#pro text box

[rogjaadv]

pro text box in 2025

[teh-nos]

99% sure i've posted this here before but i can't find that post so here you go. appreciate it anew (or just new) pls.

[rustbeltjessie]

This ragged American flag and this particular grouping of stuff in the Little Free Library, both found at the same park, seemed like a poignant visual metaphor. Maybe even a little heavy handed, if I’m being honest.

(March 14)

[bb-strawbebe]

The kind of "fuck it" money I want is to be able to see something that makes me think of someone I love and to immediately purchase it for them. I wanna give GIFTS!!!!

[colorfullartist]

Hey if you send a message my ask box asking for money. It's just going to get to get deleted. I do not have money to give and I don't know you to trust that your not a scam.

I very rarely reblog posts that ask for help or money. This account for things I find interesting or fun. Ask are open for people to ask me things or tell me am a bad person for rebloging something.

[chipstatoest]

Where the Track Begins

Oscar Piastri x Reader - 1.6k - childhood friends to lovers

Summary: The first time you met Oscar Piastri, he beat you in a go-kart race and called you slow. The second time, he gave you an orange ice pop and made you believe in impossible things. Years later, he’s in Formula 1—and you’re still in Melbourne. But when an unexpected message arrives, inviting you to Silverstone, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he never really left.

part two

Warning: This chapter contains mild emotional tension, themes of growing apart over time, and nostalgic reflections on childhood; no explicit content or heavy angst appears in this part.

═════════🏁═════════

Melbourne summers had a very specific feeling. They clung to your skin like sunscreen and sweat, and smelled faintly of eucalyptus and cheap fuel. For you, summer had always meant three things: sunburned shoulders, ice pops melting too fast, and Oscar Piastri.

You met him when you were eight. Or nine. You couldn’t quite remember the exact day, only that he’d been wearing a shirt two sizes too big, muddy sneakers, and the most determined expression you’d ever seen on a kid’s face. He wanted to race. That much was obvious. The local go-kart track had just opened its junior program, and Oscar Piastri had shown up like it was the Monaco Grand Prix.

You weren’t there to be competitive. At first. Your parents thought it would be fun, and you’d only agreed because your cousin bailed and left you with a free helmet and an orange kart with peeling stickers.

But Oscar? He was different.

From the moment he adjusted the strap on his too-loose helmet and climbed into that red kart of his, you knew you were dealing with someone who had a different kind of fire. You didn’t understand it then— the obsession, the intensity— but you would.

The first race? You lost. By a lot.

“Oi!” you called out as he sped past on the third lap, practically flying around the bend while you wobbled like a baby deer. “You pushed me!”

Oscar didn’t even glance back. He just laughed, high-pitched and carefree, the sound of a kid doing exactly what he loved.

After the checkered flag waved, you stomped over to him in your oversized racing suit, chest puffed out in mock rage. “You totally cheated!”

“Did not,” he said, a smug grin stretching across his sun-dusted face. “You’re just slow.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Maybe. But I’m faster.”

You hated him.

You also liked him. A lot.

Later that day, the two of you sat on the curb behind the pit building, helmets discarded, sipping lukewarm juice boxes and pretending the pavement wasn’t burning your legs. Oscar rummaged through his backpack and pulled out two ice pops— one red, one orange.

Without asking, he handed you the orange one.

“How’d you know?” you asked, surprised.

“You always take orange,” he replied with a shrug. “Since last time.”

That was Oscar. He noticed things.

“You’re gonna go pro one day,” you mumbled between bites, voice sticky with sugar. “Like… Formula 1 or something.”

Oscar looked at you then. Eyes full of something too big for a ten-year-old. “Yeah. And you’ll be there, too. Maybe running the team. Yelling at everyone. You’re good at that.”

You shoved his shoulder, and he fell back laughing. The kind of laughter that echoed into your bones.

That was years ago.

Now, your childhood best friend was on TV. In interviews. On podiums. On planes to places you’d never even heard of before. Oscar had left Melbourne and never really looked back— not in a cruel way, just in that way people do when dreams start unfolding faster than their feet can keep up.

You still talked. Sometimes. Mostly texts. Quick, harmless things. A happy birthday here. A “Did you see that move on lap 42?” there. A heart emoji when he won his first Formula 2 race. But those conversations were fading, stretched too thin over time zones and silence.

You watched him grow into someone the world admired, and wondered if he still remembered what it felt like to sit on that burning curb with you, juice box in hand, dreaming about the future.

Then, one quiet Wednesday night, your phone buzzed.

Oscar Piastri [10:02 PM]:

Silverstone next month. Got a paddock pass with your name on it — literally.

You in?

You blinked at the screen.

Was he serious?

You hadn’t seen him since before his F2 debut. Three whole years. So much had changed— not just with him, but with you. He was a household name now, a McLaren driver. And you were… well, still in Melbourne, finishing your degree, working part-time at a café, and pretending it didn’t ache to be left behind.

But here he was.

Reaching out.

Inviting you back.

You stared at the message, your heart thudding too fast, your fingers hovering over your phone like it might burn you.

So many things you could’ve said.

“Why now?”

“What does this mean?”

“Do you miss me like I miss you?”

But in the end, you kept it simple.

You [10:04 PM]:

Always.

And you meant it.

═════════🏎️═════════

✧ Author’s Note: Hey! This is my first time posting something like this on here, so please go easy on me. I’m still figuring things out, especially with this kind of story. Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate you being here! Maybe more imagines to come — who knows? Possibly part two <3

[silverynight]

One day, Izuku decides to give Katsuki a kiss on the cheek as a 'thank you' for bringing him lunch that day, unfortunately, the pro hero gets addicted to Izuku's cheek kisses and now gets really grumpy whenever the teacher forgets to kiss him after bringing him his bento box.

Everyone notices; the other pro heroes he works with, the people in the agency, and the villains in particular because Katsuki is extra hard on them.

Izuku's students realize what's going on almost immediately, and made a tiktok about it; the villains see it first and start bombarding the UA teacher with messages and anonymous mails asking begging him not to forget to give pro hero Dynamight his kiss on the cheek.

Izuku gets flustered, confused and at first decides to ignore those messages, but one day he notices Katsuki's demeanor changing when the teacher says goodbye without giving him his kiss. And since Izuku doesn't like seeing him sad, he grabs him by the arm and gives him two kisses on the cheek.

The pro hero smiles from ear to ear, blushes and leaves like Aizawa just sent him a text telling him he's the number one hero now.

He's less grumpy that day, and the villains don't have to take that many painkillers after he captures them.

And they're not even dating yet.

[st44rgirlxo]

Even pro heros like Dynamight forget important dates.

"hey babe don't forget our reservation tonight!"

"yeah yeah ok got to go" on the phone, katsuki rushes out the door to get to work.

you were really looking forward to this date tonight. It feels like its been forever since you and katsuki have spent actual quality time together. he comes home from work really late so by the time he's home you end up falling asleep waiting for him.

7:00pm comes around and you're finished getting ready. You're wearing a long black bodycon dress with matching black heels.

The restaurant was a 5 star restaurant and had very good reviews. You were excited to post pictures of you and katsuki looking cute.

You grab your purse and car keys and get in your car. Before you leave you shoot katsuki a quick text letting him know your leaving.

"hii kats im abt to leave. are you there?"

Once you arrive you park your car keeping an eye out for katsukis car.

you check your phone for any texts from katsuki

none

you text him again to let him know you arrived

“hey im here are you?”

you go in anyway, making sure you were in time for your reservation.

you get seated and you pull out your phone to call katsuki

the call goes to voicemail.

“fuck”

30 minutes go by and it’s completely dark outside your annoyed, stressed and just want to go home.

“ma’am will you be ordering anything” the waitress pulls out her writing pad

“uh yeah i guess so, but can i get it to go”

the waitress takes your order and eventually it comes to your table.

you take the takeout box and leave the restaurant. as you get in your car, you sigh and lay your head back

how could katsuki forget? this was literally the only date you’ve planned in a while and he forgot!?

as your pull up in your driveway you don’t see katsukis car

“what the hell, where is he”

you get inside and take off your heels

your tired of katsuki always forgetting this always happens

why does he do this?

you sit down at the kitchen table opening your takeout as you start to eat you hear katsukis car pull up.

the front door opens as katsuki walks in.

you don’t even look at him.

“hey babe”

you say nothing

“hey you good”

“where were you katsuki”

“I went out with the guys from some drinks after work”

he sees your dress and the takeout

“wait was our date tonight??”

“yes katsuki i told you this morning, but clearly work and your friends are more important”

you didn’t even have the energy to be mad

“do you know how much I was looking forward to spending quality time with my boyfriend? You never have time for me but you don’t think twice when you get asked to do something else”

tears were pouring down you face as your spoke softy but firmly

katsuki hated seeing you cry but he hated himself most for making you cry

“y/n I’m sorry”

“no katsuki, im tired of being 2 or even 3rd in line. do you know how draining that is?”

you turn around leaving katsuki alone with his thoughts

he fucked up

request r openn🔥🔥

[esveon]

warnings for nsfw! implied age gap (it's always age gap when it's older pro heroes), swearing, afab reader, she/her used, fingering, dom! aizawa (?), poorly written smut. this is my birthday gift from me to me! mdni.

shota aizawa and birthdays are not a great mix. he's as emotionally available as a pet rock, so it takes him a while to actually care for such dates.

but when yours comes around, it's an entirely different situation. he somewhat cares, and he's thoughtful enough to consider buying you a gift. key word being consider. it's usually something small like buying you lunch from the cafeteria, or gifting you something practical for your hero suit. and it's very subtle; he gives you his 'gifts' with nobody around so there's no speculation about his bias for your special day.

this year, he made two tiny mistakes.

one, getting noticed by hizashi yamada.

two, buying you something entirely different than before.

so when he's attempting to wrap a small chocolate box in crinkly wrapping paper, he can sense his workmate's eyes lingering on his figure. thinking little of it, he continues.

shota should've known there was something going on the second he stepped foot in the teacher dorms and it was empty. the only sign of life were your huffs and groans coming from the kitchen as you measured flour and some other dry ingredients.

"y/n? where are the others?"

"they said they had to go prepare some stuff at the faculty lounge for my secret party" you laughed, "can you believe i'm stuck baking my own cake?"

shota's eyes slightly widened as he walked towards the elevator, explaining how he had a small present for you. taking advantage of the solitude, it was better for him to deliver his present now than later. a few minutes went by until he returned with a small bag, inside being a box wrapped in crepe paper.

"oh my gosh, you really didn't have to, aizawa" you giggled, your hands steady on the kitchen counter as you jumped to take a seat. you slowly tore away the paper to reveal a simple, black box with golden lettering. they were chocolates, and not the cheap kind. "these look so good, you wanna share?"

he shook his head in response. "they're for you, y'know." you tilted your head to the side, "and if i want to share?"

he scoffed, "alright, but don't be complaining later when i eat the whole—"

there was a loud sound coming from a speaker. shota knew that mic bought it to have ambiance music during dinner or during cooking, but he never knew it could turn on by itself. more importantly...

the speaker wasn't playing pure background noise. it was playing a song.

shota sighed as he recognized the familiar tune, which was one he had heard during his younger years. and he knew that you recognized it too, from the way in which you held in your laugh. "is this your doing, aizawa?" he shook his head as his phone pinged, and to his surprise, it was a text.

