#“hey do you think people will like me if I do a cool accent like yours?”

[belphegor1982]

"Everyone matters, but you know, only for a short amount of time. In a way, I fall in love with everybody, but I just fall out of love too easily."

[leah-lover]

Behind her eyes.WNBA!reader x Alexia putellas.

Summary: Alexia and R's relationship is tested after what happened at one of r's basketball games

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Your girlfriend’s eyes were the reason why you fell in love with her. They were the first thing that caught your attention when it came to her and they are the thing you looked for when you were lost, upset or angry.

You first noticed her hazel eyes when she sat court side at one of your games in barcelona. You had just joined the catalonian team after the end of the wnba season. It was your first time playing in the Spanish league. In fact, it was your first time playing overseas and you didn't acclimate very well. You didn't know anybody, you didn't speak the language, you were just lonely and homesick.

It all changed on one home game, alexia came with a bunch of her teammates to support your new team, she sat courtside and watched attentivly as your team played valencia. You weren't feeling like yourself in your new home yet so you hadn't put on your usual performance. It all changed when you got fouled and fell directly in front of her. Angry, you wanted to pick a fight with the player that fouled you but you got distracted by a perfect face or more less a pair of dreamy eyes. They took you back for a moment and you kept thinking about them for a couple plays. You even glanced at her direction when you weren't moving the ball. She lit a fire inside of you, one that you have been trying to ignite ever since you left the US. You had to do better, you had to impress this person and leave an impression on her.

After the break, in the 3rd quarter, you put your game face on and started to direct play on the floor. You shot 3s, layups, blocked shots, assisted your teammates and over all controlled play. By the end of the game, the crowd was loud , and your team was leading the game by 20 points, which is the most this team has ever led with . You were happy, and you were yourself again.

You were celebrating with your teammates and coach when the social media manager came to you and asked you to come take a picture with alexia and her teammates. You got nervous all of a sudden but you tried to keep your cool. You introduced yourself, took the photo and tried as much as you could to memorize her features.

“ Hey, your shooting ability is impressive.” she says, her spanish accent apparent in her english.

“ What we do here is easy compared to controlling a ball with your feet, and running on the giant field you guys play in for 90 minutes.” you reply.

“ I guess every sport has its ups and downs.” she added.

“ You want to take some shots?” you invited her while bouncing the ball on the floor. She hesitantly accepted and so you helped her by correcting her form allowing her to take shots.

“ Holy shit you might be coming for my job.” you complimented her.

“ I don't think so. I am pretty attached to football, or as you people say soccer.” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“ don't count me in with those people calling it soccer and not football is pretty stupid.” you take another shot while holding eye contact with alexia. “ Besides, I am pretty damn good at my job.”

You two continue talking about the differences of your sports all the way down to the locker room where alexia’s teammates were waiting for her.

“ Come on, capi, we're gonna be late. “ says one of her teammates.

“ I came to one of your games, now it's your turn to come to mine.”

“ will do capi.” you joked before giving her a kiss goodbye.

Throughout the next couple of months you went to every game of hers you could and she did the same to you. You always stayed late talking, laughing, sometimes even practicing each other's sports after every game.

Talking after the game turned into dinners, then sex, and eventually you two started dating. You met her friends and family, and slept regularly at her house when you were in barcelona.

Your life seemed perfect, you were in your A game, you had a gorgeous girlfriend and you two loved the hell out of each other, you had friends in this strange new country who you would go out to brunch with on the weekend. You frankly were the happiest person in the world. Well, that only lasted for about 8 months.

It all happened at once in one second your perfect life came crashing down. During the playoffs, It was a regular 1v1 battle, you tried to turn around and make a shot but your knee thought otherwise and caused you to fall to the floor and scream out loud. The pain was inimaginable. Quickly, tears were streaming down your face, your teammates formed a huddle around you to shield you from the cameras, and the medic came rushing towards you.

“ hey do you hear me?” she asked. It was hard for you to focus. But all of a sudden it became clear, you didn't feel the pain anymore, and you stopped crying.

“ Non-contact injury, my knee, it's an ACL tear right?” you looked at the medic with a little hope in your eyes.

“ most likely. I am so sorry.” she said as she and her assistant tried to pull you up and help you hop to the locker room.

On the way there you look to your left and see a scared alexia. You looked at her eyes where you usually find solace and hope only to find sympathy and fear. She gave a reassuring smile but you looked at the ground immediately.

Once in the locker room, the medics began explaining the situation.

“ I know everything that’s gonna happen, I have been through this before. Its hard and it fucking sucks. I just want to go home now. I will be back tomorrow for scans.”

The medical team complies with your request and helps you go to the locker room to collect your things. Once you find yourself alone you smash one of your crutches on the ground multiple times, you bend the steel. You weren't proud of what alexia saw when she came in to check on you but you had to get the anger out of you. You would find out later that the crutch didn't get all of it.

Throughout the whole car ride flashes of the pain of rehab and hard work you put on only 3 years ago flooded your memory. You only got out of your head when you noticed the route that the car you were in was taking.

“ alexia i want to go home.” you say in a surprisingly harsh tone. She didn't look at you and continued driving.

“ alexia.” you repeat again.

“ You are not gonna scare me into pulling away from you.” she replied calmly.

“ Alexia, I just want to go home.” you say again not giving up your harsh tone.

“ we are going home amor. Home where I can be with you and take care of you.” .

“ I didn't ask you to. Just take me to my fucking house.”

What you said seemed to anger her so she pulled over. “ Let's get this out of the way now. First you are not going to drive me away, I love and I won't let you go. Second , you don't talk to me like that, not with that town and ot with those words. Third, call me Alexia again and you won't like what happens.” she shares eye contact with you again before putting her seat belt back on and driving home.

You didn't say a word through the rest of the car ride, you just dove into the sea of painful memories your brain prepared for you. When alexia notices your sudden change of demeanor, she puts her hand on your thigh only for you to flinch. You flinching at her touch meant that you were thinking about your past relationship and that's when alexia put two and two together.

You didn't realize that you two were home until Alexia opened your door and handed you your crutches.

“ alexia just take me to my house.”

“ We will talk about it upstairs, come one.”

You felt sick to your stomach, all you wanted to do was throw yourself in her arms and let her stroke your hair and scratch your back until you fell asleep.

Outside in the world and to the media your personality was larger than the world. You were loud, fun , playful, and funny. When you came you closed the door behind you and your girlfriend you craved to just lay on her and let her take care of you. However you were too proud to ever say anything out of fear she might not like the other side of the coin.

“Bébé talk to me please.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. You tried so hard to swallow your words. But you could you couldn't keep it in anymore.

“ I am just so tired of pretending.” you whisper.

“ louder mi amor.”

“ This person I am about to become is grumpy, sad, angry and in pain. I am not gonna be the fun cocky person anymore. I have been through this before. It never fails to break me so please just take me home . I want to go home,and cry about my season at home that I lost. I want to cry about the fact that I will go through this miserable journey again. I want to cry about the fact that all I want is to be held by my girlfriend but I can't ask for that because I am afraid you will leave me. i just want to fucking cry.” by now you were hysterically crying and yelling. Alexia was holding you tight , her hands were becoming white.

“ I love you so much.” she just kept repeating that phrase over and over until you calmed down.

“ I will never leave you. I would love to hold you and take care of you and I don't pity you. You just had a fantastic season in a strange country and I am so proud of that and we will battle this together. “ she continued to rub your arms and whisper how much she loved you no matter what your mood was. You couldn't resist the temptation to drop your guard and be who you are anymore.

“ promise you will never leave me ale.” you plead.

“ I promise you that I will never leave. I am so sorry I didn't make you sure enough in my love for you. I promise you to do better.”

“ Can you help me take a bath and go to bed then. tomorrow is gonna be tough i need to sleep.

“ alright amor but first i want to hold you some more and stroke your hair.”

Somehow , She knew that that's what you ached for the most.

You turn your head and look into her eyes again to find love and admiration instead of the sympathy and fear that was there before so you relaxed and let her take care of you.

You knew since the moment you saw her that her eyes were your saving grace.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Incorrect Quotes

all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 26 spots still open! (please send me a direct message to be added!)

Y/n: I’m cool Oscar  Y/n: I’m THEE coolest  Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses*  Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down. 

Y/n: I have a very specific type  Max: Oh yeah? Like what?  Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing  Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here  Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one.  Max: *flabbergasted* 

Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone  Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to  Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here?  Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE  Y/n: perfect  Oscar and Lando: 

Y/n: I brought a red bull  Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me?  Y/n: It’s a conversation starter.  Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter  Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull* 

Y/n: *gently taps table*  Logan: *taps back*  Alex: what are they doing?  George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table*  Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK- 

Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated  Y/n: Killed without hesitation  Lewis: nO!

Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral?  Mitch: Not if they consent to it.  Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing.  Christian: YES?! 

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.  Y/n: Shit  Logan: Wait, three?  Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!! 

Max: Time for plan G.  Liam: Don’t you mean plan B?  Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.  Y/n: What about plan D?  Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.  Max: What about plan E?  Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E  Yuki: I like plan E. 

Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea?  *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint*  Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway. 

George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge  Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name. 

Arthur: So what’s your type?  Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist  Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb?  Arthur: yeah, why?  Y/n: just making sure 

*Over Text* 

Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed  Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you?  Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal? 

