Maybe he'll be a supportive friend who has some shippy moments with her.

When I imagine what the movie will be like, I think of animated Barbie movies, except on big screen. You got a talented young girl with magic powers, her sidekicks (musical notes and possibly animals), supportive girl friends and a guy who may or may not be a love interest, an evil lady that probably wants to steal her magic, the themes of being yourself and following your dreams and of course, songs. There are also modern fairytale vibes: I remember reading somewhere that the notes were based off the seven dwarfs, and the villainess reminds me of the evil queen/stepmother, except she's jealous not of Melody's beauty, but of her singing.

The villain lady, Rose Stellar, is probably the most interesting to me (also she's gorgeous). There is an image where Melody is singing at someone's grave, so what if one or both of her parents passed away? Imagine if it was her mother who gave her love of music, and after her death, maybe Melody abandons music for a while or the other way around - clings to music because it reminds her of her mom.

Then, when Melody arrives to the city, Rose could step in as an evil "stepmother", promising to take the girl under her wing and help her reach more fame, while secretly planning to destroy her.

I want her to have a big villain song. It could be her manipulating Melody (something like "Evil Like Me", except it's "Don't you want to be popular like me?") or her singing about her evil plans and her jealousy when she's alone (I keep thinking of "Little Girls" though in that case the antagonist is someone who wants to rise to fame, not someone who wants to maintain it).

Anyway, I think the movie could go something like this:

- Melody's childhood. We see her friends (Nina and Sunny), her family, how she discovered her love for music

- Jump to the present day, we see her deciding to go to the big city or her discovering the magical notes that serve as her guides

- In the city, she meets new people and builds up the courage to start performing in public (like at the park or at the square), attracting a lot of attention

- Rose notices her and gets jealous. Maybe she knows about the notes from the beginning or maybe, she finds out later. Either way, she wants Melody's magic and she wants to destroy her career before she gets more popular than her

- So she pretends to like Melody and says she wants to help her

- Notes try to make sure that Melody doesn't get caught up in all the fame and forget about her friends

- In the climax of the movie, Rose is close to achieving what she wants, and Melody finds out her true intentions and loses all hope. She thought her idol liked her, but actually, it was all fake, and maybe, without the notes, she feels like she's not good enough.

- Her friends reach out and tell her it's not true, and they have a touching song together (this is where I think "Sunny's letter" could come in)

- I can see something like the scene from "Belle" happening, where she starts out singing alone, and then more voices tune in, until it's the whole audience singing with her

- In the end, Rose is defeated, and Melody finds her own way to be a singer. Perhaps even helps kids like her to learn music

A spin-off series could be fun. Though Zag already has a concept for a series about a music school, Superstar, and I hope it wasn't abandoned completely because I love the designs of the charas.

[wooahaes]

Hmmm maybe joshua, hanahaki au? 😽

oooh... tbh i think i'd straight up just go for a joshua prequel for cause you're my flower.

this is probs gonna get long so uh. tw for angst + illness depictions via hanahaki + hospital mentions + also suffocation mentions (via the flowers). if you skipped the seungkwan fic, you should probably skip this too.

like. you know how it ends, sure, but i think there's a lot to say about joshua meeting reader in their sophomore year of college and falling for her (altho i can easily go back and change details to make this gn!reader) since there's not the full story in the other fic. i think it'd be a slower thing than illustrated of joshua slowly falling until he's in love. he decides to go ahead and act by asking you out, and you turn him down because you only ever thought of him as a friend. he accepts it with a smile and says that he hopes this doesn't damage your friendship at all: he still cares about you, and it isnt your fault he fell for you. just a very clear 'you aren't responsible for his feelings, it's his job to deal with them on his own.'

except he goes home and starts feeling... off. jeonghan comes back to their apartment and joshua coughs up flower petals, and both just immediately know whats going on. i dont remember if i said what joshua's flowers were? i don't think i did. maybe chrysanthemums since they mean death in some places in the world. jeonghan tells him he needs to see a doctor, joshua says he will.

and then he just... never does since he knows getting the flowers removed means he'll stop caring about his friend. he won't be able to love you at all if they're taken from him. he thinks, still stinging from rejection, that he'd rather die than live without you in his life. he told you that he wanted to stay friends with you, how was he supposed to turn around and tell you 'lol nvm, i can't see you ever again'??? he can't.