Yamada 19:05 AIZAWA BUDDY Hope you like the surprise!!! We won't look at the kitchen cameras for the rest of the night We still want you to be at the lounge for Y/n's party at 9 tho so move along!!

Shota 19:07 Are you fucking serious?

Yamada 19:08 It's her birthday so you know she wanna rii-ii-iiide out Seriously we're gonna be upset if you waste my good music for nothing bro.

"it's mic's doing" he grumbled, to which you laughed. "is this his attempt at setting us up?" he asked. "probably. is it working?"

"i don't know a single person who enjoys this song unironically. do you seriously want to do this with yamada's playlist?"

"something's better than nothing, aizawa" you smiled, "wanna sing along to birthday sex with me?"

shota took the chocolate box from your hand, picking a small tablet and placing it between his teeth. he moved closer, his hands slightly parting your thighs as he positioned himself between them. though his voice came out muffled by the chocolate, it was obvious what he was saying.

"come on. eat."

your fingers grasped the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer as you leaned in to take a bite. before you could, though, shota took the chocolate from his mouth and threw it somewhere on the counter, connecting his lips with yours. your hand cupped his cheek as your back slightly arched, wanting to close the gap even further. shota's hand was on the small of your back as he slowly dragged you to the edge of the counter.

his hand lowered towards your ass, causing you to gasp. shota was quick to slide his tongue inside, earning a whine from you. your lips are intoxicating to shota. they're addictive, and he tries desperately to keep nibbling on what he deemed heaven itself.

but alas, air is not only something he needs, you need it too. you pulled away to catch your breath, your hand moving from his cheek to under his shirt, softly tracing the skin on his lower back. "you do know this is probably mic's sex fantasy, right?"

he stifled a laugh, "something's better than nothing, right?"

shota's fingers ghosted over your thighs. "this okay?" he asked, to which you nodded. his fingers traced the hem of your shorts, sneakily pushing the fabric to the side as the tip of his finger lazily drew circles on your clothed cunt. "y'know, i could just fuck you like this, no prob. the shorts make it easy."

and his touch is enough to give you goosebumps. you trembled as he slowly, and carefully peeled your panties to the side, slipping two digits inside. he chuckled as you gripped his shirt in response. "you're this wet already? but we're just getting started."

the way his fingers thrust inside you made your grip on him tighten. you wondered if he had any previous experiences—he’s old, so he’s had to have some—there’s no way he’s naturally good. his fingers curled up inside your walls, and it was enough to have your hips jerk towards him, your head on his chest as your breath quickened. shota's thumb drew circles on your clit as he leaned in to whisper.

“does it feel good?”

you try to answer as coherently as you can, but it’s no use. “it—aah—s’good, aizawa.”

without warning, he slips in one more digit. the moan that escaped your lips was so raw—so lewd, it was almost enough for shota to cum on the spot. “that’s not my name, it’s shota. try again.”

“fuck—shota—so good.”

“that’s better” he growled, his free hand moving under your shirt. shota aizawa is skilled, because in one swift movement your bra is unclasped, your shirt is lifted, and his lips and nibbling and suckling on your hardened nipples. shota aizawa knows your sensitive spots. he either guessed them first try, or has known you long enough to know.

you were a moaning mess. you clung onto him so hungrily, with so much desperation. the only sounds that left your mouth were incoherent thoughts and screams.

“sho—want you ‘nside—now.”

he let out a low chuckle, “you need to cum for me first. think you can do that, y/n?”

shota didn’t have to tell you twice.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

hi, can I request smut for virgin bakugou x virgin reader first time, reader and bakugou are in their mid 20s, and have recently started dating maybe like a 6 months or so, make it a shy and slow one pls and thanks

Of course! I love this idea :)

The first of many.

You and Katsuki had been dating for roughly 4/5 months now, and because you were both pro heros it unfortunately meant that you didnt get chance to spend a lot of quality time together. You sometimes had quiet evenings after patrols, but they were usually filled with tending to wounds, collapsing exhausted in bed, trying to muster up the courage to touch each other then ultimately falling asleep in a warm embrace, ready for the next torturous day of saving the city. Until, he text you in the morning just as you were getting ready to leave for work.

“Hey bitch, don’t bother coming in work today. Weve been fired for two weeks as of today.”

Your stomach flipped as your heart leaped into your throat. Fired?! What the fuck was he on about? You tried to ring him only for it to her declined straight away.

“Wtf?! FIRED? What did we do?! Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke so I get called out for missing a day of work or something….”

A quick reply instantly popped up,

“Open your front door dumbass.”

You ran down to your front door, one shoe on and your hero costume barely tightened up properly, only to see him stood at your door already opened, handful of roses and a box of something in his other hand. He leant against the open door, holding the roses out infront of him and putting the box in his pocket, as he smirked up at you and clicked his tongue.

“Not bad for a surprise holiday acceptance ey. Might actually get to be annoyed by you now, Yano, that I can actually spend more than 30 seconds with you. “ He walked up to you and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him as the roses pressed against both your chests. He wrapped that hand now around the side of your face and pulled you into a fiery, intense kiss, making the butterflies in your stomach set alight and fill the rest of your body with burning venom. His intensity was new, it wasnt something youd never seen before but with you he rarely had chance to show it, rarely the energy to muster it, so to say it surprised you would be an understatement. He pressed his hips into yours as the force of his body pushed you against the wall, dropping the roses to the floor and embracing you in a tight hold, kisses now being placed along your jaw and onto your neck. This was the Katsuki you had always wanted, always dreamed about having, not that the sleepy Katsuki wasnt nice, you just felt like you never got to experience him as his peak, until now.

As the kisses turned to bites, he kicked your door shut and picked you up so you sat on his lap, crossing your legs around his hips, as he walked you both up the stairs towards your bedroom. When he kicked your bedroom door open, he flung you onto the bed and began to trail his hands all over your body, forcing goosebumps to follow behind his burning touch like tiny breadcrumb trails that showed exactly where he’d been. The more intense the heat rose between you two, the more your chest tightened, you knew he was big, youd seen it and wrapped your hand around it a few times before, so the thought of it destroying your insides made your anxiety spike more than your lust. As he trailed his hand down to your thighs, you placed a hand on his chest and pulled away from his kiss,

“Katz, this is so fucking hot but…” Your words made him instantly stop, he was monstrously horny but the respect he had for you and your happiness could never be outshone.

“You okay baby? Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?” He fingers tenderly slide back up towards your waist as he spoke, fear lingering in his voice that he was getting too ahead of himself.

“No,no, trust me, this is beyond perfect and everything I’ve ever wanted but…im kinda scared. I don’t think….youre gonna fit Yano, ive er…never actually done it before so.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you spoke, you couldnt remember if youd already told him before, your mind far too fuzzy with euphoria and rising intensity to think about anything other than how fucking good his hands felt on you. He smirked up at you and placed a tender kiss to your lips, a drastic change to his previous ravenous ones,

“I haven’t either don’t worry kid, I got you. I might be acting all tough and forward now but wait till it gets to actually being inside of you, I’ll probably fall apart and start humping the side of your leg thinking im already inside or some shit.” His usual cocky and confident tone simmered down slightly, leaving a sweet and comforting timber echoing through your entire body. His honesty and humour made your anxiety lessen slightly, for everything that he showed the outside world, Katsuki was actually really rather tender and considerate.

He slowed his movements as you smiled and pulled him into another tender kiss, taking his time to warm you up and wait for your signal to continue. The more you kissed, the more you found yourself rocking your hips up towards him, inviting his sweet thrusts to rub against you, the intensity of your slick becoming almost too much to handle anymore.

“C, can we go slow first?” Your voice trembled between your pants, shifting your hips up so he could help take your trousers off.

“Of course we can, i don’t wanna cum within two seconds on my first time Jesus,im probably gonna h,have to just keep it in there for a bit anyway, Yano, warm us both up for it. Fuuuuck, I want you so badly.” His moans stuttering between his words as he pulled your trousers down slowly, exposing your pretty pink lace pants. He stared at the tiny bow on the top of them, before his eyes locked onto the damp material between your legs. His mouth gapped open slightly as his half lidded eyes fluttered,completely transfixed at how good you looked, all because of him. He gulped heavily as he then undid his trousers, pulling his cock from them and resting it against the warm heat of your pussy.

“Fuuuuuck” Escaped his mouth, almost a whisper as he gently guided himself up the crease of your pants, the wet lace feeling like nothing keeping him from being against you. You arched your back as you felt his throbbing cock glide against the material, dancing delicately against your clit as he rocked ever so slightly against you, your breathy pants only making him harder. He kissed you as he rocked his hips, trembling from the feel of you almost being too much already as you tried to speak,

“Pl,please, please fuck me, I think I, im ready, fuck kats.” Your voice begging for him was too much, he pulled your pants to the side and let the head of his cock push against your slick, causing his own moans to escape low and gruff, praising how good you felt and how bad,y he needed to be inside of you. He guided himself to your entrance, pushing his head slightly inside before throwing his head back and almost whimpering.

“Jesus fuck baby, holy fucking fuck, you feel like a drug that I can’t get enough of…i dont think I’ve ever wanted something so badly in my entire life. Can I, can I do more? Fuck im scared im gonna cum already. You feel so fucking good baby.” His eyes watered slightly as he spoke, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he relished in the feel of you. You cried out for him, feeling the stretch of his swollen head already.

“Please kats, fuck, please more. I need you, i need to feel you.” He rocked slightly more inside of you, careful not to stretch you too fast, fighting his own primal instincts not to delve straight into you fully. As he entered you more, the painfully slow stretch only made the wave raise inside of you worsen as you dug your nails into his back, fighting off the urge to pull him into you more.

“Look at me, fucking look at me. I wanna see your eyes scream for me when I get fully in. Fuuuuck baby, fuck. You ready? You gonna take me yeah? Gonna be a good girl and take all of me?” His words made your brain go blank, the only thing you could do was frantically nod your head at his request and focus on the intense feeling of being full only worsen.

He rocked his hips back and towards as he entered more of himself into you, fully plunging himself inside of you causing him to grip tighter onto your hips and nearly bruising you under his clench. His eyes widened as he filled you up, holding himself still as he stretched your walls around his throbbing cock. One more thrust and he was going to be tipped over the edge, grabbing you over it with him. Your moans turned to whimpers as you felt like he was already pushing the air from your lungs, having never felt so full in your entire life. He leaned down slowly and pressed his forehead to yours, panting into your open mouth.

“Oh my fucking god baby, I never thought I could feel so good. Fucking hell, you’re going to ruin me arent you pretty girl. Fuck your pussy is so tight, so inviting, so fucking good.” His words hummed around your ears, barely able for you to concentrate on, as your hip’s involuntarily started to move, begging for him to cause more friction. He felt your hips move as he gulped hard, dragging himself out slightly to then gently push back inside. With each thrust, more pleasure engulfed your body, your eyes forcing their way to the back of your head as you felt every inch of your walls burn with intense pleasure and stretching. He was soft, gentle and intimate, it was everything youd ever wished it would be, for all his fiery cockiness outside of the bedroom, this is exactly what you needed your first time to be like.