Waitress: And what would you like to eat?  Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn  Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs 

Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves?  Lando: Or do they count humans?  Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question  Oscar: GO TO SLEEP 

Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult  *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads*  *turns back to Max*  Y/n: I am an adult 

*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur* 

Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it!  Max:  Charles:  Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER  Charles: *sighs* here we go again  Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK  Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this 

Ollie: Good night everyone  Arthur: Good night  Lando: Good night  Oscar: Good night  Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop  Oscar: I’M DONE

George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure  *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past*  Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child 

Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind  Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys?  Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder. 

Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food?  Liam: Sure, thanks!  Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT  Y/n: WE did  Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf

Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents!  Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins  Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away* 

Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those  Lando: Which one?  Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot.  Max: I let you win next race   Y/n: still

(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more) 

Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise  George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do  *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire*  Logan:…Or she could do that. 

Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science  Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban 

(max and y/n in a horror movie) 

Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?  Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS  Y/n: oh  Y/n: (looks down at wound)  Y/n: red 

Lando: I wish we could block people in real life.  Oscar: Restraining order  Y/n: Murder 

Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days  Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava 

Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad  Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad 

Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug*  Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug)  Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers 

Criminals: We have your daughter and son  Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches?  Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George

 

Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday?  Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now.  Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD 

Christian: Max is late again  Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM  Christian: I think you may have overdone it  Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT? 

Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!

Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12

[arc-misadventures]

MFK: Jaune and FATE servants.

Jaune: MFK XVII

Nora: NORA!

Jaune: ...

Nora: ...

Jaune: ...

Nora: Y-You didn't react...? D-Didn't I scare you...?

Jaune: I hadn't seen you in several hours. It was quiet, too quiet. So I assumed you were planning something. It was only a matter of time until you showed up, and screamed something at me trying to scare me. And, you did.

Nora: ...

Nora: We're doing MFK!

Jaune: AHHHH!?!

Nora: Ha! I got my scream~!

Jaune: We're no actually doing it though, are we?

Nora: No, we totally are doing it.

Jaune: Fuck!

Nora: Let me introduce you to today's contestants! First we have this beautiful lady. Jeanne D'Arc!

Jeanne: Bonjour~!

Jaune: Wait, hold up...?

Nora: Her evil clone, Jeanne D'Arc Alter.

Jeanne: Hi.

Jaune: Hold on now?!

Nora: And, last but not least! Jeanne Arc!

Jeanne: Hello~!

Nora: Let the games b...?!

Jaune: What the hell, Nora?!

Nora: Begin...?

Jaune: Good gods... of all the people you wanted me to, MFK, you pick my freaking quad sisters?!

Nora: ...

Nora: T-They're your sisters? Oh, I guess that make sense... they're all named, Arc. Wait, what the hell is, 'quad?'

Jaune: We're quadruplets, Nora. Since we're not twins, we call each other, 'Quad.' They are my quad sister's, and I am their quad brother.

Nora: Quadruplets?! But, I thought you were the youngest, a-and that you had seven older sisters?!

Jaune: Aye. I have four older sisters... that were born one at a time. Then, mom had the four of us, at relatively the same time.

Jaune: Jeanne, the blonde one with the silver crown, is the oldest among us.

Jeanne: That's me~!

Jaune: The platinum blonde with amber eyes, who is often referred to as the black sheep of the family is the second oldest. We call her, Jalter.

Jalter: Hi lil' bro. Your teammates is weird.

Jaune: No kidding...

Jaune: And, lastly we have the third oldest, Jea.

Jea: I think she's nice; a little eccentric, but nice.

Jaune: And, lastly we have me, the youngest.

Nora: Wow... your birthday must be a nightmare, sharing it with three sisters.

Jeanne: Actually, it is not like zat!

Jalter: We were all born on, May 30. However, each of our births took so long that our quad brother, Jaune ended up being born on the, 31.

Jea: So while we three sisters all have a birthday on the same day, Jaune luckily has his own separate birthday.

Jalter: Lucky bugger...

Nora: Okay...

Jaune: Anymore questions about my quads, Nora?

Nora: Yeah, what's with... Jeanne's accent?

Jaune: Her accent?

Jalter: There is a regional language from where we're from, called...

Jeanne: Français~!

Jalter: It's called, French. That's just how you say it in, French.

Jea: Jeanne learned the language just like the rest of us, she just latched on to it so much, that when she speaks the common tongue, with a, French accent.

Nora: Ohh... that makes sense! So, uhh... since this involves your quad brother, you still want to play, MFK?

Jeanne: Oh oui, very much so~!

Jalter: Hell yeah! I can totally use this to tease my little brother! I'm not missing this for anything!

Jea: I wanna tease our older sisters with this! We'll finally learn which sister he has a thing for!

Jeanne: Oh~! Those bro-cons will be so upset when we tell them!

Jaune: Oh gods...

Nora: Well, Jaune, who do you choose~?

Jaune: Haa... I'll marry my older sister... Jeanne!

Jeanne: Oui! Oui! Oui! I get to marry my sweet adorable little brother!

Jaune: Of course you were a bro-con too... you scream 'bro-con!'

Jeanne: It tis not my fault that you are ze only man that meets all of my standards for a marriage partner.

Jaune: You have low standards then...

JJJ: HEY?!

Jeanne: What did we say about speaking bad about yourself?!

Jaune: To do so quietly?

Jalter: That we would make you regret saying that! And, you will regret saying...?!

Jaune: I'd fuck, Jalter!

Jalter: W-What...? W-W-Why the fuck would you want to sleep with me?!!

Jaune: J-Jeanne has a warm motherly aura that I would like to find in a wife. And, you have a this cool, punk rocker girl that I wouldn't mind sleeping with, okay?!

Jalter: Alright...

Jaune: OH gods, I thought she was going to kill me...

Nora: You did?

Jaune: I love my sister, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, she scares me. She can have such a scary aura about her...

Jalter:

Jalter: He pick me! He picked me! He picked meeeee~!

Nora: She does...?

Jalter: Ahem! Please continue.

Jaune: Okay...

Jaune: Last, but not least... I kill, Jea.

Jea: Naww... Why do I have to die?

Jaune: Well... Jeanne, is the spicy mom of our quartet...

Jeanne: Spicy~?

Jaune: Jalter is the hot biker bade...

Jalter: I should get a motorcycle..

Jeanne: You would look belle on a motorcycle sister!

Jaune: And, your just the female version of me, Jea.

Jaune: Without the crippling self doubt, but nonetheless, me.

Jea: Rude.

Jaune: I know, being me is terrible.

Jea: ...

Jea: Sisters.

Jalter: On it.

Jaune: Hmm?

Jea: Come here you!

Jaune: Whoa, hey?!

Jeanne: Au revoir, Nora! We will be taking our dear brother away, so we can remind him how much we love him~!

Nora: Okay! Have fun, Jaune!

Jaune: No, Nora! Don't let them take me! Save me! Save meeeeeeeeeeee...!

Nora: What a lovely bunch of people!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Ellie's in your house again

"Ellie," You say," What are you doing?"

She swears, jumping out of her skin and dropping the frying pan to the ground. "Jesus Christ," She gasps in her stupid accent," What are you doing here, kiddo?"

"This is my house," You reply," What are you doing here?"

Ellie's your Mamma's new girlfriend. Before her was Beth when you lived in England and now that you're in France, it's Ellie. You don't really know how you feel about Ellie just yet.

She makes Mamma happy, that's true, but she's in your house too often for your liking and the sting of Mamma's breakup with Beth is still a little too fresh in your mind.

"I slept round," Ellie says, bending to pick up the dropped frying pan and place it on the stove," And now I'm making breakfast."

You stare at her in suspicion before nodding. "Cool," You say," I'm going to see Mamma."

Ellie catches your arm before you can leave and you frown at her.

"Daan's still asleep," She says," Don't wake her up, kid."

Mamma always tells you not to do exactly what other people say without getting something out of it yourself so you cross your arms over your chest.

"What do I get if I don't?"

Ellie groans and you pull your arm away and take a firm step towards Mamma's closed door.

"Hey! No, wait! Wait! I'll...er...You like pancakes? I can make you pancakes."

You think about it for a minute.

"With syrup?"

"With syrup."

"Okay."

You hopped up onto one of the seats at the kitchen island and waited, just staring.

It was clear that Ellie didn't really know what to do with you. She had never really interacted with you on her own. You were Daan's kid and she was Daan's new girlfriend. It was only right that you seemed a little aloof around her.

You were older now than Ellie knew you were when you had interacted with Daan's previous girlfriends. You had your own opinions now and, clearly, one of these opinions was that you didn't really enjoy this veritable stranger in your house.

"Is it hot all the time in Australia?" You ask suddenly.

Ellie begins to mix her batter. "No, not always. It gets cold in the winter like everywhere else."

You made a noncommittal noise and reached out for some of the fruit in the fruit bowl. "Did you have a girlfriend before my Mamma?"

"I did."

"But Mamma's better." It wasn't a question and you bite into your apple as you kick your legs in boredom, sparing a look back at Mamma's closed door.

"Er...yeah," Ellie replies, finally putting the first of her batter into the pan," I guess you can put it like that. Me and your Mamma just fit better."

"Mamma and Beth used to fit," You say," Before we left and they argued. I'm not Beth's baby so they can't share me like my friends who have divorced parents get shared."

Ellie doesn't quite know how to respond to that as she plates up a pile of pancakes for you and a pile of pancakes for Daan.

"Mamma and Beth argued and argued and I never got to see them because they didn't like letting me see them angry. People who used to fit don't always end up fitting properly."

"I-I'm not trying to take Daan from you," Ellie says eventually. She's not looking at you but she's stopped plating up food to talk. "Look, kiddo, I'm dating your Mamma. And I don't plan on breaking up anytime soon." She turns around to look at you. "I understand that this is new to you and you're probably still a little hung up about Mead but I'm not going anywhere and neither of you. Can we just coexist?"

