#i love exploring him and language tbh

[sun-stricken]

im just imagining Grays first language not being (whatever tf Fiores language is, Im gonna say Fioren for the sake of my sanity) and him making himself learn at least some of it after Ur so he could join Fairy Tail

Like this little kid with a violent case of trauma and authority issues just shows up in the most broken Fioren Makarov has heard in awhile and then trying to teach him despite the apparent language barrier and Gray wouldnt tell him where he was from so he was really going off of nothing

imagine little Gray sitting with an unimpressed glare and Makarov silently panicking because how the fuck do you teach a kid a new language when you dont know his first one?? and later Gray sitting in the guild library by himself practicing so he doesnt have to tell anyone where hes from so they can teach him

and when Natsu joins he sits in on his lessons with Erza on language and writing to make sure he didnt miss anything

and even after a decade and making sure he perfected his accent down to the last syllable, he still stutters and messes up and his vowels sound off or maybe he fully slips into his mother tongue when hes sick or drunk or tired. and when he goes write things down he slips up and starts to write in it too

i love exploring him and anything to do with his hometown tbh

#he makes me so sad #luv him tho #fairy tail #gray fullbuster #sun strickens ft #im soft for gray and sibling/parental figures #GAWD #fairy tail headcanons #i love exploring him and language tbh #erza scarlet #makarov dreyar #natsu dragneel

[strawberrygyuuuu]

𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Genre —> Fluff

—> what it's like being in a relationship with them.

ˎˊ₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒₊˚𓂃・୨୧・ˎˊ₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒₊˚𓂃

YEONJUN

• He's so cutie

• loves having at least a hand on your thigh or around your waist bc it makes him feel at ease

• it's also js a natural reflex to just swing his arm around you or sum

• I can see him liking physical affection; or just any affection at that tbh

• he's just so opening loving especially to you so even if your love language isn't physically affectionate it's not a problem to him at all

• I believe his love language is a little bit of everything but more heavy on gift giving, quality time and physical affection.

• he loves gifting you stuff, he has the money and he may not always have the time so gifting you something he knows you'll like or heard you said you wanted is a way to show you that he still cares

• quality time because he knows y'all can't always be together because of his schedules and stuff but he tries

• anytime he can he'll send you a quick text to check up on you or a quick I love you text, maybe call for a few minutes or a quick visit on his lunch break to you

• physical affection because idk I feel like he's so cuddly, esp when he's sleepy or it's been a long day, a long time since he's seen you (like after tour for example).

• he lets you glam him up

• like...full on you can dress him how you like, makeup, heels, cute hair clips, babe have fun he's just happy to be there and that you're happy

• happy you = happy Junnie

• he's also a guy who would stare at you in such a lovesick way just in full adoration staring at you

SOOBIN

• soft giant

• yeah, he's tall asf but he's so gentle and sweet

• he was shy in the first month or two in the relationship before getting more comfortable with initiating things first n stuff

• if y'all were good friends before dating I think he'll be a little less shy, but not by much. Just a little more confidence

• he gives you piggyback rides, sometimes you don't have to ask like, if your feet hurt from walk or sum he'll gladly put you on his back or tell you to get in his bsck

• I think his love language is quality time and gift giving

• just being in the sa room as him doing your own thing, vibing

• or clinging to each other and talking, or just clinging to each other doing your own thing

• gift giving because I think he wants you to remember he loves you even if he can't always verbally tell you

• he's shy leave him alone😭

• he's trying to get better at words of affirmation tho so it's ok

• tucks you into bed and kisses your forehead, tell me I'm wrong you can't.

BEOMGYU

• It's definitely never boring

• the dates? Always spontaneous

• like..it can be a random afternoon on Tuesday and he'll just start getting ready and you have no choice but to follow him lol

• it could js be a walk, walking to nowhere in specific and if y'all find a cafe or a store you guys haven't seen before best believe you guys are going to explore that shit lol

• not all dates ofc, some are planned and romantic

• teases you a lot and is very playful but knows when to stop

• he doesn't over do it, usually just to get your attention tbh

• and this boy almost always wants your attention but it's okay bc you love him

• loves putting your hair in little ponytails on the top of your head on each side and literally pouts so much if you try and take it out or complain about it

• he giggles and is happy tho so ig it's worth it

• I think he sometimes try and wake up a little earlier just to spoil you; gifts, food, ur fav snacks and drinks and some new clothes or orders lots of stuff from online websites just to surprise you

• ofc there are moments where he knows to be serious or to calm down and enjoy the moment together w you

• he's the sweetest and is just v playful, pls be kind to him.

TAEHYUN

• he may seem cold or mean ig but he's so gentle and nice like he is the dream

• he's okay with physical affection but it's not his favorite, doesn't mean he'll complain or try and get you off if you initiate some from time to time though

• when sleeping, he will cuddle you because that's how he gets good sleep at night so enjoy it babes

• words of affirmation and quality time

• hes good at telling you words of affirmation, compliments and even tho he says I love you in special moments, he still tells you things to let you know he does love you, so much.

• I feel like quality time is obvious; I think he's more kept to himself but can be very fun and expressive at times

• spending time with you in the same room is something he likes doing

• it's comfort to him just by you being near him or beside him

• loves going places with you even if you've been there multiple times before. He just wants to be with you even if it's walking for ten minutes

• he writes cute & short notes to you before leaving for work usually because he leaves and wakes up earlier then you

• he DEF has a memory box of the things you've gifted him to cherish

• he adores you and loves you so so much, he trusts you and you're his first priority; over his work too.

• idk guys he's a keeper

HUENINGKAI

• soft giant pt.2

• memory box of things you've given him pt.2

• you guys gift each other plushies and stuffed animals bc it's like a cute little thing y'all do

• def keeps the stuffed animals/plushies you give him somewhere special separate from his plushies

• physical affection, words of affirmation

• he loves to cuddle, hold hands, kisses, hugs, literally anything he adores you

• he's so sweet and kind and gentle and soft ARUGH OTL

• he is the golden retriever bf

• really likes telling you how pretty you are or how he thinks your hair looks cute that day and expects you to also give him compliments

• actually, you better give him compliments and love him with all your heart bc he worships the ground you walk on so pls take good care of this big baby he's a sweet thang

• never had a bad word towards you or raises his voice at you

• I can see him sometimes trying to wrestle you a little but it's so gently it's just cute and y'all are a giggling mess

• JS LOVE THIS BOY PLS HE DESERVES THE WORLD

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt reactions #txt headcanons #taehyun fluff #taehyun x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai x reader #tomorrow x together headcanons #txt fic #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun x y/n #soobin x y/n #taehyun x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #hueningkai x y/n #txt drabbles #txt soft hours #txt soft thoughts #yeonjun soft thoughts

[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. 

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

[https-evan2]

heard you were suffering from writers block so I am here to ask for a fix :)

imagine:

being Pavitr’s friend for YEARS. I’m talking since diapers. Only to see him run after the same girl, Gyatri. You encourage him, of course. But, one night when he comes home with flowers, you attempt to cheer him up, assuming Gyatri rejected him. When in reality, he bought you flowers with her help and even prepared a little speech so he can finally tells you how he feels.

(I have a Hobie idea that is similar to this as well that’s more abt babysitting Mayday.)

i love this idea so much

since you didn’t request gender it’s gonna be neutral

no pronouns used for reader (as usual)

btw English isn’t my first language so it might be some grammar and spelling errors

• You’ve been his friend for as long as you could remember your earliest memory is when you were 5 and your and his family were having a dinner together

• there’s even pictures of when you two were in diapers together

• and you might have developed a teeny tiny crush on him

• but you’ve never acted on it bc of his crush on Gyatri

• Tbh it was a little sad seeing him being so hopelessly romantic for her but you were his best friend (sorry Hobie)

• You didn’t want to end your friendship bc of a stupid crush

• So no matter how sad you were you were always by his side

“Tonight is the night I’m going to tell her how i feel” he said

“Yeah at least I’ll finally catch a break from you straight up simping for her” you said jokingly

”I’m not simping” he said jokingly offended

“whatever help’s you sleep at night” you said and Pavitr slightly elbowed your side

• little did you know is that the person your best friend had been obsessing over was you and Gyatri had helped bim trying to confess to you

• but he made sure never to lie

•whenever he said that he was gonna tell her how he felt he meant tell her how he felt about you

• It was the next day aka Saturday

• he picked this day so he could confess to you during the sunset

• he had called you to sit by your favourite place

•it was a tall rooftop with an entrance that was almost secret

•you first thought that he was rejected bc he sounded a little more nervous and shyer on the phone

• never in a million years would you imagine that he was there with flowers…. For you!

“What the heck is all this” you said with a small chuckle

“Hi there, Y/N,

I've known you for what seems like an eternity, but even in all our time together, I've never been able to put into words how I truly feel about you.

Every time I see you, you make my heart skip a beat. Your presence alone makes me feel at ease, no matter what troubles I face in life. Being with you is like being in a warm embrace; I feel safe, protected, and loved.

I cherish every moment we've had as friends, but what I really want is to explore something more with you. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to be your partner, your lover, your everything.

No matter what happens, I promise to always be there for you. Whether we live on the same planet, or in different galaxies, my love for you will never fade.

Will you be mine?”