not all cases are fatal. joshua knows this. he just hopes he'll be lucky. he stays your friend and hides the petals well, because he just can't lose you. it eats him up inside to hear you talk about some dick you like (not out of jealousy--joshua has told you over and over that the guy you're crushing on is an asshole, but you claim he's always been nice to you, and he genuinely fears for you).

jeonghan fights with him. he calls him an idiot, and tells him that his mom keeps begging him to say something??? to find a way to convince you? she's tried so hard to get him to see a doctor, and she tells him she'll be flying back from the US to see him and help him through everything. it breaks him a bit when jeonghan tells him what she said: that she can't lose her son.

just. joshua angst. hes deeply conflicted between his love for his mom and his friends and the guilt he feels over this happening all because you didn't love him back, which isn't even your fault. he reads online where some ppl talk about how they hated the other person because of the flowers putting them through hell, people who did recover well, people who didn't... jeonghan comes into his room one night and takes his phone, setting it aside before curling up with him and telling him he has to take care of himself or he'll die. his mom doesn't want to lose her son. he doesn't want to lose his best friend, either.

he wakes up in the middle of the night coughing up flowers, climbing over jeonghan to make it to the bathroom in time. the buds are getting bigger, and he just stares at them with wet eyes bc it hurts so bad. and deep down, he thinks he should just accept it. he's the one who fell for you. it's his own fault for not loving someone who loved him back.

things get worse. you catch him coughing up petals (and an actual flower, but that much you don't see) one day, before it gets bad, and you confront him about it. he tells you outright that he didn't want you to feel guilty because it isn't your fault. you remind him that it is, and he only tells you that he could never hate you. you tell him he should because you don't love him back the way he deserves to be loved. you wish you could, at least to stop his suffering. you tell him that as much as you do love him as your friend, you'll make things easier for him and let this be the last time the two of you see one another. you've been planning on transferring to a different school for a while. you weren't sure how to tell him since you didn't want him to think it was because of this--you just had better scholarships there and the program was better for your major. but since the two of you don't share any classes anymore, you'll stop seeing him entirely. with one last hug, you tell him to please take care of himself and that you do love him (still not in the way that would fix this).

he goes home and probably just kind of breaks down in his kitchen after telling himself that he's completely fine. that this is good. but he can still feel shit in his throat, and he drops a glass, and it all just kind of comes crashing down around him. he texted jeonghan on the ride back about what happened, and he said he'd be home in a few minutes but he'd stop and grab him something sweet from the store. just as a tiny distraction from how much he's hurting. he sinks down onto the floor as he lets himself cry the way he needs to, everything just kind of coming to a crescendo.

and then he just realizes he can't catch his breath anymore. he reaches for his phone, trying to breathe. the door opens and he hears jeonghan call out for him, only to hear him scream his name before immediately pulling out his phone. the paramedics are on the way, and jeonghan is doing the best he can, guided by the person on the phone to help him. by the time they arrive, he's passed out and they're already working to clear his airways and making the call for an emergency procedure.

when joshua wakes up fully (coming in and out of consciousness for days bc fucking ouch), its to the sound of his mom talking to the nurse taking his vitals. he rouses, and the nurse is gentle before leaving to get his doctor. his mom cries and hugs him tight, calling him stupid for the first time since he did something dangerous as a child. but his limbs feel heavy as lead, and he tries his best to hold her and apologize.

when the doctor starts to ask questions, joshua realizes that... he doesn't remember anything about the person he fell in love with at all. not their name, the way they look, etc. and jeonghan has to be the one who steps in and tells him that the person isn't in his life anymore. its not unheard of for joshua to not remember anything about the person he fell in love with, but it isn't exactly common. they'll check back with him in a few days since he's staying for observation until he can be released: sometimes patients wake up not remembering, but remember more over the following days.

and he doesn't. joshua begs jeonghan to tell him something while his mom is out of the room (to get a proper meal--after joshua begged and jeonghan reassured her that he'd stay until she came back). so jeonghan agrees to tell him the basics: he met someone. he fell in love. they rejected him. and then he came home and began coughing up petals, and refused to get help to the point where jeonghan came home and found him collapsed on the floor. all of it gives him a headache, but he's thankful to have a little piece of his story back with him.

uh idk where i'd go from here. i'd probs leave jeonghan's story out and unwritten for a reason, but i'd maybe end it off a few years later with joshua getting the call from seokmin asking if he could convince his friend to go through with it bc he remembers enough about the suffering he went through. and joshua agrees without a second thought, not wanting anyone else to go through what he did.