You stare at her for a moment before standing. You're not very tall for your age but it doesn't stop you from walking like your Ellie's height, sidling up next to her and scraping the pancakes meant for Daan onto your plate.

"Mamma doesn't like pancakes for breakfast," You tell Ellie," She has gross yoghurt and oats and some cut-up fruit." You reach for the squeezy bottle of syrup. "It's in the fridge."

Ellie looks at you in disbelief. You've somehow smuggled all of the pancakes onto your plate even though it was meant to be split between you and Daan.

"She likes the chocolate protein shake better than the mango one!" You also repeat before scampering off to wait by Daan's door.

You don't enter without Ellie but once she opens the door, you've bolted over to Daan.

"I was nice," You announce to your Mamma, who sits up in bed wide awake and looking like she had been for a while now," Promise."

Ellie slides back into bed on your other side, forcing you in the middle of them as she passes Daan her breakfast bowl. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to catch y/n watching you from the hallway," Daan replies," And long enough to send her in to bond with you."

"Didn't bond," You insist through a mouthful of food," Just talked."

Daan smiles fondly at you, collecting some of the syrup from your plate with a finger and sticking it into her mouth. "Of course," She says," Because you're too cool to bond with your Mamma's new girlfriend."

You shrug but then quietly admit," Ellie made me pancakes. I guess she's kind of cool sometimes."

For some reason, that makes Ellie feel more proud and triumphant than any Champion's League medal ever could. She feels smug which Daan definitely spots from the way that she rolls her eyes.

"Cool enough to join us at the park today?"

You begrudgingly sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

[lecsainz]

stuck in the elevator

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: Y/N freaking out and charles being a sweetheart, the elevator breaking down, cute french nicknames.

authors note: [SOMETHING COOL] because i really have no idea what to write here today 😭

word count: 1.1K

Charles Leclerc was in Miami for the Grand Prix, but he had to take a break from the busy atmosphere and have a moment to himself. He decided to take the elevator up to his hotel room when he saw a girl in there with him. He was on the phone and didn't pay much attention to her until the elevator suddenly shook, causing Y/N to stumble. The girl, Y/N, immediately started to panic, saying things like "I can't die yet" and "I have so much to live for". Charles found it amusing, but he knew he needed to comfort her.

"I think we're stuck," Charles replied, his eyes scanning the elevator buttons.

"What do you mean we're stuck? We can't be stuck!" Y/N started to panic.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Charles said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get out of here soon enough."

"But what if we don't? What if we're stuck in here forever?" Y/N asked, her voice shaking.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle. "Trust me, we won't be stuck in here forever. And even if we were, I don't think spending eternity with you would be so bad."

Y/N blushed at his words, and Charles couldn't help but smile at her reaction.

They spent the next few minutes trying to press the emergency button and asking for help, but there was no response.

Charles leaned against the wall, "Well, looks like we're stuck here for a while."

Y/N groaned, "Great. Just my luck."

Charles looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, ma chérie, I guess we'll have to find a way to pass the time then." he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the sound of Charles' french.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, curious. "And what did you have in mind?" she asked.

Charles stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I was thinking we could get to know each other a little better." he said, his voice low and seductive. Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"So, Miami, huh?" Charles asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator with a curious expression.

Y/N nodded, "Yeah, I heard the Grand Prix is amazing, and I've never been to Miami before, so I figured why not?"

"Do you like formula one?" he asked surprised.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Charles' face lit up. "That's great! Do you have a favorite team?"

Y/N grinned mischievously. "I'm a Mercedes fan. I mean, have you seen Toto Wolff? He's a total babe."

Charles feigned offense, putting a hand over his heart. "Hey now, I'm a Ferrari driver. You're not supposed to like our rivals."

Y/N laughed. "Well, I can't help it. But I think your charming french accent could make me change my mind." Charles smiled smugly at the compliment.

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment. Maybe I can even convince you to switch over to Team Ferrari." He teased, his eyes sparkling.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, feigning consideration. "Hmm, I don't know. I mean, I don't think anyone can replace Toto in my heart." Charles laughed, shaking his head.

They sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke up again, "You know, there's something about being stuck in an elevator that's kind of romantic."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Really? I'm not feeling it."

Charles grinned, "Well, just imagine it. Two people, alone in a confined space, forced to confront their feelings."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Oh please. There are no feelings here."

Charles chuckled, "Are you sure about that, ma chérie? I mean, you did say my french accent was charming."

Y/N's cheeks turned red, "I did not!"

They fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Charles picked up his phone and began scrolling through his photos.

"You know, I have some amazing pictures from Monaco," he said, showing Y/N a photo of himself overlooking the harbor.

Y/N leaned over to get a better look, her arm brushing against his. She quickly pulled away, but Charles didn't seem to mind.

"It's beautiful." she said, admiring the photo.

"It's my hometown. I was born and raised there." Charles replied with a smile.

S/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea."

"Yeah, it's a special place for me." Charles said, his gaze lingering on Y/N.

As hours passed and they were still stuck in the elevator, Charles and Y/N talked about everything and nothing. They discussed their favorite movies, their dream travel destinations, and even shared childhood stories.

Charles found himself enjoying Y/N's company more and more as they talked. She was funny, intelligent, and had a unique perspective on life that he found refreshing. As the hours dragged on, they joked and laughed together, forgetting about the chaos of being stuck in an elevator.

At some point, exhaustion caught up with Y/N and she dozed off, her head resting on Charles' shoulder. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her sleeping peacefully, her breaths steady and calm.

He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and whispered, "Tu es tellement belle*." *you are so beautiful

When they finally got out of the elevator, Y/N woke up from her nap on Charles' shoulder, she felt a bit embarrassed but also grateful for his comfort during their ordeal in the elevator. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you so much for being there for me, Charles. I don't know what I would have done without you," she said.

Charles smiled back at her. "Of course, Y/N. I'm just glad I could be of help. And who knows, maybe we can find ourselves stuck in an elevator again sometime soon," he teased.

Y/N laughed. "I think once was enough for me, but I wouldn't mind seeing you again outside of an elevator."

Charles watched Y/N walk away, feeling a sudden pang of regret. He realized that they hadn't exchanged numbers or made any plans to meet up again. He mentally scolded himself for being so caught up in the moment and not thinking ahead.

"*Merde." he muttered to himself. "I can't believe I forgot to ask for her number."*shit

But he wasn't about to give up that easily. He made a mental note to try and find her at the Grand Prix later that day, hoping to get a second chance to make things right.

As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N had left a lasting impression on him. He knew he had to see her again.

[cal-writes]

the last post reminded me i’ve written sth like that before and idk if i ever shared it so enjoy shinichis classmates in kyoto

-

Nakamichi had always thought Kudou was kind of strange. Like one would look at a weird ass insect and think to themselves: There is something kind of fucked up going on with this thing. But hey, Nakamichi had also met Kudou’s parents once so like, he got it, right? People like that as your parents? You were bound to end up a little strange. Plus Kudou had that whole murder solving thing going on - which was admittedly very cool but also deeply unsettling at times. But Kudou always had the best stories, he was great at soccer. Nakamichi couldn’t really ask for more from the guy. You just learned to tune him out whenever he went on a weird tangent or started to mutter to himself and let him run off. Kudou disappearing overnight without warning wasn’t even the strangest thing he had ever done that Nakamichi knew about so it was whatever. Kinda sucked to have their best player MIA but they dealt with it. Ran and Sonoko talking about him loudly in class kept most of them up to date about what shenanigans he got into so Nakamichi wasn’t all that concerned.

He was insanely surprised to find out that Kudou would be joining them on their Kyoto trip and even more so when Kudou actually showed up and didn’t immediately run off. Nakamichi found himself actually looking forward to catching up with Kudou for once because over a year of him being fuck knows where? A guy was allowed to have some questions.

The amount of questions he had only increased at Kudou getting to their room looking like death warmed over and dodging any attempt to start a conversation until he was buried in bed.

Sure, Kudou was weird. But there was a spectrum and that was definitely out of character weird. Then he started to talk with an accent too. Nakamichi wasn’t a detective but you couldn’t help but pick up a certain radar for out of wack shit once you hung around Kudou for long enough.

“What do you think happened to him?” Aizawa from their soccer club stage whispered deep in the night after most of them had already dropped off. Nakamichi paused on his way to crawl into his bed and glanced over to Kudou’s bed.

“He got game apparently.” Nakamichi said, chuckling to himself. A year ago he couldn’t have imagined Kudou ever getting the balls to actually confess to Mouri. And make out with her too.

Aizawa snorted. “What if he had to go, like, undercover or something.” Aizawa theorized and Nakamichi fell into the sweet embrace of his bed.

“Probably something like that. Dude’s got the worst luck in the world.” He muttered into the pillow. He fell asleep before hearing Aizawa’s reply.

He slept like a rock. Between one conscious thought and the next it felt like no time had passed at all. “Hattori! Wake up!” He heard Kudou’s voice shouting and Nakamichi’s first instinct was to tell him to fuck off. When his brain caught up with him, Nakamichi opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Who the hell was Hattori? “Something happened again.” Kudou’s voice was a hiss, now trying to be quiet. Nakamichi’s head leaned to the side and it took a while for him to understand what he was seeing.

Kudou leaned over his own bed, shaking another guy awake that Nakamichi had never seen before. The fuck? It was definitely not one of their classmates. Hattori?