The more he thrusted, the more your slick made it easier for you to accept him into you, causing less painful stretching and more intense pleasure to build up in your stomach. You whimpered out that it felt like you were going to cum,and it took everything in his being not to start pounding harder and faster, helping you chase your high quicker. As soon as he felt your walls clench around him, he knew he only had a few more moments until he was shoved over the edge himself, begging to cum inside of you.

“Baby, cum with me, cum with me please. I fucking need it. I need to feel you cum all over me as I fill you up. Fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect my girl. Let me fill you, let me make you mine.” As soon as his words came out, you were forced over the edge, spilling all over him as your walls tightened and convulsed, squeezing every last drop of him out into you. As your walls tensed around him it felt like they were dragging every ounce of his cum out and forcing it against the right walls that surrounded him, claiming every inch of you as his own.

As you both panted into each others mouths, coming down from your high together, your smile broke the intermittent kisses, causing his own to sprinkle across his open mouth. You let out a small laugh between pants, nuzzling your nose against his as you fell even more inlove with him. The sweat between you both caused the air to feel cold and sticky, as he pulled out of you slowly and laid next to you on his back, still frantically panting and smiling worse than when denki would go stupid. You cuddled into his chest as he lazily lifted his arm to invite you in, both crashing after your first experience of making love. You laid together in the moment, immersed in its euphoric intensity, only for the silence to be broke by his words,

“I love you Yano that? Fucking shit that was intense.” You smiled as he tried to hold you tightly, failing as the exhaustion took over his entire body.

“I love you too Katz, im so glad I got to share this with you. Even if you are a little bit of a perv.” His lifted his eye slightly at you, looking down at you as he tired to scowl at yours words.

“Im not a perv, you just feel good. Dont ya know you ain’t supposed to bring up sex talk after sex….idiot.” His smile broke the intensity of his words, causing you to giggle lazily and snuggle tighter into his chest. This was the first of many times youd tease him about what hed say during sex, and the last time he’d ever let you get away with it so casually.

[imnottkyle]

Box Dye Professional - A Solivan Burgmansia x GN!Reader FluffFic!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI

Tags Kinda?: TKaTB VN, Solivan Burgmansia, Sol, fluff, kinda weird in some parts tbh, gender-neutral reader/no mention of reader's gender.

Warnings: It's Sol, so yeah... However, this fic is fluff, so no warnings really, just Sol gets a little weird over being near Reader.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Meowdy folks, your newest TKaTB fic writer has arrived! I am so totally hyped to be writing again, and I hope that you have as much fun reading my fics as I have writing them. This is actually my first fic in SEVEN years, so please have mercy ｡･(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣ ꞈ˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

If you're still reading my intro here, I would like to let you in on a special tidbit! I am now starting a Stalker!Reader x Sol fic yayayayayay!! I just think it would be amazeballs to see someone outfreak his freak. Okay, I'll shut up and let you read <3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Fingers moving nimbly with the charcoal, you sketched away at your muse, sharp eyes taking in his every detail. You told yourself it was simply because you wanted a good grade for this project, that you wanted to prove the authenticity of the piece, that those brief moments of eye contact didn't make your heart jump. Get a grip, you had only known Sol for a few weeks (even if it felt like a lifetime), now was not the time to start crushing. As you continued to scratch at the paper, your mind couldn't help but fall back to the reason you were here in the first place; your father, your home.

"___…?"

You startled, nearly causing the pencil to streak a nasty gash across your paper. "Sorry, what was that?" You asked, full gaze on your subject. "Something on your mind?" He answered, relaxing out of his pose for a quick stretch. "Oh, it's nothing, just got to daydreaming aga-" The sentence trailed off, your eyes sneaking off to peek at the bit of skin that showed when he stretched. No, stop it eyes, focus! Quickly pretending to notice a stray bit of fuzz on his shirt, you pointed it out, successfully hiding your wandering glance. Sol let out a soft chuckle as he picked off the fuzz, "So quick to notice the smallest things, aren't you? It's quite charming." he murmured rather gently. "Oh yeah, just like how I can't help but notice your hair dye is fading awfully! Tell me where you got it done so I know never to go there." You playfully retorted. The green-streaked, or rather yellow-green streaked, man groaned out loud, hiding his face in his hands.

"Is it really that noticeable?"

"Yep."

"Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have tried a different dye. I guess it really is that bad, huh?"

Okay, now you just felt bad for teasing him in the first place, that embarrassed expression that he wore, only tugging at your heartstrings further.

"Well, I was staring at you pretty hard- er -for the sketch, I mean. Maybe it isn't that noticeable from afar."

It was definitely noticeable from afar, but there was no way that you were going to say that to his face. You took a breath, a flash of brilliant courage (or maybe stupidity) overtaking you. The sketchbook and charcoal fell into your lap as you leaned in closer to your classmate, "Um, if you aren't doing anything later, maybe I could help you fix your hair. I'm somewhat of a bathroom salon pro." At this, you saw Sol's face brighten, "R-Really? That'd be nice, thanks." he smiled, voice soft. "Just shoot me a text when you're on your way, and I'll get everything set up. You beamed back, heart already pitter-pattering way more than necessary.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your bathroom looked stupid. It was as if you became painfully aware of every wonky detail in your entire apartment. Two of the shower tiles were crooked, there was a weird blue stain on the floor, and the sink had lime growing on the edge. You had tried everything to get rid of the lime buildup, but in the end you had given up and just accepted the shit. So why now of all times, did it bother you so badly? Was it because Sol was on his way? Was it because you were afraid he would notice and think you were a slob? Why did it even matter in the first place, he was just your classmate, just your project partner.

Lime- 1

Your Idiot Brain- 1

You- 0

For the millionth time, you wished that you would listen to your own advice and calm down. It's not like Sol would even think anything of this, you were just being a good friend and helping him out. You let out a groan and simultaneously heard a knock at the door. Collecting as much of yourself as you could, you headed to the door, opening it to reveal your crush's classmate's handsome face.

"Hey Sol, got the goods?"

"Of course."

He held up the shopping bag, giving it a little shake. You grinned, this was certainly going to be a fun evening. "Well don't just stand there, come in, silly!" You said, before practically dragging him inside the apartment by his sleeve. Whatever nerves you had before had nearly dissipated, leaving you to feel rather giddy. Hair dyeing was fun, you would know. Having done this countless times to your own head, you found the whole process to be rather therapeutic, a welcome metamorphosis. You could have sworn that Sol had mumbled something as you dragged him along, though when you looked back on him, he simply smiled. Wait, was he blushing? It was then that you realized how tightly you had gripped his sleeve, fingers brushing dangerously against his wrist.

"Oh, god, sorry." You loosened your grip, allowing him to regain his left hand.

"It's okay." He replied, setting the grocery bag down on the bathroom counter.

How you wished you had a clock or something, because right now the awkward silence was, well, awkward. Seeing him just stand there suddenly reminded you of something, "Oh wait here, I'll get you a chair!" you spun out the doorway only to reappear a second later, "Did you want anything else? Water, snacks? I have some chips and um, fruit snacks…?" Maybe this whole hosting thing wasn't exactly made for you. Sol, however, didn't seem to mind your scatterbrain, chuckling once more before replying, "A glass of water sounds nice." he rose to his feet, ready to follow you. Aaand now you found yourself panicking, as to whether or not you had somehow left your stinky socks in the cupboard.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

There was now a man in your kitchen. The way he so easily reached into your high cupboards was honestly kind of impressive. Men were like cows, or semi-trucks, you forget how big they are until you see one up close. Or maybe you were just weird and lonely. "Oh, don't drink the tap water, it tastes funny." You interjected, quickly grabbing a water jug from the refrigerator, before extending your hand to take the glass Sol was holding. Once more, you couldn't help but be acutely aware of your fingers brushing against his as you took the glass, heart fluttering at the contact. Pouring the water, suddenly became a very serious task, your eyes focused like lasers, hands steady and balanced. This might be the most perfect glass of water you had ever poured. Handing him the glass, you spun around to place the water jug back in the fridge, quickly taking note of what all it contained in case Sol got hungry later.

It was your cup, or at least a cup that you had used at some point. Your lips had once been pressed to the cool glass, perhaps even at the same spot his were pressed to now. Your lips, your thirst, how he wanted to be pressed up against you, easing your craving.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Good grief, he must have been parched, the way he chugged the water down. You quickly offered him another glass, but he declined, strange. Back to the bathroom it was, unboxing the dye and getting things set up. It was decided that you would sit on the chair, Sol taking a seat on the ground (you gave him a cushion, of course) so you could better see his hair. Shaking the bottle of dye, you broke off the seal and squeezed some directly on his head. You felt the man jolt, "So, no instructions?" he asked, pointing at the instruction sheet that now lay in the trash. "Just trust me." You declared, using your bare hands to work the dye into his hair. Now this action caused Sol to whip around abruptly, "___!! Your hands are gonna be stained if you do it like this! Why don't you use the gloves!?" You groaned, grabbing onto his head, gently trying to guide him back into position, "It's fine, besides, the gloves just inhibit my amazing abilities." You gave yourself a grin, you were a seasoned professional after all! Well, you still had hair on your head, so that had to mean something.

"So, do you usually do this on your own?"

"Mm, yeah, sometimes Hyugo helps out."

"Oh that's nice. I almost feel bad for taking his place right now, except I'm having too much fun."

You let out a giggle, waving your green, stained hands in front of Sol's face. He simply turned back at you and smiled, "You're so reckless."

Your hands matched his hair. Your hands matched his hair. And they would be stained like that for a few days. Stained like him, marked to match him, branded as his.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A few more squeezes of hair dye, and even more idle chatting, it was nice really. Gently running your fingers through Sol's hair, making sure each faded highlight was coated evenly with fresh green pigment, it was soothing. However, you found yourself scooting your chair closer every few minutes, as if Sol was somehow sliding away. Oh, that's right, the cushion. It was just a random pillow, actually, which turned out to be quite slippery on the bathroom floor. You let out a small huff of frustration before scooting closer one final time. Thighs spread apart, Sol sat in between them as they pressed against his shoulders, firmly locking him in place. You heard a small mumble escape the man's lips, it sounded like a curse, but you didn't bother to pry.

"Sorry, but you aren't running away so easily." You chuckled, teasingly tugging at a dye-soaked strand of his hair.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin." He murmured with a returned chuckle, though there was little he could do to hide the heat in his voice.

"Hmph, atta boy."

Cheeks flushed, you were never so glad that Sol couldn't see your face. Pumpkin, that stupid nickname he had given you a while back. It was cheesy, but for some reason, you found yourself enjoying it, a rather endearing feeling. Your gaze softened as you tenderly stroked Sol's hair, the warm feeling in your chest only blossoming more. He had been one of your first friends this year, one of the only friends you had actually made on your own. A leap of faith, a single rooftop lunch, a chance at being partnered with this man, had quickly turned into some of your most treasured memories. And now you had started to question yourself; was this love at first sight?

Haah.. The way your fingers tangled in his hair, the gentle tug at it, fuck. The scent of you, snaking around him as he knelt between your thighs, clamping him in place. Your presence was inescapable, all-consuming, just the way he liked it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"You look like a seaweed monster!" You giggled, standing in the mirror next to your dye-soaked friend. He simply frowned in reply, "And you look like a sea urchin."