[cartoonrival]

you might have talked about this before, but I'd love to know what the Chaotix are like in your AU! I miss the archie crew so bad

YAAA so the whole gang is knux, js, mighty, ray, charmy, espio, and vector. charmy hasn’t gotten back from his colony in my archie reading so idk saffron yet, but considering her position in the story as charmys fiancé and that my version would def have charmy still be 6 (and not a prince), i’m not currently planning on including her but idk maybe her character will really speak to me and ill find a way to rewrite her backstory and fit her in another way.

mighty and ray’s meeting story is a little different, i still like the idea of ray not having any living family left and mighty rescuing him, but instead of the whole prison camp thing i think ray was a survivor in a roboticized town that the chaotix visited (without needing to deal w the echidnaopolis/dingos/good-god-what-is-that debacles they would prob be a bit closer tied to the freedom fighters, but i still Do want to give them their own unique facet of the story instead of just ffs version2. still a wip.). maaaaaybe ray reminds mighty of tilly and thats part of the reason why he takes ray in, but tbh i’m not a big fan of the whole “i only (started to) care about this person because they remind me of someone else i loved.” especially in light of rays anxiety about mighty getting tilly back and being scared tilly would replace him. so still not set in stone why mighty would decide to invite ray to join them. maybe it was just his big ole eyes. he looked very polite

something i kinda wanna explore is the origins of the detective agency, i don’t think id try to involve everyone in it though. it would still just be espio charmy and vector. the three of them eventually move off the island for business reasons, which would lead into why they’re so strapped for cash in a way that doesn’t seem to be affecting knuckles mighty js and ray. because the former three are actually trying to enter an at least somewhat capitalist society (sorry). i’m not sure how it would end up being those 3 specifically though or why they would decide to become detectives. i’m coming up with nearly all of this on the spot because you prompted me to even think hard about it (thank you)

charmy def only came along because when push comes to shove hes their little brother and they couldnt leave him behind, maybe it was esp and vec’s idea to begin with because they started accidentally solving cases and found they were actually good at it, and kinda similar to how they got a lot of work after the metal virus helping ppl find loved ones, they figured they could be of similar help with deroboticized mobians, and the other four just respectfully declined (knux and js for obvious reasons, and mighty just didnt think he was cut out for that sort of thing. and ray is sticking w mighty).

js and knux are def the two most tightly rooted to the island, but js is more prone to cabin fever than knuckles is so she does leave pretty often. usually she tries to get knuckles to come with her and someone else will watch the emerald, but even though knuckles DOES trust his friends he gets kinda antsy if hes away from it for too long or too often, so a lot of the time she leaves by herself or with someone else. archie!chaotix kind of put the story in a position where knuckles didnt have to worry about the master emerald quite as much because he had a bunch of friends who lived on the island and could cycle through guard duty when he wasnt there. it wasnt a BAAAD thing per se but the emerald is such a key part of knuckles character that i feel like if he no longer has to bear that weight alone then the core of his character is lost a bit ToT if you know what im saying. so i dont want him to be quite so willing to just let someone else handle it.

im on the fence about espio's spy backstory w the shinobi, i enjoyed READING it but idk if id want to carry through with it. the idea of him learning stuff that he just keeps from people could be recycled somehow though

[crimswords]

✧      ⸻      [    jonathan  daviss,    cis  male,    he/him    ]          ;          congratulations  on  surviving  the  parapet,  cadet  LUCIEN  NICHOLS,  and  welcome  to  the  rider’s  quadrant  !  at  TWENTY-THREE  years  old,  you  should  know  exactly  what  it  takes  to  make  it  to  graduation,  especially  being  so  RESILIENT  and  SELFLESS.  though,  i  do  suppose  your  tendencies  to  be  OVERANALYTICAL  and  DISTANT  may  make  it  hard  to  survive  until  threshing.  other  cadets  say  you  remind  them  of  your  heart  skipping  a  beat  when  you  miss  a  step,  talking  too  fast  when  you’re  excited,  and  love  persevering  through  grief,  but  we’ll  have  to  see  how  true  that  is.  remember:  if  you  want  a  dragon  —  earn  one.      ╱      

