#at first I was like are they actually arguing on stage?? I didn’t know they did fun stuff like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 3 months ago

Note

Can you pleaseeee also write staff mingyu x idol reader🥹🥹

staff!mingyu

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive. may be triggering because of; extreme diets, blackout, getting scolded by the choreographer, fingering, a bit of possessive talk, hair pulling, cock riding, devoted mingyu too.

staff!mingyu who you're in one of those tiny-ass dressing rooms with, the ones where you can barely move without smacking into a light fixture or tripping over cables, andhe's , towering over you, big frame almost making the room look even smaller. he’s your stylist-slash-PA-slash-damage-control-for-whatever-stupid-thing-you-say-in-interviews guy, which means he’s there to check every last detail on you, no matter how close he’s gotta get.

it’s day four of this overseas tour—barely halfway in, and you’re already feeling like you’re running on fumes. you’re dodging local food left and right, not ’cause it doesn’t look good, but ‘cause it’s either not on this wild diet they’ve shoved you on or it just doesn’t sit right with your stomach. for real, you didn’t think there’d be a point in your career where you'd be skipping meals, just ‘cause the food doesn’t fit some "ideal look" they cooked up for you.

and staff!mingyu... always there, at the exact moment when your stomach’s about to start an opera of complaints, hands full of grocery bags and this half-smile on his face, like he’s in on some inside joke only the two of you share.

“alright, sit down,” he says, like you’re gonna argue, and starts unloading enough ingredients to feed a small village. he moves around the hotel kitchenette—pots, pans, seasonings, a whole rotation of stuff he’s pulled outta his endless stash. he even managed to drag around a few of those little plastic spice bottles from home, ‘cause apparently, foreign supermarkets don’t stock paprika exactly how he wants it.

“didn’t know your resume included chef duties,” you joke, propping your chin on your hand as you watch him chop veggies with the same focus you’ve seen when he’s backstage, touching up your makeup or fixing your outfits.

he laughs easy. “oh, it doesn’t,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “but you looked like you were about to faint this morning, so i figured i’d make an exception.”

“what, you gonna make a whole buffet?” you tease, but the moment he sets that first plate down, you’re quiet. it’s nothing fancy, but it smells like heaven—garlic, spices, veggies mixed with something hearty, real food for the first time in days.

“look, you eat this, or i swear i’m shoving it down your throat myself,” he says, crossing his arms, and even though he’s joking, there’s this serious fringe in his eyes. like, he won’t let you get away with just picking at the food.

“alright, alright.” you dig in, taking that first bite, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed—warm, filling, like someone wrapped you in a blanket from the inside out. you’re not even halfway done, and he’s already cleaning up, telling you about how he once had to do this for himself, back when he was training and could barely afford takeout, let alone proper meals.

“so, yeah, i’ve been cooking for years,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and it hits you then, this guy, who’s supposed to be here to make sure your eyeliner doesn’t smudge, is actually going out of his way to make sure you’re not just a shell of yourself on stage.

“you know, if this whole career thing falls through, you’d make a damn good chef,” you say, and he just shakes his head, laughing.

“nah,” he says, “i think i like this job better. get to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t faint halfway through a song.”

staff!mingyu who notices everything, who noticed how you walked into the practice room that day looking like... hell, honestly. there were bags under your eyes so dark they could’ve been bruises, and your skin was that shade of pale that came from days of no sleep, maybe a crazy diet, who knows what else. mingyu was hanging out with a bunch of the other staff in the corner, narrowly paying attention at first, but then he caught sight of you—really looked at you—and yeah, it wasn’t just fatigue. he knew what he was seeing; it was that same look he’d seen too many times in trainees and idols back in the day. the look that meant you’d been pushing way too far for way too long.

by the time you got through the first set of counts, your choreographer was already on your case, his tone sharp as knives. “again,” he snapped, crossing his arms, and you could practically hear his frustration from across the room. “you’re not even hitting the moves properly. what is this?” he scoffed, giving you that disappointed stare that always made you feel about two inches tall. “do you even want to be here right now?”

mingyu’s fists clenched a little. he’d seen you pull off that choreography a hundred times before, and he knew damn well it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was that you literally didn’t have anything left in the tank, and this guy was still going in on you like you were some slacker.

but you didn’t argue back, didn’t defend yourself, nothing. just bowed your head, muttering, “i’m sorry,” in this tiny, defeated voice. mingyu could see the exhaustion written all over you, the way your shoulders slumped, how you couldn’t even lift your head all the way back up after bowing. you just stayed there, bent over in that apologetic pose, like maybe that was the last bit of strength you could pull together.

but then, as he watched, you didn’t straighten up at all. in fact, you didn’t move for a solid couple of seconds. and then, like you were a puppet whose strings had just been cut, you dropped. one second, you were still standing, and the next, your knees buckled, and you collapsed right there on the damn floor.

for a split second, no one reacted; it was like the room had frozen.

but then mingyu snapped out of it, his heart racing as he lunged forward. the rest of the staff started moving too, voices rising in panic, but mingyu was already at your side, leaning down and calling your name, voice barely hiding the worry.