“I’m up, I’m up.” Hattori? Said and threw the blankets off of him. Had he slept in Kudou’s bed? Well, obviously he had. Nakamichi shut his eyes as the two of them puttered about the room. “You good?” The guy had an accent.

“I’m fine.” Kudou said, sounding kind of breathless. “Come on, before any of them wake up.” He said as they shuffled past Nakamichi’s bed.

“Cheap ass hotel bed, my back hurts.” The new guy said earning him a scoff from Kudou.

“Your back hurts?”, Kudou said and Nakamichi’s eyes snapped open in a flash. “You’re not the one-” The rest of his sentence was lost behind the door as the two of them left the room.

Nakamichi laid there for a moment, just looking at nothing.

Fuck. Kudou had gotten game while he had been gone, just not in the way Nakamichi had thought. Who would have thought that Kudou would disappear for months and come back with a secret boyfriend? He sat up slowly. The revelation had woken him up faster than any coffee. Did Mouri know about this? Of course she would know! Kudou and her have been inseparable since forever. Ohh. Nakamichi slapped his own forehead. Of course, Mouri was the cover. That was why Kudou had reacted weirdly when they had asked him about London. Damn, had his boyfriend been in the room the whole time? Hiding under the bed? Maybe Kudou hadn’t forgotten his key, maybe he had just given it to Hattori.

This. This wasn’t what Nakamichi had expected but the more he thought about it, the more things fell into place. Of course Kudou wasn’t straight! He should have clocked that around the third lecture about Sherlock Holmes he had to endure before Kudou stopped bothering with it. Nobody was that into a fictional guy just because.

Aizawa groaned from the floor, sitting up with one of their scattered playing cards stuck to his face. “Mornin’.” He said with a wide yawn.

Nakamichi wanted to explode and tell Yoksuke everything immediately but stopped himself after inhaling. Kudou had smuggled his boyfriend into their room, probably in the middle of the night so none of them would see and ushered him outside at ass crack of dawn. Kudou wasn’t one for embarrassment but he was one that cared a lot about other people’s opinion of them. Damn, he probably thought they’d make fun of him for being gay or beat him up or something.

“You good, man?” Aizawa asked when he didn’t reply. He folded his arms over the bed, eyes tiny slits crusted with sleep.

Nakamichi nodded quickly. “Yeah. Don’t think I’ve ever slept this good.” He said.

Aizawa groaned. “Wish I could say the same.” He got onto his feet, stretching his arms above his head. “Kudou’s gone already?” He asked and Nakamichi threw his blankets off of him.

“Probably to get breakfast.” He said in a hurry and shook the other two guys that had crashed in their room awake. Aizawa didn’t question it. Nakamichi swallowed down his excitement. Whenever he got Kudou alone he’d have to tell him that his secret was safe with him. They might never had been the best of friends but hey, Nakamichi could totally understand wanting to keep being gay on the down low, especially with how much public scrutiny Kudou was under all the time. Nakamichi’s lips were sealed! Now if he could only remember why the name Hattori sounded so damn familiar.

[syd-vixious]

Another Cajun?

A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I posted but I thought of this while I was on tiktok earlier today. So, there's this creator on there that I follow called "Cajun Dan" and, aside from him reminding me of Remy LeBeau, his content is super cool and interesting. It got me thinking though, how would Remy react if he saw you on tiktok and noticed you were watching one of Cajun Dan's videos.

(aight imma stop bc otherwise I'm gonna start rambling lol)

It was a quiet day in the X-Mansion.

Scott and Jean were taking a, much needed, vacation, and the others were out doing their own thing. The only people that were still at the mansion were you and Remy. He was in the kitchen making some lunch for the both of you while you were in the living area just scrolling on your phone.

You came across this creator, who's accent was very similar to your sweet Cajun. You clicked on his page and watched a few more of his videos, being entertained by some of the facts he was giving, whether it was about the creatures of Louisiana or different places in New Orleans.

A few of his videos of him interacting with different gators and crocodiles in the bayou had you giggling at the sweet interactions with the animals. You were too enveloped in his content to notice Remy walking in to check on you while the food was cooking.

Remy leaned over you, his arms beside your head on the armrest of the sofa to support his weight. He tilted his head slightly as he heard the drawl of Dan coming from your phone.

"What'cha doin', chère?" He asked, peeking at the video that was playing on your phone. You instinctively paused, looking up at the red-on-black eyes of Remy above you.

"Oh, hey Remy! I was just scrolling on social media." You turned off your phone and sat up, "What's up?" He gave you a smirk and sat beside you, glancing at your phone as he leaned close to you.

"Who were y' watchin'?" He intrigued, resting his arm over your shoulder.

You chuckled as you opened your phone, bringing up the video you were watching. "I was watching this one creator who's actually based out of Louisiana! His videos are super fun and I like them a lot."

You scrolled a few videos down as you leaned into Remy's warmth, "Sometimes he'll make videos like this of just talking about places in or around New Orleans, or he'll post adorable videos like this," You swiped to a video of Cajun Dan showing off a baby gator on his boat, giggling when the "little" reptiles began making sounds.

"Aren't they so cute?" You asked happily, eyes glued to the man holding the gator on the screen.

Remy arched a brow, puffing up his chest a little bit at you being excited over another Cajun man. He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, "Them gators are cute chare, but c'mon, I can show you everytin' this man is showin' ya through the screen in person, y'know?"

You nodded, swiping to another video, "Well, yeah, of course I do. But in the meantime, I can watch his videos for now." You smiled softly at Remy, effectively melting his heart.

Eventually, you scrolled to one of Cajun Dan's videos where he was talking about Remy, both of you now taking a keen listen. He was mentioning how amazing he thought it was having a member of the X-Men be from Louisiana, saying how cool it was to have representation of heroes from different groups, cultures, ethnicities, etc. on the team.

The only thing that he said would make Remy even better is if he had some kind of gator companion. Remy smiled happily and sat up a bit more. "Y'know what? Maybe dis other Cajun ain't so bad, ma chère." He chuckled.

You looked at him once the video ended, an eyebrow raised, "Remy, I love you, but I'm not letting you have a pet of any kind, let alone a wild gator. If you even brought it up to Scott, he'd shoot the idea down before you could even finish your sentence."

He shrugged, giving you a wink, "He ain't gotta know, ma belle."

"Again, absolutely not. And your sweet talking isn't gonna work on me. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone a wild creature that is literally doesn't have the part of its brain that lets it feel love and affection."

He placed a peck on your cheek, getting up to check on the food, "Jus' think 'bout it, chère."

[seelestia]

— 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?

SUMMARY. in which you decide to do their eye makeup for them and the many antics that come with it.

CHARACTERS. zhongli, alhaitham, xiao, wanderer, gorou, itto.

GENRE. fluff, slight crack, established relationship.

CW. close proximity, one use of pet name, zhongli sorta acts like a cat, alhaitham is a lil insufferable but you love him, wanderer is also an inch away from choking you (affectionately).

THOUGHTS. question: is their eye makeup waterproof or do they apply it every morning?? fascinating. p/s: happy birthday to @zhongrin! lots of love to one of the best people i've ever met on this site <3

✰ masterlist.

© written by @seelestia. do not copy, translate, repost to other sites nor claim as yours!

— ZHONGLI.

❝Apologies, dear. Is this distance acceptable?❞

ZHONGLI smells of rich cologne and the vapor of tea brews wafting through the air when you step into a teahouse. You know this, of course, you've buried yourself in his embrace countless times before — but to have your face so close to his like this, you've never felt an urge to look away quite this strong before.

You stay composed, however, Zhongli can't always be the only one with the cool composure in this household, after all. "Mhm, perfect," you nod with a quiet hum as he closes his eyes, settling his chin in your palm so snugly that you laugh.

"You're like a cat," you remark, trying to suppress the littlest impulse to bump your forehead onto his in an affectionate way. "Is that so?" Gentle eyes that resemble amber gemstones flutter open to meet yours.

(Almost, were you accidentally about to poke his eye out of sheer panic from his beauty. Almost.)

"I'm glad to know that comparing me to felines seems to bring you amusement," Zhongli brushes his hand against your hair, "But let us focus on the task at hand, my love."

"Lest we miss our reservation at Liuli Pavilion. It is most polite to be punctual," he reminds you. How mean of him; to say such things and expect you to fully register it when he is softly rubbing your cheek like this as if lulling you to sleep.

Seriously, the amount of self-control you have to muster spontaneously in order to fight off the need to lean further into his hand is indescribable. Who's supposed to be the feline again? Anyway. "Okay, okay, I won't dawdle anymore," you adjust his chin in your hold as your other works to bring up the eyeliner to his eye.

"My husband has to look his best, after all," you slip in a little joke."Of course, darling," but Zhongli's answer doesn't sound like he's kidding at all.

(How can he say that with such a straight face? This man, seriously.)

— ALHAITHAM.

❝You're actually concentrating, I'm impressed.❞

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" you scrunch your face, frowning at how his words are jabbing at your pride. Has he not realized the power you have in your hands right now? You could actually poke his eyes with the eyeliner you're holding if you want to — not like you would, but Alhaitham is making it a smidgen harder to resist.

"I can focus, alright?" Huffing, you put aside your trivial grudges to grab his chin softly with your other hand. Alhaitham relents with an entertained smile, "All those times you fall asleep every time I read to you says otherwise."

"Well, that's— that's different," you stammer. In your defense, most of the books he chose to read to you are either theoretical physics or philosophies; it's a wonder how you're lulled to sleep even though it isn't a storybook. Of course, Alhaitham's library is a range of wide genres but you're starting to think he picks those books solely for you.

