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versadies · 1 year ago

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MY LOVE, MINE, ALL MINE (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. my love, mine, all mine

ADDRESSED. neuvillette, alhaitham, capitano, diluc, itto, tartaglia, kaveh, kaeya (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. what body part they kiss the most (sfw)

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (not sorry), possible grammar errors, mentions of battle, mentions of blood (capitano, childe)

POST-SCRIPT. all these characters are nothing but pokemons to me, i see one, i'll collect one in game. part two will come soon (with zhongli, wriothesley, ayato, thoma, pierro, and pantalone!)

LINKS. masterlist / taglist / part two

HANDS – Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Capitano, Diluc

NEUVILLETTE kisses your knuckles the most. To him, he believes that kissing you on the lips is far too intimate to be seen in public, preferring to do it in closed doors where it’s just the two of you alone, and so he often kisses your knuckles whenever he can.

Whenever he does, one of his glove-covered hands would reach towards yours before lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with care as though your hand is a delicate treasure, as if every kiss is a promise that he’ll hold your heart with care and unwavering devotion.

It doesn’t help that you often find your cheeks warming up when his intense violet-shaded eyes look at yours, and no words were enough for you to explain the connection that you both have from just a simple stare.

By the time he pulls away from your hand, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Oh, do you have a fever, my dear?” He asks worriedly, removing one of his gloves to check on the temperature of your forehead after kissing your knuckles out of nowhere while the two of you were lounging on the couch in his office. “Fret not, I can make something that can ease your fever away.” He adds, before standing up and rushes away to make a drink that will help you ease yourself, unaware that he’s the reason for your flustered state.

Ah, the things you’d do for this sweet man of yours.

The same goes for ALHAITHAM when it comes to kissing you in public. He believes that the two of you kissing on each other’s lips should be private with no one to ruin it or spoil the intimacy, and so you often find him kissing you in other parts instead – specifically, your hands or cheeks.

It’s rare for him to kiss you in public since he’s not much of a PDA man, but when he does, it happens at a quiet or secluded moment when the world seems to be muted around you two. When Alhaitham finds himself staring at you for too long, he couldn’t help but smoothly put his hand on top of yours, and raises your hand towards his lips to kiss it.

His turquoise-shaded eyes stay on yours when you look at him, never looking away as you feel his lips on your skin, bringing chills to your spine from the feeling. The way he stares at you is as if he knows your deepest secrets and desires, and knows what sets you off to make your knees become jelly-like.

It doesn’t help that he’d casually act as if nothing happened after, as if it’s just a casual thing to do (it is, to him), leaving you staring at him with your mouth agape.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks, hiding a small smirk as he glances at you.

He definitely knows what he’s doing.

CAPITANO is a strong man with a physique that could make anyone intimidated – both vision-holders and non-vision holders alike. It’s no doubt that such a powerful man like him would most likely be found in numerous battlefields, bringing the Tsaritsa many victories that she deserves.

So it’s a strange sight to see said strong man on one knee, holding your hand as he gives it an affectionate kiss. He does it in a way that’s as though you’re a deity worth worshiping. He’s a captain by others, but to you, he’s your knight in shining armor (that’s corrupted by bloodshed and death, but we don’t talk about that here).

You cannot see the expression he makes, but the way he kisses your hand is enough for you to know how much this man, who had killed so many and left no mercy to his opponents, is soft and caring for you. He kisses with care, as if afraid that you’ll shatter if he doesn’t control his strength.

It became a custom for him to be on one knee and kiss your hand whenever he comes home to you from another mission – which is perhaps more often than you both like to admit. Despite your insistence that he doesn’t have to do such things, he does it anyway. In a way, it’s his way of apologizing to you for the lost time, and will do anything to make it up to you.

And he always did, with gifts, comfort, and of course, love.

“I’m home, my love.” He spoke, with a hint of affection in his gruff voice that usually holds so much authority, kissing your hand tenderly.

DILUC is a gentleman by heart, and although he’s seen as the epitome of perfection around Mondstadt, he is seen indoors as a vulnerable man who you dearly care for. For so long, the two of you have found comfort and love within one another in the dimly lit room that you both share in the manor. He’s your warmth, and you’re his pillar.

In private, where no one could see underneath the aloof and courteous man but you, he’d tiredly wrap his arms around you as he sighed in contentment. It’s normal for a man such as him to be so tired from work, so tired from his duties, and so tired from everything outside of his manor, but he is never tired of you, his beloved spouse who he treasures. He’s a zealous soul who cares not for wealth and materialism, but for the people of Mondstadt and the ones he loves.

Your hand is often intertwined with his, and he’d bring up your hand up to his lips in the quiet moments of your shared intimacy. To him, your hand is a canvas that he paints with his deep affection and adoration.

You couldn’t help but soften up as a result, feeling cherished and loved by your beloved man who never fails to make you swoon.

For Diluc, kissing your hand is more than some simple intimate gesture, but rather a way to honor your pure essence – to show you how grateful he is to have you who has captured his soul in a tight grip that he never wants to leave from. And so, he continues to kiss your hand more, each a testament with a silent vow to love you throughout your lives together.

“A-Ah.. My bad,” He clears his throat, his ears turning almost as red as his hair, “It seems I almost got carried away.”

LIPS – Itto, Tartaglia, Kaveh, Kaeya

ITTO is a kind soul at heart, with a fiery passion when it comes to his loved ones – specifically, and with no certain favoritism, you. The oni is not one to shy away from showing you how much he loves you with all of his huge heart, so expect lots of kisses from him!

The most prominent part that he kisses is of course, your lips.

For Itto, there is no greater joy than the taste of your lips, each kiss contains joy and love on his end. With his endless energy and passionate spirit, he approached each kiss and affection with an infectious enthusiasm, eager to lose himself in the overwhelming warmth of your presence and affection.

In the sweetness of your kiss, he finds it much better than the feeling of sweet victory from a beetle battle, and he couldn’t find himself to remove the pleased grin on his face whenever he gets a kiss from you.

It’s as if your lips is a magnetic force to his, as he never hesitates to kiss you whenever he could – be it whenever he greets you, whenever he wins a battle, basically every moment with him (a bit of an exaggeration really, but you get what I mean!).

“My boo boo bear!” He cheers when he sees you in his vision, running up towards you as he instantly gives you a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up with his immense strength regardless of your weight. “I missed you! How was your day?” He asks excitedly, giving you a big smooch! on your lips.

CHILDE is just as fun as Itto – if you excuse his battlelust, of course. Besides his need for an activity or someone to fight with, the prowess fighter is not shy when it comes to giving you what he believes you deserve, which is giving you his undying affection.

He’s an infectious man, who leeches off to your kisses and hugs. He’s a fighter by spirit, but a lover by heart. He’s attentive to your needs, very willing to give you tons of kisses if you ask for it. Of course, even if you didn’t, he’d snatch a kiss or two from you without you expecting it.

His love is like an unforgiving ocean, often wild and untamed, yet it comes with a fierce and unrelenting passion. In moments between the two of you, he seeks to plant his lips on yours, as though your kiss is a battlefield conquered by him, a well-done victory even.

With each kiss on your lips is a vow, a vow that he’ll see to it that he gets to see the light of day after every battle, to see you by the end of the tunnel and show you that you won’t lose him that easily. For in your presence, he found his salvation, the arm that reaches out to him to pull him out of the abyss he’s in, guiding him out of the unforgiving ocean that seems to drown him whole.

And so, he’ll never stop kissing you, regardless of where you are and the circumstances.

“Were you watching me?” He asks eagerly, running up to you before planting a kiss on your lips, his hands that are scarred from the numerous weapons he held and the battles he fought in find themselves cupping your cheeks.

When he pulls away, he looks at your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I did great, didn’t I?”

Known for his works and talent, KAVEH is no doubt a respectable man around the land of wisdom and scholars. Many would sing praises to his masterpieces and his original ideas that bring potential to Sumeru. As what a certain scribe would describe him, he is the light of Kshahrewar and a master builder and craftsman.

However, such a bright reputation hides a man whose heart is tender and emotionally fragile, with too much on his plate. Which is why he is ever so grateful to have you by his side through it all.

For every affection the two of you share, Kaveh feels like the luckiest man in all of Sumeru – no, in Teyvat even. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you, a person who loves him for all that he is. With you, he feels cherished and appreciated even, and you balance his emotional fragility with your presence that seems so encouraging and comforting.

He seeks refuge in your affection, often cupping your cheeks and giving you a kiss. His kisses are frequent, and his lips often find themselves on yours. Each of his kiss is full of love, and there’s no doubt that there seems a desperation laced in it, as if he’s scared that this kiss is his last, and you might be gone before he knew it – just like his loved ones.

Yet, in the softness of your lips, he found reassurance. He’s reminded that amidst the struggles of his life, your relationship remains timeless and true. Just like how he does with his work, he pours his heart and soul into your relationship together, cherishing the bond that you both have towards one another with tenderness.

“Thank you.” He said, kissing you on your lips with a look that threatens to crumble. “I know I’ve said it too many times, but I can’t help myself. I really am grateful.”

When you ask for what he’s thanking you for, he could only give you a smile, a sight that shines far brighter than the sun itself.

“Thank you for staying.”

You’d be lying if you said you’ve always thought you’d end up dating the notorious Cavalry Captain, who is more than often a flirtatious man whenever you’re around. KAEYA is not one who shies away from something, and if it means reminding you every now and then that he’s into you, then so be it!

Every waking moment with Kaeya is a thrilling challenge, and you two often find yourselves in a dance of wits and flirts, with a few glasses of wine and other drinks that the tavern sells. The two of you know how to push the other’s buttons, often playing banters and all. Even when you two are now dating, things are still the same – besides the fact that the two of you are free to kiss one another and often crash at each other’s places.

Yet underneath such playful flirting and bantering, there’s a deep and abiding connection between the two of you that remains unspoken but welcomed.

Unsurprisingly, Kaeya finds home in your lips. To him, it just felt right. Sure, he likes to kiss your hands and cheeks, but it’s a different story when it comes to your lips. For him, stealing a kiss on your lips is not just an ordinary gesture of affection, but rather a declaration of his unwavering love for you.

And so, more often than not, he prefers kissing you more on your lips.

With a teasing look and smirk on his face, he’d pull you close towards him without warning, his lips finding yours with an urgency that left you both breathless. There’s often laughter and desire lingering around the privacy of your bedroom, and it was a safe sanctuary that Kaeya finds comfort in.

His laughter would fade into a whisper of “I love you”’s as he traces his cold fingertips on your face that he loves to see at every waking moment. He cherished these kinds of moments, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t spend each one as if it’s his last. And so, he continues to give you more kisses to drown your sweet laughter, for in your warmth and embrace, he could only find his great happiness and peace.

“Come on, give me another one.” He chuckles, urging you to let him give you one more kiss before the two of you can sleep in each other’s arms. “Just one more kiss, I promise.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

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purplereina11 · 1 month ago

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In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 12 Other Parts

Word Count: 9k

The moment you step onto the pitch, the crowd already feels louder than usual warmer, more expectant. You’ve been here before, dozens of times, but this time is different. This time, it’s goodbye.

You try not to let it get to you in the tunnel. Focus on the game, you tell yourself, just one more, one more ninety minutes, but when the announcer calls your name, and the fans chant it back with an echo that seems to ripple right through you, you feel it. The weight of it all. The years, the battles, the triumphs, the quiet nights of doubt. Every ounce of sweat you left on this pitch. Every person you’ve become because of this club.

The whistle blows. You breathe and you run.

You don’t go into the game thinking about records. You go in trying to be present, composed, but something shifts in you after the first goal, a fast, instinctive finish off your left foot. It’s like muscle memory takes over.

The second is cleaner a breakaway, defenders scrambling in your wake, the keeper never really stood a chance.

By the time the third lands, a beautiful curling power strike from outside the box, the stadium erupts. You don’t even know where your legs take you; your teammates are already swarming you, piling on top of you, yelling in three languages . Someone grabs your face, another lifts your arm in the air, you’re laughing and crying at the same time and then the stadium announcer’s voice cuts through the chaos:

“With that goal, she becomes the all-time leading goalscorer in Bayern Munich Frauen history…Make some noise for 'Your name'”

You freeze for just a moment. It’s surreal. The stat was floating around — close, possible — but no one wanted to say it out loud. Now it’s fact.

The fans are on their feet, banners waving, your name being chanted like it’s stitched into the bricks of the stadium.

When they sub you off near the end, the entire team stands to applaud, even the opposition clap you off. The fourth official gives you a nod that feels more personal than professional and as you walk toward the sideline, the whole stadium stands. It’s deafening. It had been rumoured for weeks you were leaving this international break and the players around you confirmed it for the fans and wanted to show there appreciation

You meet the new head coach with a nod and a watery smile, and then turn once more toward the crowd, pressing your hand over your heart and the badge, mouthing a quiet thank you.

You never imagined your last game here would end like this your name in the history books, the weight of the shirt settling over your shoulders one last time like a second skin.

The final whistle blew, and the camera cut straight to you, surrounded by your teammates. You looked tired, exhilarated, overwhelmed — but there was peace in your eyes. A kind of closure. You lifted the trophy high, confetti raining down. Red and white, one last time.

Then came the mic.

The stadium had quieted a little, waiting.

You stood at the edge of the pitch, still in full kit, boots covered in turf, hair sticking to your forehead. The trophy sat behind you. You didn’t need a script.

The crowd slowly quiets as you step forward, mic in hand, eyes scanning the stands, the cameras, your teammates.

You draw in a breath, then begin. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say today. I’ve gone over it in my head a hundred times. But now that I’m standing here… words feel small.” You pause, voice already thick, a little shaky. “Bayern gave me more than I ever knew to ask for. This club, this badge, became home when I needed one most. It believed in me before I fully believed in myself and I’ll never forget that. How you embraced me into your team your country and your culture.”

The applause rises for a moment, but you lift a hand, gently asking for a bit more space to speak.

“This past couple of months has been… hard. And not just on the pitch, I made a personal private decision, one that certain people felt needed to affect me professionally. One that changed things fast and I won’t lie to you, it hurt. I didn’t want to leave like this, not where I was forced into making a decision.”

You glance toward the touchline, a flicker of emotion breaking across your face.

“But I also think… maybe it was time. Even when something’s good, even when you love it with everything you’ve got sometimes, you have to let go to grow. I grew to a player at my time in Lyon and I didn't think I could grow anymore but after three years here, I've grown even more and I'm excited to see where I end up next helps me grow and evolve as a player and a human being. I needed to make space for something new and trust that the next chapter could be just as full of meaning.”

Your eyes sweep across the sea of red in the stands.

“So no, I’m not confirming anything today about where I am heading next. That’s not what this is. Today isn’t about what’s next. It’s about what was. What we built together, what we achieved and rose this club to. What we bled for. It’s about the nights in the cold rain. The goals that didn’t come easy. The teammates who became family. The fans who showed up even when we lost and the belief that this, all of this, was bigger than just football.”

Your voice cracks softly.

“Thank you for letting me be part of your history and for being the most unforgettable part of mine, Ich liebe dich so sehr, es lebe Bayern.”

You step back. The crowd erupts not just in applause, but in a kind of collective, emotional exhale, flags wave. Fans wipe tears. Your teammates are already moving toward you again some clapping, some wrapping you in hugs that don’t want to end.

⚽️

The music’s loud, the lights low and warm, and the energy in the room buzzes with the kind of joy only footballers know that post-final, post-season, post-everything glow. Your whole body aches in the best way, like it remembers the pitch still, the weight of the trophy, the squeeze of your teammates’ arms around you.

But you’re drunk, not messy, not sloppy, just merry. The kind of drunk that makes you hug everyone a little longer, laugh a little louder, feel everything a little more.

You’re being passed around like a trophy yourself pulled into photo after photo, drink after drink handed to you with shouts of "To the record breaker!" and "Top scorer, baby!" Someone’s added a Bayern scarf around your neck and won’t let you take it off.

You’ve got your arm around one of the younger players, cheeks flushed from dancing, when Lea leans in and yells over the music, “How does it feel being a legend?”

You laugh, swaying slightly. “Like I’m gonna need electrolytes tomorrow and a very long nap.” The whole table bursts out laughing. Someone slides you a fresh beer. You raise it like a toast. “Danke, Bayern,” you say, dramatic and heartfelt, slurring just a little, “for the goals, the glory, and the ungodly amount of schnitzel I’ve eaten with you all.”

Cue more laughter, and someone probably Sarah Zadrazil shouting “SPEECH!” again, but you wave her off this time. “I already cried on a microphone today,” you grin. “Let me be hot and unbothered now.”