"Huh? That doesn't make an-!!"

You were cut off abruptly as Sol yanked you close, tousling your hair with his hand. Satisfied, he pulled away, now examining the both of you in the mirror. "A seaweed monster and his little urchin." He teased, smiling at your disheveled reflection. "Idiot, now my hair is all messed up!" It was a false protest, your face betraying you, a heavy blush now spreading to your ears. Sol was so close, you couldn't help but inhale his scent, feel the warmth radiating off his body, and hear the rapid beating of his heart. It was beating just as fast as your own, and somehow it seemed as if it was in perfect sync. Could it be that Sol felt just as nervous as you did? That he perhaps harbored a small crush of his own?

"Uh, let's get you rinsed off, I think the dye might be seeping into your brain…"

"Huh?"

"Never mind!!"

You quickly extracted yourself from his space, smoothing out your hair, and instantly feeling the chill of your apartment once again. Had it always been this cool in here? After a brief crash course on how to use the extendable shower head, you let Sol rinse his hair on his own while you tidied the rest of the bathroom. A few moments later, his green-streaked head popped back up, wet bangs covering his eyes. "Uh, ___? Can you pass me the towel?" You handed him a towel as he pushed the bangs from his face, beads of water running down his pretty face. Focus, focus, focus! Judging by Sol's raised eyebrow and flushed expression, you were pretty sure your jaw was somewhere on the ground right then.

"Er, sorry…!"

"N-No it's fine!"

"I'd let you look at me like that all day if you wanted~"

"Did you-?"

"Hm? No, it's nothing!"

The man smiled back in reply, rubbing his hair with the towel.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You had brushed his wet locks, dried his hair with your blow dryer, the same one you've used since middle school, and sent him on his way. The apartment was silent now, save for the sound of your heart pounding against your ribs. You were sprawled out on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, completely alone, and yet the faint scent of Sol seemed to cradle you no matter where you moved. He smelled like soap, laundry, almost sterile. But underneath that all there was a hint of a woody musk and, oddly enough, a sweet, candy-like smell. Maybe he had a thing for sweets. What kind of sweets did he like? What kind of foods did he like? What was his favorite flavor? You wanted to know more about him, everything about him. There was no point in fighting it, you gave in, curling up into your blankets as if they could somehow offer protection from your own realization. You liked Sol. You really liked him.

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 3

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

You walked cautiously down the supermarket aisle, mentally running through your shopping list, when you froze mid-step. Alba stood directly ahead, inspecting a row of cereals with a thoughtful frown. Your heart leapt into your throat; suddenly, you wished you'd decided to shop anywhere else today.

She turned slightly, catching sight of you out of the corner of her eye. Her face immediately flushed scarlet, matching your own instant embarrassment.

“Oh...hi,” you offered weakly, voice strained with awkwardness. Your hand rose stiffly in a half-wave.

Alba cleared her throat, looking down at the cereal box she held like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. “Hey.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between you both. You shifted nervously, desperately searching for something—anything—to break the tension.

“So,” Alba started abruptly, eyes carefully averted, voice tight with forced casualness. “About yesterday...I’m sorry. I really should've knocked.”

“No, no,” you rushed out quickly, wishing you could disappear into thin air. “That was totally our fault. I mean—my fault. Your sister didn’t—I mean—we didn’t mean—”

Alba finally glanced up at you, her mortification mingled with reluctant amusement. “Let’s just both pretend it never happened, okay?”

“Deal,” you said quickly, relief flooding your voice. “Definitely forgotten.”

She chuckled softly, visibly relaxing as you both accepted the shared embarrassment. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure Alexia wants to bury the memory, too.”

You laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, we haven't exactly talked about it yet.”

Alba gave you a knowing, gentle smile. “Well, I’m guessing my sister is going to be more careful about locking doors from now on.”

“Probably a good idea,” you joked softly, some of the tension easing. “We’ve learned our lesson.”

She chuckled, finally meeting your eyes again, the awkwardness slowly fading into amusement. “Anyway, I’ll...see you around?”

You nodded, relieved the moment was finally easing. “Definitely. Preferably under different circumstances next time.”

“Agreed,” Alba said with a soft laugh, backing away toward the checkout. “See you around.”

As she disappeared around the corner, you exhaled deeply, shaking your head. Alexia was right—her sister was definitely never letting either of you live this down.

The second you were safely back in your car, you pulled out your phone and called Alexia. She answered almost immediately, voice cheerful and teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Funny,” you replied dryly, leaning back against the seat. “Guess who I just ran into at the supermarket?”

Alexia paused, clearly sensing the hesitation in your voice. “Please tell me it wasn’t my sister.”

“Bingo.”

“Oh my god,” Alexia groaned softly, embarrassment obvious in her voice. “Was it bad?”

You laughed, tension easing slightly as you remembered Alba’s equally mortified expression. “Honestly? I think she was even more embarrassed than I was.”

Alexia sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s reassuring. Did she say anything?”

“She offered to mutually erase yesterday from our memory,” you said lightly. Alexia laughed softly, a relieved, genuine sound. You chuckled, shaking your head affectionately. “Look, I think we’re fine. Alba handled it better than I expected. Awkward, yes, but survivable.”

Alexia’s voice softened warmly. “I guess I owe her dinner or something.”

“As long as you don’t eat at the table,” you teased playfully, feeling the tension of the awkward encounter fade completely.

“Deal,” Alexia agreed, her voice filled with humour and affection. “But maybe next time we’ll keep it in the bedroom.”

“No promises,” you teased softly, grinning to yourself.

She laughed again, warm and genuine. “You’re impossible.”

“You like impossible.”

“Unfortunately, very much so.”

You smiled, heart relaxing completely. Yesterday’s embarrassment already felt lighter. “Then I’ll see you later?”

“You better,” Alexia replied warmly. “Just avoid my sister on the way.”

“No guarantees,” you joked, already planning your next move. “But I’ll try.”

—

You stood outside Alexia’s apartment door, your finger hovering over the buzzer when footsteps approached. You turned, surprise and dread mingling in your chest as Alba appeared in the hallway.

She halted abruptly, eyes widening when she saw you. “You again,” she said, raising an amused eyebrow. “Should I knock first this time?”

You laughed awkwardly, shifting on your feet. “I’d hope she wasn’t naked with someone on her dining table.”

Alba smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort, as she pressed the buzzer herself. Alexia opened the door moments later, smiling brightly until her eyes landed on Alba standing next to you.

“Oh—Alba?” Alexia’s voice lifted in surprise, eyes darting between you and her sister. “What are you doing here?”

Alba folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Did you already forget we had dinner plans? You invited me remember”

Alexia winced slightly, cheeks flushing pink as her gaze flickered to yours apologetically. Clearly, this wasn’t part of the evening she'd planned.

“Oh, right,” Alexia stammered awkwardly, stepping aside. “I…must’ve forgotten.”

“I can see why,” Alba teased, shooting you a pointed look as she stepped inside. “Clearly you had other plans.”

You smiled sheepishly, offering an awkward shrug. “I can come back later—”

“No, stay,” Alexia quickly insisted, touching your arm gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

Alba glanced knowingly at her sister, struggling to contain her amusement. “Relax. I don’t mind company. Just no dining table activities this time, please?”

Alexia groaned loudly, cheeks reddening immediately. “Seriously, Alba?”

Alba laughed softly, stepping toward the living room. “I’ll behave, but you two are never living that down.”

As Alba walked ahead, Alexia leaned closer, whispering apologetically, “I swear she does this on purpose.”

You chuckled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Maybe. Think she’d notice if we put a film on for her and disappear”

Alexia’s eyes narrowed playfully. “She's not a toddler, and don’t start.”

“Too late,” you teased softly, pulling her toward the living room. “Now let’s survive dinner with your sister, and we can finish our ‘plans’ afterward.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Deal—but no tables tonight.”

You laughed, glancing ahead at Alba’s amused expression. “Agreed. At least not while she’s here.”

As the evening went on, your initial embarrassment was slowly replaced by laughter and comfortable teasing. Alba’s presence turned into an entertaining session of embarrassing Alexia with stories from their childhood. She wasn’t near as harsh as she appeared.

“You know,” Alba began dramatically, grinning wickedly, “Alexia acts tough now, but did she ever tell you she cried when she found out Santa wasn’t real?”

“Alba—don’t you dare,” Alexia warned, cheeks bright red.

You laughed, leaning forward eagerly. “Oh, please continue.”

“Or when she had a crush on that awful singer when she was fourteen—what was her name, Alexia?”

Alexia groaned, covering her face. “Alba, I swear…”

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the time she tried to impress someone by learning how to skateboard—ended up with a broken wrist and still tried to act cool about it.”

You laughed harder, watching Alexia bury her face in embarrassment. “Keep going,” you encouraged, grinning at Alexia’s playful glare. “I’m learning so much.”

“Enough,” Alexia insisted, fighting back a smile despite her embarrassment. “You’re both impossible.”

Alba winked at you, clearly satisfied. “I have plenty more stories for next time.”

Alexia sighed dramatically, burying her face briefly in her hands. “There won’t be a next time”

“We’ll just cut out the middle man,” Alba teased affectionately, nudging her sister gently. “We’ll go for drinks without you. I like your friend”

You laughed again as Alexia hid her face in her hands, clearly giving up on stopping her sister’s playful assault on her dignity.

—

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, gently waking you the next morning. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in the comforting warmth of Alexia curled beside you, peacefully sleeping, her hair softly spread across the pillow.

The peaceful, easy intimacy between you felt strangely natural—dangerously natural, even. She stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open, instantly meeting yours with a sleepy smile.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Sleep well?”

She stretched lightly, curling closer against your chest. “Perfectly. You?”

“With you here? Always.”

She chuckled quietly, tracing gentle circles against your skin. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

You smiled warmly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Maybe just a little.”

She laughed softly, shifting slightly to prop herself up on her elbow, looking down at you playfully. “I have to meet Alba for brunch. She’s dying to interrogate me after yesterday’s supermarket encounter.”

You grinned teasingly. “You know, I bet your sister has a whole list of questions prepared by now.”

Alexia groaned softly, hiding her face in your neck. “She definitely does. She was texting me questions until midnight.”

You laughed, gently brushing a hand through your hair. “I can hear it already—‘How long have you two been sneaking around?’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Are wedding bells ringing soon?’”

Alexia lifted her head, eyes narrowed but playful. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Maybe just a little,” you admitted, eyes twinkling mischievously. “But it’s your fault. You introduced me.”

She shook her head fondly, pretending annoyance. “Just wait. She’s insisting on another dinner soon.”

Your smile widened. “Sounds like fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Alexia retorted, but her lips were curved in a smile. She kissed you quickly, reluctantly shifting out of bed. “I really have to go, or I'll never hear the end of it.”

You watched her dress, warmth filling your chest, completely at ease. She then got lost in her phone, clearly another text from Alba “Tell your sister she’ll have answers soon enough,” you teased lightly as she finally pulled on her shoes. “But maybe skip the details?”

Alexia smirked, tossing you a playful glare from the doorway. “No promises.”

You laughed as she left, already looking forward to the inevitable next hook up.

---

Alexia took a sip of her coffee, trying to ignore the knowing smirk Alba was aiming her way. The crowded café hummed softly around them, providing just enough privacy for Alba’s probing questions.