You're pulled out of your train of thoughts when you put in some distance to view your finished artwork. With Alhaitham's face as the canvas, somewhat comically.

(Well, aren't his eyes pretty? They look even sharper when accented with the eyeliner... whether that be for better or for worse. You shake your head internally at any poor person who happens to test his patience later today.)

"Wow," you mumble dazedly, "Red eyeliner really suits you." He raises an eyebrow at the genuineness in your quiet voice but only lifts his face away from your hand in response. Alhaitham regards your efforts in the mirror beside the two of you with a hum, "Maybe we should make this a routine, then."

There is a little something oddly hidden behind his sentence. Accusingly, you voice your suspicion by squinting your eyes at the Scribe, "...You just don't wanna do it yourself, do you?" And he enables it without a doubt, "Feel free to speculate."

(Ugh, this man.)

"But regardless..." he crosses his arms against his chest with a nod, "It doesn't look so bad."

(Would it have killed him from the inside out to say a compliment with a positive connotation? Okay, whatever, you love him.)

— XIAO.

❝....❞

Silent, quiet, and frozen in place like a statue.

The mere presence of those traits are more than enough reasons to have you worrying whether or not XIAO is still breathing. He is, thankfully, you can confirm that from the close proximity between the two of you and you mentally let out a sigh of relief.

(Thank the Archons you didn't lean in any further lest you would've heard how terribly his poor heart is faring and he doesn't want that.)

There is one more problem, however.

"You don't have to close your eyes that hard, you know..." you try to start, but Xiao still doesn't falter one bit; "It is of utmost necessity," he insists for the nth time since you've lost count.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

(Talk about stubborn.)

Your question is coming from a place of genuine concern because the frown on his forehead looks like it's going to engrave itself there forever from how intensely he is closing his eyes... Doesn't that hurt? You resist the urge to soothe away that frown with your thumb.

It's a good thing that it's only the two of you here right now, though. A stranger would be scared to death if they were to be gazed at with such an intense look and from the Conqueror of Demons at that. Oh, whatever will happen to your efforts of trying to prove to the children at Liyue Harbor that Xiao is actually a softie? Gee.

(But still, you can't help but smile.)

"Utmost necessity, huh?" you echo back his words with a hum. Your intentions bear no mockery but it seems the adeptus still manages to find some sort of dissatisfaction in your reaction. "Do not smile at me like that," Xiao mutters within a choked exhale that only serves to make him come off less stern than he would've liked.

His eyes are still, very much, closed as far as you can see.

The irony of it all tickles a chuckle out of you, mirth glazed over your eyes. "Is this an Adepti art I'm not aware of or are you secretly looking at me even with your eyes closed?" you ask cheekily. Xiao's cheeks are but a mere inch away from bursting into flames and he can only use words as his defense.

"...There is no need for you to know," he huffs.

Well, he isn't denying it, that's for sure.

(The answer is intuition.)

— WANDERER.

❝...Are you done yet? Any more second of this torture and I might just perish from boredom.❞

You're doing his makeup for him and this is the kind of treatment you get? You would've faked a gasp if you weren't so busy holding in a laugh over how his body is betraying his speech. That flustered look on WANDERER's face isn't helping his case at all.

"Uh-huh," your drawled out reply is enough of an indication to show that you're not really taking his words (threats?) seriously. Wanderer's bark can be as harsh as his bite, but you've never minded all the barks he sends your way — so much so that you barely even spare him any eye contact in favor of perfecting the red shade you're trying to blend around his eyelids.

(Perfection requires concentration, they say.)

But that doesn't mean you can't see anything else, though. You're uncertain if the Wanderer realizes this or somehow forgets because you can, in fact, see from your peripheral vision — and from said peripheral angle, he seems to be looking at something of yours rather intensely.

"You're staring at my lips," you point out.

"Shut it," he grumbles out his defense as fast as lightning.

(Caught him red-handed.)

"Sorry," you chuckle teasingly, "If you want a kiss, you're gonna have to wait for a bit." The way he looks so undeniably irritated by your statement makes you have no other option but to burst into a mini chuckling fit.

"Ugh, it's not like you can't lean in closer to—" His mouth snaps to a stop once it dawns on him; that your words are an attempt at reading his mind and he is technically confirming it to your face.

"Actually, nevermind, whatever. Just get this over and done with," he averts his eyes quickly with a scowl that feels as harmless as a naby deer (to you, anyway). "Giving up already?" you raise an eyebrow jokingly. With how Wanderer closes his eyes with a sigh, you assume he is only mere seconds away from giving your forehead a good flick.

"Don't think you're completely off the hook," he sternly interjects with a huff, "You still owe me some kind of compensation for taking your sweet time with this."

"And will that compensation be in the form of a kiss, per chance?" you hum amusedly.

"...It better be," he closes his eyes as if to signify the end of his willingness to comment any further.

Wanderer has never been one to shy away from the truth, but that is only because its taste always turns out bitter. Yet, in this case, when the truth entails something as embarrassingly sweet as desiring a kiss from you, then it becomes a conundrum for him.

After all, he is not fond of sweet things but he is fond of you. Maybe, this close proximity is getting to his head a little too much for his liking — darn it, he knew this was a bad idea the moment you showed him those puppy eyes.

— GOROU.

❝This is... embarrassing...❞

GOROU looks like he is merely a hair's breadth away from digging a hole into the ground and burrowing in it forever. But thankfully, the only thing keeping him on the surface happens to be you, the person holding him still by the cheek.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about," you squish his cheek gently and Gorou lets out a noise akin to a little whine. "What if one of the soldiers sees us?" he protests, yet makes no actual initiative to remove himself from your grasp.

"Let them," you tap the eyeliner pen against his forehead two times and he winces dramatically as if you just struck him over the head. "Ouch!" Gorou rubs the sore spot instinctively and you can feel a faint trickle of guilt (even though you only hit him with the amount of strength someone would need to blow a dandelion), yet that is still not enough to the little lecture you're about to give him.

"Being the General of the Resistance doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. It's okay to rely on someone to do something for you once in a while, you know."

"Even something as small as letting them do your eye makeup for you," you huff with a proud smile as an emphasis, carefully tracing a line on the outer part above his eyes.

"...Mmpf," the muffled noise that comes out of his mouth has you raising an eyebrow. Although unsure if it's because of that pout on his lips or his puffed cheeks, you still let out a little laugh at the thought of said possibilities anyway.

"Pfft, what's that sound?" you tease, "Does that mean you agree with me or not?"

"[Y/N]," Gorou calls your name in a stern tone or at least, tries to.

(He has never been good at scolding people but he swears if you keep on teasing him, he'll actually explode. ...And by that, he means melting into a puddle of jelly on the ground.)

— ITTO.

❝You gotta make em' look super dope, alright? Make sure you put more highlights on this one! And oh, this one right here too!❞

No one really knows whether the tattoos on ITTO's skin are actually real or not. Knowing he is someone of Oni blood doesn't narrow down the answer any further but if you were to ask him about them yourself, Itto prefers to call them "100% natural, baby!".

Not to mention, he is always looking for ways to make them stand out or look cooler — which led to this grand idea of asking you to do his makeup for him because apparently, your touch is magical since you're his favorite person on this emtire planet (his words, not yours).

...He can come up with the most random things to say sometimes. But hey, seeing a grown Oni beg on his knees sure was something and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

"Sooooo," Itto starts with an attempt to clear his throat professionally, "How does it feel like having the honor to prepare me for my next battle?" he accentuates his sentence with a series of haughty laughter that cause his shoulders to shake vigorously.

"Don't move," you scrunch your face with a frown, pinching him indignantly for nearly breaking your focus. "Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I'll stay still!" the Oni yelps, a noise so embarrassing he almost cups his mouth like second nature.

But he doesn't do that, in fear of being pinched by your lovely fingers and proceeds to look at you with eyes befitting that of a kicked puppy's. "...You'll come and cheer for me, right?" Itto asks pleadingly and you smile.

"Of course," you say and he has to resist the urge to do a full-on fist bump into the air. But you still have some more left to say as you continue, "Just don't cry if you lose, alright? You'll ruin the makeup and besides...." There is a devious grin resting on your face now, "You don't want the kids to think your face makeup look like tear marks, don't you?"

Yup, there comes that offended gasp you've been waiting for.

"What— heck no!" Itto places a hand on his chest dramatically, "Tear marks?! Preposterous! The Arataki Itto doesn't shed tears! Of course not!" You can only hide your giggles behind your palm while Itto struggles to defend his wounded pride.

"...Forrealthough, doesitactuallylookliketearmarks—"

Now, you've got him second-guessing himself (but at least, he's cute?).

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, may 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops @lleoll @xiaosonlybeloved @chiisananingen @irethepotato @ainescribe @blooodyvampy @starlightaura @jihyuniepark @duhsies @maybemiko @lordbugs @sakkakuu-squared — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

[hurtspideyparker]

* Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers *

Hey guys I need to come clean about my Johnny Storm addiction because I just watched Deadpool and Wolverine for the first time and when Johnny came on screen I said "flame on!" in perfect sync with Chris Evans and then proceeded to scream! In the theatre! So

Anyways that was an insanely amazing perfect movie I loved every minute of it.

Chris Evans' Boston accent was so strong especially in the post credit scene asdfjkfkdh it was insanely hot. Especially because it was Johnny. I'm sorry I'm so far gone for the Human Torch and Chris Evans is my favourite depiction of him.

After Johnny the next best part of the movie was Wolverine in the mask, oh mannnnn that was everything I ever wanted and more. I can't believe how perfect and magical it was.