You find yourself in the middle of the dance floor not long after, surrounded by a chaotic circle of teammates, arms thrown around each other, jumping and spinning and shrieking lyrics off-key. The DJ transitions into a cheesy Euro-club anthem and the whole squad loses it.

Someone hands you a shot you don’t know who, you don’t ask, you drink it.

You’re not thinking about what comes next tonight, not contracts, not goodbyes, not even Barcelona. Just now. Just this and if your phone buzzes somewhere in your back pocket, a message from Alexia maybe but you don’t check it yet. You’re too busy living the last few hours of your Bayern chapter exactly the way it should be lived. Drunk. Loved and completely, unmistakably free.

The music doesn’t slow when they walk in, but the atmosphere shifts just enough that you feel it like a ripple. You don’t notice them right away, you're mid-laugh, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Klara and Lea, dancing without rhythm but full of joy, cheeks flushed from one too many shots and the high of a perfect ending. Someone’s got a sparkler in a cupcake and is trying not to set off the fire alarm, but then Georgia leans in, close to your ear. “Hey… don’t freak out, but…”

You blink, still smiling, until you follow her glance toward the edge of the room. There they are. Your ex-head coach, and beside her, her daughter. That daughter. The one who had stared at you like she owned you and then bragged like she’d won something. She’s in a sleek dress, already nursing a drink, eyes scanning the room like she’s trying to gauge how much of a stir she’s caused.

You can’t hear your own heartbeat over the music, but you feel it in your throat anyway. A couple teammates catch on quickly. There’s movement, subtle shifts. One of the older girls gives you a tight smile, just checking in. Pernille moves a little closer, shoulder brushing yours. A silent you good? you tip your head, a shrug that’s half answer, half what the fuck is she doing here?

They’re not part of the celebration. She was let go, everyone knows it. This isn’t her circle anymore. You don’t look at the daughter again. Not even when she tries to catch your eye.

Instead, you grab another drink, rejoin the circle, and throw your arms around your people.

It’s quieter here, just far enough from the speakers that conversation doesn’t have to be shouted, but still close enough that the pulse of the music lives in your chest. You’re swirling the last of your drink, debating whether to have another or switch to water when her voice cuts through the hum beside you.

“Well,” she says, soft and smooth, like she never lit a match behind your back, “congrats, I guess. Big night.”

You turn your head slowly. She’s leaning against the bar, that same too-confident smirk playing at her lips. The one that once fooled you into thinking there was depth behind it. You give her a polite, emotionless nod. “Thanks.”

She lets a beat pass. “You look good.”

You sigh. “Don’t.”

“What?”

You face her more fully, voice calm, but firm. “Don’t pretend this is something it wasn’t.”

Her smile twitches, eyes sharp. “You left in the middle of the night. I’d say you’re the one pretending.”

You arch a brow. “I left after seeing the message you sent to your friends bragging about it. You turned me into a punchline in a group chat. That wasn’t me pretending. That was me walking away from something I should never have touched.”

That wipes the smirk off her face for a moment, but she recovers, leans in slightly, dropping her voice. “Maybe I made a mistake. I’ve been thinking about it. About you.”

You shake your head. “You’re still doing it. This game. This thing where you act like you didn’t mess it up and hope I forgot.”

She scoffs, arms crossing, irritation starting to show. “So what, you're too good for me now?”

“No,” you say, your voice lowering, more weight behind it now. “I just know what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

You take a slow breath, meeting her gaze dead-on. “I don’t want a childish girl in my life. I want a woman.” The silence stretches between you, heavy. You let it, then you step back, setting your empty glass down. “Someone who knows what it means to actually care about people. To protect what matters. Not just take, burn and laugh about it later.”

She watches you, blinking fast, suddenly unsure. Off-balance. Maybe for the first time around you. You nod once, final, and walk away.

The tension was soon replaced by laughter, music, and half-empty plates. The energy is looser, warmer back with the team, you didn't let the moment linger. There’s been dancing, hugs, tears from some of the staff, and far too many toasts. but when someone clinks a glass again and shouts for attention, it’s Georgia who steps forward, standing a little awkwardly but smiling wide, but the second she clears her throat and lifts her glass, people fall quiet.

“This won’t be long,” she says, eyes flicking to you with that glint of mischief, “because I know she hates this kind of thing.” There’s a ripple of laughter, but you’re already bracing yourself, heart thudding unevenly. Georgia takes a breath. “I’ve known her since we were kids and from the very start, I knew she wasn’t like the rest of us. She was sharper, faster, more stubborn, way too good with a ball at her feet… and absolute shite at letting people help her.”

Another laugh, gentler this time. You manage a sheepish smile, swallowing thickly.

“But somewhere along the way, she let me in. And we’ve been through everything together. Youth teams, heartbreaks, homesickness, injuries, wins, losses, early mornings and god-awful pre-season runs where I wanted to kill her because she always made it look easy.”

Your eyes drop, jaw tight, trying to breathe through it. You hadn’t expected this to hit so hard.

Georgia’s voice softens. “I’ve watched her grow into the kind of player legends are built around, but more than that more than the trophies, or the goals, or the headlines I’ve watched her grow into the kind of person you don’t come across often. Loyal. Brave. Quietly kind. The type who would rip her heart out for someone she cares about and never ask for anything back.”

There’s a silence in the room now, thick and still. You blink fast, but it’s too late your throat’s tight, and your eyes sting, and when you look up, Georgia’s watching you gently, like she knows.

“She’s been my best friend for so many years. And now she’s going somewhere new. Somewhere massive. And I couldn’t be prouder if I tried. Your next team doesn’t know how lucky they are yet but they will.” You press your lips together, but a tear slips out anyway. You wipe it quickly with the back of your hand as Georgia raises her glass. “To my best friend. My sister. You gave everything here and you’ll do the same there. You always do. I love you with all my heart my dude, go get the ballon d'or we all know you should of had by now”

A chorus of voices echoes her words, glasses raised high. “To her!”

Georgia smiles, "Just remember us in your acceptance speech yeah?" You laugh wiping your tears as the girls do,

You stand slowly, and Georgia moves first pulling you into a tight hug that you sink into, burying your face in her shoulder for a moment longer than you mean to. When you finally pull back, your voice cracks as you murmur, “You’re not allowed to do speeches anymore.”

Georgia grins, eyes shining too. “Next time I’ll sing it.”

You both laugh but your hands are still shaking a little, and you’re sure everyone saw the tears.

You don’t care, because if you had to cry anywhere… it was always going to be for her.

The morning Barcelona sky was soft with late spring sun, the kind that warmed your shoulders without making you sweat. You’d barely slept the night before not from nerves, not exactly but more from that strange hum that comes with knowing everything’s about to change. The start of finding a new daily routine and comfortability in a new country and city.

Your suitcase was unpacked, your boots were by the door, and Ellie Roebuck was already banging on your bedroom wall, telling you to hurry up or she’d leave you behind.

You’d moved into her apartment two days ago. It was clean, bright, and full of chatter. You were in the block where a lot of the younger players stayed so ones staying behind from international duty had popped down to see you, the energy was fresh, loud, and kind of perfect. You felt new here, but not unwelcome.

Today was the start.

Today, you’d walk into the training facility not as a visitor, but officially, formally, as a Barcelona player.

Ellie drove the two of you in, music humming through her speaker, one hand tapping the wheel, the other flinging commentary your way every couple of minutes about what to expect where not to sit in the dressing room, how intense the staff meetings could be, who was always late, who ran the group chats. She made you laugh, made you breathe easier. It was a good distraction from the knot in your chest.

Because the truth was… today felt strange, not bad. Just… new.

Alexia was gone, off with the national team. Her plane had taken off the same morning yours had landed, like some cosmic sleight of hand. It made your first day easier, less players, less eyes but room to breathe and learn the new way here.

Campus was already buzzing when you arrived. The media team ready and waiting, cameras being prepped, Barça press staff hovering with clipboards and radios. You were ushered inside before your foot could fully hit the pavement, a whirlwind of smiles, handshakes, welcome hugs, contract photo retakes. A press conference loomed, and you’d been warned there were going to be questions, about Bayern, about your decision, about the future.

You were ready. You had to be, but every so often, between the smiles and the flashing lights and the clicking heels of a PR handler walking too fast in front of you, your eyes flicked to the corridors to where you remembered seeing Alexia waiting for you once, or to the photo lined walls your eye almost every time drawn to Alexia in her moments of glory.

You squared your shoulders, let them take your photo smiled when someone shouted your name. Walked down the corridor in your new kit. The Barça crest over your heart. The past behind you, the whole world watching.

Today was a new beginning.

⚽️

Alexia stepped into the break room, the atmosphere inside was louder than usual not just music, but actual noise, a ripple of voices rising above the normal low hum of conversation and coffee machines.

She paused at the threshold, eyebrows pulling together as she scanned the room. A few teammates had their phones out, others clustered around the TV mounted in the corner. It was tuned to a sports channel, one of the big ones, and the screen was dominated by a wide shot of a press room at Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper.

Irene turned, noticed her. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

Alexia’s brow lifted. “What’s going on?”

Irene nodded toward the TV, where the camera had now cut to your face fresh kit, Barça crest sharp over your chest, sponsor backdrop behind you. You were settling in at the microphone, smiling but clearly a little stiff, that telltale tension in your shoulders that Alexia knew by heart. “Barça just confirmed it,” Irene said, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. “They paid two million for her. Highest transfer fee in womens football history.”

Alexia blinked. “Two million?” she echoed, voice low.

Irene shrugged. “They really, really wanted her apparently.”

Alexia didn’t move. Her gaze stayed locked on the screen, her chest doing something traitorous and tight. She hadn’t expected it to hit like this, not the news, she knew it was coming, she’d known before anyone, really. But seeing it, watching the moment you stepped into that seat, pulled the mic toward you, and said your first words as an official Barcelona player, it felt real in a way it hadn’t before.

Patri elbowed her gently. “You gonna text her? Or are we pretending you didn’t fall in love with her before she even signed?” Alexia moved her eyes to Patri with that stare that Patri knew she'd over stepped.

Alexia rolled her eyes as she looked away, but her cheeks flushed a soft, warm pink anyway. She ignored the phone vibrating in her pocket.

Irene gave her a knowing look. “You could at least say congrats.”

Alexia’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. She watched as your eyes flicked up, answering a question she couldn’t hear, your voice steady but with that soft little smile the one that always slipped out when you talked about things that mattered.

⚽️

You shifted in your seat as the cameras clicked, the room settling after the opening statements. The Barça crest was bright on your chest, the water bottle beside the mic untouched. You could feel the lights on your skin, the buzz of anticipation from the room, from yourself. You’d done press conferences before, but this — this felt different. Bigger. Heavier.

The moderator nodded toward the first journalist.

“Y/N, congratulations on your signing. Obviously, it’s a historic move, can you speak to the nature of your departure from Bayern? There’s been a lot of speculation.”

You took a small breath, already expecting the question. Your voice was calm when it came, but low not guarded, exactly. Just thoughtful. “Leaving Bayern was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. That club gave me a lot, years of development, memories I’ll never forget, a platform to grow, friends for life, but things changed with my relationship with Helen, I had made a personal decision away from football and the club and she felt that needed to impact me professionally as l assume punishment. I won’t get into all the details, but I knew I needed a different environment. Somewhere I could keep evolving and not live out the rest of my contract on the bench and Barcelona offered that."

There was a pause, and then the moderator pointed to another hand.

“What are your goals here? What do you want to achieve in Barcelona, both short term and long term?”

You smiled at that smaller, but this time a bit easier. “First and foremost, I want to earn my place. This team is packed with some of the best players in the world. I’m not coming in expecting anything to be handed to me, I’m coming in ready to work, to learn, to contribute. In the short term, I want to integrate into the squad, understand the system, find my place, where they want or feel they need me and mainly just get settled both on and off the pitch.” you take a breath "Long term? I want to help this team win. Champions League, Liga F, everything, but more than that I want to become part of the identity here. I want to be someone the club, the team, the fans, and the city are proud of and can rely on. I think that takes more than goals and assists. It takes heart and commitment. I’m here to give that.”

There were a few nods, pens scribbling, more flashes.

“Have the coaching staff shared their vision for you in the team? What role they want you to play?”

“Yeah we’ve had great conversations. They see me as someone who can offer versatility in the attacking third. I’ve played centrally, I’ve played wide, and they know I love to float and create. The exciting part is how fluid Barça’s style is. The staff have made it clear they want me to be bold to take risks, press hard, make things happen which I feel i'm no stranger at doing. I feel really aligned with their philosophy. It’s attacking, it’s technical, but it’s also smart. It suits me.”

Another question started to form from a hand raised in the back, the journalist leaned forward. “Are you ready for the pressure? Big fee, big legacy to live up to.”

You tilted your head slightly, lips twitching with a knowing smile, “Pressure’s a privilege. It means people believe in you and I’ve worked too hard to get here to be afraid of that now.”

Cameras clicked again. Flash. Flash.

You sat back slightly, exhaled and just for a moment, let the smallest smile slip, you'd spotted a journalist from Germany, you tilt your chin and speak in German, "What brings you here?" You and the woman held a conversation in German that was clearly more personal than professional before she asked her question in English.

"I'm not sure if you've been online at all since the news broke but theres a lot of excitement to see how you'll work with Barcelonas Captain Alexia Putellas after the battles you both have been in internally and domestically in the champions league"

"Hopefully well" You laugh gently, "I obviously can't speak for her but I felt when we came up against each other we always seem to know the other persons move before they did so that could work in our favour if thats still the case for sure"

⚽️

Your first week at Barça felt like it blurred and stretched all at once intense, humbling, but quietly exhilarating. The campus buzzed with that unique hum of history and expectation, and though most of the internationals were away, the few players around had been warm and curious, and the staff even more so.

You’d come in focused, not just on the pitch, but off it. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t be that player, the one who expected the world to shift around them, so you’d shown up early, stayed late, and most noticeably, started showing real effort with the language.

You’d already gotten a few laughs from mispronunciations but it had softened people too, made them open up quicker. One of the assistant coaches had clapped you on the shoulder during a post-session debrief and said with a grin, “If you keep speaking like that, we might believe you were born here.”

And someone from the physio team, the one who always played reggaeton a little too loud, had joked, “She’s learning Catalan faster than some of the internationals that have been here years.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. The effort was there, and people noticed. At lunch one day, Marta one of the captains , sat down next to you and offered to help with your phrases. You wrote them down in the notes app on your phone with a smile and thanked her with a very practiced, “Gràcies, ets molt amable.”

The week ended with a light recovery session and a slow walk around the facility with some of the staff and players, as you paused by one of the open fields, you caught yourself thinking not with nerves, but calm certainty, this already feels like home.

⚽️

You were sunk deep into the sofa, legs stretched out, one arm draped over Teddy while Jonny lay curled on the floor nearby both dogs fully committed to doing absolutely nothing. You’d just thrown your phone somewhere between two cushions after replying to a group chat when it started to buzz again.

Alexia.

Your stomach did that stupid thing that tight, stupid little flip, you answered with a casual, “Hi,” but your voice had that edge the kind of smooth you practiced, the kind that meant she still got to you.

“Hola,” she said, and you could hear the smile. “You free tonight?”

You glanced around like there was something scheduled beyond dogs and leftovers. “Uh, yeah?”

“I was thinking maybe I could pick you up. Take you for a drink, unless you’ve already got someone else charming lined up to share wine with on a Friday night.”

You snorted before you could help it, biting back a grin. “I think you just insulted both Jonny and Teddy.”

Alexia laughed. “I’ll make it up to them with treats. Twenty minutes?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You hung up and tossed your phone down, just as Ellie rounded the corner with a glass of water and a look that said she’d heard everything, she arched a brow. “Wow. Readily available much?”

You gave her a shove with your foot. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re in love, or at least in the very specific early stages of horny, hopeful affection.” She took a dramatic sip of water. “It’s gross. And adorable. And gross.”

You rolled your eyes, already standing up. “Shut up.”

Ellie smirked, trailing after you. “Just don’t come crawling back here drunk at 1am needing me to tell you she definitely likes you. Again.”

You paused at the hallway, glancing back at her with a playful glare. “She does.”

Ellie grinned. “Then go let her show you.”

You stood in front of your open wardrobe, clothes flung across the bed in the kind of chaos that only came from nerves disguised as decision-making. A fitted black top. A more casual button-down. Jeans or trousers? Heeled boots or trainers?

“I’m losing it,” you muttered, holding up a shirt in each hand like they were life-altering contracts.

Ellie lounged back on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, watching you with all the serenity of someone who had not been personally attacked by a crush showing up for drinks. “You are wildly overthinking this,” she said around a grin. “You’re not meeting her parents, you’re going out for a drink with the woman who has seen you in sweats, eating cereal out of a mug.”