• You looked at him blushing like crazy

“y-you were into me this hole time!”

“Y-yes heh suprise!”

“please don’t just look at me like tha-“

•you interrupted him by hugging him

“Yes, I’d love to be yours” <3

#spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr my beloved #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #atsv x reader

[malewifesband]

sure you can do what you want with your trans headcanons but dont you want to explore the themes of the work. dont you want to see characters who actually have experiences like yours be the ones who are like you. laios' experience is simply not a transmasculine one, but it is a very, very transfeminine one

laios feels rejected by other men, bullied relentlessly by then as a child in all-male settings, and seems to feel safer with women BUT also feels innately like a predator around them (always keeping physical distance, terrified that others would even THINK he was attracted to marcille). he does everything in his power to seem safer and smaller and models much of his body language after like cute girls (i dont have the panel on hand, but the way he plays with the rim of his plate and then shyly looks up while pouting his lip when asking marcille if she wanted to stay on the island instead of go to jail is one example, but theres a lot. a lot.). hes envious of and idolizes his sister, sees her as more deserving of life than him. all these themes together are a very transfeminine themed character: the desire to become a monster (and even more his desire to become a dog) speaks to a desire to shed more his manhood than humanity outright. being a man specifically seems to limit him

there are a number of characters with more transmaculine themes. senshis desire to be a man in his own way, without the need for 'iron in his veins' (also very gay). chilchucks (and all halffoots) adoption of toxic masculine traits in order to 'pass' as a grown man when people refuse to see him as such, despite the damage it does to himself and to the women he loves. Kabrus feeling that he's just his foster mother's doll + the thing where a little girl who looks just like him sees the dungeon opening. falins tendency to go with whatever others want for her until she is fused with a (male) dragon and suddenly finding that she knows what she wants and is willing to assert herself to get it. lycions whole allegorical transition and the very firm assertion that he is a man in the adventurers bible despite being quite manly for an elf already. izutsumi reads the same both transmaculinely and transfemininely. otta, tbh. wont get into that one.

laios i think only makes sense as a transfeminine character

#laios touden #dungeon meshi

[creepy-friday]

Fem. proxy NSFW headcanons with the three proxies? (separately) I love the way you write them, and you really don't find people who write them accurately anymore. Thank you!

Hi! Thank you so much,I am glad the fandom is still alive! :D

Creepypasta Proxies x fem!Reader

|NSFW headcanons|

Warnings: implied nsfw,suggestive language,mental illness mentions,dub-con/non-con mentions,misogyny, various kinks mentions including dacryphilia,knife play and somnophilia

Side note: Sex is meant to be a pleasure experience for both partners (or more,whatever y'all are into) and it isn't limited to a particular "style", it is okay to explore and feel good and confident about it.Stay safe everyone!

Toby would be the one who would think about engaging in sexual activities the most

I ain't gonna sugarcoat it,he's still very mentally ill so he would only assume you don't necessarily find him attractive enough if you seem to reject all of his affection that would lead to something more

That's why during some of his breakdowns he might push you and get pretty violent,forcing himself onto you while kissing roughly,altough he wouldn't continue to a very end if you're extremely uncomfortable about it

Considering the amount of trauma he has,the few moments he can feel at his best are during the highs of an orgasm tbh

Did I ever mention he has a mommy kink? I definitely fucking did he will let you use him as you please,dirty talking also gets him last a few more rounds.He just wants to know he is the one who can please you the most,that he's doing a good job,that he's your pretty good boy~

Degrade him a little,he also doesn't mind if you want to crave a little something into his skin.Even tough he cannot feel pain he definitely likes it,it's something that makes him feel like he belongs to you

Toby would do the same if you let him.He has his moments where he wants to feel in total control,but at the same time he's all sloppy and needs to touch and lick every part of your body

Holding you into a tight grasp while you bounce on him makes him all vocal,he doesn't hold back on moans either, looking up to you like you're all that matters to him in this world

He loves to hold you as close as possible during intercourse,as close as he can get to hear your fast heartbeat or to lick the tears that escape from your pretty eyes

Masky is rough and would often not let you cum until you beg and further humiliate yourself to get it from him

He would fuck you in front of a mirror as exposed as possible while praising and shaming you at the same time

Holding your hair into a fist while pressing your head into a pillow and holding both of your hands between your back as he doesn't stop thrusting into you until you're left breathless is what he loves the most

He can still act arrogant and bossy, blowing the smoke on your face while forcing you to take all of his length in your throat,maybe even putting his hands under his head while acting like you blowing him off it's such a chore fucking douchebag

Tim can be a sweet and loving partner,making sure you are okay while leaving soft kisses on the spots Masky left on you

The white masked man still loves to be in power and would talk disgusting things to you because of it

"You were made for this,weren't you?" ; "Finally learning where your place is,am I right?" ; "I bet your cunt deserves more atttention,after all you've been a good slut lately" and so on and so forth,would make you agree and be vocal while saying the exact words he wants you to say

Would engage in fear play and grind onto you while you sleep,staring at you while he strokes himself off and finally covering your mouth and thrusting all of his length into you while letting out grunts and low moans

Hate fucking is nothing that he isn't familiar with,he secretly adores when you put him in his place and fuck his brains out,if you're not easily intimidated and take the lead you can make him roll his eyes into his skull and use this to shame him later he deserves it

Hoodie adores when you start crying while desperately holding onto him if you're not tied up,of course while you're overstimulated and shaking from the last few orgasms.

"C'mon,I know you can continue,one more time for me,hm?"

He's isn't as much of a jerk like his friend,but I totally can see him taking his sweet time to ravish you just for his fucked up pleasure

He would often tease you in semi public spaces or legit under the table while other residents are talking to you,he has no shame about it either

Cannot keep his mouth shut for anything,he will whisper the dirtiest filth to your ears while soft grunts escape his mouth

Except to be touched while sleeping next to him.He would gently pet your hair while you sleep on his chest,then his hand would move across your body.He cannot help it,you look way too peaceful while you're dozed off,so defenless and utterly at his mercy

If you insist to use a safe word with him he would respect it while smirking,his ego would be over the roof,especially knowing on how good he makes you feel

"You feelin' good?" he asks as he takes his sweet time to make you beg for him to go faster,he's okay to take orders and doesn't mind instructions on how to make you feel even better than before

As long as you allow him in and ask nicely he's all yours to break or to use to break yourself into~

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #headcanons #y/n #tim wright #tim wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian x reader #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets headcanons #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta toby headcanons #creepypasta masky headcanons #creepypasta hoodie headcanons

[skzooweemama]

Hello!!! Omg I've recently been obsessing over your posts 😅 I love your writing style!

If you're not too busy, could you do a thing that's like skz's reactions to finding out you're ticklish?

It's totally fine if you don't want to, take care!! 💕

yes ofccccc!! i'm so glad you like my writing!

formal apologies to all my not ticklish stays- just pretend for this one :) <33

two posts in two days? who am i? guess i’m on a writing kick lol- unfortunately i do not think this will continue (but also i don’t want it to be another month before i post again so i’m gonna do my best)