As an MCU nerd I have to say the shawarma bit warmed my heart.

And Jon Favreau!!! My man!!! The Earth 616 bit was really cool oh em geeee that office. My fave touch was the arc reactor. I wish I hadn't gotten spoiled but I already knew they had the Peter and Tony photo, still cool but am sad about the spoiler. Cough irondadtumblr cough.

The Bye Bye Bye dance... honestly really satisfying. Still thinking about how smooth Pool's moves are. The whole soundtrack was amazing for this film, thank you Madonna! I liked the Greatest Showman easter egg, I wish it was longer but I understand they wanted to be tasteful about it.

The pure Deadpool and Wolverine fight scenes were just chef's kiss. Like heck yeah that's motherfucking Wolverine!!! That's Freaking Deadpool!!! They are doing the Deadpool Wolverine thing !!!!!!!!!

Just so happy to have Hugh Jackman back in this role, he's just. The Best.

The special effects of Cassandra Nova's fingers going through people's heads was epic. So well done.

Laura Kinney a pleasure to see you my darling. Don't know how I feel about Channing Tatum as Gambit tho... I liked how they brought back old actors and characters in a really well-done way, didn't feel like pandering.

Anyways for me PERSONALLY, 10/10. Honestly just for the Johnny Storm cameo I'd have rated it 10/10 cuz I am so easy to please... I will not stop thinking about how after 17 years we got back the best Johnny Storm. Chris Evans I owe you my life

[scrivenger-grimgar]

Every time I read Yiling Wei sect AUs and they start describing what the sect members and leader wears its like, (direct quote from The Yiling Wei Sect and the Black Robed Lan by IvoryDragon48)

"[Wei Wuxian's hair] was pulled up into a high ponytail by a red ribbon with a gold and silver headpiece ornamenting and helping to direct the flow of his hair. The robes he wore were expensive looking with black being the dominant color and reds as the accents. The inner robe was a red so dark it looked like blood and the outer robe had simple yet elegant designs."

--And like, I get the urge to make them really cool looking and with themes or designs matching the other sects but like??? there's massive wasted potential here!!!

First, the hair. that's all well and good, but there is no way in hell that the Yiling Wei folks (Wen Remnants and others reviled/ostracized by society at large) are going to buy a gold guan OR a silver guan. why the hell would they bother spending precious resources on trying to impress people who already don't like them for something they literally have no control over.

But Wei Wuxian would know that he has to play the game now that he has people to protect, and going to a Con as a Sect Leader and not doing what all the other sect leaders are doing (wearing guan to say "I'M BETTER THAN YOU!!") is essentially outright stating that he holds no respect for any of them except in a way that could get him and his people killed. so instead, he goes "fuck it" and makes a guan out of something incredibly ordinary, like iron or wood, so now if anyone brings it up he can say "Oh, well, I like feeding my kids." or "Actually, I made this myself, all the better for carving protective arrays into!"

--And that's it. Wei Wuxian is a street kid he absolutely knows that rich people don't like to think about poor people and that they prefer to ignore them or hurt them. except you cant just attack someone who's being perfectly reasonably polite in public, especially when you just pointed out that he's 'poor'. Wei Wuxian's strategy is make them so fucking uncomfortable that they leave us alone.

(This would of course be after several years of no contact and no fighting so things have cooled off a bit)

Next, robes. No expensive robes. Let them be very well modified normal robes that have subtle stains and colour bleaching from sunlight and washing. The (shown, non-array-work) embroidery is at best amateur level, and Wei Wuxian will proudly show it off, loudly saying "a-Ning started a while back to help with his fine motor skills, and he's really come such a long way!!" and that "Oh, Xuanyu started practicing only recently but he's already so good at it!"

The Yiling Wei are the exact opposite of Lanling Jin. Wealth is to be used to benefit everyone and everyone is to be loved and appreciated for their work. The refusal to spend money of frivolous things is strong, especially when its something you could make yourself.

Self Ornamentation would not be jade or gold or silver or silks. It would be some nice wood, these feathers from the bird that likes me, hey look at this cool rock I found I'm gonna polish it like a gemstone, I dug these awesome bones out of my grandmama's garden you think I can do anything with 'em?

Yiling Wei folks are death druids.

[binniebakery]

​🇼​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇴​​🇫​ ​🇦​ ​​🇸​​🇺​​🇳​​🇸​​🇪​​🇹🎧🎐

Non Idol AU Academic Rival!Beomgyu x Gn!Reader Enemies to lovers(?) fluff

Summary♡: Your number one enemy, Choi Beomgyu, always managed to ruin everything for you. So of course the one time you decide to let yourself relax on the school rooftop– you’re stuck with him–  just like you’ve always been since you both met.

Warnings♡: mentions of jumping off a roof as a joke, banter, slight cursing, little bit of angst sprinkled in but it gets resolved lol A/N♡: just in time for beomgyu's birthday... this was inspired by the song 'a lovely night' from lala land! to all my bamtoris: enjoy!

The sky began to be decorated with hues of gold and pink, not even the perfect strokes of an artist’s brush could replicate the way the sun’s rays peaked over the multitude of buildings and clouds.

You inhaled as the cool breeze washed over you, the temperature for the day slowly dwindling as the sun lay to rest, the moon soon to take over.

The Mathletes club had just finished its meeting and you were relieved of your duties for the day as president. Student organizations were allowed to stay after school hours, as long as they responsibly cleaned after their club activities. They were free to go home as teachers stuck around to grade papers and janitors monitored the buildings to ensure things were in order.

You leaned against the metal rails of the rooftop with closed eyes. This was the most peaceful you had felt since the school year had started. Finals were over and you could finally take a breath of fresh air– literally. You had been locked up in your room studying for weeks, in hopes of achieving that perfect grade.

You never gave yourself time to go out and have fun anyway. As vice president of the student council, you had a job to do: paperwork, maintaining the council image by appearing at all school events, helping solve issues of your fellow students— etcetera, etcetera. So finals were no exception to your busy schedule.

Friends were rare to come by. You had been deemed “nice, but secluded” by your classmates so hardly anyone had the confidence to approach you.

If only people got to know you better, sure they knew you were nice but if only they knew you loved karaoke, you watched a ton of anime, you loved music– just like them. There was so much more to you than studies but no one seemed to look past that stern persona you portrayed.

You sighed thinking about the loneliness you felt. It’s always been this way, but at least right now you had peace. It’s just you and the cicadas that began to hum and buzz as the sun went down.

At least it was peaceful.

The door behind you swings open and loud footsteps interrupt your moment of tranquility. You hear the soft sound of music carrying through the wind and you turn to spot class president Choi Beomgyu.

Of course. You just couldn’t have one thing.

Beomgyu’s dark hair swishes side to side as he bobs his head to the tunes playing from his headphones, eyes closed and mouth shaped into an ‘o’ as he sways further outside, oblivious to your presence. 

You cross your arms and stare as he continues his little performance, whistling to the sound of the notes playing from his headset. How could he even stand playing music so loudly? ‘He’s gonna lose his hearing by the time we graduate if he doesn’t fix that habit’ you think with a scowl.

“Ahem. Excuse me, earth to Choi.”

Beomgyu opens his eyes and looks at you with a face that resembles a cute puppy.

“Oh! Hey y/n. Whatcha doin’ here hanging at my spot?” He grins and you quirk an eyebrow at his question. His spot?

“I didn’t know you hung around here.”

“Yeah, every day after school. I come here to unwind from my presidential activities.” His tone changes into a silly accent at the end of his sentence and it almost feels to you that he was emphasizing how much he didn’t take his job seriously.

You still couldn’t believe this fool got chosen as student council president over you.

“Well, I’m also here to relax if you don’t mind.” You reply, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I mean I can leave if you want. I don’t wanna interrupt your sulking– or whatever you do for fun.” Beomgyu places a hand on his hip as if mocking you, and you scoff.

“I’m not that miserable, Choi.”

“Uhuh.. and can you please call me Beomgyu for once? Come on we’re classmates, not working at an office.”

“Alright fine! Beomgyu, jeez.”

“Nice job, you finally do something right!” His tone is so fake the words practically fall from the air from how much plastic they were made of.

“Can I say something? I’d honestly rather die than be stuck up here with you,” you mumble as you rest your head on the railing.

“You should just jump then,” he chuckles.

Your eyes couldn’t have rolled any farther to the back of your head. God he was so fucking stupid.

“You first Choi, be my guest!” You snap back, nothing pissed you off more than Beomgyu’s cocky tone.

“Call me Choi one more time and I’m gonna start calling you noona from how old you sound.”

“Well, I’m sorry I try to remain professional unlike you! Ugh, I’m fucking leaving!” You begin to walk back to the doors of the building until Beomgyu decides he wants to have the last laugh.

“Alright well, at least I can still have fun and be president!  I have fucking friends– unlike you.”

Ouch. Beomgyu: 1 You: 0

You’re not sure if you’re more angry or hurt but regardless tears threaten to form as you bite your lip unable to respond. Because he’s right.

You really don’t have any friends.

Beomgyu is popular, he makes everyone laugh, he's easygoing, he’s kind when he wants to be, and most of all he’s handsome. 

You internally kick yourself for thinking of that last part. Though as much as you hated to admit it, you did find him very attractive just like the rest of your school did.

Both of you were incredibly smart and since the day he transferred to your school, you were no longer alone at the top of your class.

You constantly tied with Beomgyu when it came to grades, and when you couldn’t it was always back and forth over who had the better score. You two were just too evenly matched.