“So,” Alba began again, a teasing gleam in her eyes, “you and your basketball star... ‘casual,’ huh?”

Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alba, please. I told you—it’s just physical. We’re keeping it casual.”

Alba raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Casual? Alexia, you practically live at each other’s places.”

"We have a lot of sex" Alexia shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her sister’s eyes. “We’re busy, schedules match. It’s just convenient.”

Alba laughed softly, shaking her head. “Convenient? Really? Convenient enough to spend every waking moment together?”

“We don’t spend every moment together,” Alexia retorted quickly, cheeks warming despite her attempt to stay casual.

Alba raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Oh, please. You talk about her constantly, smile whenever her name comes up, and literally blush whenever your phone buzzes. Casual doesn’t look like that.”

Alexia sighed, smiling reluctantly into her coffee. “It’s just physical. Fun, uncomplicated.”

Alba leaned in, voice softer, gently pressing. “Are you sure about that? Because from what I’ve seen, especially the way you look at her—Alexia, you’re way past casual.”

Alexia hesitated, fingers tracing absent-mindedly around the rim of her cup. “It’s not supposed to be serious. It went without saying that we agreed on it being casual.”

Alba smiled knowingly, her voice filled with quiet sympathy. “Well, your heart clearly missed the memo.” Alexia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny the truth hidden in her sister’s words. Finally meeting Alba’s gaze, Alba spoke softly, reaching over to squeeze Alexia’s hand reassuringly. “Just protect that soft heart of yours.”

—

The ball slipped from your fingers just a half-second too late. Another turnover.

You gritted your teeth as the opposing team capitalised—fast break, easy layup. Your coach shouted for composure from the sidelines, but the damage was done.

The crowd roared as the scoreboard flashed the new reality:

58–64.

Third quarter. The game that could win you the League—first of four titles this season—was slipping away.

You paced near the top of the key during a timeout, jaw tight, heart racing. You wanted this. Needed it. But the other team was commanding the court with a calm precision that grated on your nerves. And the refs?

They were killing you. Phantom fouls. Missed travels. You couldn’t believe what was happening. As you made your way to the huddle, you muttered under your breath, barely keeping it together.

When the game resumed, it only got worse. Another no-call as you were shoved mid-drive. The whistle didn’t blow. You spun around, arms flung wide, storming up to the ref.

“Are you kidding me?! That’s the fifth time! What game are you watching?!” No answer. Just the cold, flat blow of the whistle against you. Offensive foul.

You froze, stunned. Hands on your hips, you turned toward the sideline, scanning the crowd, and that’s when you saw her.

Alexia. Front row, edge of her seat, eyes locked on you. Beside her, Alba was half-hiding her face in amusement, and next to her, a woman with the same fierce presence as Alexia her Mami.

And before you could fully process what was happening, Eli stood slightly and called you out. “Shut your mouth and keep your head!”

Clear. Stern. A mum voice if you’d ever heard one. It cut through the noise. Through the adrenaline. Through your boiling frustration. You blinked, stunned. Even the ref hesitated, lips twitching at the delivery. The arena reacted with a wave of laughter and surprise. The cameras caught all of it—your face, frozen mid-protest, mouth halfway open.

Alexia didn’t even flinch. She just reached over, calmly grabbed her drink, and sipped it like this was completely normal.

The internet was already having a field day.

Fan Tweet: "Alexia Putellas Mami just told [Your Name] to shut up 💀 ICON."

Clip circulating on socials: 📸 “When your situationship’s Mum coaches you mid-game…” 🎥 [Zoom-in on your stunned face, then cutting to Alexia calmly sipping from her drink like nothing happened.]

You shook your head in disbelief, half-laughing as you walked to the free-throw line, the frustration replaced with something else—focus.

It landed like a coach’s order. Maybe more. You looked at Alexia, who just smirked at you knowingly. The fourth quarter began—and everything shifted.

You stopped trying to control the refs. You started controlling the game. You locked in—locked them out. And when the final buzzer blared and confetti rained down, you stood at centre court, hands on your knees, breath heavy, eyes scanning the crowd again.

Alexia clapped slowly beside her, pride in her eyes. Alba was already laughing, phone in hand, recording the moment for future blackmail.

And Eli? She was nodding. Firm. Respectful. A little impressed. And that—for some reason—meant everything from a woman you hadn’t met.

You could barely feel your legs. Every muscle burned. Your lungs felt like fire. But you pushed through it—one final sprint, one last defensive stand, one more shot clock to survive.

The buzzer blared.

Game over.

You sank to your knees, stunned.

72–68.

The crowd erupted, a wall of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates screamed, rushed toward you in a blur of arms and jerseys, some laughing, some crying. But all you could do was stare up at the scoreboard in disbelief.

You’d done it.

History.

The first women’s basketball league trophy ever for Barcelona. The club that had never made it out group stages, the ones always fighting at the bottom of the table. The one people never bet on. The one the media overlooked, the sponsors ignored, the fans once barely filled the stands for.

Not anymore.

The arena was shaking with noise. And you—sweat-soaked, bruised, breathless—knelt at the centre of it.

You were the one who led them there. But getting there hadn’t been clean. The game had been chaos. The opponents had you cornered for most of it—pressing hard, dominating tempo, calling out every pass before it even left your hands. And the refs, they were no help. You’d lost your cool more than once, snapping in Spanish, pacing the sideline like a storm. At one point, you even turned toward the crowd, mouthing off loud enough for half the arena to hear.

As confetti rained down and your teammates swarmed you in celebration, the announcer’s voice rang out over the loudspeakers, barely heard over the chaos: “History made tonight! For the first time ever, Barcelona are the Women’s League Champions!”

The crowd was thunderous. Chants of Barca pulsed through the arena like a heartbeat. People waved banners, phones lit up like stars, camera flashes catching every second. Streamers exploded from the rafters in team colours. It felt unreal. You stumbled back a step and lifted your hands to the air, letting the roar wash over you.

Then the chant started: “M-V-P! M-V-P! M-V-P!”

Your teammates pushed you forward, yelling for you to take it in, pointing to the crowd like they wanted you to soak it all up.

You turned slowly in a circle, overwhelmed and dazed, eyes sweeping the crowd until they found her. Alexia. Front row. Hands cupped around her mouth as she yelled your name with a grin so proud it made your knees a little weak. Alba stood beside her, filming with one hand and fist-pumping with the other. And Eli was clapping slowly, steadily, nodding with that same calm intensity as before. Alexia winked. It hit you harder than the win.

The announcer’s voice boomed again, calling for both teams to line up for the trophy presentation.

As your team gathered near half court, arms around each other’s shoulders, a staff member handed you a fresh towel—then paused.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling like she knew you weren’t. You glanced toward the giant, glistening trophy sitting on the table at centre court.

“Not even close,” you said, smiling wide. “But let’s go get it anyway.”

And just like that, the moment you dreamed about became the one you’d never forget. You caught a glimpse of the crowd, Alexia standing, clapping proudly, her smile glowing. Alba beside her, already filming for her inevitable ‘accidentally viral’ post. And Eli was nodding. Firm. Respectful. A little impressed. And that—for some reason—meant everything.

The trophy gleamed in your hands—heavy, solid, real. Gold reflected off the arena lights as you raised it high above your head, your teammates screaming in unison around you. Medals clinked against chests, confetti stuck to sweat-soaked faces, and the sound of pure joy echoed from the stands to the rafters.

Liv and Maya were on either side of you, arms slung across your shoulders, laughing breathlessly as your names were still being chanted by the crowd.

“This is insane,” Liv shouted, eyes wide as she looked out at the thousands of fans waving flags and singing at full volume.

“I’m gonna cry,” Maya added, laughing even as she wiped her eyes. “This is actually happening.”

And then it began. A ripple of music swelled through the speakers—the unmistakable notes of Cant del Barça.

The team fell into a natural rhythm, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders in a tight circle. You, Liv, and Maya were pulled right into the middle of it.

“Tot el camp…” someone began, and suddenly the whole arena was singing.

Without hesitation, you joined in.

“És un clam, som la gent blaugrana…”

Maya blinked at you in disbelief. “Wait… you know the words?”

You grinned wide, eyes shining. “Of course I do. Im shocked you’ve been here longer and don’t”

Liv laughed, nudging you. “You sound like you were born here.”

“Tant se val d’on venim,” you sang louder, smile growing, voice blending perfectly with the team and the roaring crowd.

Alexia, standing a few feet away with, caught your eye. Her lips parted in surprise—clearly impressed—as she watched you sing every line flawlessly, your eyes alight with happiness, the lyrics rolling off your tongue like second nature.

She grinned, shaking her head fondly before joining in herself.

The chorus hit “Barça! Barça! Baaaaaarça!”and you threw your head back, singing it with your entire chest, arm around Liv as she jumped beside you, laughing uncontrollably.

In that moment, you weren’t just the MVP, the league winner, the historic name on the headlines. You were one of them. And judging by the fans’ reaction, the chants, and the flood of posts already exploding online with clips of you belting the anthem with the fan they saw it too.

You belonged. And you were only just getting started.

The noise faded as you stepped through the tunnel, leaving behind the roar of the crowd, the blinding lights, the chaos of cameras and champagne. On this side, the air was cooler, quieter. The echoes of celebration still rang faintly in the distance, but here, it was just... still.

And waiting in that stillness leaning against the concrete wall, eyes soft, arms folded across her chest, was Alexia. She looked up the second she heard your footsteps. No words yet. Just a slow smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, something shining in her eyes that made your chest ache in the best way. You didn’t say anything either. You just walked toward her—and she met you halfway.

The hug wasn’t rushed, or dramatic. It was quiet, steady, grounding. Her arms wrapped around your waist, yours slid around her shoulders, and for a long, perfect moment, neither of you moved. You breathed her in, familiar, calming, solid, while the weight of everything you’d just achieved slowly settled into your body.

Alexia buried her face lightly into your neck, her voice low and full of something deep. “I’m so proud of you.” You closed your eyes at the words, arms tightening around her. You’d heard cheers all night, praise from teammates, coaches, even strangers. But this. This voice, this moment, meant more than all of it. “Seriously,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her hand cupped your cheek gently. “You made history out there.”

You smiled, heart thudding, unsure if it was from the game or just being near her like this. “We made it. Finally.”

“You didn’t just make it,” she said softly. “You led it. You held that team together. You earned every second of tonight.”

You looked at her, taking in her expression—the softness in her eyes, the slight crack in her voice—and something inside you melted. She smiled, brushing a piece of damp hair off your forehead. Alexia leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. The noise of the world stayed outside. For now, it was just you, her, and the quiet celebration that didn’t need confetti or cameras. Just this. Just her. The women who you were meant to just be casually sleeping with for convenience.

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your hands still resting on her hips, her fingers gently brushing your jaw. A beat passed between you—quiet, warm, intimate.

Then, with a crooked grin, you tilted your head slightly. “Is it weird that all of this… kinda made me horny?”

Alexia blinked, caught off guard for half a second—then laughed softly, biting her bottom lip as her eyes dropped to your mouth. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head, but clearly amused. “The trophy, the confetti, screaming fans, the historic win—and that’s your takeaway?”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “I mean, it’s not the only takeaway. But something about winning in front of thousands of people and then seeing you right after looking this good…” Your voice dipped, teasing. “Kinda does it for me.”