“This is different,” you huffed, holding up a different shirt now. “I’m in Barcelona. I’m officially her teammate and this is her picking me up for the first time for something like this. This is new territory for us, I dont know what we are, I dont know if she even sees us as a thing”

“You’ve been a thing,” Ellie replied, eyes twinkling. “She looked at you like you hung the stars before you signed. Now she’s probably just mad you’re still pretending this isn’t a date.”

You opened your mouth to argue only for the sharp buzz of the intercom to cut through the room. You froze. Ellie howled with laughter. “Oh my God, are you gonna cry?” she teased, hopping off the bed as you scrambled for your phone. “You’re actually panicking!”

“Shut up—”

But Ellie was already at the wall panel, pressing the call button, her voice smug and sweet. “Hey, Alexia? Yeah, come up. She’s still getting dressed. Might be a while.”

You swore under your breath, glaring at her as she turned around with the most unhelpful smirk you’d ever seen.

“She’s coming up,” Ellie said, tossing your trainers toward you. “Better choose an outfit before she has to help you into it, because she certainly will want to help you out of it later”

You threw a pillow at her. Missed and then frantically pulled on the top she’d first suggested, because of course it looked best all along.

You were mid, half-wrestling your way into a jacket that you’d suddenly decided might just be needed incase its cold, when you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by Ellie’s unmistakable voice and Alexia’s low reply.

Your heart did that thing and you froze for a second, pulse jumping. Then, footsteps, then her voice, soft but amused, from your bedroom doorway.

“Have you not unpacked yet?” she asked, leaning against the frame with one brow arched, eyes flicking over the absolute chaos of clothes on your bed, and all over the floor.

You turned, already flustered. “I have! It’s just—this—wasn’t unpacking. It was… tactical outfit planning.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she looked around, arms crossing lightly over her chest. She was in a simple outfit jeans and a white tee under a leather jacket nothing dramatic, but she still looked unfairly good. “Tactical,” she echoed, stepping a little further into the room. “Is this what you do before every drink?”

“Only with people who make me weirdly nervous,” you said before you could stop yourself, then winced. “That sounded cooler in my head.”

She smiled, slow and knowing, walking around the edge of your bed with practiced ease before glancing over your shoulder to the mirror. “Well, whatever strategy you landed on… it’s working.”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

Alexia shrugged one shoulder, but there was no mistaking the softness in her voice. “You look good.”

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. The air felt thick for a moment, warm and suspended. “I was going to say the same to you,” you murmured. “But I’ve already seen you in worse. Hoodie. Remember?”

That earned you a smirk, a familiar glint in her eyes. “That hoodie worked for me, and you know it."

You laughed properly this time tension bleeding out of your shoulders. Behind you, in the hallway, you could just make out Ellie muttering “Jesus Christ, just kiss already,” loud enough for no one to miss.

Alexia arched an eyebrow, grinning, and motioned toward the door. “Come on, before your new roommate starts narrating everything.”

You grabbed your bag with a shake of your head. “Lead the way, Putellas.”

⚽️

The bar wasn’t particularly full a few tables buzzing with locals, soft music filtering through the low lighting but it felt like its own kind of pocket. Removed from the press, the training ground, the cameras. It was just the two of you, a drink in your hand and Alexia next to you, looking at you like she’d been waiting to.

She slid your drink over to you, fingers brushing the base of the glass before retreating to her own. “So,” she said, eyebrows lifting as she took a sip. “How’s your first week been?”

You paused, glass halfway to your lips, and gave her a crooked smile. “Am I talking to my new captain right now or…”

The words hung there, suspended not because you didn’t know what to say, but because you suddenly weren’t sure what you were to each other now. This thing between you hadn’t really been labelled. A handful of visits, a couple of sexual encounters, and now she was asking about your week like it was nothing and everything all at once.

Alexia caught it the shift in your tone, the hesitation, her eyes softened, her smile slow and warm. “You’re talking to me,” she said quietly. “Not la capitana. Just me.”

You looked at her, your chest tightening in the best way. “Okay then,” you said with a soft laugh, finally taking a sip. “In that case, it’s been good. Better than I thought, actually. Everyone’s been kind. It’s strange though… adjusting to a new rhythm, new expectations. The staff are great, though. I feel like I already trust them.”

Alexia nodded. “That’s a big thing, trusting the staff. Makes all the difference.”

You toyed with the edge of your napkin. “Marta's already decided I’m one of you lot now, said there’s no going back.”

“She likes you,” Alexia said, her voice dipping into something teasing. “She’s very particular on who she likes to”

You smirked. “She also told me who to avoid if I want to keep my sanity.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes with a grin. “Let me guess… Jana?”

You pointed at her dramatically. “Yes. I didn’t even say anything, and Marta just went: ‘Don’t let Jana rope you into any theme nights. And if Ona’s involved? Run.’”

That pulled a real laugh from Alexia the kind that made you feel like you’d done something right just by being honest.

“I’ve been trying with the Catalan too,” you said after a moment. “Or at least trying and trying to not embarrass myself entirely. One of the physios asked if I knew any, I panicked and said ‘maybe’… in German.”

Alexia’s laugh softened to a fond smile. “Don’t worry. You’ve got time. I’ll help you, if you want.”

You looked at her over the rim of your glass. “Dangerous offer. I might hold you to that.”

Her gaze lingered. “I hope you do.”

You fell quiet for a beat, the kind of silence that didn’t press or stretch it just settled around you comfortably.

Then, more gently, Alexia leaned in a little. “You seemed nervous at the press conference.”

You shrugged. “I was. I didn’t want to say too much, or too little. I didn’t want to make it about the past.” She nodded like she understood, because of course she did. “But it’s weird,” you added. “I spent months knowing I had to leave Bayern and now that I’ve left, I thought I’d feel… relief, I guess. But it’s more like… grief. In a way.”

Alexia reached across the gap as you sat on your stools, brushing your thigh lightly with her fingers, not holding, just touching, grounding. “That makes sense,” she said softly. “You gave so much of yourself there. It’s okay to miss it. Even if your hand was twisted with the decision really"

You looked down at where her fingers had met you, her touch still lingering. Alexia tilted her head, you met her eyes. “I want this move to be more than just a headline. I want to earn my place here and I want… I don’t know. To let myself be happy. Properly happy.”

She smiled again, this time slower. “That’s a good place to start.”

You looked at her for a long moment, something warmer unfurling between your ribs even after she leaned back straight sipping her drink her hand still firm in its place on your thigh. “I missed you this week,” you say finally, quiet but certain.

Alexia looks up from where she’d been playing absently with a coaster, her expression shifting, something soft slipping into her eyes, a flicker of surprise behind it. “I thought about texting,” she says after a pause. “Calling, even. I just… I didn’t want to be a distraction. It felt like you needed space to settle in.”

You nod, offering a faint smile. “I get it and I didn’t expect you to. You were with the national team, you had your own stuff going on. I wasn’t waiting by the phone or anything.”

Alexia gives you a small, knowing look. “But you missed me.”

You shrug, playing it off with a smile, but your voice is sincere. “Yeah. I did.”

There’s a beat where neither of you says anything, the noise of the bar rising softly around you, but not enough to drown out the quiet gravity between you. “I missed you too,” Alexia says eventually, her tone almost shy. “More than I have before, maybe because I knew you were here to stay this time, that missing you didn't have to be a thing anymore.”

Your heart does a strange little somersault.

She runs a hand through her hair, eyes flicking back to you. “I kept checking for updates, watched for anything on Barca's instagram how your first few days were going”

You laugh lightly. “Stalking me?”

“I prefer the term keeping up.”

You grin. “Well, for what it’s worth… I’m glad we’re here now. Just you and me. No cameras. No clubs. No captains.”

Alexia’s smile deepens, slow and warm. “Just us.”

You clink your glass gently against hers. “Just us.”

⚽️

You unlock the apartment door, Teddy padding over to greet you both with an eager tail wag, and Alexia crouches briefly to ruffle his ears, murmuring a soft, "Hola, guapo," before straightening again.

She lingers just inside the threshold, looking around with that quiet familiarity, her fingers slipping into the back pockets of her jeans. “I should probably call a taxi,” she says after a moment, voice low, uncertain. "Let you get to bed"

You glance at her, keys still in your hand. “You could stay over, I was going to finish this bottle of wine.” you said as you grab it from the fridge

Her eyes flick to yours, a question hidden behind them. “Are you sure?”

You smile, shrugging one shoulder lightly. “Yeah. It’s late, you’ve had a drink, and we’re not exactly over tonight, are we?”

She huffs a small laugh, something teasing in her smirk as she walks further in. “No. Definitely not over it.”

You watch her move through the space like she’s already part of it, “Besides,” you add, voice softer, “I wouldn’t mind waking up to you still here.”

That earns you a look, one of those Alexia looks head slightly tilted, eyes narrowed like she’s seeing through every layer you’ve got, “You’re dangerous when you talk like that,” she murmurs.

You lean on the counter, grinning. “Then stay. Risk it.”

She hesitates for just a beat, then kicks off her shoes and tosses her keys into the bowl beside yours.

“I’ll take that glass of wine,” she says, casual like she’s not silently choosing something heavier than she lets on. “If it's still going?”

You grab another glass down, "Of course"

You nod, heart a little full, a little unsteady. “You want something to sleep in?”

Alexia lifts an eyebrow. “Do I need something to sleep in?”

You blink, caught off guard, and she laughs again low and playful, stepping closer, close enough to hook her fingers through a belt loop of your jeans. She must know you like it when she tugs at your clothing like she did, because she did every time she saw you.

“I’m teasing,” she murmurs, “kind of.”

You don’t say anything just lean in and kiss her, slow and warm, and when she breaks it, she smiles against your mouth.

Alexia looks down at your now joined hands, then back up at you. Her voice is quieter now, more tentative. “I like our conversations, I miss the way you talk to me when I speak to some other people.”

You tilt your head. “How do I talk to you?”

“Like I’m just Alexia,” she says. “Not Alexia Putellas. Not La Reina. Just… me.”

You squeeze her fingers gently. “I like just you. I can prove it if you want?" You smile gently

“You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, Coco.”

You laugh at the nickname. “Mateo would be proud.”

Alexia’s grin lingers, but her eyes soften again. “He keeps asking when you’re coming back over.”

“When you invite us, you're apparently not that forthcoming in inviting your teammates over, but happily go to everyone else's homes.”

Her thumb brushes your knuckles. “I'll stop asking you then shall I?"

You arch an eyebrow at her, catching the teasing tone under her words. “Stop asking me? You make it sound like I’m some burden.”

Alexia leans back slightly, her smile twitching at the corners. “You’re not. You’re the opposite, actually.”

“Oh?” You grin. “So what’s stopping you from inviting me properly? Hm?”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful. “Maybe I like coming here better. Less pressure, I don't have to host, and.. you don't have to leave Teddy”

You tilt your head. “So, what you’re saying is… you like being here so you can cuddle Teddy whilst I run around after you?.”

Alexia’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth, then meets your eyes again. “I do." You both laugh as you both sip your wine, you put yours down with a little more force than intended,

You shift slightly, leaning in just a little. “So, what are we doing tonight then, since you’re not racing off to get a taxi and you haven’t exactly made a move?”

She shrugs with exaggerated casualness, but her fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip. “I don’t know… what are we doing?”

Your voice drops just a notch. “Well, I’ve got a spare toothbrush still in the pack, and the guest bed is technically made…”

Alexia lifts an eyebrow. “Technically?”

You smirk. “Meaning I can throw the blanket over the sofa and hope for the best you don't freeze to death out here.”

She laughs, and the sound curls warm through your chest. “I’m not willing to take my chances.”

“Guest bed or mine?” you tease.

She’s already leaning closer. “Coco…”

You grin, brushing your nose against hers. “What?”

“I’m not staying on the fucking sofa.”

You kiss her soft, drawn out, like you’ve got all the time in the world. When you pull back, she’s smiling, eyes half-lidded, thumb still brushing lazy circles over your knuckles. “So,” you say, breath a little shaky now, “should I go get that toothbrush for you?”

Alexia hums. “Only if you're coming with me to use it.” She pauses, then grins. “Because I’m absolutely stealing your moisturiser again.”

You groan, teasing. “You’re the worst houseguest.”

“I’m not a guest,” she replies easily, tugging you toward the hall. “I’m staying over.”

⚽️

You try to focus on brushing your teeth, but it’s impossible when Alexia keeps glancing at you in the mirror, a smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth like she knows exactly what she’s doing to your focus.

She finishes first, of course, smug about it too, and without hesitation, grabs your moisturiser from the shelf like she owns it.

You glance at her through the mirror, foam still at the corners of your mouth. “You’re really just gonna steal that, huh?”

Alexia shrugs, already dabbing it onto her cheekbones with practiced precision. “I told you. I like yours better.”

You rinse and spit, wiping your mouth dry with a towel just as she finishes rubbing the cream in, then she steps behind you, her reflection moving into your peripheral vision. You feel her arms wrap around your waist, warm and easy, her body pressing close to yours from behind.

You exhale, instinctively leaning back into her. “You’re in a mood tonight.”

She hums against your shoulder. “You’re warm.”

Her lips brush bare skin. Just once, then again slower. You catch the shift in her expression in the mirror, her playful glint fading into something deeper, something that steals your breath.

Alexia starts with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, her hands sliding over your stomach, exploring, almost absentmindedly then her mouth trails higher, unhurried, grazing the slope of your neck.

You grip her arm for support, watching her lips in the mirror as they closed against your skin. “Ale…” you murmur, voice low, barely able to get the word out.

She doesn’t stop. Her mouth moves behind your ear, her hands splayed across your torso, thumbs tracing slow lines under the hem of your sleep shirt. “Mm?”

Your breath hitches. “You keep doing that, and we’re never making it out of this bathroom.”

She grins against your neck, her voice husky with intent. “That’s kind of the point.”

You turn, slowly, until you’re facing her. Her hands stay on you, her eyes are dark now, sure of themselves. There’s no teasing left in her smile just heat and want and something that feels dangerously close to adoration.

You rest your forehead against hers. “You’re not tired?”

“I’m tired of not touching you,” she whispers.

Then she kisses you again deeply this time and the rest of the night begins to rewrite itself, one soft, lingering touch at a time.

Alexia pulls back from the kiss, breath warm against your lips, and then with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes she bends slightly, hooks her arms around your thighs, and lifts you clean off the floor in one smooth, confident motion.

You let out a surprised laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around her neck. “Are you serious right now?”

She grins, carrying you toward the bed like it’s nothing. “You doubted me?”

“A little bit,” you tease, breathless with laughter. “You’re deceptively strong.”

“I’m literally a professional athlete,” she deadpans, setting you down with an exaggerated gentleness before crawling beside you. “What did you think I was doing all that gym work for? Instagram posts?”

You snort. “I thought it was just for the aesthetics.”

Alexia props herself up on one elbow, her other hand smoothing over your hip. “Well, the aesthetics are a bonus,” she murmurs, gaze flicking over you meaningfully. “But it’s mostly for moments like this.”

You roll your eyes, smiling, as you tug her closer. “God, you’re cheesy.”

“You love it,” she says smugly, settling half on top of you.

You don’t disagree. You run your fingers teasingly along Alexia’s arm, still half-draped across your waist, and glance up at her through your lashes.

“I mean… I do like your arms.. the muscles.”

Her eyes narrow playfully. “Oh yeah?” she says, lifting her arm and flexing her bicep with a grin. “These muscles?”

You burst out laughing, pushing lightly at her chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

But she just smirks, holding the pose. “You brought it up.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Fine. Yes. Those muscles.” You lean up and kiss her, slow and warm. “Very impressive, capitana.”

Alexia hums into the kiss, her hand slipping up under your shirt. “I’ll remind you next time you tease me about carrying you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you murmur against her mouth.

She grins again, soft but wicked. “You have no idea.”

Alexia shifts beside you, her hand tracing slow patterns along your side as she presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

“You know what I like?” she murmurs, her voice warm and quiet.

You smile, eyes still closed. “Mmm… what?”

She brushes her lips just below your collarbone, slipping on top of you, the kiss soft and deliberate. “Here,” she says. Her hand moves gently over your stomach, her fingers light sliding your shirt up followed by a kiss on your abs. “And here,” she whispers. “Strong without trying. You don’t even realise it.”

You open your eyes, meeting her gaze in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There’s something deeply sincere in her expression, something unguarded.

She leans down, kissing the curve of your hip. “And this—” her voice is quieter now, almost a smile against your skin, “this is just one of my favourite places to hold onto when you’re close.”

Your breath catches, not from surprise but from how gently she’s unfolding each word. You reach for her hand, threading your fingers together. “You’re kind of good at this, you know.”