You both always bickered about it. Finding yourself despising that Beomgyu was a person you weren’t. In a way, it felt like he was better. You wanted to be someone like him. Though you’d never tell him that.

And thus you hated him for it.

You inhale sharply and raise your sleeve to wipe your eyes. Beomgyu’s eyes widen as he watches you attempt to go back inside.

You pull.

You pull again.

It’s locked.

“Are you kidding me..” you mumble. This was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life. Your rival makes you cry and now he’s forced to watch you suffer as you’re locked up on the roof with him. “Y/n.. I- um.”

“Save it Beomgyu. Please just leave me alone” You whisper, eyes closed shut as your last attempt to stop your tears from falling. You plop yourself down at the railing that overlooks the streets and buildings of your small city.

Beomgyu knew he fucked up, he was used to teasing you but he realized he took it way too far this time. His eyes stay soft as he watches you curl up onto the ground, head leaning against the rails.

He walks over to you and sits next to you, unsure of how to respond to your weak sniffles. He had never seen you this vulnerable before. He never knew you were this vulnerable.

So he does the one thing he knows, he pulls an earbud out and places it into your ear.

You look over to him with wet eyes, and he lets out a weak smile.

“Such a shame, the sunset’s really pretty right now. Someone else would have probably enjoyed this view instead of us huh?”

Beomgyu interrupts the silence with a sigh. It was like he was attempting to lighten the mood after what he said. This was the first time he had actually shown that he (somewhat?) cared about you

“Hey. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry y/n…” he begins as he scratches his neck, averting your gaze.

“If anything I’m kind of jealous. I don’t really know what to do with the fact that you’re so much more organized and better at things than me that I just let out my inner frustrations onto you. You don’t.. you don’t really deserve that though.”

His voice was calm and warm, and so quiet as if there was someone around that could hear his confession. The cicadas grew louder and the music playing in your ear felt like it was engraving itself into your brain, as if it was attempting to connect Beomgyu's mind to yours.

You look over at him and see that his face holds a tender gaze. Nothing like the loud and obnoxious class president you were used to.

“I can be serious too you know? Everyone seems to go to you for their problems because they see you as more responsible, but trust me when I say I’m just as sincere.” He begins to fidget with the wires of his earbuds.

“I study a lot, I never have time to go out to the arcade with my friends. All because I want to be just like you. So at school, I let myself loose and act carefree.”

You stare at him bewildered.

Had he really felt like this all along?

Beomgyu sends a text to one of your teachers and mumbles ‘they should be here soon’ as he lightly traces small circles on your arm.

You’re too shocked to speak, too attached to the warmth of his fingers tracing your skin.

So you two sit there just like that, allowing the playlist of songs to speak for yourselves. You and Beomgyu were never that close but in that moment, for the first time, it felt like you two had connected.

Beomgyu can’t help but stare at the way you close your eyes, silently mouthing the words to the lyrics of his favorite songs. The way the sunset’s hues outline your hair flowing in the wind, the way your nose and eyes have a soft reddish blush to them from crying. You looked so breathtaking in that moment.

As you finally regain your bearings, you look up to Beomgyu and he immediately curses at himself for letting you catch him staring.

“You know.. I always felt the same towards you. I wanted to be like you as well. I guess..” you bite your lip as you contemplate what to say next.

“I guess we’re more alike than we thought. Maybe we should’ve just made the effort to actually get to know each other, but instead we ended up here.” You softly chuckle and Beomgyu makes a mental note that he wants to hear you laugh more.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but you’re right.” He replies and you burst into laughter.

“Beomgyu you’re actually funnier than I’d like to admit,” you smile and lightly smack his shoulder.

“There you go, like hearing my name coming from you.”

Your face flushes with a rosy hue and you see Beomgyu’s ears are turning the same color as he plays with his shoelaces.

You’d never seen him this soft.  Usually, he was sure of himself and confident.

Was he flirting with you?

Moments of silence pass by at Beomgyu clears his throat.

“Crazy how this view.. Is so pretty..”

“Huh?” You tilt your head.

What was this sudden change of conversation topic?

“I mean, it’s kind of romantic, isn’t it?.. A shame that you uh- have feelings for me and I clearly don’t feel the same way towards you.”

Your jaw practically drops at his words. Beomgyu’s tone is playful but the way he hides into his hoodie, ears turning redder than before shows that he’s trying to indicate something else.

You smile and decide to play along.

“You know what. I’m frankly feeling nothing.”

“Is that so?"

“As a matter of fact Beomgyu, less than that.”

“Good to know we finally agree on something.”

“Yeah.” You both look over at each other.

And of course, neither of you could help but burst into a fit of giggles.

The crisp air entices you to scoot closer to him. Only because you were cold and not because you just needed to feel his body next to yours.

Totally not the latter.

The distant skyline is painted in shades of amber and rose, silhouetted against the fading light. You feel yourself relax again, and Beomgyu gently places your head on his shoulder. If you were any more receptive you could feel the way his heart beat louder than the bass of the music blasting through his headset.

Maybe this wasn’t such a total waste of a beautiful sunset.

[poppitron360]

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)❤️

@helluvabossfan08 @lemonlightt @coraldeermoon @inky-void

@123letsgobestie @almaprincess66 @lavenderfairiez @helpallthenamesaretakenblog and all my other lovely moots!!

When I get obsessed with something I basically become an encyclopaedia for it and can relate anything back to it with incredible skill (“Oh Oedipus? That’s referenced in S1 Ep9 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, titled “Puppet Show”- the only episode of the show to contain a during-credits scene. The show, created by the now infamous Jos Wheadon ran between 1997 and 2003, for a total of 7 seasons and 144 episodes, each one averaging at around 45mins. The 100th episode of the show- S5 Ep22, “The Gift”- was initially intended to be the season finale, but interestingly it was recalled for two more- hey! Guys! Come back, don’t leave!! I’m not done!!!”)

In a similar vain, I have every lyric to Hamilton memorised. Don’t believe me, I’ll prove it to you- do you have three hours to spare? I have in fact performed one-woman productions of the show to my friends and family, complete with sweet extra content (deleted songs, historical fun facts, a detective-style board with red string and everything proving Why They Are Gay).

I like to think I’m pretty talented- I can sing, I play two instruments (Piano and Bass), I know my way around D.A.Ws and other sound equipment, I can draw, I can write, I can compose- but I am in no way a prodigy in these fields and there’s always room for improvement.

I’m quite truthful- I never lie, EVER. I’m also open and honest about everything (sometimes at a risk of my own self-preservation). I don’t get embarrassed easily and I come across as quite confident.

People tell me I’m smart- I have a tendency to not shy away from long, technical words. I talk a lot, and can get really stuck into a discussion if I’m interested (Although, my Received Pronunciation accent and my good grammar in texts might also play a factor).

[itsmarsss]

with a V [Steven Grant/Marc Spector x GN!Reader] (Moon Knight)

Word count: 785

This is another one in the 'scenes i don't wanna throw away from wips that i'm abandoning' series lol. No warnings.

When they 'speak' to each other, italics are Steven, bold is Marc.

Did I just ask them on a date? Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

[. . .]

"Hey, actually- I’m sorry if this is weird, but- are you an actor?"

"What?" 

What kind of pick-up line is that? 

It's definitely not a pick-up line!

"I uh- it's just- every time you come in you have like a different accent? Like sometimes you’re British, sometimes you’re american. Sometimes you even speak some spanish?”

Do you speak spanish? 

I can ask where the library is.

Why would you speak to them in spanish?

You think I came here and ‘donde está la biblioteca’d them? Why the fuck would I do that?

“... So I thought maybe you’re doing those method acting things or something."

"Uh, no. I'm not. Not an actor."

"Oh, okay. Sorry for being nosey, but it was eating me alive!” You joke.

"I work at a museum!" Steven blurts out. 

"Oh. You do?"

He nods.

"That's so cool! What do you do there?"

He averts his eyes to the floor in some sort of embarrassment. "I uh. I work at the gift shop right now. But I give tours sometimes! That's- that's what I actually want to do. Uh, teach people about… things."

"So you must really know your history then.”

"Enough to give tours about it. Not that I’m trying to be… you know. Presumptuous. Or anything.”

Is it even possible to be ‘presumptuous’ about that?

Shut up.

Who even uses the word ‘presumptuous’ anyway?

Shut up!

"Sounds like you have fun with it."

"Yes- Yes. I really like reading about these things- especially ancient Egypt. That's- that's actually what I give tours on."

Stop rambling.

I don't ramble! 

"Really? I've always been more of a greek-roman kind of person, so I don't really know that much about Egypt."

I cannot believe they liked the rambling.

You think so?

"You- oh. Do you want to- would you like to come by the museum some time?"

Yes, Steven! We gotta work a bit on the delivery but that's what I'm talking about! Make sure to put in a good word for me!

Don’t be stupid.

“What?”

“What?”

“You, uh-”

Oh, fuck, did he just say that out loud?

Idiot.

Fuck, he did. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was- I was talking to myself. Sorry.”

"Oh. Okay. Well, sure, uh… shit, I’m sorry, I never asked for your name."

"It’s Steven. With a ‘V’."

"Okay, Steven-with-a-V. I would like to come by the museum sometime."

Steven looked absolutely shocked, like the fact that you could say yes hadn't even crossed his mind. "You would?" 

After what you just pulled, I’m surprised too.

Or perhaps you’re just mean.

"Yeah, why not? Then you can teach me more about those things."

"Yeah. Of course. That would be… good. Great! It would be great. I'm- I'm giving a few tours tomorrow. Covering some shifts. If you- if you want to come by."