anyway- hope y’all enjoy!! this was super fun to write! still experimenting w formatting too so stay tuned 😵‍💫

~~~

Bang Chan:

channie definitely figured it out quick

literally he is always touching you

we've been over this

of course he is a gentleman

his love language may be physical touch, but he had to make sure you're okay w that first!

waits until you begin to initiate affection more often before he gets clingy

but then he's kind of all over you :)

you invited him over to your place one night, and even though he had just been working for hours, he was just too excited to see you

he was super tired though, so you took it upon yourself to set up a cute movie date so the two of you could just chill out and cuddle

at first, channie was just happily cuddled up against your side, an arm lazily slug around you waist while you petted his hair

it was cute and sleepy and perfect

until he just had to go and mess it up

chan's musicality seemed to get the best of him as he began to drum the rhythm to one of their tracks out on your waist

your very ticklish waist

there was a noble and valiant effort to stop yourself from freaking out, but alas

you let out a squeal and suddenly chan perked up, his exhaustion completely gone

safe to say you got pinned to the couch and tickled within an inch of your life

praying for you babe, he is a true monster

Lee Know:

minho wasn't really on the hunt for your tickle spots tbh

honestly, it's not something he thinks about a lot

unless it's happening right in front of him or he's feeling mischievous and he can take it out on someone in his direct vicinity (ex. our maknae on top)

his interest has to be piqued first

that's why when he figured out that you're ticklish, it was literally in the most cliche way possible

that's right- you got stuck in your shirt

it was a cute top that was way too expensive, but you had splurged a bit because you wanted something nice to wear on night outs

unfortunately, it was also incredibly tight and hard to get on and off

especially for your tipsy post-date brain... you were struggling

that's how minho found you, with your top half off, arms trapped in the fabric pulled over your head

he scoffed at you, shaking his head and tutting that you should've asked for help

just like him to be condescending at a time like this smh

but he does help you, grasping at your fabric cage and yanking upwards

and it was so helpful, except for the fact that he just barely brushed your underarms

which made you squeal and pull away from him

which made him curious

minho helped you out of the top completely before he decided to explore what made you squeal like that

after that, though, he tackled you onto the bed and found every single tickle spot you had before he even thought about letting you go

and he's a meanie too... idk if you'll survive :)

Changbin:

changbin has definitely tried to tickle you before

he just never found the spot

yk how sometimes you'll see vids of idols "tickling" their member's forearms or like shoulder?

he did shit like that, fully expecting you to laugh

safe to say you did not

so he had mostly given up, content with the fact that you aren't ticklish

however

he did start to take you on gym dates

and on one of these gym dates he discovered just how wrong he was

you decided to try to do an unassisted chin up, which you had been building up to by using resistance bands each time you tried

changbin was standing close by for moral support (and also to catch you just in case)

you made sure to remember the proper technique and pulled yourself all the way up, chin just meeting the bar

changbin cheered when you dropped down, grasping your waist and kissing your cheek proudly

you felt so victorious! but when changbin's hand just brushed against the skin of your stomach from beneath your shirt, you froze and let out a squeak of surprise

despite my earlier comments, changbin is no dummy

you can be sure that later that night he decided to see just how sensitive you really were

you'll never have a moment of peace with him now ;))))

Hyunjin:

hyunjin is a poker

for some reason, those long fingers of his are just drawn to exposed skin

changbin is a frequent target, but tbh all of the members have fallen victim to his shenanigans at some point

and ofc, there's no special treatment, even if you're dating him

you will be poked, and it will tickle

your first mistake was wearing a new shirt that had those slits going diagonally down the front of the top

you hadn't even thought anything of it when you put it on that morning

i mean, it's a shirt and you were under the assumption that your boyfriend wasn't a weirdo

(you were wrong)

that night, hyunjin decided to help you make some dinner

and by "help" i mean he stood behind you with his hands around your waist and his chin on your shoulder while you cooked, talking your ear off about whatever came to his mind

he's annoying

anyway, eventually he got bored

you were too focused on the food! how could you ignore him?!

as he stewed in his boredom, his fingers found their way to the slits in the front of your shirt and brushed up against your warm skin

and then, he delivered one firm poke

right to your bellybutton

immediately, you let out a strained giggle and tried to move away from him, but unfortunately he had you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body

before you could even devise another plan of escape, his hands slipped beneath your shirt and began to wreck your tummy, shirt slits be damned

you nearly died that night, and it was certainly not the last time something like that happened~

Han:

jisung was shy

really he was, especially at the beginning of your relationship

it took him a while to even work up the nerve to kiss you after you began dating, and even then he was kind of drunk

but somewhere around the 3 month mark, a switch flipped

he began to touch you more and he was more playful

introverts are funny like that

it stands to reason that he discovered how ticklish you were not long after

i mean, how were you supposed to respond when he asked to give you a foot massage? say no?

you tried that, but he pouted and you caved

you sort of accepted the fact that he'd find out, especially when you got out of the shower to find him on your bed with lotion and foot masks

and he looked so fcking cute too, curse you jisung >:(

safe to say he knew something was up as soon as you sat down to offer him a foot to massage

you were bright red, stuttering, and even sweating a lil bit

and when he started teasing?! telling you how cute you looked?!!?

oh no, you were done for

he couldn't even start massaging, you collapsed in giggles as soon as his fingers grazed the bottoms of your feet with lotion

your silly boyfriend started laughing at you, and the next thing you knew, your feet were headlocked beneath his arm and he was going to town on them

you screamed and thrashed, and eventually pulled a foot away and gave him a good kick

bad idea, because now he's gonna get revenge by finding out what other spots make you scream <3

Felix:

felix was totally curious

like you knew he was ticklish (you reminded him of that fact frequently), so shouldn't he know if you were too?

he thought he should

his investigation began one evening when he came over for a sleepover

you, ofc, were expecting nothing but cuddles and romantic cutesy stuff

after your last week of midterms at university, it felt more necessary than ever

felix, on the other hand, was nothing if not conniving

it wasn't his fault that you just looked so cute in your pjs

perfect to test his theories on as well

you had dragged him to the bathroom so you could do skincare together, and then made him sit through a face mask, and then you two finally went to bed

but felix still had to wait for the perfect moment

and he wasn't gonna stop you when your lips found their way to his, small kisses blossoming into a lazy make-out session

emphasis on "lazy" because honestly you could hardly keep your eyes open by the time he pulled away

he giggled and brushed your hair from your eyes, thumb tracing your kiss-swollen lips as he whispered about how pretty you were

you flushed, scolding him about being a tease before you reached to turn off your bedside table lamp

felix suddenly remembered his mission

and his time had arrived

you just barely clicked the light off before felix stuck his fingers right into your armpit, massaging deep circles into your flesh

you positively squealed, unable to stop yourself from falling into witch-like cackles

felix's investigation was a success, and you can bet he'd use these findings again and again

Seungmin:

seungmin tickles you to get what he wants

or at least, he does after he finds out about your weakness

and it doesn't take long really

technically, the two of you weren't even official yet when he makes the discovery

the night before, one thing kind of led to another during an after-party, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in the same bed

wearing very little

anywayyyy

seungmin was the first to wake up in the morning with a raging headache

no lie, he felt like he had been run over by 20 tour buses

somehow, when he saw you, cuddled into his chest snoozing peacefully, he felt less gross

it was probably because he was in love with you, but he wasn't really ready to admit that to himself yet

and he did really have to pee, and he could not do that with you koalabeared onto him

no time to think about emotions or anything

at first, he tried to shake you awake, which proved to be futile

next, he tried prying your arms off from around his waist, but your grip was like iron

finallly, he tried poking and prodding you because he didn't have any other ideas

almost immediately you began to squirm away, trying to fight off the tickles in your sleepy state

eventually (partly because you were too cute gently giggling and partly because now he really needed to pee) he finally dug into your sides and really gave you a good wake up call

you woke up laughing loudly from the tickles, and when your vision cleared, you saw a blushing seungmin making his way to the bathroom

I.N:

Jeongin tickles you when you annoy him

which you do a lot

it's like you were built to push all of his buttons istg

the first time he ever found out you were ticklish, you were making fun of him

it was a personal favorite pastime of yours

(definitely not because you thought jeongin was hot when he was frustrated, no ofc not)

today had just not been a good day for him in the slightest

his voice was a bit hoarse so he couldn’t record, he kept missing steps in their dance practice, and to top it all off he was breaking out from the stress of a new comeback

so really, why were you adding gas to that fire?

usually you only bugged him because you wanted to get his mind off of whatever was bothering him

your teasing was light hearted, and you never had bad intentions

but when you wouldn’t stop asking for kisses, started whining at him after he said he didn’t wanna give you kisses, and then sat yourself right on top of him and refused to move… that’s when he got fed up

and yet you kept it up

jeongin decided he needed to do something drastic

and of course he’d never hurt you and he wasn’t truly mad, but he did need to teach you a lesson

so… he set his hands on your hips, looking up at you from where you were seated on his lap, facing him

and he asked if you would move

when you said “no” once again, he squeezed your hips like his life depended on it