“At what?” she murmurs, lips grazing your wrist.

You look at her, heart full. “Making me feel seen”

She meets your gaze again, eyes steady and soft. “That’s easy,” she says. “You’re hard to miss.” Her fingers hook into your little pyjama shorts, “May i?”

You bite your lip, “You better”

⚽️

You arrive at training with Ellie, both of you still buzzing a little from the morning's energy. The sun's climbing lazily over the city, casting warm light across the pitches as players filter in from all sides bags slung over shoulders, coffee cups in hand, laughter echoing in short bursts across the facility. You can tell the internationals are back there's a different kind of buzz today.

Inside, you're barely ten steps into the building before you're met with a chorus of greetings.

“Hola!”

“Buen día!”

“¡Al fin te conocemos!”

A few of them wrap you up in brief, affectionate hugs like they've known you longer than five minutes. Patri gives your arm a playful squeeze, Aitana gives a polite nod, Claudia winks, and Cata grins wide as she compliments your boots. The vibe is easy, warm like family. You’re a little caught off guard by how immediate it feels still now everyone was here.

Then Mapi strolls over, already grinning. “Coco,” she sings, eyes dancing as she holds up her phone. “You busy?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Training starts in ten minutes.”

“Perfect,” she says, completely ignoring your implication. “Help me with this.” She flips the phone toward you as she sits in Ellie's cubicle beside yours, It’s another English crossword. The fifth one this week.

“You know they have Spanish ones, right?”

“I know,” she shrugs, not the least bit ashamed. “But this helps me practice my english. And you’re better than Google Translate.”

You take the phone, eyeing the half-finished puzzle. “Five letter word, ends with N… artificial silk.. Rayon.”

Mapi nods sagely. “You're so smart”

You snort. “You’re not slick.”

“I try.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you tie your boots and she walks away face buried in her book, you feel Alexia's gaze on you but you don't meet it. You're pulling your training top down when Kika opposite smirks and speaks as the locker room at awful timing fell silent, "That's an interesting mark you have"

You wet your lip trying to stop the corners of your lips from curling as you made eye contact, "Mind your business"

"Truth or dare"

You groaned "No, Kika, please no more" You give Marta a pleading look when Kika looked to her also.

"Don't look at me, it's either that or singing you know that" she smiled

"What's this?" Irene asked

"I talked to Y/N about initiation, she haggled, she gets to not sing if at any point we say truth or dare, we ask a question and give a dare and she has to either answer or do the dare. unfortunately for Y/N Kika asks personal questions and gives dares most wouldn't do"

"So. Truth" Kika grinned, "When did you last have sex or Dare. You run four laps of the pitch after training"

"I'll run the laps"

Ellie laughed at Kika's face, "She loves running, nice try"

You toss your kit bag onto the bench, still grinning from your dodge of Kika’s truth-or-dare trap, when she perks up again, clearly not done with her game.

“Well, if you're not gonna say when, maybe at least say who.” Kika narrows her eyes, her voice lilting with amusement. “What about that girl from the bar? The one who looked like she was very ready to risk it all the other night?”

Your smirk falters slightly not because she’s right, but because of the shift in the air the second the words leave her mouth. You feel it before you see it. The brief silence is loud.

Your eyes flick instinctively across the locker room just in time to catch the split-second change in Alexia’s face. The subtle clench of her jaw. The way she adjusts the tape around her wrist a little too tightly. Her expression unreadable, but her energy very, very clear.

Irene, standing beside her, clocks it too. She leans over, voice low and dry but not unkind. “Seems like you’ll need to do more than mark your territory.”

Mapi, unbothered and sipping from her water bottle, chuckles beside them. “Could always piss in a circle around her bag, classic animal kingdom move.”

Alexia doesn’t respond, but there’s a flash of something in her eyes. Not quite jealousy sharper than that. Possessive, maybe, or challenged.

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

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littlelamy · 4 months ago

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Hi, i wanted to ask if you could write something with rafe cameron x baddie reader I'm talking like someone like maddy from euphoria. I'm sick of all the i can fix fics he needs someone who matches his freak

note: didn't know if you wanted smut, but i'm in a smutty mood 🙂‍↕️

you’re not the girl people warn him about. you’re the girl people warn him to stay the fuck away from.

rafe cameron is trouble. everyone knows it, everyone whispers about it when he walks into a room—spoiled rich boy with anger issues, a temper that burns too hot, too fast. he’s the kind of man that destroys anything good he touches, the kind that doesn’t just ruin lives, but enjoys doing it.

but you? you’re something else entirely.

when you meet, it’s not some soft, lingering moment. it’s heat. it’s pressure. it’s a collision. you’re in his space, dripping in gold and confidence, a dress so short and tight it should be illegal, lashes so long they sweep against your brow bone when you blink at him like you already know you own him. because you do.

"you're staring, cameron," you purr, swirling your drink, lips painted in the kind of red that stains, that marks.

his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, sharp blue eyes dragging over your body, slow and deliberate. he's cocky, always is, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. wanting. needing.

"not used to seeing a girl like you around here."

"that's because there aren’t girls like me," you correct, taking a step closer. the scent of your perfume, expensive and intoxicating, wraps around him. "you like what you see?"

he exhales a low chuckle, but there's something darker in his gaze. something dangerous. "i think you already know the answer to that."

it goes like this—fast, reckless, inevitable. you're both fire and gasoline, a match struck in the middle of a fucking drought.

"keep up, cameron," you taunt one night, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you lean against his car.

his jaw clenches, fingers flexing at his sides. "you love teasing me, don’t you?"

"i love watching you sqirm," you correct, tipping his chin up with a perfectly manicured finger before sauntering inside the club without a backward glance.

rafe isn't used to losing control, but with you…he doesn’t stand a fucking chance. he learns quick that you're not like the other girls who bat their lashes and let him call the shots. you push back. you challenge. you take and take and take, and he loves it. you’re not afraid of his temper, of the sharpness in his voice when things don’t go his way.

if anything, it turns you on.

and that drive him fucking crazy.

when he fucks you, it’s all-consuming, a battle of dominance neither of you really want to win. your nails rake down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. his hand tightens around your throat, just enough to make you gasp, make your lashes flutter. he doesn’t fuck soft. he fucks like he needs it, like he’s been starving for it, like you’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

"tell me who you belong to," he mutters against your skin, hand slipping between your thighs, fingers pressing into you just enough to tease.

"hmm," you hum, pretending to think. "i don't know, rafe. do you deserve to hear it?"

his smirk falters, grip tightening. "you're playing a dangerous game, baby."

"i always win," you whisper, dragging your nails down his chest before flipping the script, shoving him onto the bed. he lets out a sharp breath, watching you with dark, hungry eyes as you straddle his lap.

"fuck," he hisses as you grind against him, slow, teasing. "you’re gonna pay for that."

"good," you smirk, leaning down until your lips brush his ear. "make me."

he flips you before you can blink, but you’re faster. Before he can pin your hands, your legs wrap around his waist, twisting, flipping him onto his back. you straddle him again, nails trailing down his chest, smirking as his breath catches.

"what’s wrong, cameron? thought you were in charge?"

his hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, but you grind down against him, slow, deliberate, making him groan through clenched teeth. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his ear.

"you drive me so fucking insane," he growls, voice ragged.

you chuckle, dragging your tongue along the shell of his ear. "then lose your mind for me, cameron. if...you can keep up."

and he does. every single time.

he fucks you until you’re shaking, until his name spills from your lips without hesitation, without defiance, until you’re gasping, clawing at his back, needing more, more, more.

and in the aftermath, when you’re tangled in his sheets, bodies still buzzing with the aftershocks, he looks at you with something dangerous in his gaze. like he’s addicted. like he’s never letting you go.

"mine," he murmurs, tracing a possessive line down your spine.

you don’t argue. you just smirk, pressing a kiss to his jaw, already thinking of all the ways you’ll test him again tomorrow.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

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chimerafeathers · 4 months ago

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the concept of intentional boredom/tedium in video games is very much a "your mileage may vary" kind of thing and i go back and forth about it in different situations. where does it work? where does it feel earned/worth the mental toll? why am i gonna play a game that is trying to make me miserable?

i can understand this not being the case for everyone (ymmv, after all) but for ISaT i was so fucking fully on board with the repetitive tedium of it all. rubbing my grubby little hands together and going yesssss, yesssssss, make my immersive gameplay experience directly emulate the exact frustrations and anxieties and mind-numbing breakdowns of the player character. remind me, at every turn, the toll this would take on the person living it. make me live their inner monologue before it's ever verbalized on screen.

how strong you feel, compared to the party you're inevitably leaving behind, how weak they seem now. how annoying it is to cut down these same enemies again and again, always pointlessly getting in your way (oh, how convenient that Siffrin feels the same way so intensely that you can get an item that lets him scare them off by sheer force of will before they attack you!). since when was the King's battle--so terrifying, so impossible before--so easy? can't this go faster? you've heard this all before.

let me skip ahead, loop around, treat my character my body Siffrin as disposable, take the fast and easy way to reach the next goal when you're on the verge of an exciting breakthrough, this loop doesn't matter anyway. but ohh, this next loop might be The One, better do this one right and follow the script to perfection. make all the jokes and say all the right things to get the lovely bonding dialogue so you can carry the Best Version of Everyone through to the end. that'll give you the Good Ending, right? can't hurt to try, right? you don't really believe it but this time will fix everything, right?

how generous and wonderful to have so many shortcuts at hand! dissociating zoning out to skip repetitive dialogue, splitting your head open on a rock slipping on a banana peel in the town to loop right to the floor you need, suuuuurely all of this stuff is purely for the Player's Convenience and won't have any psychological impact on our dear protagonist such that it gets slammed back into the player's face as a stomach-dropping reminder that someone's moment-to-moment experience in this time loop still matters, still carries over, still gets riddled with scars even if they can't be seen!

i've played & watched enough games that trivialize/hand-wave game mechanics that it's pretty easy to detach myself from the minutiae of video game decision-making. "this input gets the Good Response" -> "i will continue doing this input." "this option will be more efficient" -> "might as well save some time then." but this game would not let me stop thinking about consequence.

picking Siffrin's favorite food makes them happy! :) it's also the option that makes Bonnie the happiest! yay! -> i keep picking their favorite food -> Siffrin gradually grows sick of something that once brought him joy -> oh. right. that...makes sense, huh.

okay i asked the King what i needed, mann there won't be any tears after the fight is over so i'll have to do the whole ending scene again and that takes a while and i reeeeally wanna talk to Loop, maybe i'll just lose on purpose this time -> OH. RIGHT. THIS IS MAYBE THE MOST PAINFUL WAY FOR SIFFRIN TO DIE BOTH PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY HUH. -> never gonna do that again actually!!!!! the ending isn't that long!!!!

banana peel time! we've got places to be and mysteries to solve! -> (you're a living comedy sketch.) (you wonder if you'll ever be able to smell bananas again without wanting to vomit.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

it's always cute to see Isabeau's reactions! pick the options that make him blush :3 -> (disgusting. manipulative. it's no wonder he thinks he likes you, you made him feel that way.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry siffrin NO he liked you before any of this happened please don't think of yourself that way--

maybe it won't hit the same for every player (what game can expect to do that?) but holy fuck it hit for me. the way the mechanics let you fall into familiar gamey rhythms but constantly, constantly remind you that this is Siffrin's life you're playing with. the way you end up perfectly in step in the worst ways. muscle memory and habit built up so well that you both stumble when something changes. devastating and delicious

#isat #mypost #long post #isat spoilers #in stars and time #isat meta #in stars and time spoilers #cw sui mention #cw sh mention #love when a game is a story that could never be told as anything but a game without losing something of its impact #when it makes the player complicit in its story through their choices whether they mean to cause harm or not #putting my head in my hands.

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speed-world · 11 months ago

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Hi, I'm not sure if you'll see my request, but I want to ask. Whooh.. [worried and worried] So calm... can I ask you to write Cookie Run Kingdom Self-awareness Au with a human child y/n? And what does the ancients and the cookies of darkness have to do with the fact that their world is just a game? Well, when the ancients and the cookies of darkness found out about this, all the cookies would want to get to know child y/n and the Dark Enchantress changed her mind from leading the world and then a new dispute began about who would protect and take care of child y/n. [If possible, then let y/n get into the midst of the final battle of the Ancients against the Dark Enchantress cookie and if you don't mind, then let the character of little y/n be the most attractive and sweet in the world and his appearance charming so much that even the trading monsters and cake hounds did not want to cause any harm and even pomegranate cookies and Licorice cookies were kind to baby y/n] I would very much like you to tell me this sweet story about it. ^^

(Sorry this took so long, I really hope this is to your liking, as I wrote it with the idea of a school age child [6-12] and I didn’t do everything in the request)

Terrifying New Dawn

Everything was dark around you, so much so that you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face. The last thing you remember clearly was playing on your phone before going to sleep, and now you were waking up here….in a deforested area with dark and red shadows clouding the sky. You had so many questions: Where are your parents? Where are you?? Why are…the large walls surrounding you so tasty looking?! As you stirred, you heard the muttering of smaller beings that surrounded you. Shock and confusion were written on all of their faces as they just stared at you lying down…

“It seems like they’re waking up…how on Earthbread did this even happen?”

“I…I have no idea. Why would a child of the Witches suddenly come down here, during a war of all things…?”

Your vision began to clear up more, and you quickly realized where you were. You were surrounded by Cookies…and you recognized all of them!! These were all recognizable faces from the game you were playing earlier: CookieRun: Kingdom! How exciting is this!! Granted, you also realized something more grim than exciting…you’re still you: a human child in a game world of Cookies. You were dang near a giant to them, and they looked scared of you…how can you convince them you aren’t a threat? Maybe…just say hello?

“Pure Vanilla, Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, White Lily, and even Dark Enchantress Cookie?! H-hello…it’s really cool to see you all-“

“T-this child knows us?! They wouldn’t be…a baker or a witch, would they?!”

Okay…not the reaction you wanted…but how do you explain yourself to them? You most certainly aren’t a “child of the Witches,” nor are you a Witch at all!! Would telling the truth hurt? No…it couldn’t hurt!! It’s just the truth, and your parents always told you that lying wasn’t good for anyone, so telling the truth must be perfect!!

“No, no, I’m nothing like that! I’m just a kid that was playing your cool game! I don’t know what happened to my phone though…but I was playing as you guys in this exact moment, where you were fighting each other! Neat, right?”

Your childish innocence only made things worse. The Cookies around you froze in complete shock from the slow realization, a truth far more painful than the one Dark Enchantress Cookie was dead set on making others see. They were pixels on a screen,…predetermined script for you to mess around with, …fake…. If it wasn’t obvious, they weren’t happy with this realization at all, especially the one who’s apparently been forced to play the villain’s role…

“What…what kind of perverse joke is this? You mean to tell me that my ambitions, everything I’ve worked tirelessly for, my life…has been worthless this entire time?! The truth I meant to share with all Cookiekind…is nothing more than wasted breath compared to this…”

Dark Enchantress Cookie stood utterly defeated, still trying to process what reality now means to her. The Ancients, ironically, were united with Dark Enchantress here. None of them knew what to properly make of their lives now. But, there was now a more pressing issue: you. You were a child, a lost one at that. You had no home to go to, no family to look after you, and you were rather…unfitted for the Cookie world as you were now. Oddly enough, the first one to address this was none other than Dark Enchantress herself!

“Ah, yes….despite everything, you, child, are our greatest concern of the moment. Seeing as how all I’ve strived for is now utterly meaningless, I’ve changed my mind. I no longer have any desire to continue this war with you Ancient heroes, or any other Cookies of the matter. From now on, this child is my concern, and I’ll watch over them as I see fit.”

“W-what?! You can’t be the one to watch over them! You’d misguide and harm them, and no matter who they are, they don’t deserve that harsh life!”

“All you do is assume rather than listen…I’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no more interest in any of my former ideals, as they clearly have no substance anymore. If it makes you happy to satisfy your role as a ‘hero’, then we can all help this child adjust to this world properly. Surely if we come together with our magic and wits, we can at least ideally make them a body better suited to live amongst us, wouldn’t you agree~?”

The Ancients stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to decide your fate, before one radiant Ancient approached you. She looked up at your towering stature with welcoming eyes.

“Child, do know that this is ultimately your decision. The last thing either of us would want is to do anything to you that could harm you. Your safety and wellbeing is our shared priority, but you could pose a danger to us in the state you’re currently in. If you so wish, we can find a way to assist you to live in this world without issue until we find a way to bring you back to your home…what do you say?”