"I have the morning shift tomorrow. But maybe in the afternoon? What time are you out?"

"I'll be there until six, actually."

"On a saturday?"

"I switched with a colleague. Got both their shifts for tomorrow."

You smile, finally ringing up his order when someone else entered the place, cutting the interaction short. "6.99."

"What?"

"Your order."

"Oh. Right. Here."

He gives you a ten pound note, and you try to give him his change. 

He just smiles at you. "Keep it. As a tip. It's… for being nice to me. And showing up tomorrow?" He hoped he didn't sound cocky. Or like he wanted to buy you with a sorry three fucking pounds or something of the sort or-

"I'd need to know exactly where I need to be for that to happen."

"What?"

"There’s not exactly one single museum in this city, Steven-with-a-v."

"Shit. Right. It's-" 

No, dumbass! Don't just tell them!

What else do you want me to do? 

Holy shit.

"Steven?"

"Sorry, can I borrow that?" He says, pointing to your notepad… with that american accent, again. You then realize he never did explain anything about that, only saying he wasn't an actor, like you thought he was- which made this whole accent situation a lot more intriguing. You'd ask him about it again, but he'd just invited you to the museum and you weren't about to be nosey and ruin things.

Steven-with-a-v-and-an-american-accent grabbed the notepad and pen from the counter and quickly wrote his number on it.

"Just text me and I'll send you the address."

Eh-dress. What was this man’s deal? "Okay. Yeah. I will."

Did I just ask them out?

Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

Can’t you let me have this one?

If you put in a good word for me. 

Ah, yes, of course I will, that definitely won’t scare them off.

[. . .]

A/N: probably ooc but i dont really care lol this has been in my wips for like two years probably and it was never gonna see the light of day

[heliads]

Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards. 

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.” 

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting. 

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly. 

 Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well. 

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs. 

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it. 

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son. 

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed. 

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart. 

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company. 

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that. 

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges. 

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks. 

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions. 

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering. 

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks. 

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true. 

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along. 

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously. 

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates. 

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments. 

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time. 

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest. 

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[jqmalikhsgib]

midnight sky

one

what you were doing was absolutely insane! you just met the man not even twenty four hours ago. but the connection the two of you had was incredible, almost like you were made for each other. maybe you were.

the day started off like every other morning. you groaned as your alarm clock went off, got out of bed, took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, and finally made it down town to your favorite local coffee shop.

you ordered a basic coffee and a pastry before sitting in your normal spot, far in the back. you took your laptop out of your bag and began grading papers, groaning and rolling your eyes at the students who didn’t turn in a paper yet.

after about thirty minutes you heard commotion outside. normally you’d ignore it. it’s new york city after all, it was always filled with nosy people. today was different! flashes came from the window, almost blinding you more than the sun.

you heard people screaming as if someone fell and died. you looked up and saw the paparazzi outside. frowning, you grabbed your things and headed for the door.

“shit! im sorry, love!”

groaning at your coffee spilling on the ground, you were ready to yell at whoever this pretentious actor or whatever he was! not caring if the media and his fans tore you a new one.

“watch where you—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence. he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. from his buzzed hair cut, beautiful brown eyes, tattooed neck, and his attire. he was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

“are you alright, babe?” even his accent was perfect.

“uh—yeah—yeah! im sorry.”

he chuckles, “it’s my fault, really.”

you were frozen. completely mesmerized by this beautiful man in front of you. your heart skipped a beat.

“it’s fine—um, i should get going.” you began walking away, pushing through the loads of paps. you needed to get far away so you could get that man out of your mind.

unfortunately the moment you got home you looked him up. you needed to know who he was and where he was from. you searched the location of the coffee shop and found tmz reporting the images.

“zayn malik. fuck, even his name is perfect!” you dived into everything zayn malik and began to sigh. soon you find his instagram, noticing he only had a few post. you assumed he deleted his old post due to him starting a new era for his next album.

biting your lip you sigh as you close your eyes processing. god, where you an idiot for even thinking about messaging him. maybe? you knew he probably got thousands of messages everyday, but it was something about him. you click on his profile, clicked on message, and began typing.

‘hi..god, you probably won’t see this, most likely won’t even open it, won’t bat an eye, but i thought i should text you. i guess im intrigued you could say.’

you wait patiently until you heard your phone vibrate. you had never picked up your phone so quickly. you smiled hugely when you saw it was him that sent you a message.

‘hey! normally i don’t open this app unless im posting something about me music or a selfie. coffee shop girl, right?’

smiling, you typed,

‘yeah! sorry about spilling that coffee by the way. im normally not that clumsy.’

‘haha!’

‘it’s cool, babe. got a three year old! use to clumsy.’

‘oh? didn’t noticed you had a kid. gonna be honest, i kinda went on a bit of a stalker session finding you.’

‘really? that’s cute!’

‘yeah! got a daughter. she’s the sweetest thing ever!’

‘i love kids! i always wanted to teach kids instead of middle schoolers. kids love to color and draw. middle schoolers love to gossip and fight.’

‘ha! not ready for that at all!’

‘you’re a teacher, huh? that was my career path before i became a musician.’

‘i enjoy teaching! wanted to since i could remember!’

‘you guys are doing great work! deserve a pay raise!!’

‘tell that to the us government. 😩’

‘fuck them all!!!’

‘agreed!’

‘how bout i meet you up for a coffee? promise, no paps this time?’

‘right now?’

‘yeah…is that okay, babe?’

‘yeah—yeah! ill be there in twenty.’

‘cool! see you soon ;)’

you never got ready so fast in your life. heading downstairs from your building and walking a few blocks to the coffee shop, you spot zero paps and zayn sitting inside your booth. you smile before walking into the building. when he spots you, he smiles at you, stands up, and gives you a hug.

“hey.”

“hi.” you sit in the seat right across from him.

“never got your name. your instagram account doesn’t give it away.”

you blush. you created your instagram when you were in middle school. being overly obsessed with harry potter as a kid and extremely dorky, you had to go with ‘voldedork_hp,’

you never got around to changing it. now you regret that decision one hundred percent. “im sorry about that. a little embarrassed.”

“don’t be! it’s cute. im a huge harry potter fan myself. i went as voldemort last halloween as a mater-of-fact.”

“my names yn.”

“it’s nice to meet you yn. you have a lovely name by the way.”

you snort. feeling like your name was completely bland compared to his!

“may i ask where you’re from? your accent, it’s pretty thick, even for someone born in the uk.”

zayn chuckles. “yeah! m’from bradford england. my pops is pakistani so my accent comes out a little bit stronger i guess. what about you? you don’t sound like a new yorker.” he takes a sip of his coffee.

“im not! born and raised in texas actually.”

“texas, huh? you’re a little way from home, yeah?”

“i got a full scholarship for new york university! i couldn’t pass on that opportunity.”

“brains and beauty, huh?”

you blush. he was definitely a flirt! the two of you got to know one another for the next four hours. you both lost track of time. zayn phone blows up and he continues to ignore it. enjoying his time getting to know the pretty woman across from him. you were loving the company and conversation. it felt like you knew each other for the longest time. you were both laughing and listening to each other tell some crazy story. it felt right.

“how about we get out of this coffee shop, yeah? maybe walk around new york? i promise, no paps. i know places they’ll never go.” he winks at you. you nod before getting out of the booth. zayn grabs your hand and interlocks your fingers.

you were surprised but you didn’t object or pull away. zayn paid for his coffee, leaving a generous tip before leaving. you walk hand and hand around new york, enjoying each other’s company. you continued to talk about everything. the two of you got along so well, you felt crazy for already falling for him. you just met the man! how could you already have such strong feelings for the musician? were you seriously losing your mind? you just couldn’t help how you felt though.

zayn felt the same way. it’s why, standing in front of a courthouse, holding your hand as the moonlight shines, he got the craziest idea. he stops, looks you in the eye, and caresses your cheek. “may i kiss you, babe?”

you blushed, nodding nonetheless. when his lips touched yours, you felt the whole world stopped. god, how could such a beautiful man be this perfect? when he pulls away he grabs your hand and runs across the street. it was like faith, standing in front of a kay jewelers and a bridal shop. you laugh as he looks at you with the biggest grin on his face.

“what?”

“this is gonna be the craziest thing ive ever done or said but, i just—i feel like ive known you for the longest time. you’re beautiful, funny, smart, and amazing. i—i feel like we’re meant to be, meant to meet each other. and you, god maybe this is insane! you can totally say no, kick my ass, slap me, whatever you want, but this is just perfect. it’s almost like faith,”

“what is it?” you asked nervously.

“a jeweler, a bridal shop, and a courthouse right across the street. maybe this is the universe telling us to just go for it. let’s get married.”

normally if a man had asked you this you’d laugh in his face. you’d think he was absolutely insane for even suggesting this idea. but seeing all the key details, it’s like a story from a fairytale! who were you to pass up a fairytale story?

“okay!”

“yeah?”

you nod your head. zayn kisses you passionately before calling up taryn to be a witness! once he convinced her, he grabs your hand, head into the jewelry parlor, the two of you pick your rings before going to the bridal shop and grabbing the most gorgeous dress and a suit, before heading across the street to officially get married.

“are we doing this, forreal?”

“yeah, yeah we are! let’s get married, baby!”

and before you know it, you become misses malik. a true fairytale.

i really hope you all like this fic! it’s not enough zayn fics out there and i need people to make some!

what do you think?

if you wanna be added to taglist please don’t hesitate to ask!!!