you shrieked and fell to the side, trying to squirm away from his evil hands as they tickled you mercilessly

as jeongin pinned you down and made you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t help but think about how you deserved this

whatever, it was fun so you just decided to be even more annoying in the future :)

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #fluff #skz tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickle #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #skzooweemama.asks #skzooweemama.writes

[toastedjeans]

Siren Tower AU!

I wanna keep this more on the silly side, but here's the basic gist of it.

There's a huge tower submerged in the ocean where many sirens and other sea creatures have found a home, and somehow humans have discovered it. They want to study and explore this tower, and the sirens are NOT happy about it, not wanting their home to be potentially destroyed. Pretty reasonable. But now, this random middle aged pizza baker somehow gets roped into this whole mess.

And here's the characters! (I tried to keep their heights accurate but idk if i succeeded)

And down there is some more info about everyone!

HUMANS (and Brick)

Peppino

He still has his pizzeria, but it's located a little closer to town. While business is slightly better than in game, he still has debts. But hey, he has his own apartment!! No more sleeping in the back of the pizzeria or on the floor!!

Peppino will sometimes just come to the shore or the port in the evening or at night to clear his head or be alone with his thoughts. Depressed guy. Will sometimes talk to himself when he thinks he's alone. He isn't necessarily afraid of the ocean, but because he can't swim, once he's in water the fear kicks in and he starts panicking.

He doesn't believe in sirens, mermaids, or other such creatures. Thinks they're just made up to tell scary stories of the sea. Jokes on him, he's about to meet the jolliest shark gnome man he's ever seen.

Brick

A gigantic rat that lives with Peppino, who didn't get a say in this. Just appeared one day, and no matter how many times Peppino tries to get rid of him, Brick always comes back. After a while Pep reluctantly accepts him and sometimes even takes him for a walk.

Brick actually loves to swim, but doesn't stay in the water for too long cause Pep won't join him. Like, he'll just leave if Brick stays too long. Kinda rude if you ask me.

Mr. Stick

Tax and debt collector, and a friend of Peppino. He often comes over for a pizza, then proceeds not to eat much, and rarely pays (he either says he's deducting it from Pep's debts or he lets someone else pay). He's kind of a piece of shit but outside of the whole money business he can be pretty nice.

He strikes me as a gambler tbh, either he's extremely lucky or extremely unlucky. Likes playing poker, and invites Peppino and Hazel to play after work from time to time.

Doesn't believe in sirens, but if he ever saw one he'd try to exploit it for money. He wouldn't kill it or anything though, mainly because he's too weak and he doesn't know how to handle guns.

Noisette / Hazel

She runs a little cafe near Peppino's pizzeria, and is good friends with him, but can sometimes be a little annoying. They hang out after work from time to time. When she notices that Peppino is having a rough day, she'll sometimes bring over a free cup of coffee or a slice of cake for him. Sometimes experiments with... interesting... food combinations, which are strangely popular.

She has loved mermaids and sirens since she was young and is very fond of them. Once she discovers they're real, she becomes even more fascinated and obsessed with them. You better believe she wanted to be a mermaid when she was young.

SIRENS

Gustavo

A little round shark man who is perfect in every way. He's curious and adventurous, and even though sirens and humans are enemies since, uh. A long time. He doesn't believe that humans are inherently evil. He'll help out whenever and however he can, but can get very aggressive when his friends or brethren are threatened. You will regret it if you anger him.

Noise annoys him often but they don't harm each other. He isn't really friends with Noise, but he will defend him if he's threatened or attacked.

One day he saves Peppino from drowning, which makes other sirens sceptical of him, especially those who think humans are evil. He will later try to learn human language to be able to communicate with Peppino better.

Noise

Goblin shark. He can theoretically go on land for a bit, but needs some water nearby. He's a little sceptical about humans, but not outright hostile. He likes annoying pretty much everyone, especially Peppino once they meet (he thinks his reactions are funny).

He throws sea urchins and pufferfish at others like bombs, as he (like most sirens) is immune to their poison / venom. While he's usually an unhinged gremlin, he just about melts when with Hazel. But of course he tries to hide this from others.

Fake Peppino

Created by Pizzahead from DNA of frogs, newts, and Peppino (obviously). He was meant to be a weapon for sirens against humans, and thus is supposed to be hostile. Unfortunately, he turned out to be extremely affectionate, and he loves hugs. Much like Gustavo, when friends are attacked, he can get downright deadly. He can also regenerate body parts like an axolotl, unless his brain has been damaged. Like, you can rip both his arms off and they'll grow back within a day.

He becomes close friends with Gustavo, and is kind of fascinated by Peppino (other humans too, but mostly Peppino). He would play in the water with Brick once they meet, and become friends with Hazel. Can go on land as well, but prefers the water. He communicates with croaks, gurgles and other noises, and can speak very limited human language (very few fractions of words or sentences, it just sounds like gibberish), taught to him by Pizzahead.

Pepperman

Lumpfish (idk either just roll with it). He's kind of indifferent to humans, but he does think he's better than them. I could see him making a brush or something out of seaweed to draw. And then always getting upset that his drawings never stay cause of the water, but he keeps drawing anyway. Blames Noise for destroying his art even if he knows it's the water (Noise thinks it's funny). "Borrows" seaweed from Vigi's farm to make new brushes. But he'll also make statues out of various rocks and other things he finds laying around. Mostly of himself. Some humans think they're built from ancient civilizations, while others think it's some sort of elaborate hoax. Nobody recognizes Pepperman's talent :(

Vigilante

Sea slug. He genuinely believes humans want to kill sirens for nefarious reasons, possibly cause he's a little older i guess. Hands just appear when he needs them.

He has an underwater equivalent of a farm (like, he grows and tends to seaweeds, anemones, corals, etc), that he inherited from his grandpa. He'd love to just tend to the farm all day, but feels obligated to punish anyone who does wrong. Unofficial officer / sheriff of the sea. He still has his cowboy hat because i said so let me be silly on main.

Pizzahead

Ribbon eel. He can give others a little shock as if he had like a hand shocker thing. It mostly just hurts a bit and isn't lethal cause cartoon logic. He does not like humans, but mostly because he grew up with everyone around him telling him they're evil. Actually he's very curious and fascinated by humans, which is why he decided to clone Peppino. Mostly cause he sees him the most on the shore. Somehow. How he actually got his DNA is a mystery.

Later on he decides / attempts to make Fakey into a weapon after witnessing how strong Peppino is. He obsessively learns human language and tries to understand as much about human culture as he can. But he'll twist things around and tell others that he does it to "better understand their weaknesses". Right.

Pizzaface

Stingray. The leader of sirens in the elusive Siren Tower. He HATES humans, especially after some divers discovered the tower and continuously come there to explore. Basically just doesn't want his and his fellow sirens' home discovered or threatened. He's disappointed in Pizzahead because he taught himself human language, even after given an explanation (or excuse).

SPECULATION CORNER

Aka characters i can't quite figure out what to do with yet

Burton

A whale shark bc I can't get enough of sharks apparently. Sharks are cool okay

Alternative: just Mr. Stick's husband who sometimes comes with him to Peppino's

Gerome

A sentient rock and John's older brother, who always took care of him and helped him with the tower. Now just does maintenance and keeps John company.

Alternative: Peppino's janitor, but still made of rock because that's silly

John

A sentient rock that used to carry the tower around through the oceans but somehow got cursed and is now part of the foundation and can't move anymore. Was he a siren before? Or just a pillar? Or maybe a fish made of stone? We don't know.

#pizza tower #pizza tower au #Siren Tower AU #peppino spaghetti #gustavo pizza tower #brick pizza tower #mr. stick #the noise #noisette #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #pizzahead #pizzaface #toasted art #it's finally done #i hate being so slow with drawing but hey #to the three people who liked this idea. hope you enjoy #to everyone else. hello look at this silly fish thing

[isa-ghost]

do you have hc's for death duo?? if you just have more q!phil hc's i would enjoy them as well!!

Previous qPhil headcanons

YES HELLO these took me a hot second, I wanted to do Missa justice bc the fandom tends to just reduce him to nice wet cat in love with Phil. Unfortunately he gets on so little, I don't have a lot more than that to run with, so what you see is what you get and they're more Phil-POV'd. 😭

Also these are platonic bc you asked for Deathduo rather than Pissa!

Listen man. Missa's place in Phil's silly polycule? It's not strictly romantic (if at all) and not strictly platonic, it's a secret third thing. I don't hc Phil or Missa as aro but what they've got going on is def smth some aros would enjoy. The best way to explain it is Kiss The Homies. Except there's a massive crush on Missa's end.

Phil loves doing literally everything with Missa. Exploring, egg care, goofing around, whatever. Quality time and gift giving are his love languages no matter the type of love. He just loves hanging out.

Phil can do no wrong in Missa's eyes. He's this amazing (and very pretty), smart, caring and powerful guy. He cares so much about people, how could he possibly do wrong? Missa is the #3 Philza Minecraft defender (he concedes that Chayanne & Tallulah are #1 and #2).

Missa doesn't understand the whole Bolas thing but he's happy it seems to make Phil happy. He thinks? (The word he's looking for isn't happy, it's manic /lh)

Being away so often sucks, but Missa loves coming back and getting stories from Phil. ... The good ones, not the [lore] ones. Those scare him.

They love exaggeratedly rping nuclear family to tease Chayanne. Holding each other making kissy noises like OoOoH MiSsA I LoOoOvE yOu! OoOoOh PhiLzA I LoOoOvE yOu tOoOoOo! And then Chayanne starts (lovingly) hitting them

The rare times Phil is doing something that doesn't require him to move around, Missa gets a free lap pillow. Phil's good at playing with hair, Missa knocks right the fuck out

And Missa likes putting little braids n stuff in Phil's hair. Actually he looks damn good with those little side ones tbh.

There's something funny about the Angel of Death and a reaper being so close. When the kids are asleep, they swap stories about Missa's past reaping jobs and Phil's,, adventures