OVERVIEW  ;   full  name:  lucien  patrick  nichols nickname(s):  luc age:  twenty-three sexuality:  homosexual   family:  pierre  nichols  (  father  ),  evelyn  nichols  (  mother  ),  astride  nichols  (  sister  -  deceased  )occupation:  cadet,  first  year  wing:  fourth  wing,  flame  section,  first  squad signet:  unknown bonded  dragon:  unknown

PHYSICAL  ;   face  claim:  jonathan  daviss height:  5'10 eye  color:  brown hair  color:  dark  brown tattoos:  none

PERSONALITY  ;   positive  traits:  resilient,  selfless,  calculating negative  traits:  distant,  overanalytical,  doubtful character  parallels:  eddie  kaspbrak  (  it  ),  will  byers  (  stranger  things  ),  milo  thatch  (  atlantis:  the  lost  empire  )

BRIEF  HISTORY  ;  

lucien  is  the  youngest  of  two,  born  into  a  long  family  line  of  scribes.  their  family  has  always  valued  knowledge,  honesty,  and  determination.  

growing  up,  lucien  was  always  following  his  older  sister,  astride,  around.  being  only  a  year  and  some  change  apart,  they  were  inseparable  since  the  beginning.  

his  sister  was  always  the  outgoing  one,  pushing  them  both  to  the  limits  and  doing  things  that  would  have  given  their  parents  a  heart  attack

lucien  would  never  do  these  things  alone,  but  with  astride  by  his  side,  he  felt  invincible  

with  his  sister's  attitudes  and  overall  nature,  the  family  shouldn't  have  been  surprised  when  she  said  she  wouldn't  go  into  the  scribe  quadrant  and  instead  was  going  into  the  rider's  quadrant

it  was  nerve  wracking  to  say  the  least,  not  being  able  to  hear  from  the  person  he  thought  was  his  other  half.  she  even  almost  made  it  to  the  threshing.  but  the  day  before  her  name  was  called  as  they  all  mourned.  

none  of  the  family  knows  exactly  what  happened,  but  since  lucien  is  here  now,  he's  going  to  try  to  see  if  he  can  find  anyone  who  knows  what  exactly  happened.

now,  as  a  cadet,  lucien  has  no  idea  how  he  made  it.  he  almost  fell  off  the  parapet  so  many  times,  stumbled  to  the  ground  as  he  finished.

he's  also  a  staunch  rule  follower,  has  memorized  the  codex  word  for  word  at  this  point  and  is  working  on  the  types  of  dragons  next.  

he's  not  the  most  physically  fit,  nor  is  he  good  at  fighting,  but  his  intellect  is  most  likely  what's  going  to  help  him  get  farther  into  the  program.  

TLDR  ;  

a  ball  of  anxiety  who  only  joined  the  cadets  to  find  out  what  happened  to  his  sister.  he's  incredibly  intelligent  (  beetee  from  thg  tbh  )  but  he's  also  so  so  awkward.  doesn't  know  what  he  got  himself  into.  

WANTED  CONNECTIONS  ;  

friends  from  home:  maybe  these  people  were  also  around  scribes  a  lot  ?  lucien  spent  so  much  time  there,  people  probs  know  of  him

enemies:  people  in  his  squad  that  may  think  he's  the  weakest  link  !  give  me  the  pain  

allies:  they  don't  necessarily  have  to  be  in  the  same  squad/wing,  but  they  partially  feel  bad  for  lucien,  so  they're  going  to  help  him  out

crushes:  lucien  is  gay,  so  he'll  go  full  panic  mode  when  everyone's  sparring  and  they're  all  so  attractive.  (  he's  also  never  been  kissed  so  ...  marinate  on  that  ;)  )

[m1ckeyb3rry]

SHSHSHSSH yeah it’s probably just a cute moment actually it’s only angsty for us because we know those moments/interactions will never happen again