It felt like no matter what you chose, you’d be completely safe and cared for no matter what. You noticed that as you were pondering, a horde of cake hounds and other monsters of Dark Enchantress’s forces circled you and virtually showered you with affection, which you found so adorable!! The cake hounds would play around your large body and playfully puppy kiss you!

It’s clear as day that these Cookies care for you, first and foremost, and everything else around you did as well. They wouldn’t cause you harm, they wouldn’t even want you to cry or be afraid, they loved you like nothing else, and hoped that your new life here wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of!

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #dark enchantress crk #dark enchantress cookie x reader #dark enchantress cookie #dark cacao cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie #hollyberry cookie x reader #hollyberry cookie #white lily cookie x reader #white lily cookie #golden cheese cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie

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astrstqr · 2 months ago

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i know it’s stupid to ask but in my dr we are in new york and im in high school? BUT i have no idea about american education system is there something specific to script

*i come from a euroasian country soooooo it’s probably really different but idk

okok, i remember i made a whole post abt this a year ago and i can’t find the post 😭 so ima use yours to make a new one about this !!

✶ the grading system is fair (no favouritism or rigging because of money)

✶ students’ mental and physical health is always the number one priority

✶ there are mandatory breaks for students between and during classes if needed

✶ it’s mandatory to teach sign language in schools

✶ schools actually help kids

✶ the education system is good

✶ college is free

✶ school food is good

✶ schools are well funded and have better stuff

✶ there are cool events like talent shows, battle of the bands etc. etc.

✶ no dress code but the kids don't take it too far

✶ school Wi-Fi doesn't have restrictions on certain apps or websites

✶ each classroom has their own ac, and they can control it

✶ there are a lot of extra-curriculum classes

✶ better chairs and desks

✶ no homework

✶ no pop quizzes

✶ the bathrooms are always clean and smell good

✶ no violence happens

✶ has a lot of field trips

✶ no assign seats

✶ the cafeteria is like a mall food court

✶ lunch is always third period unless something is going on that (such as events, test, not a lot of students that day)

✶ different classes each day

✶ school busses have air

✶ teachers respect students (and understand the concept of earning respect, no matter age)

✶ salary is fair (teachers actually get payed what they deserve!!!)

✶ everyone takes time to listen and understand student concerns

✶ people don’t crowd the halls during breaks

✶ no bullying

✶ even if they aren’t friends, students respect and act nice to each other

✶ prep rallies are always fun, exciting, and everyone participates

✶ everybody goes to any game for any sport

✶ the school curriculum is the same throughout the country

✶ students learn actual and real history etc.

#yonce ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏★#my dr things 𓈒 𑁯 ⁀ ִ ۫#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting #shifters #desired reality #shifting motivation #manifesation

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billthedrake · 4 months ago

Text

LINEAGE (PART SIX)

We hit a rough patch. I guess it happens in every marriage. Braden and I made sure not to fight in front of the boys, but we were arguing more. Some of the usual stuff, about me being a workaholic and not doing enough parenting duties for our youngest, Evan and Keith. It was like me and my eldest son's earlier dynamic was coming back in a different way.

But behind it all was Brade still wasn't pregnant. He and I had decided to have a fourth son, and it just wasn't taking. We'd come back from our belated honeymoon fucking like bunnies, but after a year, the sexual intensity had faded. We still had sex once a week, but maybe that wasn't enough.

I'd talked to the younger Dr. Fiedler about it, and Todd said that fertility starts to decline in a man's mid-30s. He said he could write a script for some fertility pills, if Braden and I wanted to try them. But I figured I'd hold off on that. I didn't want Braden to feel I was putting pressure on him to conceive. For all we knew, my swimmers weren't doing the job.

Todd Fiedler was the one man who I could unload my problems to and I knew he'd keep them private. I suspect one part of the marital issues was that Braden didn't have a close confidante when it came to incest marriage. And my husband was starting to resent the Saturday tee times with my golf buddy.

Still, I wasn't going to give them up. Junior had taken to golfing, in a big way, and at 14 was pretty damn good. It helped that the Fiedlers had a son Junior's age, Sam, so we became a regular foursome.

"He's gonna beat you today, Bill," Todd said with a grin as he slid his club into the bag. The boys were walking ahead of us.

"Seems that way," I said. "Guess my game is off."

Todd patted my shoulder. He could be flirty with me, in an understated way though Brade and I never fooled around with the Fiedlers like with did with the Connors men. "Maybe. But your son's a natural." He got a playful look in his eye. "Took Adam a lot longer to beat me." Adam is the oldest Fiedler son, just then starting college. "But I'll tell ya, the sex was fuckin incredible that day."

Todd's eyes fixed on me as he dropped that bombshell.

"You mean...?" I asked.

He nodded. "I figure I can tell you and Braden. But yeah, that's developed and it's pretty incredible."

I was trying my best not to get hard in my golf shorts, but it was probably going to be a losing battle. "Jesus, Todd... we're gonna have to talk more about this."

He smiled. "You got it. Dad and I still have to pinch ourselves that it's happening." I sort of resented we didn't have the time or full privacy for him to share the full story.

We walked along. "I've been meaning to bring this up, Bill... but a friend of mine is doing a study of incest families... it's all confidential... I told him I'd see if you were interested in being part of it, too."

"What kind of study?" I asked. From anyone else the request would have seemed far-fetched but I trusted the Fiedlers.

"Psychology, mostly interviews with me, Dad, and our sons. I'll just say Mark is, um, sympathetic to our kind of families."

I chuckled. "Is that right? It's funny how I spent years thinking Brade and I were the only ones, and gradually we find more sympathetic family men."

"Besides the Connors?" Todd asked.

I had never told him about the Newcombs, the father and son we'd met in the Caribbean. I'd half forgotten about them myself. Only..

"Braden and I met these guys on our honeymoon. We drew them out of their shell a bit.""

"Yeah?" Todd's eyes gleamed. He knew Braden and I were open to playing with the Connors and suspected that was the case here.

I didn't spell it out though. "They kind of freaked out on us, but I just got a LinkedIn message from the dad."

Todd was listening with rapt attention.

"It was all coded, but basically he was thanking me," I continued.

"Seems like we both have some stuff to talk about," Fiedler said. We were now catching up to the where the boys were already setting up their tees on the next hole.

Sam hit a good shot, but Junior's was the incredible drive right down the fairway. Yep, my son was gonna beat me that day, for sure.

***

The next couple of weeks were busy. That's why the news came out of the blue for me.

"Dad... can you come in here?" I heard from the master bathroom one morning. It was a weekend, and I was putting away folded laundry.

"What is is, buddy?" I asked, stepping into the bathroom. Braden was still in his pyjama pants and a worn T-shirt that hugged his ex-Marine muscle body. If we hadn't had sex first thing that morning, I would have been initiating something right then.

He had a nervous look. "Shut the door... " he said softly. "I just have this feeling, call it a daddy's intuition."

I'd barely shut it, when my son pulled down the flannel pants and hauled out his soft dong. He grabbed the stick of the pregnancy test and let his piss stream hit it for a few seconds.

"You mean...?" I asked excitedly.

Braden looked at me with nervous hopefulness. I realized then how much he really wanted this. Wanted to be impregnated with our fourth.

I was getting hard just waiting for the result, and I could see Brade chub up. I stepped up close and placed my hand on his shoulder as we both watched in anticipation. Then, clear as day, a plus appeared on the stick.

"God, Dad..." Braden said. He was 38 years old now, but he had almost the innocent enthusiasm he showed when he was 18.

We kissed. I'd missed this romantic connection, but it was like riding a bike. Braden was the best kisser I'd ever known, and his tongue dancing against my own, sucking me into his mouth before nudging back, was driving me wild.

"I need you inside me, Dad," he hissed. Already he was pushing those pyjama pants down.

"The boys..." I warned. We had to be restrained with even a quickie during these weekends.

"The door's shut," Brade hissed. He was turning away and leaning over the bathroom vanity slightly. Ready to be taken.

The lube was in the bedroom, but I opened the medicine cabinet and found the petroleum jelly, which we'd used a couple of times before. I smeared my breeder cock and got into position.

"Ooff!" Braden grunted at the sudden penetration. Then, "fuck me, Dad." He braced his hands on the sink ledge. "Fuck your son."

"My oldest son," I hissed. While Braden and I had kept up at least some regular sex life, it had been WAY too long since we'd indulged the verbal.

"Oldest of four... now five... oh fuck!"

I was thrusting now, and Braden was opening up for me. Our eyes locked on the mirror. At the vision of me mounting and fucking his newly pregnant muscle body.

"I love fucking breeding you, Brade... knocking you up."

"My hot fucking dad. Fucking stud patriarch."

God, Braden was gonna get me off quick. That and the pregnancy news.

"My hot fucking pregnant son." My hips were piledriving harder. We might not be able to get this hard later in Braden's pregnancy so I felt an urgency to take him like this while I could.

"Gonna keep barefoot and pregnant, Dad?"

Fuck, I was cumming, my hips locking and my dick spurting a heavy load inside Braden. His eyes watched my O face in the mirror as he stroked off to a heavy cum himself.

I gave my son a playful pat to his muscle ass when I withdrew and we kissed softly once more. "If you wanna clean up, Son, I'll go check on the boys."

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

"For what?" I laughed.

He laughed back. "For being my father. For giving me another kid. For that fuck. I don't know."

We kissed again then Brade started the shower.

I made myself presentable and went to the family room. There was inevitably the emotional whiplash of going from sex and romance time with Braden back to parenting mode. I had an intuition and sure enough Evan and Keith were fighting over the iPad.

"Dad! Keith is hogging it" The two brothers were just a year and a half apart in age. That meant they could get along famously one minute and be at each other's throat the next.

I had to play stern dad. "I'll take away both your screen time, fellas. Don't think I won't."

Junior's attention was on his phone but even in my peripheral vision I saw him smirk.

***

We did that study. Or at least we started. Fiedler's psychologist friend Mark said it was a long term study, though we could drop out any time. He assured us he'd only ask the boys general questions, whereas Brade and I would each be asked more probing questions.

It felt freeing to talk about my sex life and what incest meant to me in the privacy of his office. I had to hide my boner, but then realized it probably didn't matter.

"Do you feel normal?" the man finally asked me.

I had to think. "I know I'm not the norm," I said. "But deep down, what I have with Brade, our family, feels normal to me."

"What's been the hardest part for you?"

I didn't have to think, I knew right away. "The secrecy. Pretending I'm a coparent rather than Braden's husband."

The shrink wrote in his pad, then set it down. "That should be enough, Bill. I really appreciate you taking the time and opening up about your family."

It was weird being studied this way, but I liked the doctor's nonjudgmental approach. Reading between the lines of what Todd Fiedler told me, I wondered if Mark had an incest history of his own, or if it was something that turned him on. I almost asked.

Braden seemed in a quiet mood when I got home. But we enjoyed family time, watching a movie until it was time for Evan and Keith to go to bed. I'd had to lay down the law about a reasonable bedtime, and I could see Braden amused as I dealt with their pleading to stay up late this time.

But finally they went to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. I checked on them and when I came back, Braden was talking to Junior about starting up high school in a couple of weeks. It was the most animated I'd seen our eldest be in a while.

"I just know homework will get harder," he said.

"You're a good student, Junior," Braden said.

Our son smiled at the compliment. I didn't even have to get on his case, Junior was diligent when it came to school. "I just worry about balancing school and golf, you know?"

Already Junior was anticipating joining the golf team.

"You'll do fine," I said. "It's the dating life which might suffer," I teased.

Junior blushed but tried to be part of the grown-up conversation.

"I guess that's another good thing about high school, huh?" he said.

"It was for your dads," Braden said, leaning into my arm as we sat on the couch. I could tell he was feeling far more relaxed talking about these things with Junior.

Our son took that in and with hesitation asked. "Dad.... Daddy... how did you first start dating?"

Braden looked at me in a "should we tell him?" way.

I figured our son was old enough. I wouldn't give all the details, but I could start.

"Well, your Daddy was attracted to me, and deep down I was attracted to him, but I had to be a father first, you know. But when he was a senior, we let it happen. And pretty quickly, we knew it was serious."

"That's cool," Junior said. "I hope I find someone special like you two have."

"You will," Braden said.

Junior paused. "Dads... I haven't told you, but I'm pretty sure I'm gay."

"Pretty sure?" Braden asked.

Junior chuckled. "Well, completely sure."

I don't know why the news surprised me, but it did. "I'm proud of you, buddy... for realizing who you are. It took me a long time."

"Gosh," Junior said. Then thoughtfully, he added. "You know, I guess I worry what people with think. Having two dads, and if you made me gay."

Braden chimed in. "If your Dad and I cared what people think we wouldn't be happy."

That made Junior smile. He'd been lectured on the need of secrecy and the taboo about incest since he was young. "I guess not."

We made some more talk, mostly general stuff about dating, then Brade and I said it was time for bed.

As my husband and I got ready and stripped down, the conversation weighed heavily on us. "He's gonna be trouble," Braden said.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," my son replied. "He's a good looking kid... smart, maybe too smart." He snuggled up to me. "I wouldn't be surprised he if ends up a teen father like you."

Maybe it was the warm feel of Braden next to me, but I won't lie, my cock went rigid. Rock hard against my son's softly furred abs. That got a chuckle out of Braden.

"You like that idea," he said.

"Come on, Brade," I objected. It was an idle fantasy, not reality.

Braden didn't press me on, it though. Nor were we amping up to sex quickly. Instead my son kissed me softly. He was in a romancing mood, and I did my best to respond.

"Sorry if I was moody earlier," he said. "It was that interview with Mark."

My protective streak kicked in. "We don't have to participate, Brade," I said.

He nodded. "It's fine... only... did he make the moves on you?"

"No. Why?" Did Mark hit on Brade?

"He and I talked. The dude has SO many daddy issues. Jerks off to pictures of his dad each day. Only goes for guys who are older as a substitute."

"We didn't get personal, not like that," I said. I reflected. "Maybe it's common."

"I'm sure it is," Braden said, relieved. "I'm lucky as hell I have my actual father."

We kissed more intensely then Braden pushed me on my back. "Lie there, Dad," he said and reached over for the lube. "It's been a while since I've ridden that dad cock."

I placed my hands behind my head and grinned. "Pregnancy hormones kicking in?" We'd had sex that morning and usually didn't find time for twice in a day.

Braden smiled. "In a big way, Dad. Maybe that's why I got turned on hearing the doc talk about his father."

"Incest is really hot, isn't it?"

Braden slicked up my hardon and straddled me. "God yes." He settled back into place. I thought back to those homecoming fucks when Brade was in the Marines, coming back on leave, or home from deployment. And after our conversation with Junior, I realized how much Brade and I had almost forgotten about that phase of feeling each other out, trying to decide how much was physical transgression between father and son and how much was true love.

My dick penetrated him. Brade's hands were on my chest, feeling me up as he lowered down. "I love your cock, Dad. So much."

"I love your ass, buddy. Can't ever get enough."

"I wish more people could see us, Dad. See how a father and son mate." He settled further down. Lost in his sexual fantasy but also very much in the moment.

"Like Doug and Eric Newcomb?"

His eyes went wide. "You hear from those guys again?" I'd told Braden about

"From Doug, yeah. He and his boy want to visit sometime."

"God, I want you to fuck me in front of them... with my big pregnant gut..." OK, Brade wasn't kidding about the pregnancy hormones. His voice was getting louder.

I held onto his hips and pumped gently as we got deeper into the sex talk. But this was mostly Brade's fuck, his hips driving it like he wanted. He fucked himself on my dick to a hands-free cum. The very sight pushed me over the edge. The post-fuck kiss was amazing and we took our time to uncouple.

***

The next morning Junior had a knowing look on his face when I came into the kitchen to pour my coffee. We had one of those coffee makers with an automatic time. It took me a second to realize the pot was a little short.

"You drinking coffee?" I asked Junior.

"That's OK, Dad, right?" he asked, a combination of innocence and challenging me. Junior was a good kid but Braden was on to something. He was going to be a challenging teen to raise in his own way.

"Yeah, buddy, it's OK," I said. Pouring my own cup.

"Dad..." Junior said.

"Yeah?"

He stood up from the counter and dropped his voice to a whisper. "No disrespect. But you and Daddy might want to be quieter. I could hear you guys..."

I gulped, while trying not to act like things were out of the normal. Brade and I kept our sex life private, but we never wanted our boys to see anything unhealthy about our relationship. "Sorry, kiddo," I said. Trying to give a conspiratorial smile. "Though I guess you have something to tell that shrink next time."

At least that made Junior laugh. "Don't worry, Dad, I can keep a secret." He passed me and put his mug in the dishwasher. And he walked out to get ready for school.