Speaking of Phil's past, Missa hasn't doubted him for a single second about what little of the hardcore gods Phil has shared with him. El Ender King es una pequeña perra. >:(

Actually he REALLY wants a full-on lore dump from Phil. The stories sound so fascinating. He wants to know more.

One of Phil's favorite things about Missa is how easy to startle he is. Missa screeches never get old.

Dependable as ever, Phil is the first one Missa goes to when he's missing information or scared. Phil always has answers and he can always protect him!! (*is heavily implying angst here, no Phil can't :)*)

Usually it happens when Phil is 100% alone but he does genuinely get a lil depressed when he misses Missa badly. He wanders to distract himself

Idk man if I was Missa I'd get a little 😳 seeing Phil spattered in blood after a battle where he obliterated whatever the fuck it is he's up against. Scary crow man being a badass motherfucker and then his bloodied ass's first question is if you're okay?? HOO. Would not blame Missa for acting unwise about it

#qsmp #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #q!philza #q!missa #philza #missasinfonia #qsmp deathduo

[nyehilismwriting]

do you have a favorite character to write?

I love all my children equally😇

BUT t b h it's whoever I've been writing most recently/most indepth!

writing Nash comes very easy to me - I don't often have to stop and really think about their characterisation, particularly their conversations with the operative, and that's a dynamic I never get tired of writing.

rohan is always always fun. xe can be a bit tougher to characterise than nash, since xe has a lot more.....layers, but I love xem and thinking about xir reactions to stuff is always a good time, even (especially) when xe's being....irrational, or kind of a dick.

leanna is also a joy to write, she's a nice break from the intensity and, tbh, bullshit of the first two. she's very straightforward and very refreshing, and I like writing a character who is more mature and knows what she wants and what she's looking for in a scene.

ki-ha is my specialest little man and I love him- he's great fun to write, and he has a lot of context to him that you guys aren't aware of yet, which makes him super fun to drop hints about👀 he is also, like leanna, one of the more straightforward characters, and I find his dynamic with the operative really satisfying.

rhaxa and imxa are just FUN! I love exploring the nonhuman axis there, with different body language and different experiences and how those colour their interactions with the op. you all haven't met imxa yet, but she's just kind of a dick, which is a thing I (obviously) enjoy writing, while rhaxa has a very different perspective from characters I usually write.

so, yeah! no favourite just my arms full of little dudes<3

#anon

[writerwithnofreetime]

Random Headcanons for Aokiji/Kuzan

established relationship implied?

Note: I’ve been a fan of this type of content for a while, so I wanted to try my hand at actually writing it :)! If you have any suggestions, formatting tips, or feedback pls let me know! Enjoy :)

Fluff/Sfw

Kuzan is definitely the type whose love language is lazing around together.

The two of you can often be found under the shade of a tree, a book in your hand as he naps quietly in your lap.

It's interesting. I don't see him as the type to actually be married (not in the traditional sense at least) but once he has his long-time partner, he's yours.

All that flirting he used to do with randoms is replaced with him mentioning you every five seconds lol

Kuzan: 'my s/o, my s/o, my s/o'

He doesn't strike me as the jealous type, but he will not stand for anyone blatantly hitting on you in front of him.

He won't lash out per se, just give them an icy stare

He's also not very possessive. You're your own person and free to do whatever you like.

Trying to make him jealous would be pointless. He's too easy going.

He also doesn't think anyone could take him from you tbh.

Kuzan is quite flirtatious, and I think that he would appreciate a partner who's not afraid to flirt back.

"Oi, you're a pretty one! You free tonight?" To which you respond with a forwardness he usually never receives

Oh, he's tuned IN.

I also think it would be quite funny fitting for him to end up with a s/o that completely ignores him every time he hits on them

No blushing, no reaction, just carrying on like nothing was said

He'd be determined to get you to acknowledge him

I'm going to end up making a pt 2 I have so many for him lolol

nsfw below

Nsfw(ish)

CW: Fingering, Temperature Play, Nipple play, dirty talk, Slight (very slight) sadism, use of the word 'cunt'

If you're willing, you guys would fuck the first night.

He's grown as fuck. There's no point in waiting if it's what you both want.

If you're not with it, no worries. He doesn't mind waiting.

Whenever you two end up hooking up, it will definitely be a pleasant experience.

I know everyone else hcs him as a lazy lover, but I beg to differ.

He is slow- and deliberate. Especially the first time you guys have sex

You're in very good hands. Excellent hands. Dexterous hands.

He knows how to use his fingers.

Temperature play is definitely involved. Kuzan feels it would be a waste of his devil fruit otherwise.

He's a very soft dom with a slight (and I do mean slight) torture kink. He'll coax you through everything.

He consistently talks FILTHY.

You'll be whimpering in his lap, with two fingers deep in your cunt while his other hand nips at your nipples

"Tell me, baby, does it feel good? Good enough to make you cream on my fingers?"

He's going to take his time exploring your body. Foreplay won't end until he's certain that you're ready to take his dick.

He will edge you.

Of course, he's still pretty lazy so. All his favorite positions are ones where he can hold you close, or where you do most of the work.

He loves it when you ride him.

He'll offer his support with his mouth- either kissing various parts of your body (your tits) or whispering some naughty shit in your ear.

His hands will either be at your hips helping you bounce up and down his dick, rubbing at your clit, or grabbing one of your tits.

He's a boob man.

He really likes praising you, especially for how good you are at taking all of him inside of you.

He really likes it when you moan his name (honestly, who doesnt tbh)

When Kuzan feels he's close, he'll change positions to missionary and pin you down to really dig you out

If he can help it, he's going to make sure you cum first or directly after him

When he gets close, he talks a lot less- mostly just grunts, hisses and escaped moans.

He says your name a lot.

For your guy's first encounter, he uses a condom and just finishes inside you.

After you guys have been together and have had conversation(s) about it, he goes raw

His favorite place to finish is on your torso. Of course, he loves when it gets on your boobs too.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece smut #op x you #op x reader #op x y/n #aokiji #aokiji kuzan #kuzan one piece #kuzan x reader #kuzan #aokiji one piece #aokiji x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece hcs #one piece admirals #this is my first one pls be kind #kuzan imagine #one piece imagine #kuzan scenarios #kuzan x black!reader #black reader #aokiji headcanons

[yuriririnnie]

Sober Thoughts

A/N: Reminiscent of my old conversations with my ex boyfriends over a pint (or pints tbh) of beer. I'll probably edit this again later on my laptop. For now, settle with no italicized words. Lmao

PAIRING | Lee Heeseung x female reader

WC | 2.6k

GENRE | Fluff, suggestive (if you squint) though I try to keep it PG

WARNINGS | Explicit language, mentions of alcohol and implied underaged drinking, suggestive, mentions of premarital sex

SYNOPSIS | It was a tough week for you and your boyfriend so you sit down in a quiet speakeasy bar where you guys had your first beer together. There wasn't anything special. No birthdays, anniversaries, etc. You weren't celebrating anything. Just you, him, and the comfortable nostalgia from your 7-year long relationship.

--

"Been a while, don't you think?" he wiggled onto his seat after pulling your chair out for you to get comfortable close to him.

You looked around. "It still looks the same as three months ago."

"I wonder if they still remember us."

"I'm sure the waitress still remembers you."

"You're gonna fight with me over that again like last time?"

"Nah, you're not as handsome as you were when we were in college." you giggled. He still is, but you can't give him that.

He scoffed at the remark. "But what about when the guy next to us thought you and I were just friends? The one who asked for your number while I was in the bathroom? Hmm?"

"He was obviously drunk!"

"Sad I wasn't drunk enough myself. I could have kicked his ass."

You rolled your eyes trying to fight a laugh from escaping. Before you could comment, one of the waitresses approached your table.

"Welcome back, Sir!" she squealed, not even hiding that annoying flirty tone. Heeseung locked eyes with you and you both giggled over your unspoken communication.

"Yeah, here with my girlfriend of seven years again. We'll have two draught beers please."

She lets out a small huff, clearly disappointed that you two haven't broken up yet. You look up at her with a huge grin plastered on your face that's practically saying "Nice try, sister." And with that, she left with your orders.

"Guess I still got it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Mr. Hotshot."

"So how was your week, my love?" he reached out to hold both your hands. "Anything new you haven't complained to me about this week?"

"Very funny. I still haven't gotten any calls from any of the positions I applied for this month."

"How about that firm you worked for last year?"

"I liked working there but I kind of want to explore other places too. The legal world is getting pretty small so opportunities are scarce and I'm finding it much harder now more than ever." you were doing fine, just not that great. And that's not somewhere you want to be when you're in your twenties. "How about you?"

Your beers arrived. "Work has been the same." he takes a sip. "My boss is trying to lure me into getting a promotion though."

"That's great isn't it?!"

"It would be if we're ready to relocate."

"What do you mean? Does the promotion come with relocation?" you gulped your first mouthful of alcohol for the night, trying not to mind the seriousness of the conversation.

"Yeah. It's not that far. Just by the other side of the city. The commute doesn't make much of a difference, but I would rather we decide together once you've found a job that's good for you."

"That sounds very husband of you, Hee."

He chuckled softly, "I always incorporate you into my decisions. We've been together for so long after all."

"Has it really been seven years?" you rest your chin on your hand as you pretended to think.

"Time flies." he sighed.

"When you're having fun?"

"When you're with a psycho more like it."

"Fuck you."

"I did last night." he lifted his eyebrow with a smirk.

"Meh, I've seen you do better."

You both laugh. Again, he swallowed another mouthful of beer before saying, "I remember our first time here about four years ago. The beer tasted terrible!"

You covered his mouth to shut him up. "You can't say those things here Hee they might kick us out!" He shook his head to remove your hand. "Besides, it was our first time drinking alcohol back then."