She chuckled, leaning in closer, her lips brushing just beside your ear now. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I just made club history,” you murmured, grinning. “Let me be a little unhinged.”

Alexia tilted her head, pretending to think. “You know,” she said slowly, fingers grazing the hem of your jersey, “you do look pretty good with a medal around your neck.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Her hand slipped around your waist again, pulling you a little closer.

You exhaled a quiet laugh, heartbeat picking up again—very differently this time. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me wearing just.. that”

Alexia smirked, brushing her lips lightly against yours. “Oh, now theres an image I like the thought of.”

—

The hotel room still smelled faintly of champagne and adrenaline. You’d only just come down from the high of the post-match celebrations, your medal still draped loosely around your neck, damp hair towel-dried from a quick shower. The room was quiet, lights dimmed, your body finally beginning to crash after the chaos of the night.

You hadn’t even changed into proper sleepwear—just a hoodie and shorts, slouched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through the avalanche of mentions and videos online. Then came the knock. Three soft raps. Familiar. Tentative. You stood slowly, pulse already rising with something far too familiar to be nerves. You didn’t even check through the peephole—you knew.

You opened the door. And there she was. Alexia stood in the hallway of the team hotel, in an oversized coat thrown over something much more casual underneath—sweats, sneakers, and her hair up in a loose, messy bun. No cameras. No entourage. Just her. Just for you.

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at you, soft eyes meeting yours, lips slightly parted, like she’d been deciding whether to come all night—and finally did. “Hey,” you said gently, stepping aside.

“Hi,” she murmured, slipping inside, brushing past you with a faint brush of her fingers against yours. The door closed with a soft click behind her. You turned, and Alexia was already looking at you like she had in the tunnel—not with wild adrenaline or smirking sarcasm—but with that quiet intensity. The kind she never gave away lightly. “You sure you’re not too tired to entertain a visitor?” she asked playfully, stepping toward you.

You laughed under your breath. “I should be. But apparently, winning league titles gives me a second wind.”

She smiled, walking closer until her hands gently rested on your chest, fingers brushing the edge of your medal. “You were incredible tonight,” she whispered. “I mean it. Every second.”

You let her words settle, your hands resting at her waist. “You already told me that.”

“Didn’t feel finished,” she murmured, rising slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips. You melted into her instantly, the rest of the world dropping away for the hundredth time that night. The clamour of victory, the lights, the fans, all gone. Now it was just her. Alexia pulled back just slightly, voice lower now. “You still feel like celebrating?”

You grinned, heart thudding again, you stepped back, pulling her deeper into the room—and into a night that belonged to just the two of you.

—

The early morning light spilled through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the hotel room. Alexia was still half-wrapped in your hoodie, barefoot, her hair slightly messy from the night, and her grin even messier. You peeked through the peephole of your hotel room door like a criminal. The hallway was quiet. No sign of teammates. No staff. No coach.

“Alright,” you whispered, turning back to her. “Now’s the time. Let’s go.”

Alexia laughed quietly, stepping toward the door but stopping just before it. “Wait.”

You blinked. “Wait? Now you want to wait?”

She leaned in, lifting her chin. “One more kiss.”

You gave her a look. “Seriously?” She just raised an eyebrow, and that look—that look—was unfair. You sighed, giving in instantly, cupping her face and kissing her slow, just once. You pulled back, breath brushing her lips. “There. Now—go.”

But she didn’t move. She bit her lip, then smirked. “Okay… one more.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath. “You’re trying to get me caught.”

She shrugged innocently. “Maybe just a little.” So you kissed her again—quick, soft—and reached for the door handle opening the door, a voice rang out from the hallway: “Well, well, well…”

You both froze. There they were: Liv and Maya, in their sweats and team-issued hoodies, coffee cups in hand, mid-laugh already.

Alexia immediately stepped back like a guilty teenager, hiding behind you, but it was too late. They’d seen something they shouldn’t.

“Is that Alexia Putellas sneaking out of your room at 7am?” Maya grinned, raising her eyebrows dramatically.

“I—uh—morning run?” you tried weakly.

Liv cackled. “Pretty sure the coach said no visitors. You literally lasted less than twelve hours.”

Alexia peeked out from behind you, clearly amused, totally unbothered. “I mean I have stamina but twelve hours is long even by my standard.” Alexia jolted her hand coming to her abs where the back of your hand had abruptly connected with seconds earlier,

“Oh my god, she’s not even trying to deny it,” Maya laughed, nearly dropping her coffee. “This is iconic.”

Liv leaned against the wall, smirking. “You breaking rules for friends now?”

You shook your head, already defeated. “No. Just—”

“Just sex, right?” Maya said with a wink. “Because casual definitely looks like this.”

Alexia looked at you, eyes twinkling. “They’re worse than my sister.”

You groaned. “Can we just... forget this happened?”

“Absolutely not,” Liv said, raising her cup. “This is going straight into team folklore.”

Alexia leaned up, gave you one last kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “Totally worth it,” as she squeezed your arse, before walking past Liv and Maya with the confidence of someone who knew she had nothing to be sorry for. She didn’t break any rules.

Maya watched her go, shaking her head. “You really are down bad.”

“Bite me” You grumbled

You were halfway through your breakfast—headphones in, hoodie up, trying to mind your business—when Liv dropped her phone onto the table in front of you with a dramatic thud.

“Have you seen this?”

You pulled out one earbud, glancing down. The screen was open to X and a photo already making the rounds. A blurry zoomed-in shot of none other than Alexia, leaving the team hotel in the early morning light, hoodie over her head, hand brushing her hair back, clearly trying not to be seen.

The timestamp - 6:42 AM. The caption - “👀 Alexia Putellas spotted leaving [Your Name]’s team hotel before sunrise… 👀🏀🔥”

And the comments were already unhinged:

“They’re DEFINITELY not just friends.” “Yo… she didn’t even try to sneak out low-key.” “Power couple move tbh.” “They win one title and suddenly it’s hotel hook-ups?! 😭”

You blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Liv said, biting into her toast casually. “You’re trending again. Congrats.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond before your phone buzzed—official team group chat.

Coach: “[Your Name], my office. Now.”

You sighed, slouching lower in your chair.

Ten minutes later, you sat across from your coach, arms folded, trying to look less guilty than you felt. Management was seated beside her, stone-faced. Coach didn't yell. That somehow made it worse. She just looked tired.

“Do you understand what kind of attention this brings to the club?”

You shifted. “It was just a picture. No one got hurt.”

“Not the point,” she said sharply, then took a breath. “We’re in the middle of the most pivotal stretch of the season. League is done, yes, but we still have three more trophies to play for. Do you know how fast distractions like this spiral?”

You frowned. “It’s my personal life.”

“And it stopped being just yours the moment you two became headline news,” the director added, tapping his pen. “You're not just a player. You’re the face of this run. This team has never been here before. We can't afford this kind of noise.”

You opened your mouth to push back—ready to argue that you’d performed, that you’d delivered when it mattered, that you deserved some breathing room.

But then Coach leaned forward, eyes steady. “No one is telling you to end anything. We’re telling you to lock in.Whatever you and Alexia are doing—it can’t come at the cost of this team.”

The weight of that landed harder than any tabloid headline.You looked down at your hands, jaw clenched. Finally, you nodded once. “Understood.”

Coach eased back in her seat, watching you carefully. “You’re too important to this team to throw focus away now. Get to the end of the season. Then kiss whoever you want whatever you want. Deal?”

A reluctant smile tugged at your mouth despite yourself. “Deal.” You walked out of the office ten minutes later, a bit humbler, a little quieter—but more focused than ever. Three more trophies. No more headlines. Well... not unless they were the kind you earned.

—

You were doing exactly what they told you to. You locked in.

Practices? Sharper than ever. Practices were clinical. Ruthless. 

Film study? Front row, taking notes.  

Weight room? First in, last out. 

Game prep? Obsessive.  

Sleep, eat, train, repeat.

No distractions. No headlines. No slips.

You became exactly what they wanted—an elite athlete tuned so tightly into the goal that nothing else mattered.

You showed up to every session, gave every ounce of energy, and when the cameras turned on, you smiled like everything was fine.

Every drill, every session, every media day—you showed up like your whole career depended on it. And in a way, it did. With the next trophy just around the corner, your focus had to be absolute. That’s what they wanted. What they expected.

So, you delivered.

But in the quiet moments—walking back to your hotel room, lying in bed after lights out, glancing at your phone during a water break—the guilt crept in.

Your texts with Alexia had turned into a one-sided scroll. Alexia’s messages still sat there—unread, unanswered.

Proud of you

How’s your body holding up

Did you land okay

Come over  

Saw your post. That pass was 🔥

Thinking of you. Even if you’re MIA.

Are you ghosting me or just training like you joined the military?

Don’t disappear on me

Say something.

You stared at those messages more times than you'd admit, thumb hovering over the keyboard, a dozen drafted replies never sent.You didn’t respond. . Not because you didn’t want to—but because you didn’t know how. Everything you’d been told lately echoed in your head: No distractions. Stay focused. Don’t lose the momentum.

 You weren’t ignoring her to be cruel. You were doing what they told you. What was best. Right? But then came the post. You didn’t see it until Liv threw her phone at you in the locker room.

“Your girl’s getting bold.” You raised an eyebrow, catching the phone mid-air, and read the tweet Alexia had just put up.

At first it looked like nothing. Just text. No tags. No media. But you—and everyone else—knew exactly what it meant.

@alexiaputellas: Even champions can fumble the ball.

One line. That was it. But it hit harder than any headline. The replies were instant. Explosive.

“Uhhh… 👀” “Wait is this about HER???” “Someone go check on [Your Name] 💀” “Alexia has entered her cryptic queen era and I’m LIVING.”

Your heart sank. Not from shame—but from the sharp realisation that she’d waited long enough. It wasn’t bitterness. It was disappointment. And that hurt worse. One line. That was it. But it hit harder than any headline. And suddenly, the silence you’d kept felt heavier than ever.

You sat in the breakfast room, shoulders tense, phone in your hand, staring down at the screen while the team buzzed around you. For a moment, you weren’t MVP, or a title-winning captain, or the locked-in professional they wanted. You were just a person who hadn’t replied to someone who mattered. The noise around you fading as your stomach twisted with guilt. You hadn’t just gone quiet. You’d erased her. That was never the deal. Your heart sank. Not from shame—but from the sharp realisation that she’d waited long enough.

It wasn’t bitterness. It was disappointment. And that hurt worse. You didn’t knock. You just stood outside Alexia’s apartment door, heartbeat thudding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Your hoodie was soaked through from the light rain outside, your jaw clenched, fingers flexing like they didn’t know what to do if they weren’t gripping a ball.

You’d barely had time to think on the walk over—just move, just get to her. Every step had been powered by regret, anxiety, and the echo of that tweet playing on a loop in your mind.

Finally, the door swung open. Alexia stood there, eyes wide, her expression shifting instantly from surprise to concern the moment she saw you. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stood there—dripping, exhausted, chest tight. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping aside. “Come in.” You nodded silently and walked past her, into the familiar warmth of her apartment. She closed the door behind you, and when she turned, her voice was even gentler. “You okay?”