***

I almost didn't make Braden's obstetrician appointment, and I was five minutes late. Everything seemed routine, until after a few tests when Doc Kennedy called us into his office.

"Braden... Bill... it turns out Braden's carrying twins."

I looked over at my son, who was stunned by the news. I, meanwhile, couldn't hide the big smile. Doc could tell and he chuckled at watching both of us.

"It'll make for a more physically exhausting pregnancy, Braden, but many men bear twins each year and have healthy young babies. Particularly since you're in your 30s still. We'll set up extra appointments to check in, and I'll give you some websites to read."

It was sinking in. "Wow, twins... " The smile was forming on Braden's face as he looked at me.

"Not the news you expected," Dr. Kennedy said with a chuckle.

"No, sir," Brade said.

The doctor explained, "It often happens when men take fertility pills."

"No fertility pills, Doctor," I said. "Just the old fashioned way."

He shrugged. "Like I say, it happens."

Braden and I couldn't wait to get home. I was supposed to go back to the office for a meeting, but I called out instead. My son and I had about forty minutes before we had to go pick up Evan and Keith from school.

"Goddamn, Dad," Braden said, excitement building in his voice as we stepped into the house. "We went right for number five, didn't stop at four sons."

"I'll be my fifth and sixth," I reminded Brade. I adjusted the hardon in my suit trousers.

"Guess I wasn't kidding about the barefoot and pregnant thing."

Brade and I kissed, hard. Our bodies connecting through our clothes, then the impatience as we stripped each other.

"Brade... Sport... I want you to go off the pills."

He didn't get it. "I'm already pregnant dad. Knocked up with twins."

I tugged his arm to guide him back to the bedroom. "I mean, once they're born. I want us to fuck unprotected from here on out... let the chips fall where they may."

"Jesus, Dad!" Brade really liked that idea.

"Your natural womb giving us a son whenever it happens."

"Yes, sir," Brade growled.

I wish I could say we consummated the news with a nice long romantic mating, but it was maybe three hot minutes of missionary sex. Brade's way. Legs wrapped around my waist, us kissing deep. Envisioning the two sons that were gonna grow inside Braden. And the future ones we gonna make.

It was hands-free for Braden, which seemed to happen more and more during his pregnancy, and I was three strokes behind, loading up my son-husband deep.

"I can't believe I'm getting two more grandkids," I said as I lay in the afterglow, stroking Braden's chest. Even those pecs would get full again, and I'd be able to milk feed from my son's bosom.

"Gonna need a bigger SUV, Dad. And we only have one car seat."

I mussed Braden's hair. "I thought I was supposed to be the practical one, Sport."

Braden laughed. "I guess you're rubbing off on me, old man." He leaned up and checked his watch. "Time for pick up duty."

"I got this, Brade," I said, sliding out of bed. I dug into my drawers and found clean underwear and a casual T shirt. "Why don't we go out as a family tonight, to celebrate? We can tell the boys the great news."

#drakestories

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theewokingdead · 4 months ago

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Stick to the Script - Benny Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: A struggling romance writer finds herself stuck on a steamy scene—until her charming, infuriatingly gorgeous roommate, Benny, offers an unconventional solution: roleplaying. What starts as a hilarious, over-the-top reenactment quickly turns into something neither of them expected. Word Count: 1.6k Rating: Mature Content: Language, Comedy, Roommates to Lovers, Banter, Slow Burn, Teasing, Benny being goofy AF A/N: Absolutely inspired by @musings-of-a-rose’s writing tactics.

Masterlist

I am one deleted paragraph away from throwing my laptop out the window.

I groan and rub my temples, glaring at the half-finished chapter on my screen. The scene isn’t working. The chemistry is flat. Here I am, a self-proclaimed romance writer, yet I can’t describe two people having sex without it sounding mechanical and awkward. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.

“Everything okay?”

Sighing, I push my chair back and swivel toward the door. There stands Benny, my roommate, casually leaning against the doorframe with an effortless grace he always seems to have. His tousled hair catches the light just right, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. Damn, he's gorgeous.

I manage a weak smile then offer a quick shrug. “Just battling my inner critic. You know, the usual.”

Benny steps inside, his gaze landing on the papers scattered across my desk. “Anything I can help with?”

I stiffen as he picks up one of the sheets. It’s too late to stop him now. His eyes widen as he takes in my ridiculous brainstorming method – stick figure drawings, rough and rudimentary, illustrating the erotic scene I’m trying to write.

"Are these...stick figures?" he asks, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter. He tilts the page, studying my atrocious attempt at anatomy.

“It helps me visualize!”

He snorts. “Visualize what? A very confusing game of Twister?” He holds up the page like it’s a prized trophy, and I can’t help but feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are they…hugging? It looks like a really enthusiastic hug.”

I lunge to snatch the paper, but he jerks it out of reach. "I swear, if you don't put that down..." I warn, half-jokingly.

“Is this a penis or a third arm? Because holy hell that thing could break someone.”

I manage to snatch the paper from his hand. I stick my tongue out at him before plopping back down into my chair.

“I think you need to rethink your approach,” Benny says, still sporting an amused grin. “Maybe consider less... stickiness?”

“It’s a romance novel, Benny,” I say dryly, shoving the paper under the others. “There’s going to be a lot of stickiness.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Fair point.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

Benny flops onto my bed, arms crossed behind his head like he’s about to deliver some great wisdom. “Maybe you should try something different.”

“Something different?” I eye him warily. “If you’re just going to suggest I watch porn, I’m throwing you out with my laptop. I’ve already seen more than my fair share.”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last bit and say no, that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking more like…roleplaying.”

I blink. “Roleplaying? You mean act out the scene?”

“Exactly!” He sits up, suddenly animated. “Get into character, feel it out. Maybe it’ll help with the writing. I can be your very willing participant." He shoots me an exaggerated wink.

“Benny…,” I say slowly. God, the things his half-broken wink does to me. It makes me unable to think.

“Clothing stays on, obviously, and if you become too uncomfortable, we stop. I just want to help you figure out how to make things flow naturally." As if his words haven't already tugged at my heart enough, he adds, "I know how much finishing this book means to you.”

I stare at him, searching for any trace of mockery, but all I found is that annoying, irresistible confidence. The idea is absurd. And yet…my stomach flutters. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it's the fact I’ve been harboring feelings for Benny for months, and the thought of getting this close to him, touching him, sends my mind spiraling. Somehow, I find myself nodding.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Benny's eyebrows lift in surprise. He quickly recovers, standing up with a smirk. "Alright. Set the scene for me."

I grab my notes, cheeks burning. “Uh…They’re in her living room.”

"Perfect.” He takes my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and guides me towards the living room. The soft glow from the streetlights outside casts shadows on the walls. My pulse quickens.

"Now what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re sitting on the couch, but he pulls her to him and they start out making out. Like… really intensely.”

Benny sinks into the couch and effortlessly pulling me onto his lap. My heart pounds. His fingers lightly trace patterns on my arm, the touch light and teasing, as if we're just two friends sharing a moment. But my skin tingles with an electric charge, my breath catching as if this simple gesture holds a deeper meaning. For me, it does.

"Okay," he murmurs, tilting his head with a slow, deliberate motion. The air thickens with the anticipation of a kiss that never comes. Benny abruptly breaks the tension with a dramatic, “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” Pretend kisses.

Laughter bursts from me. Relief and longing war in my chest.

"What else?" he asks.

I lift my hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble. His jaw tightens under my touch. His hands slide over my hips with a deliberate slowness, his fingers lightly brushing against the fabric at the edge of my shirt. My breath hitches in my throat. He has no idea what he is doing to me.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Um... hands. A lot of hands. Touching, I mean."

"Alright. Touch me then. Wherever you want, sweetheart."

Fuck. Me.

“And now?” he asks, voice huskier now.

I hesitate. "He grinds against her.”

Benny smirks mischievously. "Like this?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with playful intent. He suddenly gyrates beneath me with the enthusiasm of a ridiculous TikTok dance.

I burst into laughter. “No! Not like – Oh my God! Stop it!”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Just like that,” he fake-pants. “You’re gonna make me finish in my pants before I can give you the best weinering of your life.”

I smack his chest, still laughing uncontrollably. “You’re ruining the scene!”

He stops, then gasps melodramatically. “How dare you? I am method acting!”

“Method acting? For the sake of your lovers, I pray you aren't this bad in bed."

He sits up straight, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent lover.”

"Then fucking act like it!"

“Fine. For the sake of art, I will take my role seriously.”

“Good. Because next, he pins her down.”

Benny immediately flips me onto the couch, looming over me. He makes a show of dramatically swooning over me. “Oh, fair maiden, I must ravish thee!” He starts mock-humping, making the worst over-the-top groaning sounds I’ve ever heard.

I wheeze. “Benny, I swear to God-”

“Shh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips to shush me. “Who’s Benny? I am the handsome, broody High Fae king.”

I lose it. Where the hell did he get the idea that I’m writing fantasy? Or does he just know what I’ve been reading lately? “This is a contemporary romance!”

Benny pauses. “Oh. Then I’m the morally gray kidnapper. And you can only call me Daddy.”

“Jesus Christ!” I burst into laughter again, then push him away. “That’s not what’s supposed to happen! Stick to the fucking script!”

He raises his hands defensively, the laughter still dancing in his eyes. “There isn’t a fucking script! I thought we were just winging this.”

I cross my arms, feigning frustration. “Fine. You’re right. Like you said, I need to see where things would naturally go.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Well, what would you do with a girl in this situation?”

Benny shrugs casually. “I’d make her beg.”

My breath hitches at his words, a rush of heat flooding my cheeks. “Beg?” I can hardly manage to keep my voice steady. “Beg, yeah. Begging’s good. Make me – her - beg.”

Benny flashes a devilish grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ohhh, I can do that," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. He waggles his eyebrows playfully, and I start to wonder how on earth I found myself in this situation. He leans in, breath warm against my skin. In a deep, ridiculous voice, he purrs, "Say my name, baby."

I snort. “No.”

“Say it.” God, he sounds like a demon, and not a sexy one. He bumps his hips against mine in an exaggerated motion.

I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face. “Absolutely not.”

Benny pouts. “Then I shall hump until morale improves.”

I dissolved into laughter as he returns to his theatrical dry-humping, adding in an exaggerated “Ohhh yeah” like he’s in a bad ‘80s movie.

“Who the hell says ‘shall’?” I gasp.

“Dare you question my dramatic prowess? This is the language of the brooding Fae kings!”

“I’m going to kill you,” I say with a laugh, the words tumbling out between chuckles.

"Oooh. Enemies to lovers?" he teases. There’s a playful glint in his eyes before his movements slow, his grip on my hips tightening just slightly. He inches closer, his breath brushing softly against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was hoping for roommates to lovers.”

Something shifts. The laughter fades. He’s still close, his hands firm on my hips. His smirk falters for just a second.

The air thickens. My pulse thunders. I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t feel this way, covering it with sarcasm and teasing. But right now, there’s no hiding.

Heart hammering, I grab his face and kiss him.

He freezes, eyes wide.

I smirk, though my heart races. “Do you want to keep pretending?”

His voice is low, gravelly. “No. Unless it means I get more of that.”

I bite my lip. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly, a soft smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "I’ve always wanted to know what it’d be like to kiss you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re not just saying that for the sake of the scene, are you?”

Benny leans in closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “Nope.”

And then he kisses me for real.

#benny miller #garrett hedlund #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund characters #benny miller x female reader #garrett hedlund fanfiction #roommates to lovers #idiots in love #catie writes #benny miller x you

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quicksilversnails · 2 months ago

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I think it's neat how many of ISAT's tracks have very similar titles, only using parenthesis to differentiate themselves. It's a structure that actually reminds me a lot of the dialogue in-game. Even though the game's events and dialogue repeat over and over, Siffrin's thoughts, written in parenthesis, change with time.

So what if the parenthesis in the titles actually represented Siffrin's thoughts while the track plays? Looking at some of the tracks with this in mind:

Friend Quest vs Friend Quest (Solo). The added parenthesis are technically accurate, as the track is actually transcribed to solo piano, but they also generally invokes the idea of a solo performance. You could interpret Siffrin as the soloist, performing his script with a growing sense of detachment from his family. Alternatively, the party members could be the soloists, being the only ones developing in these scenes, the only ones emotionally present.

Do You Remember (King's Theme) vs (Our Country) vs (We've Been Through This Before). It starts out as a simple descriptor assigning the theme to the King, which is also used for Loop's Theme or the Battle Theme. The later two tracks uses the added text as a continuation of the question (Do you remember our country? Do you remember we've been through this before?). While the question in (King's Theme) is initially asked by the King to Siffrin, the later tracks leave more ambiguity: (Our Country) could be asked by either, while (We've Been Through This Before) could be from Siffrin to the King, or even Siffrin to themself. There's also something about how the question itself - Do You Remember? - can be spoken, but the subject of it can only be thought, never said out loud

The House (Floors 1-3) vs The House (Trapped). Similarly, the simple descriptors of the floor numbers shift with Siffrin's mental state. The floors can no longer be differentiated from one another; it's all the same prison anyway

Game Over vs Game Over (Don't Leave Me Alone Here). This one is genuinely so sad to me, with the parenthesis containing a cry for help, calling out to somebody, anybody, nobody. By the nature of it being in parenthesis, it remains in Siffrin's mind, left unspoken and unheard.

It's Finally Over... vs It's Finally Over... (Reprise). Finally one with a positive spin lol. The choice of the term "Reprise" here is really interesting to me because it refers to the repetition or return of a musical idea, when this track only plays once the loop is finally broken. They're often used in musicals to call back to earlier events and highlight any changes or development since the first iteration of the song, which is fitting for Act 6. Even though they're at a similar place compared to the end of Act 2 (King defeated, loop (seemingly) broken), Siffrin's changed so much since then. He's suffered immensely, but he also finally got to share his wish... there's much more resolution to the Act 6 ending and the music reflects this.

#og post #analysis #music #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #hello isat fandom #idk if this is obvious but i still think it's neat!#also i didn't include dormont (welcome to my home stranger) because i don't think it fits well into this reading lol #(although it is cute)#since the parenthesis are seemingly from the perspective of the homeowner rather than siffrin themself #maybe the parenthesis are what siffrin imagines the homeowner saying/thinking?#crazy how act 1 siffrin is capable of assuming positive intent from others sometimes!

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arliganzey · 22 days ago

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Delta Squad Week Day 1: Dinner

For the @deltasquadweek event, I'm kicking off day 1 with a squad gossip session. Enjoy. <3

Title: What Should We Drink To? Rating/Warnings: M (alcohol consumption) Word Count: 2.5k Special Guest Appearance: Bardan Jusik Summary: Delta Squad's hunt for rogue Kaminoan scientist Ko Sai has led them to Tropix Resort, a fabricated luxury beach resort on the planet Dorumaa. General Bardan Jusik has tasked Delta with an important mission: eat dinner at the resort restaurant. Read it on AO3

===

Tropix Resort, Dorumaa System, 479 Days After the Battle of Geonosis

“Real swell of General Jusik to take us out to dinner for all the trouble,” Scorch said, scrolling the holomenu. He couldn’t understand half of what was on it.

“I don’t get it,” Sev grumbled. “We didn’t do anything.”

Boss sat uncomfortably in the middle of the semi-circle booth with his arms folded, the squad seated on either side of him. Earlier that afternoon, General Jusik dropped a bag of civvy clothes in front of them and told them to get dressed and have dinner ‘on him’.

“It reeks of bribery,” Boss said.

“You’re the one that agreed to it. I’m blaming you if we get court martialed,” Scorch said, still scrolling the menu.

“By who?” Fixer asked. “Sergeant Vau? Zey? We’re trapped in some spy games we aren’t supposed to know are even happening.”

“I bet this goes straight to the Chancellor. It’ll be the gallows for us,” Sev muttered.

A lovely Twi’lek server approached the table. Every staff member at the Tropix Resort was a beautiful, Rutian Twi’lek. They were so blindingly pretty that it became difficult to notice after a while, like staring into the sun.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she said smoothly. “Are you…” Her gaze paused on Sev and Scorch whose facial scars were most obvious to a civilian. Being a fabricated luxury resort employee who dealt mostly with venture capitalists, bankers, and wealthy heiresses, she seemed momentarily thrown off from the script.

Boss, Fixer, and Sev stared back at her with equally disrupted thoughts, as this was the first time any of them had been directly addressed by one of the women working here. Scorch smiled.

“Hi,” said Scorch, looking for her nametag. “Aleena. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Thank you for asking,” Aleena said, her bright blue eyes blinking until her thoughts reset. Four men who looked like mercenaries on “vacation” probably meant trouble. She smiled back at him, nervous.