"Was it?"

"Well, doesn't include Jake's birthday party when we were barely 17."

He scoffed. "I was 18. You were 12."

You slapped his hand. "I was 17 and a half!"

"You were half my size!"

"In my defense, I still kind of am to this day."

You could see his eyes disappear as he gulped his drink. This was just like any of your normal lovers' banters and you'd think that he's already made every single possible joke to you by now and that you guys have probably already argued over every single thing, yet still the attraction, spark, and freshness of young love continue to linger around the two of you.

Both of you were drinking faster than usual tonight. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all, but you really did enjoy hanging out with Heeseung. He wasn't just your boyfriend. He was also your best friend. You were lucky to find both in just one person.

"I still see that 15-year old little Ms. Perfect Girl who got a 93 in Chemistry when I got a 95."

"Why was I little Ms. Perfect? You were Mr. Hotshot with perfect grades, captain of the basketball team, vice president of the supreme student council—"

"Only because you were president." he interrupted with what looked like beer number 2 in his hands.

"You had absolutely no rizz in your 6-foot tall body though."

"No rizz?! I was able to get you!"

"Only because we got trapped in that audio-visual room with little to no sunlight," you recalled and the memory was so vivid it still felt like it happened yesterday, "and no phone signal too. God you were so loud! It was the first time we ever had a proper conversation outside of class."

Heeseung smiled as he thought about how you guys transitioned from enemies to friends to lovers.

"I found out about your family back then," you continued, "and your passion for music."

"You told me you wanted to be a lawyer and I thought it was totally weird."

You looked at him funny. "You don't seem to be so bothered by it now!"

"Only because I know you're gonna be rich someday."

That stupid smirk again. You poked his nose and he scrunched it simultaneously, earning a snicker from you.

"It wasn't always easy for us," you exhaled, "law school and work is tough."

"We pull through nonetheless."

You were both now on your third beer, and even if the night was still young and that it is still relatively too early for you to feel tipsy, it's there. You weren't drunk yet, but the buzz was slowly knocking on your head.

"How about Karina? Were you ever jealous of her?" he asked. You don't remember how the conversation went from arguing whether to paint the bathroom blue or yellow to the external factors that might have potentially caused a break up.

"No way!" you lied through your teeth, "I knew she was just a friend of yours from the start! I mean, she was drop-dead gorgeous but not enough to break me, nope."

He was full on laughing now, "Wokay, whatever you say Y/N my perfect angel bb girl lover baby."

"Stop mocking me!" you lightly slapped his shoulder, "Between you and I, in this relationship, you are the jealous one!"

Heeseung flinched a little bit because you were somewhat semi-screaming into his ear when you spoke. Oh he knew you were being your three-drink self already and he could tell because "three-drink Y/N" is loud Y/N. The buzz was now kicking itself in and you felt so much more light-headed that an hour ago. Nonetheless, he knew how you were feeling by now granted that this is probably your one hundredth time drinking together as a couple.

"Alright let me get this straight," he spoke close to your face, "you won't let me attend a Twice concert and finally see Jihyo the love of my life in person but still I'm the jealous one?!"

"Yes!" you huffed.

The sound of you guys' laughter and trivial taunting echoed the small bar. The music was mellow now and both of you were ready for another beer.

"I got really lonely when you decided to go to law school."

You nearly choked on your beer with his sudden confession. "Why? You always knew I was gonna get into law."

"Well, I know, I know, it's just," he took a deep breath, "Hearing how hard it was from my other friends and how demanding it would be for you, it kind of made me feel insecure."

"Why is that?"

"I thought that you might find someone in law school with the same interests, same aspirations in life, and end up dumping me for him." he let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

Four-drink Hee was sensitive Hee, and although he looked adorable with his doe eyes and red ears, it made you sad because you wish he told you that before. You guys talked about your futures together even in the early stages of dating and he was always supportive of your life decisions despite them being almost entirely different from the things he wanted. Luckily during the course of your relationship, you were able to find common grounds and although in an ideal world things could have been called perfect, the life you guys had was close to perfect despite the struggles because he's just so passionate, kind, and understanding of your needs.

"I would never dump you." you huffed.

"Yeah, well I kind of figured that if you wanted to dump me you would have a long time ago."

"Right? Now I'm just stuck with you."

He pouted. Oh right. This was still Four-drink Hee.

"—but of course, wouldn't have it any other way!" you quickly took back and he made the most precious grin. You couldn't help but pinch his cheek.

Five-drink Y/N was dirty Y/N and Heeseung could see in your eyes how dilated your pupils have become and how touchy you've been for the last 20 minutes. He was feeling a little drowsy now too considering that these beers do come in a pint per order.

Were the mugs really that big?

He shook his head and continued to listen to you rambling about something he already knows and maybe it was just the alcohol but did you really just start caressing his thigh? No, you couldn't have, and you were at a public place.

With lightning speed, he ordered two shots of tequila.

"Coming right up, Sir!" the waitress chirped as she skipped back to the counter.

"That bitch is really getting on my last nerve," you say groggily, "do you want me to make a scene?"

He let out a breathy laugh, "No baby, I just want you to drink."

Truthfully he wanted to just move on to Six-drink Y/N because Five-drink Y/N was either just horny or violent and while it would have been absolutely no problem for him (he's been wanting you ever since your second drink) if you guys were at home, sadly you weren't. And he needed to be the responsible one.

God was he perfect or what?

You both took your shots and wow did your world spin with just one teeny-tiny drink? Heeseung let out the loudest Korean post-drink sound and you could only look at him in adoration.

"Did I ever tell you how annoying you are?" you ask.

"It was the first thing you ever said to me and the last thing I heard before you left for work this morning."

"Right, I remember."

"Do you remember the day we moved in together?"

He looked down at your fingers tapping on the table, then to your lips which were pursed together in thought. It was his turn to look at you in awe, and all you did were the most mundane things.

"I remember the day we decided to move in together" you finally spoke, "we were in my studio apartment and the kitchen sink was always leaking, the walls were so thin we heard the neighbors fight all the time."

"It always ends in sex though."

"Yeah, well we would sometimes fight over whatever they were fighting about too."

"And then we end up having sex too."

You felt your blood rush up to your cheeks and playfully slapped his shoulder. "It was a humble beginning, but one night you woke up and—"

"I woke you up and asked you if you wanted to move in together."

"Right," you respond feeling a little shy from his gaze, "and it's been two years since."

"I do not miss that old apartment of yours. The leaks and creaky sounds were loud and your roommates were insufferable."

"And yours weren't? You had to share an apartment with Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, and they were all hooligans."

"Yeah, well we were in college and Jay paid for the rent a considerable long time so it helped me save up for our apartment now."

Heeseung was so much better than you when it comes to finances and since you were a student longer than he was, he covered for a lot of things for you. Post-grad, he was able to afford a two-bedroom apartment and even if the rent was a little high, not long after, he landed a considerably high-paying job at a creative agency. Sometimes you would envy his growth because it would always be exponential, but looking back to where you started from where you are now, you've come a very long way too.

"Do you ever see us getting married, Y/N?"

This was Seven-drink Heeseung and maybe this was his cap because you've never ever been asked this question by him before despite being together for so long. Nearly choking on your drink, you released a small cough in response.

He giggled and kept a lingering stare at your reaction. "I'm just messing with you, you don't have to—"

"Of course, I do."

"Oh."

His ears were burning red now. Cute.

"Who else would I spend the next seven years with? Or even the next ten? Twelve? Fourteen? Forever?" you made a cheesy grin to match your equally cheesy statement, "you ask the silliest questions, Mr. Lee."

"Alright, alright!" he put both his hands up in defeat, "let's go get the bill."

You could only nod because at this point you really did feel the alcohol in your head and it wasn't light anymore. It felt heavy, and if it weren't for the sobering conversation you had with your boyfriend by the end of the night, you would have semi-passed out by now.

--

Heeseung guided you up to your apartment, removed your shoes, and settled you onto your couch.

"Had fun tonight, baby?" he sat on the floor facing your bare legs as you rested your head back on the pillow.

"Mmm-hmm." you respond feeling his hands massage your aching calves, "Thank you for taking me out tonight."

"Of course."

The next morning, you could only recall the moment you fell asleep on the couch with him.

Seven years might not be a long time for some, and for others it might have felt like an eternity. But for some reason you were stuck in between a split-second and forever. That's how Heeseung made you feel. Euphoric but rational, ecstatic but calm, mature but youthful, innocent but brave. He provided the sweetness of Nirvana along with the thrill that comes with uncertain reality.

You were tiptoeing on the border of sober and drunk, and you're glad to be held by him now and maybe, just maybe, if life could just allow you to be even more lucky, forever.

#blog #kpop #kpop bg #kpop boys #enha imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung #heesung enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen

[https-evan2]

Slushies (Hobie brown x reader)

warnings! None just making out

No pronouns used

please mind English isn’t my first language and the making out will be pretty awkward since im not the biggest fan of the idea of it lol

• You and your boyfriend where heading home after one of his shows

• It wasn’t anything unusual considering you’ve been dating for months now

• It was getting dark which was a little unusual since it was summer

• You where just driving in his car barely awake but the he stopped

“hey luv’ wanna get somthin’ to eat” he said pointing to a gas station

“yeah” you said rubbing your eye trying to stay awake

• You both went inside of the gas station