You exhaled, a laugh escaping—dry, bitter, exhausted. “No.”

Alexia didn’t press. She waited, arms crossed loosely, giving you space even as her eyes searched your face.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said, voice raw. “I thought I was doing the right thing—shutting out the noise, focusing on the games. Everyone’s in my ear. The coaches. The media. Management. It’s like… if I breathe wrong, I ruin everything.”

Alexia’s expression softened, and she moved closer, slow, like she didn’t want to spook you.

“I’m under so much pressure, Alexia,” you admitted, finally letting it out. “Not just to win, but to be the one who wins it for everyone. Like if I slip, I don’t just let down the team, I let down history, the whole damn fucking city. And I didn’t know how to balance that with you. And I hate that I let that get in my head.”

Your voice cracked slightly, and your hands went to your temples like you could press the stress out of your skull. Alexia stepped closer, reaching out, her hands lightly resting on your forearms. “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

“I thought I had to.”

“You don’t,” she said firmly, stepping in until you could feel the warmth of her body against yours. “You never did.”

You looked down at her, eyes stinging. “I just didn’t want to mess up the one thing that actually feels good in the middle of all this.”

Alexia reached up, brushing her fingers gently along your jaw. “You didn’t mess up. You've got a lot of pressure. I get it. But you can’t shut me out just because things get heavy. That’s when I’m supposed to be there, i'm your friend remember”

You exhaled, the tension finally cracking in your chest as your forehead dropped to hers. Her hands slipped around your waist, holding you close. You wrapped your arms around her fully now, holding her like an anchor. And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself breathe. “I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said, voice raw. “I thought I was doing the right thing—shutting out the noise, focusing on the games. Everyone’s in my ear. The coaches. The media. Management. It’s like… if I breathe wrong, I ruin everything.”

Alexia didn’t say anything. She just stepped aside, gently took your soaked hoodie from your shoulders, and hung it near the door. Then, without a word, she moved into the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

You stood in the middle of her living room, soaked through, heart pounding, frustration still knotted tight in your chest. “I feel like I’m carrying this weight I didn’t ask for. Like I don’t get to have an off day, or complain, or even feel tired without someone saying I’ve lost focus.”

The sound of a pan setting on the stovetop echoed softly.

“I can’t win without it being picked apart. If I do well, it’s expected. If I struggle, it’s headlines. And I keep thinking, what happens if I mess this up? What happens if I’m not enough?”

Alexia silently placed slices of bread into the toaster, then started cracking eggs into a bowl.

“I'll be like Cersi Lannister in game of thrones paraded through the streets naked whilst they shout shame at me” you continued, pacing slowly as the words spilled.

You missed the smirk on Alexia's lips as she was routing in her fridge, "Dramatic as always Eleven" she muttered to herself, "Although a good view would be had" she mused your naked body flicking into her mind. Meanwhile you were still obliviously ranting in her living room, Alexia was listening, she promised.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just didn’t want to bring all that weight to your doorstep. You didn’t sign up for this chaos. You signed up for a friend and sex, you have your own chaos to deal with, you might need to tell me how you remain so chill by the way because I’m freaking out”

The scent of butter hitting a warm pan filled the room. She was making something simple—comforting. Familiar. She still hadn’t said anything to you directly, but her actions were louder than any words.

“I thought if I just kept my head down, I could carry it all. But it’s too much sometimes. And I didn’t know how to say that without sounding weak.”

You finally stopped pacing, rubbing your hands over your face. Alexia turned slightly from the stove, her eyes meeting yours, soft but steady. “So you decided to say nothing at all.”

It wasn’t judgment—it was truth. And it hit hard, but clean. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I did.”

She turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs, then quietly said, “Sit down. Eat.”

So you did. You sat at her kitchen island while she finished making two plates—eggs, toast, a little grated cheese on top, perfectly familiar. She slid one plate in front of you, then sat beside you without another word.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was safe. And somehow, just watching her move around the kitchen—barefoot, focused, unbothered by your storm—was enough to remind you: you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

Not here.

Not with her.

—

You got back to your apartment late, all attention on the end goal—training had run long again. The gym lights had dimmed hours ago, and your body ached in all the usual places, the good kind of sore. The we’re chasing something big kind.

You stepped off the elevator, towel slung over your neck, earbuds still in, head down and distracted as you scrolled through team messages. But something made you pause just before your hotel room door.

You looked up.

There, hanging from your door handle, was a small beaded bracelet alternating red and blue. Two singular white ones in the middle. The number 1 on each.

You blinked, pulled it gently off the handle, turning it over in your hand. A friendship bracelet? Your chest tightened as you smiled slowly, already knowing exactly who it was from. You looked around the hallway, even though you knew she was long gone by now. She’d probably left it and ghosted the floor like some sort of stealthy bracelet bandit.

Tied to it was a tiny folded piece of paper, barely the size of your palm.

You opened it.

Now it’s official. Your best friend (and more, depending on the day)

You exhaled a quiet laugh, heart full, cheeks aching from smiling so suddenly. You turned the bracelet over once more, then slipped it onto your wrist, tying it securely.

Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just hers.

And somehow, that meant more than anything anyone had said to you all week. You grabbed your keycard, stepped into your room, and texted her right away.

You: Best friend status confirmed. I expect a new one every time we win something.

The typing bubble popped up almost instantly.

Alexia: Then I better start making more.

You stared at the bracelet, twisting it around your wrist, still smiling to yourself in the quiet. Some victories weren’t loud. Some weren’t even on the court. This one stayed wrapped around your wrist—constant, soft, and exactly what you needed.

— 

You hadn’t even noticed it. The cameras caught you in the tunnel before the league game, you won with games to spare. You were just tying your shoes, focused, locked in, nodding along to your pregame playlist, sweat already dotting your brow.

But someone zoomed in. And the internet never missed a thing. By halftime, it was everywhere.

A close-up shot—your wrist, resting casually on your knee, bracelet fully visible. Beads in the unmistakable red and blue of Barça.  

And two small white beads—each stamped with the number 1.

The tweets came in like a storm:

“Wait a minute… is that [Your Name] wearing a Barca-coloured friendship bracelet??? Who gave her that?!”

“The two 1s… is that #11 for her or #11 for Alexia… or both??”

“Not to be delulu but are we witnessing a secret code???”

“Y’all it’s giving soulmates and I’m spiralling.”

Some fans pulled other photos, circling the bracelet from different angles.

Others started dissecting the numbers.

“Alexia wears 11. [Your Name] wears 11. Two 1s = 11. Come on.”

“It’s literally Barça colours AND 11. They’re not even being subtle anymore.”

“If Alexia shows up wearing one, I’m dead!💀”

It wasn’t long before fan edits flooded social media—clips of you both in your respective kits, side-by-side photos, a slowed-down montage of that walk by from the tunnel after the game that felt like years ago, and now… the bracelet.

Meanwhile, you sat in the team meeting, scrolling with one eyebrow raised, Liv glancing over your shoulder.

She smirked. “You seeing this?”

You sighed, not even annoyed—just amused. “They’ve gone full detective mode.”

“Can you blame them? You did show up in custom-coded jewellery on camera.”

You looked down at your wrist, where the bracelet rested against your skin, those twin 1s catching the light. It made you smile—more than you meant to.

You pulled out your phone and took a photo of it, sending it directly to Alexia.

You: Are they right? Do you have one to?

A minute later:

Alexia: No

You: The number thing is driving them insane.

Alexia: Let them wonder. We know what it means.

You twisted the bracelet around your wrist again and leaned back in your seat, smirking. Let the internet spiral. Let the cameras zoom in.  You were still focused on the games ahead—but now, the fire in your chest had a different kind of fuel.

Your lucky bracelet was doing its job. And maybe, just maybe… it was doing more than that.

—

Your flight to Milan was early—stupid early—but you couldn’t leave without seeing her.

You barely slept anyway, brain too wired from training, nerves for the semifinal starting to churn in your gut. So when the clock blinked 4:43 a.m., you grabbed your duffel and made your way to Alexia’s apartment, hoodie over your head, sneakers barely tied.

She buzzed you in without a word.

You stepped inside, quiet and slow, trying not to think about the fact that in a few hours, you’d be boarding a plane with your team to fight for your next title. But that pressure melted the moment you saw her.

She walked into the living room rubbing sleep from her eyes, dressed in only a pair of loose Barça training shorts and a black sports bra. Her hair was messy, falling around her face in the way that made her look dangerously good without even trying. You stood there for a second too long—just looking.

She caught your stare immediately, one eyebrow lifting, lips curving slightly. “You’re looking at me like you forgot how this works.”

You dropped your bag by the door. “I didn’t forget. That’s the problem.”

Alexia padded over to you, bare feet silent on the hardwood, and stood close—closer than you needed her to. “Thought you were trying to stay focused.”

“I am focused,” you said, voice lower now, eyes flicking down her body and back up. “Just... not on Milan at the moment.”

She smirked, resting her hands lightly on your hips. “You’ve got a few hours.”

“That’s all I need.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your jaw as she whispered, “Then shut up and take what you came for.”

You didn’t need a second invitation. Your hands gripped her waist, pulling her in as your mouth found hers, hungry and immediate. She kissed you back with the same intensity—like she needed you just as much as you needed her. Like this was how you breathed. You walked her backward through the apartment, her body pressed against yours, warmth and want radiating between you. When the backs of her knees hit the couch, you didn’t stop—you let her fall into it, following her down, fingers already slipping under the waistband of her shorts.

Whatever came next in Paris could wait. Right now, it was just her. Her skin. Her mouth. The soft gasp she gave when your lips found her collarbone. The way her nails dug into your back, grounding you and pulling you deeper all at once. This wasn’t a distraction. This was you—fuelled, centred, alive. By the time you finally lay tangled together on the couch, breathing hard, fingers still laced, the sun had started to rise through the blinds.

Alexia turned her head slightly, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Go win in Milan.”

You smiled, lips brushing her temple. “I’ll win for you.”

“Good,” she whispered. “But just so you know... I’m still your lucky charm.”

Your fingers brushed over the bracelet on your wrist. “Yeah,” you murmured. “You really are.”

[the-king-of-lemons]

I know a lot of people on qsmpblr use Tumblr mobile, but if you do use browser Tumblr then I would recommend the Simple Translate extension. Because Tumblr doesn't have built in translation like Twitter, there's less fans posting in their native language, instead most people just use English.

Simple Translate is an extension that allows you to translate text that you highlight into a target language. (It uses Google Translate API, but so does Twitter so the translation quality is pretty much the same).

Firefox Extension | Chrome Extension

When you highlight text in another language, a translate icon appears, when you click on it a panel containing the translation of the text appears.

You can also change the settings of the extension so that the translation panel automatically appears when you highlight text in another language.

Here's some more examples using the official QSMP Twitter accounts, you do not need to change the settings of the extension to translate from different languages into your target language.

(All of these match the translations given when using the "translate bio" button on Twitter directly.)

You can also access a translation box using the icon in the toolbar, any text you enter can be translated to the language selected in the drop-down menu (meaning you don't need to open a new tab to use Google Translate).

Some settings explanation and other stuff under the cut. Not super important but I figured I'd add it anyways.