FRRR it reminds me of how some pets will end up adopting their owners’ mannerisms or act like them HAHA it’s so cute though….froakie waiting to evolve into a badass greninja also wait Karasu fletchinder so true it would definitely look after any of the “younger” pokemon in their teams also LMFAOOO I love zantetsus abomasnow that idea ate I think about it now and just imagine all the dumbass shit they do and it’s so funny…imagine they’re running down a mountain for some stupid reason tumblr and crack open a random rock and find abomasnowite and bam it now can mega evolve like just the stupidest scenario but he happens to get a strong pokemon out of it (when it can actually function properly LMAOO)

One thing yk about the miraverse is that it’s gonna be historically accurate and decked out with research!! But omg joltik in the safari zone!! LMAOO I kinda wanna imagine some stupid shit happening with Karasu there too especially with Hiori there maybe that’s his first confrontation with joltik #electrictypetrauma

LMFAO AEGISLASH writing on Ao3 under the name Nagiy/nprotector5ever I need an epilogue scene of aegislash becoming a prolific author and having works published all over now SEICHIRO MAGI HAS ME WHEEZING LMFAOOOOOO

Also nope all good!! If I hadn’t been involved in the brainstorming I wouldn’t have known LMAO probably would figure it’s some sort of hint but I don’t think people can tell from off the bat exact what item it would be!!! It’s so funny imagine though since most people probs don’t know they just imagine it as some sparkly cute accessory LMFAO wait gyarados def needs a matching bow now HAHAHA

LOLLL OK that makes sense I’m pretty certain a lot of canonverse gyms work similarly too!! Or have at least some inheritance factor amongst families im crying though yes papa Karasu sounds good im ngl I will never be a serious enjoyer of the use of the word daddy like I can’t LMAOOA

Well you’re succeeding I chuckle at your tags pretty often like damn you’re cooking and it’s not even a fic it’s just a random ass tag but HAHAHA maybe you should start your headers all off with a meme and get extra exposure

- Karasu anon

exactly like for us we're bawling because we know what's going to happen to the two of them but everyone else is like "aww cute family moments!!" HAHAHA

zantetsu and abomasnow are about to get their own side story (after they're introduced as reo's rivals) LMAOOO they're so funny omg imagine they accidentally run into aiku and mention knowing the manshine trio and aiku's like "yo ain't nagi the bitch that y/n likes" so he just gives zantetsu the abomasite so that he can wingman reader (bro is ALWAYS up to his oaeu shenanigans) because he didn't realize that knowing mc trio and actually being friends with them are NOT the same SDKJFHSLDKJ then zantetsu links up with mc trio and challenges reo to a battle and mega evolves his abomasnow but by this point reo has used the fire blast and flamethrower tms on his mawile so literally one move and abomasnow is out for the count SDKJFHSD

i will always be researching TRUST hahaha and yeahhh i think the safari zone would be rlly cute the only thing is the arc with hiori is right before the arc where reader gets deino/otoya gets happiny so hopefully that's not too many team member acquisitions in a short period of time?? although then there's about two arcs in between her getting deino and her getting magikarp followed by about two arcs more until she gets nidoran and then FIVE arcs until aegislash (although obviously there will need to be evolutions and whatnot in between) so hopefully it's okay...plus given that there's already been 8.8k words in just the prologue and one chapter it shouldn't feel too rushed

maybe aegislash is actually me #miraisaegislashcanon HAHAAH no because seichiro magi had me dying especially because yk reo said it with the STRAIGHTEST FACE like he has no idea why nagi's freaking out because unlike reader (who at least told karasu otoya and tullia the gist of the isekai adventure if not the details) nagi straight up never explained what happened to him...like bro thought he made it all up until he saw reader's aegislash so when chigiri and reo are like "where tf did you go" he's just like idfk LMAOOO

HELP i wonder if they think barou just yassified houndour for no reason LMAOAOA he would lowkey be the one though and yesss gyarados needs one as well (technically gyarados can also mega evolve so maybe she gets a mega stone with it too??)