• Tbh the constant sound of the air conditioning and the yellow tint was both annoying but really nostalgic

“I haven’t been in one of these since i was a kid” you said trying to break the silence

•You both went through and looked at food that had gone bad months ago hnit you come to the only thing without cobwebs on

•the slushie machines

“ey luv’ what do ya say?” He said pointing at the slushie machines

“yeah it’s probably the only thing that isn’t over 5 years old in here”

• You both walk towards it then pouring slushie in your cups

• You go over to the counter to pay only to be met by a sleeping middle aged man

• you slap a £2’er on the counter

“Are you sure that that was the actual price” you ask him

“eh cheaper is cheaper am i right?”

“That kinda illegal but okay”

• you sit down in his car and try not to thjnk about that

• After you’ve drunken almost half of your slushies you notice Hobie isn’t drinking just staring at you

“whats the matter got a staring problem?” You say jokingly

“Nothin’ you just look awfully lovely right now”

• He was always trying to tease you and make you flustered so it didn’t really affect you until you saw him unbuckle your seatbelts

“what are you-“ you tried to ask him but them immediately got put on his lap

“Oh gees you really want to do this now?” You say annoyed but still laughing at the end

“I dont see you complainin’”

• He grabbed your chin pressing his lips on to yours • You moved your hand up to his face and he moved his down to your waist

• The soft kiss slowly turned more heated and next thing you know you felt his tongue asking for permission

• You opened your mouth for him and the moment you did that he switched you around so he could use the seat as support

• He pressed you against the seat tongue exploring your mouth like there was no tomorrow

• You pulled away for air

• You look over at him smirking

“ya’know i would continue but i think we should drive away to somewhere more private” he said

• You would respond but you could barely form a sentence bc of how flustered you were even though it wasn’t anything unusual to make out with your boyfriend

“so watcha saying?”

#me? Actually writing something? #im kinda proud and i kinda don’t like it #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown x y/n #Gn!reader #hobie x gn! Reader

[melodyofhisheart]

description of my lover | matty healy.

hi !! here's an adorable chapter!! i hope you'll enjoy it as much as i do!! (matty is just a simp is this writing tbh..)

The last rays of the sun slipped through the patterned curtains of the room, creating a golden tapestry that enveloped every corner of the space. Seated cross-legged on the bed, his journal resting on his knees, he let the pen glide across the paper, allowing the words to flow from his heart with an ineffable intensity.

Beside him, she slept peacefully, her soft, steady breath giving rhythm to the air. Her face, bathed in the light of twilight, seemed like a delicate, sacred work of art. His gaze could not turn away from her, absorbing every detail of her being.

Lines took shape under his pen, each one dedicated to her and the way she illuminated his life. Her eyes, two sparkling jewels in a case of tenderness, transported him to a world where only the depth of her gaze and the intensity of their shared emotions existed.

Her slightly half-open eyelids hinted at distant dreams, a part of herself she shared with him alone. Every bat of her eyelashes was a silent promise of trust, an invisible bond that united them beyond words.

The contours of her face, sculpted with divine grace, evoked infinite softness. Every angle, every curve, was an expression of the perfection to which she naturally aspired. He gazed at her, fascinated by the way even the stillness of her sleep seemed to dance with innate elegance.

Her lips, soft and inviting, were the source of so many shared moments. Every smile she gave him was a caress to his soul, every kiss exchanged was a promise of their unconditional love. He wrote the words as if each letter were traced by the memory of her warm breath against his skin.

Her hair was spread out on the pillow, a silken case that framed her face in a way that defied description. His fingers, as he scribbled, wanted to lose themselves in her locks, slipping between them like filaments of nocturnal silk.

The words formed in his mind, each one a musical note to the song of their love. He wrote of how her laughter brightened even the darkest days, how her presence was like a refreshing breeze in a stifling world.

Her hands, placed with natural grace on the sheet, seemed to be an extension of her heart. He explored the story written in her gestures, the silent language of her touch that made him feel at home, even in the midst of a tumultuous world.

Her secret dreams seemed to dance behind her closed eyelids, and he divined them, interweaving them into the words that took shape beneath his pen. He spoke of the hopes she carried, the aspirations that would animate her in the days to come.

The words filled the page, each sentence a declaration of love and a celebration of what they shared. And as the sun continued its slow descent over the horizon, her sleeping face was bathed in a golden, almost unreal glow.

His heart beat with renewed passion, each word a faithful reflection of what he felt. He wrote with increasing intensity, his thoughts spilling onto the paper like an enchanting melody.

Finally, he put down the pen, the open notebook in his lap, the words printed on the pages like an imprint of his love for her. His eyes rested on her face, so close to him, lit by the setting sun.

The silence of the room was filled with the echo of his thoughts and feelings. His heart beat to the rhythm of their connection, each beat a reminder of the intensity of his love.

Her lips occasionally smiled, a softness that spread across her face like moonlight over the ocean. His fingers were tempted to touch them, to caress that soft reflection of her joy. But he refrained, leaving her rest in peace, knowing that it was precious and deserved to be preserved.

The light wind through the window gently lifted a few strands of her hair, bringing them to life like moonbeams filtering through the branches of a tree. Her hair, so soft to the touch, was like an enchanted forest he wanted to explore again and again.

His thoughts drifted to her entire being, wandering into the subtle contours of her silhouette. Every curve, every fold of the sheet that covered her, was an invitation to admire her in all her beauty. She was like a work of art he never tired of contemplating.

He thought back to all the moments they'd shared, every burst of laughter shared, every silence shared, every kiss exchanged, every time he'd made love to her in that bed. His heart palpitated as he thought of how she had managed to capture his mind and soul, to become the star that guided his steps through the night.

The notebook in front of him was his sanctuary, a place where he could express emotions that sometimes seemed indescribable. Every word he put down on paper was an offering, proof of the deep love he felt for her. He knew that his texts were imperfect odes to her greatness, melodies that could never fully capture the magic she embodied.

As the golden glow of the sunset intensified, she seemed to melt into the room, becoming part of the magnificent landscape surrounding her. The warm hues blended with her skin, creating a visual harmony that only accentuated her natural beauty.

He lay gently beside her, their breaths mingling in the darkness. His fingers slipped to link with hers, a silent embrace that conveyed all that words could not express. He could hear her heartbeat, feel her warmth close to him, and he knew that this was where he belonged, beside her, in this moment, in this embrace.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x you #the 1975 #matty healy x oc #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #at their very best #matthew healy

[bougiebutchbitch]

happy izzy headcanons, off the cuff:

ed's adhd ass remembers the most random shit about him that he said one time, like that his favorite color is green, he doesn't like sweets, and he used to feed a stray cat when he was a kid (despite not remembering ostensibly more important things / things that were repeated or told to him directly. RIP iykyk etc)

he called the cat Miss Lady and sometimes to get out of "playing" with "fellow" "children" and other such tedium, he would claim she was his boss and he had to go to work for her in her estate (he's like ≤8yo or something when he pulls this)

still has not gotten much better at lying than that tbh

his parents loved each other and him and his big sister very much. they were as happy as they could be in their level of poverty, and iz's youngest years were filled with unconditional love

he and his sister both got their first jobs at the same little shop, but izzy was immediately and comically fired for being crass and rude to customers lmao (also for wearing pants)

he was part of the navy for an astounding one (1) year before being discharged - equally comically - for being the singular most insubordinate little shit ever seen. regular punishments had absolutely no effect on his behavior, and though they threatened to do worse by that point they could not catch him.

his criminal record is just as long as ed's, but the bulk of his charges are morality based. he fucks so severely it is a crime. (not that hard to do really, at the time, but he's proud of it lol.)

Jewish

was taught to read english and hebrew as a kid (Jewish communities at the time had higher literacy on average than other groups & taught girls as well as boys to read, iirc)

can buy and sell in many languages, but can't really converse. is in the process of learning spanish from jim and french from frenchie (with much more unsavory instruction provided by roach, for surprise use on frenchie lmao)

not necessarily about izzy i guess lmao, but i have a scene that runs in my head of izzy telling jim something private in spanish and jim interrupting (but not fast enough) to yell that oluwande is fluent, to which olu nervously says "no, i forgot. those words. don't use 'em much, so. you know. whoosh. gone. didn't understand any of it."

he and anne fake dated way back, to make ed and mary jealous

he and jack tried this also, after it worked for anne but not for izzy, but in the process they accidentally dated for real (jack... might have had ulterior motives lmao)

takes ye olde hrt, in the form of an herbal tea recipe that he got from a midwife who clocked him at 50 paces. they are still friends.

bottom sub leaning, but still a vers switch!!!

explores his gender further, with encouragement and some minor guidance from wee john. he has a little bit of a crisis at first, wondering if he only felt like a man because he didn't make a very pretty woman, but he talks it all through in fits and starts - primarily in out of context ambushes - with john and jim, learns more about drag, etc, and eventually gets comfortable with being a man who pretends to be a woman sometimes and just happens to be very good at it due to certain biological advantages lol

later functionally becomes ed's drag mom, the way john was for him - featuring many more instances of dressing him up like he did for the party in season one

realizes after being folded into the found family that he LOVES cuddling, and physical intimacy of all kinds. like basically discovers acts of service is actually not his only love language. nothing makes him feel more content than being physically in sync with someone.