There is an option to use DeepL API as opposed to Google Translate (it's another translation tool, there is free access to the API with a limit of 500,000 characters/month, and a pro version for unlimited access).

Whatever the target language is set as is what text you highlight will be translated into. There is another option for a second target language, I'll explain that further down.

This option changes how you view the translation panel, the first option (default) has the icon appear when you highlight text (as seen in the first image of the post), the second option has the translation panel appear automatically when you highlight text, and the for third option the panel and icon won't automatically appear, but can still be accessed by right-clicking the highlighted text and selecting "translate selected text".

The checkbox below these options means that if the text you're highlighting is already in your target language, the translation icon and panel will not appear, it can again still be accessed by right-clicking what you've highlighted and selecting translate.

This option appears twice, in both the Web-page section (for translating selected text) and the Toolbar Popup section (for the translation box in the toolbar popup).

The web page option, when toggled on, means that when you select text that is in your target language, the translation panel will translate into the second target language that has been selected. If the checkbox for "do not display if translation is not required" is toggled on, you can only view the translation from Target -> 2nd Target by right-clicking to translate selected text.

The toolbar popup version of this option is used to automatically switch the language in the toolbar translation box when you input something in your main target. (ie. second target set to French means that when you input English text in the translation box it will switch the translation setting from "(detect language) -> English" to "English -> French").

There are also settings to change the style and size of the translation button and panel.

Side note: Mixed language messages (not containing your target language) will only translate one of the languages, you can work around this by highlighting the different languages separately.

Links again if you don't want to scroll all the way back up

Firefox Extension | Chrome Extension

[grizzlart]

Free-To-Use Wolf Base!

WAH THIS WAS SO MUCH WORK BUT IT'S READY!

I put together this pic to showcase some of the different features available. Most of them are quite subtle, so you'll have to see for yourself!

The file currently includes a summer and winter coat base, four ear variants, four snout variants, and a variety of facial expression options. All head features are available on the headshot as well as the fullbody, and all features are compatible with both the summer and winter bases, so you can mix and match!

There's also two sets of text boxes, two palette options, and some public domain photograph backgrounds to pick from.

I'd like to expand it further in future, but I'll be taking a breather first. It's been a lot of work making this! Worth it though, I think. ^^

Rules of use

This base is free to use for any non-commercial purposes which don’t involve the use of generative AI. You may not use this base for profit, advertisement, or commissions without my clear, written permission. You may not use any generative AI tools at all in relation to this base. Doing either of these is a violation of my legal ownership of this work.

If you want to share the base, you can – however, you must do so by sharing a link to this tumblr post. You may not post a link to the file directly, or reupload it to share online under any circumstances.

You must keep my signature clearly visible. By alpha locking the layer, you can recolour it dark or light to be visible on your background of choice. It can be in any location and colour, as long as it is visible and the text is legible without effort. You may not claim the base as your own, but any designs made with it are entirely yours of course!

If you post work using this base anywhere online (including on discord or art apps), you must include a link to my tumblr account as credit for the base – preferably a link to this post specifically.

You may modify the base to your heart’s content, as long as generative AI is not used at any point in the process and my signature is unaltered and visible.

I am willing to add extra features to the base in exchange for a fee. I am planning to make expansions to it on my own time as well, but these will specifically be realistic features and I’m not sure on a timeframe. You may not make requests for free additions. If you want a fantastical feature added, or want an addition made sooner, get in touch and we can work out a price! Features added in this way will be made available for everyone unless otherwise agreed.

Anyone is free to use this base. If you are blocked by my tumblr account, you are allowed to log out or visit the site on a private browser to access the base. However, note that I am openly and passionately supportive of endogenic plurality and all kinds of endo systems and if you have a DNI rule regarding pro-endos or endogenic systems, you will be violating that DNI by interacting with me or my work. You may want to consider blocking me if so.

Support and tips

If you want to support my work (and help motivate me to keep working on this base and create more in the future), there’s two ways I absolutely appreciate!

The first is simply to spread the word! I made this base as a free resource, in the hopes that fellow artists, therians, alterhumans and furries would enjoy it and find it useful. Reblogs are vastly appreciated!

If you wish to provide some kind of financial support, I do accept tips – but not in the conventional way! I ask that, instead of sending money to me, you make a donation to the Endangered Wolf Center on my behalf. Red wolves and Mexican wolves are both critically endangered, and with the current political climate of the US, supporting conservation efforts to preserve and save these unique keystone species is more important than ever. If you do decide to donate, I would love if you told me!

Extra info

More info, including photo sources, can be found in the text doc included in the zip file! I also included a bit of basic advice for using the base, so give it a read over if you're unsure about anything. If you're still stuck, you can message me!

File download here!

[homiesexuallaj]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre/Warnings: daddy kink, but no ddlg or anything of that cause that makes me uncomfortable, fluff, little bit of smut, petnames, kinda proofread

A/N: Request for @buckybarnesslutshop !! I hope you like it! And if anyone else wants more daddy/dom! Bucky, just ask!!

———

Okay but yes, cause being a daddy/being dominant isn’t always just for the bedroom. If you’re a real daddy, it always contains casual, non sexual dominance alongside sexual dominance. And woah boy, once you and Bucky get comfortable enough with each other, he’s definitely the best daddy you’ve ever had.

Bucky’s a pro in casual dominance and a great boyfriend. Always walking closest to the street on the sidewalk or walking with a hand on your lower back. He keeps you tucked close to his side while you two battle your way through the crowds. His gaze is locked ahead, but he’s always mindful to make room for you first. Bucky also likes to have one of your hands nestled in the crook of his elbow while you two walk, it’s a more subtle way to keep you safe and tucked into his side.

Bucky also knows any drink or food order of yours at your favorite places by heart. If he knows you’re feeling down or you’ve just had an off week, he’s coming home with a bag of food from your favorite takeout place with your favorite drink. Bucky won’t just get it because you’ve had an off week, he’ll get it just cause he can too.

You’ll tell him that he doesn’t have to whenever he does bring you food, but he just shushes you with a kiss to your forehead before setting the food out on the coffee table. He always, always, rebuts with yeah, he doesn’t have to. But he likes to.

Bucky loves to see you smile, and it’s even better when he’s the cause of it.

Speaking of getting you food, you might not be the best at feeding yourself.

At the beginning of your relationship, Bucky would always casually remind you to eat. He’d either ask you himself or send a quick text. He would always remind you to eat around normal-ish times that people usually eat at. But when you two started getting closer and even started living together, Bucky just started making you meals and feeding you himself. He’d even pack you a good, filling lunch for work.

At home, Bucky likes to make you a simple meal and casually set it in front of you whenever you’re sitting around the house. If you look up with him with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky just ruffles your hair and says “eat” before meandering off to whatever he was doing before.

For work, Bucky will pack you lunch in a insulated lunch box and either set it somewhere where you won’t miss it or he’ll put a sticky note somewhere you’ll find it if he leaves the lunchbox in the fridge. And if he’s away for work, Bucky is definitely stocking up the fridge with premade stuff that you can either throw in the microwave or stove for a few minutes. The fridge is always stocked up until he comes back, and he plans it that way. And of course, the sticky notes make appearances again and again around the house to remind you to eat.

Sticky notes are Bucky’s best friend when it comes to reminding you when he isn’t able to at the moment. He thinks they’re the best invention ever, since they didn’t have them in the ‘40s.

Bucky also both likes to help you get dressed and let you help dress him. He won’t pick out your clothes himself cause he doesn’t like to seem controlling. Your autonomy is important to him. But if you ask for his opinion on something, he’ll give it honestly. Bucky will always help adjust your clothes or if he has an idea for an accessory, he’ll suggest it.

Despite what people think, Bucky has a good sense of style.

And he loves when you help him get dressed. You’ll throw out suggestions and show him stuff that you think will go good with what he’s got on. Bucky loves when you help him get dressed, whether it’s picking out a shirt he should wear or whether it’s a small accessory.

Bucky just loves taking care of you. In any way he can.

He loves drawing you a bath after a long day, just for whatever reason. Sometimes he leaves you alone in there with whatever you want, like snacks or a book. Other times Bucky will join you. He likes when you two sit opposite of each other, so you can look at each other and talk. But Bucky’s favorite is when he sits behind you in the bathtub. He likes you sat between his legs and held in his arms. He likes to rest his cheek on the top of your head or his chin on your shoulder so he can see whatever you’re reading if you have a book. Sometimes he’ll close his eyes and just rest there with you. Bucky can get so relaxed in the tub that, if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep. The only thing that shows he’s awake is his wandering hands. It won’t be entirely sexual, Bucky just likes to feel you.

Speaking of Bucky’s wandering hands, one of his favorite things to do is giving you a massage. He likes to search for those knots in your back or shoulders and work them out. His main focus is loosening up any of your tight muscles and making sure you relax. Bucky’s touch may or may not border on groping, but you don’t seem to mind.

Bucky won’t use any oils or anything, his nose is a little too sensitive for them. But he just loves to feel you with no obstacles like clothes. He likes to feel your skin for how it really is, no oils or lotions. You’re so soft under his calloused hands. Sometimes Bucky wonder how someone like you let someone like him touch you, much less let him breathe the same air as you. But when he sees you smile, laugh, and enjoy yourself around Bucky, he knows he’s not letting you go anytime soon.

Also, nicknames. Specifically, do you actually call Bucky “daddy”? And the answer is yes. But not outside the bedroom.

There are certain nicknames/petnames that are bedroom only, but the others are free real estate.

You both call each other the normal, casual pet names like “babe”, “baby”, “sweetheart”, “my love”, “love”, “sweet girl”, “sweet thing”, etc. You might a slip a “Sergeant”, “big boy”, or “old man” in there if you’re feeling a bit mischievous. It’s all in good fun though.

Of course, some of these nicknames follow you both into the bedroom too, obviously with a change of tone. Maybe through clenched teeth or a little breathless compared to earlier. It gets the blood pumping though. The bedroom is also the only place where you call Bucky “daddy.” It’s the only place you feel comfortable enough to.

You’re able to let your guard down almost completely in the bedroom, letting your heart do the talking instead of your brain. You’re able to shut your brain off, thanks to Bucky. He’s always so attentive and it’s like he knows what you need before you know yourself. He says it sometimes too.

“Ah ah,” He’ll tut if you try to push him away. “C’mon baby, I know what you need. Just listen to daddy, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

And who are you to deny him the ability to take care of you.

That’s what Bucky lives for. Taking care of you in any way possible. Inside and outside of the bedroom.

[symbiote-templates]

Computery/webcore/similar sp template ? :3

i dont know much about webcore but i tried!!

images: preview on Simply Plural, preview on Discord, filled out example

NOTE: on discord you have to put a > before any lines that aren't already indented + remove the link on the first line

> 📁[NAME.txt]()    _ | □ | ⨯ > F̲ile E̲dit S̲earch H̲elp > \> Name _ aka Name, Name \> Pro/nouns _ Terms            ▸▸▸ \> Role \> Age \> Source

i also made a cool like. warning popup box thing. didn't end up using it in the actual template though cause having 2 quote boxes looked a little weird. here it is anyways though!!

> Boundaries [⨯] >  yes: text text text > ask: text text text > no: text text text ># ># >       [ Continue ]