Scorch turned on the charm, leaning on the table and grinning up at her. “Can we have a pitcher of Hurricane Punch?”

“Yes, of course. What flavor?”

“Muja fruit.”

“Frozen or on the rocks?”

Scorch did not hesitate. “Frozen. Please.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“We’d like to do the sushi boat,” Fixer announced.

“The what?” Sev asked.

“Sushi boat,” Fixer repeated for his brother, pointing to the menu holoimage in front of Scorch.

“That is a great choice,” said Aleena.

“Better make it two,” Boss said.

The whole squad looked at him. Aleena became perplexed once more. “Two… sushi boats?” she repeated.

“Yes, please. We’re pretty hungry.”

Aleena did not make a habit out of arguing with guests. Based on the advertised image alone, one sushi boat seemed to be enough for at least six people.

“Of course, sir,” she said finally. “It may take a while to prepare,” she said carefully. “Is that… all right?”

“Not a problem,” said Boss.

“Can we get an order of cheese sticks? Please,” said Sev.

The server’s lekku shivered at the sound of Sev’s voice. “Yes, an order of cheese sticks. Anything else?”

“Nuna wings,” Scorch chimed in. “‘Volcano style’,” he added in a deep, intense whisper as required by the holomenu font which was doused in flames.

“I’d like the chopped vegetables and dip sampler too, please,” said Fixer.

Aleena recorded the orders, the tips of her lekku still quivering a bit. “Very well, gentlemen. Will that be all?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you,” Boss said before Scorch could order a second plate of ‘volcano-style’ wings that nobody but him would eat.

Aleena bowed her head and left.

“We are so going to jail for taking a bribe,” Scorch said.

“Supermax for sure,” Sev said.

“At least we won’t be hungry.” Fixer took out his datapad and started tinkering.

Boss took a deep breath in an attempt to relax. Tomorrow would start the work of excavating the site of what might have been Ko Sai’s secret lab, which was now buried underwater in an apparent explosion. The squad could have started hours ago. But General Jusik didn’t seem to be in a rush, even with his boss General Zey breathing down his neck and pressure from the Chancellor himself about the urgency of recovering the Kaminoan scientist.

None of it added up.

“Do you think Omega squad makes this a regular thing?” Boss asked, thinking out loud now. “They’re tight with Jusik. I reckon he takes them out to dinner for a job well done.”

“Kal’buir takes all his boys to the drive-thru for kids meals,” Scorch said. “I bet they got the toys to prove it.”

Fixer snickered, and even Boss grinned.

“Think he takes Bard’ika too?” Sev asked. He might as well join in.

“For sure,” said Scorch. “Bard’ika’s got the most toys of them all. Who’d have thought Skirata would have a jetii favorite? Ordo must be horribly jealous.”

“Ordo likes Bard’ika too,” Fixer said.

“What’s not to like?” Sev said. “He’s smart and cunning all while looking like an innocent schoolboy. Zey doesn’t even suspect he’s practically one of Skirata’s private army.”

Boss stared at Sev. His conjecture, which was meant to be a joke, started to sink in. Even Fixer put his datapad down.

“You don’t think…” Fixer said.

“All those private com calls,” Scorch said.

“Could be a girlfriend,” Boss tried with no certainty at all.

Sev and Scorch made noises that almost resembled giggling.

“Jusik has been talking to Skirata about this mission. That has to be it,” Fixer said, lowering his voice.

“And we were specifically ordered by Zey not to tell Skirata about hunting down Ko Sai,” Scorch said.

“That’s treason,” Sev hissed.

“Shut up,” Boss snapped. “It’s none of our business.”

“What if we can’t find Ko Sai?” Sev asked, gripping the edge of the table like he was about to get up at a moment’s notice.

A droid rolled up to the table and caused the squad to snap to attention so it didn’t look like they were whispering secrets. Sitting up ramrod straight and ceasing all conversation only made them look even more conspiratorial. The droid paid no mind, dropping off four cocktail glasses and a pitcher of ombre pink-orange-yellow alcoholic slushie. It rolled away.

Scorch started pouring the drinks. “Then Sarge kills us before the Chancellor can. You think the old chakaar would let a pruny politician have us killed by firing squad? No, he’ll do it himself.”

“They wouldn’t waste the ammunition on a firing squad,” Fixer cut in.

“We’ll get sent out of an airlock,” said Sev.

“Stop,” Boss ordered. “Nobody’s getting executed. We never even had this conversation. Is that understood?”

“Yessir,” the other three chorused.

The Twi’lek server returned with the appetizers and placed them down on the table. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else right now?”

“Not right now. Thanks, Aleena,” Scorch told her, flashing another smile.

“All right.” She smiled back and left.

When Scorch looked back at the squad, they were all glaring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Fixer said, and went back to his datapad while nibbling at his plate of vegetables and dips.

Boss dragged a hand over his face before taking a drink of frozen punch.

Before long, a second pitcher of slushie punch was ordered, and one sushi boat arrived. The squad agreed the chef was calling their bluff — see if they can make it through one boat before they bother with another.

Well, they’d never had to feed four very hungry commandos.

Delta squad dug in. The table was silent except for a few mutterings of can I try that?, was it spicy?, pass the hot sauce, but otherwise the commandos’ mouths were occupied with sushi roll after sushi roll.

When Aleena came back to check on them, half the boat was gone. She said nothing, simply staring in awe as the spectacle of four men inhaling dozens of rolls of sushi. It captivated (and kind of disgusted?) her.

“Uhm,” she said after a moment when nobody noticed her. “How is the sushi boat?”

“Wonderful.” Boss delicately patted his mouth with a napkin and smiled at her. “We’ll need that second boat.”

“And shots,” Scorch said.

“What?” Fixer asked with audible disdain.

“A round of rum shots,” Scorch clarified with a beaming smile.

“Okay,” Aleena said, smiling back at Scorch even though Fixer was staring at him like he might hit him. “Four shots…?”

“Four shots,” Fixer grumbled, not wanting to argue while the pretty Twi’lek was watching. Aleena put in the order and left the table.

Sev hadn’t looked up from his plate throughout the exchange.

A few minutes later, the droid delivered the shots and Scorch handed them over to his brothers. “What are we drinking to?”

Boss shrugged, holding up his shot glass. “General Jusik.”

“To General Jusik, may he find manda or whatever it is he’s looking for.”

They raised their glasses and drank.

Scorch nearly choked on the burning liquid as he brought the glass down to reveal a skinny blonde man with a scraggly beard standing in front of their table. Had he heard? He definitely heard.

Jusik seemed unbothered. Well, not any more bothered than he had been all day.

“Looks like you’ve managed to find something to eat for dinner,” he said with a mild smile and indicating the picked over sushi boat.

“Want some, sir?” Sev asked.

General Jusik, weariness under his eyes, nodded and sat down. He still looked like a ticking time bomb that might break down and yell or cry.

Boss wordlessly put a few sushi rolls on a plate and handed it to Scorch to hand to Jusik. Then he looked expectantly at Scorch to do… something about the general. He looked downright morose.

“Try the punch, sir.” Scorch passed a glass to him and poured. Jusik took it and sipped. They’d all shared stories and drinks before and after the Triple Zero mission, and there was something a bit nostalgic about it, although the absence of Skirata, the Nulls, and Omega made it a lot less festive. So did the news of Fi’s injury—the last they’d heard from Omega, he was not responding to stimuli.

“It’s good,” Jusik said in an effort to perk up. “Thanks. What’s in it?”

“No idea, sir. Some kind of alcohol.” Scorch grinned.

Jusik shrugged and drank a little faster.

“It’s rum.” Fixer went back to his datapad, less casually tinkering and now looking like he needed to be working on something.

Boss ordered a third pitcher and decided to venture straight into uncharted territory. “Sir, any news of Fi?”

“No. Nothing new.” Jusik went from looking slightly stable to definitely about to cry.

“He’s in good hands.” Boss did not sound convinced. “Head injuries happen. The medics know what they’re doing.”

Sev finished his glass. “‘Nother round of shots,” he croaked at the server droid as it passed by.

Nobody expected Jusik to protest or scold them for the amount of alcohol circulating around the table, and he didn’t.

“It’s best not to think about it,” Scorch said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

That roused Jusik enough to look at him, his eyes wide and a bit wild. “That’s not true. We’ve been sent out here on a fool’s errand, when I could be helping Fi.”

The squad froze. So did Jusik.

“Say again, sir?” Boss said.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. We’ll sort it tomorrow.” Jusik shrank into the booth, looking like he regretted sitting down with them.

Scorch felt… bad for him, but more than that, annoyed that the general knew something the squad didn’t, and probably should. He could tell the synapses fired for the rest of the squad too. Jusik was lying to them, but it was hard to stay mad. The way the general cared like no one else in command did…

Jusik was, above all else, infallibly likable.

“With all due respect to General Zey,” Jusik said carefully, “you should be tasked with something more important than a man hunt. It’s a waste of your skills. But General Zey thinks you’re capable of accomplishing anything, for what that’s worth. It’s why he wanted you on the job.”

The squad went back to eating, but more like picking at their food, in an attempt to get Jusik to do the same. He seemed stretched to his limit, which said a lot for a Jedi.

They couldn’t stay mad at him. Even if Jusik was playing spy games, the squad knew Vau was aware, and Vau wouldn’t let anything happen to them if things went sideways. Jusik was trying to assure them Zey wouldn’t give them any trouble, either, but they were all less sure of that.

“Aw, the general really likes us,” Sev said cloyingly.

“Aw, shucks,” Scorch said.

“Warms the heart.” Fixer glanced over at Jusik, unsure if the banter would make him lighten up. He always seemed so eager to impress, to feel included, to do things right. Well, this was how Delta handled everything, so he could either keep up or shut it out.

“Yeah…” Jusik sensed the teasing and smiled again. “I’m not just saying that.”

“We know,” Boss said. “We don’t want to let him down. Or you.” Mostly you.

Jusik nodded, and the shots arrived, which he took upon himself to distribute. It was almost apologetic.

“What are we drinking to?” Scorch asked.

They all looked at Jusik. It was his lot as the commanding officer at the table to make the toast.

“To Fi,” Jusik said quietly.

The commandos raised their glasses, nobody looking directly at each other, afraid that they’d see their own fear reflected in their brothers’ eyes.

“To Fi,” Delta squad chorused, and everyone drank.

It became apparent that 1700 was an early hour for dinner. As the evening progressed, the restaurant filled up, and so did the bar. When the second sushi boat was demolished, and a fourth pitcher of slushie completed, Delta squad and Bardan Jusik faced the imminent next step, which was to go back to the transport to finish planning the mission.

A mission no one seemed to have any hope of completing.

“I wanted to see the aquarium by the bar,” Jusik said suddenly.

“Yeah. Looks nice,” Sev mumbled.

The commandos’ enhanced metabolisms made the copious amounts of alcohol consumed seem like nothing more than a couple of drinks. Admittedly, they managed to feel a small buzz, but not enough to impede their judgment. Only enough for them to realize the mission was a lost cause, and like Jusik said, they’d sort it in the morning.

If Vau knew, he’d kill them. But Vau wasn’t here. He was probably part of the reason why the whole thing went to osik.

Jusik paid at the control panel next to their table and motioned for them to follow him to the bar.

“Guess that’s an order,” Boss said.

Scorch slid out of the booth, followed by Boss, Fixer, and Sev. “We love following orders. Let’s go.”

#deltasquadweek #delta squad #clone commando boss #clone commando scorch #clone commando sev #clone commando fixer #republic commando #true colors #republic commando true colors #fixer #boss #sev #scorch #bardan jusik

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perseruna · 1 year ago

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Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate.

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks.

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill.

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible.

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one.

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters.

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc.

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

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onestepbackwards · 1 year ago

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self aware!pla thought but regarding big man arceus himself.

so it's no common knowledge that despite arceus's role in the game, its still a puppet that bends to the whim of the code, the game and the script. a peon is still a peon even if you give him a fancy title and new clothes. but what if it wasnt like that?

the way i see it, i think in a self aware scenario, arceus will essentially act as an extension of the player; but whereas the player can only observe events from a higher perspective as a figure that always watches yet never interferes, arceus will actually try to prevent some events (so long as the game doesn't spit in its face for doing so). primarily stuff like the protagonist's banishment from jubilife and the very little assassination attempt volo tried to pull. in a way, it sees rei/akari as a child the way you do. but while you are (in arc's eyes) an omnipotent being that it knows it cannot question or act against and defy, arceus is still in a fair playing field. and the wrath of Horse God is just as equal to that of a parent.

Arceus sees your potential from the moment it asks for your name, the player, at the very beginning of the game. How it talks to you in it's realm outside space and time.

It may have been very brief, but it was enough for Arceus to grow aware of you. How you are a being much past their own.

It's an odd realization, but even Arceus had considered the possibility that something had created itself a long time ago.

And Arceus quickly learns from there on just how much you grow attached to the Hero, your little vessel.

However... You have your limits. Or perhaps you simply have your own rules or reasons not to interfere with things? Only having a small amount of control?

Yet it sees how much you care. You aren't letting some bad things happen because you want them to.

It's like there is a veil, between you and the universe Arceus sees over. One you cannot cross.

No worries though. Arcues will do it's best to protect the hero for you.

Especially when it sees the inevitable outcome for the Hero, how horribly they are treated later on.

Arceus won't let it slide with ease.

Meanwhile, for the life of you, you can't figure out why your switch sometimes crashes, or how certain pokemon appear in places they shouldn't. Or the way you see shinies a lot easier than in other games. You have even had friends comment on your luck.

Every other hour you encounter a shiny, or a rare pokemon. Or one you shouldn't see in that area. And for some reason, you swear things are different than you remember in your first playthrough.

You just hope your game isn't corrupted, but... at least nothing seems broken. If anything, your luck is unusually high. Especially how you seem not to take near as much damage as you used to, or getting lucky in a battle or looking for a pokemon with a specific move.

Though... you are a bit concerned about the garbled mess NPCs speak sometimes. But it usually corrects itself. Most of the time.

Weird.

#self aware au #self aware pokemon #self aware arceus #arceus #pla #pokemon legends arceus #ask #anon #zed.talks

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maladyinpink · 3 months ago

Text

🔊 CARE-SNAKE-ING: Feelin' Crook 🍒🐍Haz/bin Ho/tel Wav

ALL PROJECTS WILL ALWAYS BE STRICTLY AI FREE

WAP BAM BOOM Alacazam! Here it is folks, the second haz wav project in the series! Wav is dedicated on 🍀 St. Patrick's Day to my Irish buddy and fellow Cherri/Snake enthusiast @very-freakin-effable! Wav would not have been completed without your support... and thanks to Effy and @themiseryandcompany for beta reading the script. I really appreciate it, dolcezze 😌💗💗💗

CARE-SNAKE-ING: Feelin' Crook: Our chaotic couple have their version of date night in the doomsday district, battling a gang of thugs that have hijacked a shipment of beelzejuice heading to the hotel! However, Pen/tious quickly discovers his lady isn't feeling quite up to snuff. But getting Cherr/i to slow down and admit that she's sick is a battle of it's own.

CW: A SLEW of wacky voices (cough drops were NEEDED on this one folks.), Slow burn...sneezes come a bit later, good things come to those who wait. Badass BG music, fast paced action/combat audio, Sounds of Gunfire, explosives and other fututistic weaponry, explicit dialogue, sounds of illness, loud rough female cold sneezing, mention of drug use, coughing, denial, emotional comfort and tender soft CARE-SNAKE-ING.

youtube

Script is below, enjoy!

~ Baci Baci, Pink

🍒🐍 CARE - SNAKE - ING - SCRIPT

(Scene 1 - We close in on a dark seedy area of the Pentagram’s Doomsday District, a small group of THUGS has taken one of the shipments of alcohol heading to the nearby Hazbin Hotel. A hellhound, THUG #1, the leader, in amongst the group of shifty lowlives is talking into a phone, going over the details of the stolen shipment.)

THUG #1: (chuckles) Yeah…Me an' the guys have secured the area an' the goods. Hijacked that truck heading to that crummy hotel on the edge of the ring, shipment of Beelzejuice straight in from Gluttony…We were just leaving…

(He laughs and gestures at the truck)

THUG #1: Hey! Who wants a cold one?-

(The THUGS however are not alone and aren’t getting away with the spoils that easily. A hissing posh accent sharply draws the attention of the group. A slithering figure approaches out of the shadows, wielding a ray gun that powers up, ready to take a shot.)

SIR PENTIOUS: Not so fast, you Pigeon-livered jolluck!...If I’m not mistaken you’ve got something that doesn't belong to you and I'm not above brute force…Hand over the libations and nobody gets hurt!

(The hellhound seems to know PEN well enough and approaches.)