at some point pete decides he wants to stop being all talk and actually live up to all the shit he's bragged about, but he doesn't want everyone else to know and/or there to be any witnesses to him being bad at stuff at first. so he solicits secret lessons from izzy, and izzy gives them and keeps the secret without condition.

he's basically the gordon ramsay of piracy. if you're learning and you're working at it, he's patient and attentive. if you act like you don't have anything to learn or make claims you can't back up, he calls you a fucking donkey.

grows his hair out. adores having it played with.

takes his job as "unicorn" very seriously. all of his duties are pretty much assigned to him via his own perception of what the fuck being the ship's unicorn even means, but if he says something is or isn't his job everyone goes with it without question. he sometimes abuses this fact, but only with ed lmao.

has each member of the crew add their own x to his tattoo and ends up with a little constellation of slightly differently shaped stars across his cheek/temple

SHRIEKS IN JOY

oh these are PERFECT. Excuse me while i squeal over each and every one.

I KNOW THAT PAIN, ED, BABYBOY, DARLING, PRINCESS WITH A DISORDER. He is theeeee most ADHD gremlin. He will randomly describe in perfect detail a day from 10 years ago that Izzy only has the vaguest recollection of, down to the precise inflection in whatever Izzy said to make that moment stick in his mind - but he still doesn't know Izzy's birthday sldkfhgklsdfhg

oh no. OH NO. Tha'ts horrifically cute. And I love that Izzy is a gritty old pirate who can kill without a moment's hesitation - but he cannot tell a good fib to save his life lmao. It's the 'tism

:cris and holds happy baby Izzy close:

I'm WHEEZING at tiny angry scowly Izzy getting fired from a shop for being a bastard refusing to wear a dress, saying fuck this, running away to join the Navy where the wearing of dresses is not requisite, and almost immediately getting fired for STILL BEING A BASTARD. :chinhands: it's so him

I am just. Imagining. Lucius getting hold of Izzy's criminal record in S1 before they really get to know each other. And just being supremely confused that Izzy has actually walked the walk lmao

JEWISH IZZY JEWISH IZZY JEWISH IZZY :clutches that headcanon very close to my chest:

ohhhhhh gosh I LOVE the crew teaching each other casual little things.... language tutors Jim and Frenchie and co., my favourite. I wonder if Izzy teaches them a tiny bit of Hebrew, too? Or if he keeps that very close to his chest. (I love the headcanon that he and Ed are both Jewish, and it's part of what drew them together~)

SCREAMS at Izzy accidentally Revealing Things to Olu because he doesn't realise he speaks that much Spanish.... And at Jim warning him! I also imagine that like, AS SOON as Jim gives that warning, they get the fuck in front of Oluwande with a knife, juuuust in case Izzy goes for him - but Izzy just glares at Oluwande, jerks a nod, and mutters 'first time I've given a man amnesia without having to hit him in the head'. Oluwande awkward-laughs and flees, but though Izzy's a tiny bit wary of him for a few weeks, he doesn't stab him?? So, y'know, success?

also, as ever, I am OBSESSED with Jim and Izzy being casual quiet trans buddies and helping each other out now and then. :gently pushes my headcanon of Izzy helping Jim acquire Ye Olde Top Surgery towards the fandom on a silver plate:

FAKE DATING FAKE DATING AHHHHHHHHHHH

CJIZZY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh (I love Jack being like. 'Yeah I'll fake date you to make Ed jealous, Izzy :D Yeah, absolutely no strings attached. Yeah we're not gonna actually fuck or anything. Of course.' then pulling EVERY string available to get in Izzy's pants dsfklghkdsfgkdlsgf

YESSS TO BOTTOM SUB LEANING VERS SWITCH IZZYYYYYY he has the range, darling! I love the idea that he was Ed's service top for ages, and is legit good with a strap~ >:3c Almost as much as I love subby top Izzy who always comes too soon and goes jellylegged so his partner has to sigh and take over and fuck him into the mattress while telling him what a disappointment he is (which, ofc, only makes him wetter). ......Yes, I blame carryme for this one entirely.

TRANSMASC DRAG QUEEN IZZY TRANSMASC DRAG QUEEN IZZY - I vibe with this on a spiritual level. Also: I can imagine Izzy was REALLY rigidly 'I am a man so I have to be masculine' as a result of internalised transphobia/fear of discovery, so this whole process of realising he can do whatever the fuck he wants, actually, involves a lot of unworking of societal assumptions and confronting past traumas and fears, and Wee John only meant to share something transgressive and fun with Izzy but now Drag Hour is therapy hour too. And honestly, it's good for him and Izzy and Jim, and Izzy's expression goes this amazing mix of offended and delighted and terrified and excited whenever he realises that yes, he is allowed to present himself however he likes and he will 'still be a man'. Although I do think he might draw the line at dresses, and keep to more andro drag? Like, he tries on a pretty dress ONCE and it's a bit Too Much when he sees himself in the mirror - but that's completely okay too, and Wee John and Frenchie are more than happy to help with tailoring outfits that he actually likes!

i AM SCREAMING AT IZZY BEING ED'S DRAG MUM YES YES YES YES YES

ohhhhh.... Izzy being just an absolute cuddle magnet.... be still my heart. I like to imagine that he was too awkward to approach anyone at first, but was SUPREMELY touch starved, so he'd sneak into the cuddle pile on deck at night and then try to wake up in the morning before everyone else. But of COURSE, everyone realises and knows and thinks it's very cute and one day when he tries to make his usual escape (moving slow to try and draw out the warmth and the contact, as well as so as not to wake anyone up) Lucius sleepily grabs his wrist and grumbles, "Izzy, staaaaaay". And, well. How can Izzy say no to that?

PETE IZZY FRIENDSHIP AHHH???? I would read that fic in a heartbeat.

Vis-a-vis the Gordon Ramsey comparison: he has ABSOLUTELY called poor Stede an 'idiot sandwich'

LONG HAIR IZZYYYYYYYYY AHHHHHHHH

Izzy wearing each of the crew's little 'x' kissy marks besides Ed's.... oh, be still my heart. This one got to me. That cheek and his neck and chest are just a map of tiny stars and - OHHHHHHHHHHH you know they're all getting gently smooched

#Izzy Hands #ofmd izzy #our flag means death #ofmd edward teach #ofmd ed teach #YES EXCELLENT #ofmd jim #I AM HOLLERING

[idyllic-affections]

HIII!

What are your thoughts on Kaveh's childe being a dancer??

I'm kinda self projecting on this one bcs I like to dance myself (mainly kpop) but I wanted to know what you thought of that ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*

(Sorry if it's not clear/understandable english is not my first language (ʘᴗʘ))

what if kaveh's child wanted to be a dancer?

summary. how would kaveh react if his child wanted to become a dancer?

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. adoptive dad!kaveh & reader, nilou & reader, cyno & reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of what if kaveh adopted a child?

author's thoughts. don't worry, dear!! your english is great, no need to apologize <3 this idea is so cute tbh. i love the idea of kaveh's kid being artistic. every time i get an ask like this one, it makes me so happy. it's so cute to me! artistic kaveh and his artistic child <33

in short, kaveh would wholeheartedly support his kid.

that is a given, of course—he's probably sumeru's most supportive father, really. he only wants his child to be happy and healthy. anything his kid wants to pursue, he's right there cheering them on, doing whatever he can to help them research it or gather materials for it. whatever it is that their interest demands, he will do his best to attain it. thankfully, while kaveh is broke, alhaitham has the mora to fund their interests and does happen to have a little soft spot for them, so he gladly does so when kaveh cannot afford to. he doesn't make kaveh pay him back, because really...

alhaitham has long since accepted that he is, in part, responsible for [name]. he is one of their caretakers. it is his responsibility to help enrich their life.

cyno also has the mora to help out. like haitham, he has a soft spot for them, so their hobbies are usually funded by either the scribe or the general mahamatra.

(cyno isn't supposed to fund their artistic hobbies, but we'll explore that idea later on in this post.)

kaveh does worry, however.

i've always imagined that kaveh adopts his child a good while before the sumeru archon quests—several years, at least. if his child wanted to be a dancer... well, he'd do all he could to protect them from the akademiya, sneaking them into zubayr theater so they can watch all the performances that their heart desires (and he also loves watching the theater, so it's something he's glad to share with his child). i imagine that cyno would find out about this eventually. as a matra, it's his job to... stop it, or discourage it at the very least. he has to uphold the akadmeiya's rules. he has to.

...he just cannot bring himself to do it, however. the way their eyes sparkle when they watch the dancers preform... archons, the thought of betraying the trust they have put in him, betraying the trust he's built with them by caring for them in their younger years, it greatly unsettles him.

he can't crush their soul like that. he's very relieved when the sages get overthrown. he would never want to do anything to hurt them, especially when he knows that his actions will undoubtedly be harmful. trust is a fragile thing. it can only be built up after months or years of hard work, yet can shatter in a fraction of the time.

the general mahamatra is just... so, so relieved that he doesn't have to hide them from the sages anymore.

his nibling's (gn alternative to niece/nephew) passion is not something meant to be hidden.

can you imagine nilou teaching them to dance, though? i think it'd be very cute! she'd totally do it if kaveh ever approached her and asked.

she would love them, gently correcting any missteps they make and excitedly praising them when they master a difficult choreography. nilou would think of them fondly, like a little dance apprentice! she's not quite mature enough to be seen as a mother figure, however. she's more akin to another big sister to them, like collei.

(i also like to think that, in a cruel twist of fate, [name] eventually gets a hydro vision, as if the hydro archon's gaze was always cast upon them even after they left fontaine. nilou would be the one to teach them how to use it, teach them how to associate it with better feelings and memories. <3)

when sumeru comes out of its oppresive state and the arts are welcomed as they always should have been, [name]'s lil found family will all attend their first official performance with nilou. nilou wouldn't let them perform prior to that out of concern for their safety.

kaveh, alhaitham, cyno, tighnari, and collei really are their greatest cheerleaders in life.

adoptive dad!kaveh taglist: @kaoyamamegami, @zeldadou, @bebobeboben. send a non-anonymous ask to be added. please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸 #: [ adoptive dad kaveh! 🌸 ] #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #platonic kaveh x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin platonic #genshin x reader