yeah i think there def are a lot of gyms that work like that in canon!! i don't think all of the ones in pursuit will follow that method (some might have trials to select the next gym leader, some might have the city residents vote, and some might be via appointment) but the karasus def do HAHA and no you're so real for that i think daddy is lowkey cringy asf i could only ever say it as a joke SDKLJFS but just to stay on the safe side he will remain papa karasu (not that he's really mentioned much though...of the karasus only tabito and yayoi are relevant to the story)

HAHAHA i think it's so funny how there's truly two sides to my account like either it's ridiculous stupid dumbass memes that probably lower everyone's opinions of me or it's tragic angsty stories no in between (well ig my sillier stories are the in between but ykwim)

[moot-lover]

Things I just can’t seem to say to my own therapist bc I’m afraid of going back to the psych ward.

TW: S@, Divorce?, abuse, swearing, $h. @n@

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

A lot of ppl don’t know this abt me but I used to go to speech therapy when I was 3. That prob explains my shit English so bare with me a little :3.

Yk I guess you could say my whole life my parents fought. My own father told me the reason he sent me to speech therapy bc he didn’t wanna argue with my mother. I remember always hearing my mother and father fight every week. My job was to try to stop the fight or just protect my sister. I basically stepped up as a mother for my own sister because my own parents couldn’t because they always fought. I did struggle with psychosis at 6-8 at the same time.

I remember it going downhill all in 2019. I always saw these posts saying “I wish it was still 2019” to be honest 2019 was one of the worse years of my life. One of their fights got heated and the police where involved. When everything calmed down they told me and my sister they were gonna get divorced.

You could say their divorce was a huge blow on me. My sister too but my sister got over it quickly. She can accept reality quickly but I can’t. I remember trying so hard to try to fix my mom and dads relationship. I couldn’t accept the divorce for years. And maybe there’s still a part of me that still can’t. I’m not really sure.

I was forced to change schools. I was way happier in my old school but I’m somewhat grateful to have changed schools bc I���ve met some of the greatest ppl in my life. Which I will always appreciate so much. But yk that school had its downslides just like any other school. But ive been sexually harassed in this school too. I couldn’t feel safe. I couldn’t be happy. My friends were the only reason I actually liked going to school. I always afraid of being near the guy who SAed me. For 2 years this went on for. 2 YEARS. I didn’t get help from anybody. Not even my parents. I felt so neglected it’s crazy.

Then yk this year (new school now) I’ve been struggling with my depression and anxiety more now. I was on new medication almost every 3 months because none of them work. I’ve been sent to the hospital so many times it’s crazy. (I was sent to the hospital 4 times or something in my old school) I think I’ve been sent to the hospital 7 times by now. Tho I met an amazing friend. Or so I thought. She made me happy. I thought I was finally gonna get a good friendship. That was false. She SAed me so many times it’s crazy. She gr00med me, and by the state I live the closest thing to this is s3x trafficking. I was called a liar. No one believed me to the point only my closest friends and my mom, grandma, and my sister believed me. The worse part she knew I was SAed before. And she has a gc where she shit talks about me and tells her friends lies about the situation saying “She’s just jealous I have friends and you don’t”. I remind you that she made fun of my sh and me taking my medication for depression. It’s crazy still after all this evidence she lies and her friends still believe her.

During the same time my eating disorder rised up. I feel like I can’t eat. I feel like if I eat I’ll be fat. I’m scared of gaining weight. I’ll go crazy to lose weight. I’ll walk in circles to lose. I stay up trying to lose. I try to avoid so much meals and my parents can’t allow me to skip meals which makes me go even more crazy.

And literally 2 days ago my grandfather was diagnosed with kidney cancer. I feel horrible. I don’t feel happy.

I want help no I need help. I feel like I need someone to love me but I can’t find anyone who can. And all my exes we break up on bad terms or on neutral terms. I don’t wanna get into them because I’m over them by now but I dont feel loved. I love this girl but I know she doesn’t love me back. I can’t either feel love and when I do it’s obsession. I don’t feel healthy and I can’t keep a healthy relationship. I want someone who I can hold onto. Maybe feel like, “this is okay I’m finally home”. Which I know I won’t ever feel that way. I’ve been abused and harassed for so long I’m so desperate for someone to love me. I’m not okay. I’m so tired. I just wanna be happy.

And that’s my little vent ig.