THUG #1: Pentious! Been a while, y'slimy bag of farts…Seems someone finally grew balls, but not the brains…

(The THUGS laugh, but PEN stands his ground, unwavering as they taunt like schoolyard bullies.)

THUG #1: We still gotcha outnumbered, dickless! All on your lonesome…

(The band of uglies laugh again, and cock and load their weapons toward the snake. Mostly guns…but seems like one brought a sword to a gunfight. The leader laughs maniacally.)

THUG #1: Where's the girl, Ol’ man?

(Always knowing how to make an entrance, an explosion comes from overhead, signalling the presence of the ballistic belle of chaos…)

CHERRI BOMB: RIGHT HERE, BITCH! And SHE…is on fucking fire today!…Sorry m'late, handsome!

PENTIOUS: (delighted, called upward.) Ah! Not at all, you're right on time, darling!

CHERRI: (cheerily) Look out below!

(She slides down a gutter pipe on the side of the building to reach their level, PEN takes her hand as she lands to check in and make sure she is alright. CHERRI thanks her partner, then turns to enact her first verbal blows, getting up close and personal to the hellhound. The much shorter woman is not intimidated in the slightest, pointing directly at the leader's chest.)

CHERRI: (overzealous) Who’re calling dickless, dickless? Listen, NO ONE…talks about my man like that…except for me, especially what’s going on downunder. If you ask me, you're just jealous cause he got two bananas in his bunch.

PENTIOUS: (blushing, embarrassed) Oh, Cherri!

CHERRI: Y'know…Two can play your game, where's your mate at? Dingo lookin' fucker, right? Late, full as a goog? As per usual, after he left y'sorry ass?

(THUG #1's face drops and he whines as CHERRI seems to have hit a sore spot)

THUG #1: (growls) Hey bitch, fuck off! He's sober…Most of the time…We've been…going to counseling.

CHERRI: (mocks) Aww, see I missed the part where I gave a shit, fuckhead.

(PEN is now genuinely offended, this was low hanging fruit. Of the couple, he is the more emotionally conscious, but she's been improving.)

PENTIOUS: Tch, I say, Miss Bomb! Manners!

(A little annoyed, CHERRI stops herself and hesitantly tries to be more sympathetic.)

CHERRI: Ugh, fine!...Ahem…Sorry to hear that, bruv…You know what?...Don't suppose you lot…want a head start?...'fore we do this shit?

(The THUGS start running without hesitation, PENTIOUS turns to CHERRI with a tender smile.)

PENTIOUS: See, that was very nice, darling, you can be very kind sometimes…

CHERRI: Yeah, poor guy deserved a break, I guess…(sniffs, barely a beat)...Anyway, now?

PENTIOUS: Absolutely! I'd love nothing more, shall we gut this scoundrel?

CHERRI: Fuck yeah!…Let's…Oh no…hold on-...hh….hEHt'TSCHT'HIEW!...(sighs)

PENTIOUS: (concerned) Oh goodness! Bless you!...Are you quite alright?

CHERRI: (laughs) Uh-huh, relax, m'fine…Let's go catch these suckers…Ready?

(PEN powers up his ray gun and tests a shot out to the side, he pulls CHERRI in for a tender snog, that she lovingly returns. She giggles.)

PENTIOUS: (laughs slyly) I love when we play dirty…

CHERRI: (tender whisper) Me too.

(She lights the fuse and throws the first bomb, signalling the official start of the action, of what is a typical date night for the couple. CHERRI's musical laugh carries as they get a move on to catch up with the THUGS and the music drops as the fight begins. CHERRI jumps through the air and whoops out a yell. PEN takes aim and shoots at one of the gang from a distance, landing a hit. )

PENTIOUS: TAKE THAT!

CHERRI: (triumphant, proud) Nice one, babe!

(She almost loses her footing, but throws another bomb and it goes off, landing another hit and taking down two more targets. PEN blasts out several shots.)

PENTIOUS: Taste my fury, you barmy hooligan!

CHERRI: Eat shit, y'miserable cuntlickers!

(PEN laughs, but then hears his partner…coughing. He shoots and calls over his shoulder to CHERRI as they keep moving.)

PENTIOUS: I rather don't like the sound of that cough, dearest!

CHERRI: (calls back) M'fine!…It's just the smoke babe!…

(PEN'S gun jams, and signals a reload.)

PENTIOUS: (sarcastic) Right and I’m Queen Victoria-...Oh! Dearest, aim, 3 o'clock!

(CHERRI gasps and throws a bomb, but misfires, covering them in rubble, dust and smoke.)

THUG #1: (laughs to his men) Think we lost 'em.

(This is a fake out, as the couple emerges from the dust and smoke.)

CHERRI: Think again, champ. Now give us the goods. Under the order of Lucifer Fucking Morningstar.

(PEN's gun reloads.)

PENTIOUS: Honestly…You pussy willows make this far too easy.

THUG#1: Fine, Alright!...I surrender, I- huh?

(A gun cocks and loads. Seemingly CHERRI was wrong about the 'Dingo lookin' fucker'...A coyote sinner with a thick southern drawl signals his presence. THUG #1's boyfriend, THUG #2. There's a gun in his paw and he's brought a handful of more THUGS with him.)

THUG #2: Step away from my man, y'candy asses. He ain't gonna surrender if I have anything to say about it.

THUG #1: (love-struck, he whimpers) Barry! Oh Sweetie you came! And…you brought my favorite gun…Awww, you shouldn't have!

THUG #2: (sweetly) Of course, Peanut…Wouldn't miss it for the world…

(He pecks his lover's cheek with a quick 'Mwah' and gets back to the matter at hand, giving the gun to his partner who points it at the other couple.)

THUG #2: Now let's skin this bitch alive!

(CHERRI nervously laughs and grimaces.)

CHERRI: Oh great, they made up, congratulations!...Run, babe!

(CHERRI runs…leaving PEN with…everyone else.)

PENTIOUS: (panicked, then sheepish) W-Wait, darling!...I don’t suppose we could work something out, friends…

(NOPE. All of the THUGS cock their weapons. And PEN's ray gun…jams...again.)

PENTIOUS: Oh shit…

(From a distance, the gunfire and yelling echoes through the district. The thugs chase after PEN.)

🍒🐍

(Scene 2 - PENTIOUS has managed to slither away momentarily from the THUGS, but is…missing his partner. He pants to catch his breath, slithers and crawls quietly around the streets and alleys. His gun is at the ready and scanning for any danger.)

PENTIOUS : (Whispers) Cherri?...Cherri, dear, where are you?

(He hears a few poorly muffled sneezes in the nearby alleyway. And sees his partner sitting on a box in the shadows, her head in her cupped hands, her eye shut in pain. He quickly slithers over to her. She coughs and looks up, exhausted. She's coming down fast….but is in denial.)

CHERRI: Sorry Pen…Y-y'ready to get back up there?-

PENTIOUS: (softly gasps and sits next to her) No no-…Cherri-...Cherri..Perhaps, we might need to put a pin in this?...You don’t look well at all!

CHERRI: (looks up and tries to reassure, in denial) No!...No- no!...There's no time to veg out on a bullshit sickie!…We gotta get up there an'- hh..hih!-...

(She poorly muffles a loud sneeze in her elbow and it echoes in the alley.)

CHERRI: AAt'TSCHT'SCHIEW!-...(growls, frustrated, but her protests are weak) Fuck! m'really alright!

PENTIOUS: (uncharacteristically firm, not like this often)...Miss Bomb, t-that's quite enough, I insist…You must rest…at least take some momentary respite…And if I may, just… let me feel your lymph nodes.

(CHERRI exhaustedly shakes her head, sputters, and tries to bat away his hands, repeating 'No' but is preoccupied as she hitches and feels another few grating sneezes coming, these ones she barely directs into her shoulder, down at the ground.)

CHERRI: (desperate) No no nooo-…heheeh!-.. ECKH'HEW!...aat'RRTSH'SHEWww-…Oh no.

(PEN reaches a gentle claw to each side of her throat to check her glands.)

PENTIOUS: (sadly) Oh…Bless,…Yes, as I thought. Swollen.

(CHERRI swears and pulls away 'Fuck! Gkkk-', sputters and gags a little, coughing.)

CHERRI: (not listening, she coughs out-) …Uh-uh…Pen, we've gotta get back up there!

PENTIOUS: (floored) Are you mad, woman? You're ill!

CHERRI: But, t-the booze?!...They're gettin' away!

PENTIOUS: And your health is more important! The princess would agree...

CHERRI: No!...I-I can handle this…I…just- gotta-...

(She starts to rustle through her bag of explosives and her pockets for something. They CAN'T LOSE this, she hates to lose.)

PENTIOUS: (declarative) No!...No no!...I am calling a ceasefire!

(In an instant, it's clear CHERRI has found something as she starts to run down the alleyway.)

PENTIOUS: Wait! No!...Cherri? Where are you going?!

(This falls on deaf ears as CHERRI coughs, out of breath as she looks around and fiddles with explosives and runs down the alleyway, PEN calls after her. She lights a fuse and throws it up to the building above. It explodes and a scream sounds.)

CHERRI: (triumphant) Yes!

(She starts to cough uncontrollably and has to slow down, until she completely stops, heaving and wheezing.)

PENTIOUS: (frustrated, worried, a bit mom-ish, catches his breath) That's it, Missy!...I'm counting!...One!…Two!…Three…Uh, Four? Whew...Oh god…Damn it, Cherri! I'm putting my foot down!

CHERRI: (out of breath)...You don't have feet, moron…

PENTIOUS: (deadpans) …Right.

CHERRI: (hitches fitfully) Oh no-...huh!-...HUH'ECKH'HEWw! HUH'EHR'ECK'HEWw! PTSCHT'SCHeew!..heht-...HEH'pTCHEW!- Oh, fuck, that hurts…hah?...HEH'ITSCH'IEEWww!

PENTIOUS: (startled) Oh! Good heavens! Bless you! BLESS you!...BLESS, my love…(then sympathetic) Oh, my dear…

(PEN blesses and coos lovingly as CHERRI struggles through the fit. Unfortunately the loud fit signals the thugs to their hiding spot.)

THUG #1: There they are, get 'em!

(The THUGS charge forward, battle crying in a cacophony.)

PENTIOUS: HOLD IT!

(The THUGS suddenly freeze. CHERRI sneezes a loud 'HACK'IEWww!')

PENTIOUS: (matter of fact) Bless you...Party's over lads…We're going home, booze is yours.

(Bunch of disappointed ad-libs from the group of THUGS…Despite the fact that…they won. They love a good fight, it seems.)

THUG#1: I never get to use my favorite gun.

THUG #2: I know baby…

PENTIOUS: (genuinely sorry)…Sorry everyone! The lady isn't feeling well! Same time next week though? I promise to bring biscuits! (he pauses and turns)...Cherri, my love?

CHERRI: One sec…(CHERRI coughs uncontrollably.)

PENTIOUS: (winces) Oh, let’s go home…You must feel awful.

CHERRI: (stuffy, hesitantly admitting) Gah…Woke up, feelin’ a bit crook, is all…May've tried to-...I tried to take a line before I got here…

PENTIOUS: (suddenly very worried) …Oh, Cherri…

CHERRI: …Thought it’d get me through today…

PENTIOUS: …Cherri, I thought you were clean?-

CHERRI: (unexpectedly emotional, snaps) Well I didn’t get far now did I?...Nose is too fuckin’ bunged up to…hehhh…

(PEN is a bit wounded at the outburst, but sets it aside to support CHERRI as she launches inti a huge, harsh and desperate sneezing fit, bending the poor girl in half, holding a wall for support. PEN realizes quickly that she can't stop and is a bit speechless.)

CHERRI: …HhEH'ItSH'HEWw! Hh'khECHK'SCHEww! Hhh!- HaeH'ECKHH'SCHEW! HAH'ETSH'HWw- hold on- HEH'ESH'Hihhh…Ihh-It won’t s-stop!- (the sneezing is getting breathless)...Ihhh…Tsc'hhiew! TSCH'Hiew!...AaPPtCH'tscheww….hhh…HAATCH'CHewww…Hhh!-....HEH'EICKh'HIEEWw!...

PENTIOUS: (a bit unable to keep up) Bless you! ...Bless you, B-Bless you! Cherri! Bless you, my love!

(As she finishes, he suddenly remembers and reaches into his suit pocket for his monogrammed handkerchief and offers.)

PENTIOUS: Here, my dear, blow…My word! That sounds like it's hurting you, chuffing like a chimney, poor thing…

(CHERRI turns away and blows.)

CHERRI: Thanks…(sniffs, sullen) …M'so sorry, Pen…

PENTIOUS: (melts) …If anything, thank you for telling me…I just care and worry for you, and while I trust you, it’s my duty as your confidant…your boyfriend (the word is a bit foreign to him) to take care of you at your lowest. I- I simply don’t want you to suffer, I can't bear to see you so…miserable.

CHERRI: (exhausted) …Sweetheart?

PENTIOUS: (patient, sweet) Yes?

CHERRI: (quiet)…Feels like my head's gonna blow.

PENTIOUS: (sympathetically coos) I'm sure…We'll set you right, come along, let's get you to bed…

🍒🐍

(Scene 3 - We are back at the hotel, in a suite that the couple share together. CHERRI’s hair is out of her signature ponytail and sitting cross legged in bed in her pajamas with a thermometer in her mouth and a pillow held in her lap. As it beeps, PEN takes the device and reads.)

PENTIOUS: Ooh, 102! Oh dear…Well, you did say you were 'On fire' today.

CHERRI: ...ARRh'RSHHT'SHEW!

PENTIOUS: (a little startled) Bless you! My, you’ve quite a wicked sneeze, you know!

(He laughs, albeit a bit awkwardly and sees her dejected face, she puts down the pillow, pulls up the blanket and turns over.)

PENTIOUS: (he clears his throat and tests the waters)...I know today wasn’t what you hoped for…but I hope you know, I’m quite proud of you…

CHERRI: (glum, she turns and looks up at the ceiling) What for?...The moment things got hard, I reached for what was easy. I didn’t listen to you…I fucking-... I failed…I’m sorry.

PENTIOUS: (starts) Well yes- yes, you failed…

CHERRI: (looks at him)…Gee, thanks, babe.

PENTIOUS: (a bit exasperated) Cherri- that's not what I-…(he smiles, proud, with conviction and love) You're persevering! Take it from an old man who’s faced defeat on numerous occasions to note. You’ve got determination, unlike anything I’ve seen from anyone else…You'll make short work of this nasty chill and rise again in no time to try again! I know how much you hate admitting when you're not at your best, but you are doing it. And that takes strength…Real strength, my dear…Now I think some lavender tea should help that throat of yours, I’ll put a kettle on.

CHERRI: (she smiles too, grateful, but winded) Thank you, Pen…You know, y'not bad at this sick day thing…Taking care of my sorry ass.

(His eyebrow cocks, and he saddles up beside her in their bed.)

PENTIOUS: Oho? Well what kind of partner would I be otherwise?…When she does need of me, I will always care for my…brave…

(He nuzzles and smooches her temple.)

CHERRI: …Mm!

PENTIOUS: ...Bodacious… (smooches her cheek.)

CHERRI: (giggles) S’that right?

PENTIOUS: (contemplates) Mm-hmm...Often- Bullheaded…(nuzzles and smooches her freckled shoulder.)

CHERRI: (agrees) Hm…Fair…

PENTIOUS Hm…brilliantly (smooches her neck knowing it'll tickle her) bright…(leans over and smooches right under her eye, on her nose)...beauty.

(CHERRI musical giggles grow sleepy…She hitches and lets out a tired tickly 'HEP'PSTCH'hiew!')

PENTIOUS: (he chuckles) Bless you.

(CHERRI blows her nose in a clean handkerchief.)

CHERRI: (sniffles thickly) I do need you…Yeh?...I don't tell y'enough…but I love ya.

PENTIOUS: (lovingly agrees, insistant) And I you, dear…Now, I must insist that YOU get some rest. No explosions, no battles...not even a shouting match with the neighbors…Now, I’ll be right back!

(PENTIOUS hums and exits to put the kettle on…CHERRI sighs…and sneezes again…a loud muffled HAH'ECK'HEWww into her hanky. An Egg boi, a little shaken, it seems, approaches the bed.)

FRANK (Egg Boi): …Miss Cherri?…

CHERRI: (dazed) Yeh?

FRANK (Egg Boi): …Are you okay?

CHERRI: (a bit awkward)…Yeh?

FRANK (Egg Boi): …Your face exploded!

(Unable to respond, she flops back on the bed, exhausted, frustrated.)

CHERRI: …UGH

È Finito, Grazie!

- ♡ Pink

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