“hey! hey, can you hear me?” he said, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. you were breathing, but it was shallow, and your face had gone even paler than before, if that was possible. mingyu felt this pang in his chest seeing you like that. you’d been pushing so hard that your own body just gave up on you.

someone behind him was calling for water, another person was getting the choreographer to back the hell off.

jobs in general weren’t easy, he knew that. but for mingyu, there was nothing worse than watching idols, the people he was supposed to support and protect, get wrecked like this—shoving themselves into diets, swallowing the criticism like it was part of the gig, sacrificing sleep and health just to fit into a pair of jeans or to mold into some industry standard that kept shifting.

he’d been in this job for years, and he’d seen it all before. too many nights spent watching trainees lose more weight than was healthy, idols pushing themselves until they’d practically faded away. sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it’d be worth leaving, finding a path where he didn’t have to witness it all so up close. he’d think about it on those long nights when he was running on four hours of sleep and too much coffee, wondering what the hell he was doing here when he could be somewhere else, not dealing with the cycle of pushing and breaking and then pushing even harder.

but then there was you. you, with your stubborn smile and that relentless drive he couldn’t help but admire. maybe it was that same drive that had you here, running yourself down like you’d forgotten how to stop. but mingyu had felt that pang deep in his chest at the thought of not being around you—of not being there to see you through the highs and lows, to make sure you had someone who cared about more than just your stage presence.

it was that thought, that tiny, persistent ache, that kept him rooted here every damn day. even if he had to watch you crash sometimes, even if it drained him dry just trying to keep up, he’d stay. he’d be right there, whether you knew it or not, making sure that someone in your corner would be looking out for you, whether you wanted it or needed it, or not.

staff!mingyu who’d quietly made it his side mission to keep you fed, like he’d added it to his job description without anyone even asking. it started small, maybe just a little sandwich he’d stash in his bag for you after seeing you collapse that one time. but then it became routine, almost sacred, the way he’d show up like clockwork with that lunch pack in hand, looking half like your bodyguard in his all-black staff gear, half like your own personal chef with a menu that he swore changed every time he showed up.

“mingyu, what’d you make me today?” you’d ask, bouncing into the dressing room after each performance, all amped up and practically beaming because, let’s face it, you’d come to love his little surprise meals more than you’d admit.

and mingyu, with that smug but bashful little smile, would act all nonchalant. “oh, nothing much… just a little chicken and veggie stir-fry,” he’d say, but it was always something next level—some five-star recipe he’d learned just for you. and the best part? he’d make it seem like it was nothing, just a side gig he’d taken up on the fly, when really he’d been researching recipes, planning, and even practicing to make sure it came out perfect.

he’d hand you the lunch pack like he was passing off something top secret, keeping a close eye as you took that first bite, watching for any sign you didn’t like it. but, of course, you always loved it. because mingyu wasn’t just making food—he was making damn art. you’d take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation, and he’d try to hold back that grin but always failed, shoulders relaxing like he’d just won something.

“you don’t get it, mingyu,” you’d say, mouth full but smiling like a kid on christmas. “i think you’re the reason my performance’s getting better. you’re, like, my actual secret weapon.”

and he’d laugh, pretending to brush it off, but inside? he was proud. because knowing you were hitting the stage with a full belly, with energy to burn and that spark back in your eyes—that meant everything. it was his way of giving back to you, even if you never asked for it, even if you didn’t realize how much he cared.

staff!mingyu who somehow became the world’s best photographer without ever meaning to, taking these casual, almost-too-good photos of you that drove your fans insane. you’d be walking through some cobblestone street in italy or leaning out of a coffee shop in tokyo, and he’d be there, catching that perfect shot with his phone. no fancy equipment, no staged poses—just mingyu, with his natural eye for what made you shine, snapping photos that were somehow intimate and made you look like everyone’s dream. fans called them “girlfriend pics,” and if only they knew the man behind the lens.

you had to admit it—he was stealing your heart a little more with every click. at first, you brushed it off as some harmless crush, a side effect of him being so damn good at his job. but then he’d do something small, like bring you soup when you were sick, or drape his coat over your shoulders when you got cold during a late-night rehearsal, and it’d hit you all over again. mingyu, with that goofy smile, the biggest heart, and hands that somehow felt gentle and grounding as he adjusted your hair or let you lean on him during those endless backstage waiting times.

it was easy to fall for him. too easy, really. and the way he cared? the way he was there for you, always? how could you not? he had this way of making you feel seen, like no matter how chaotic things got, he was your solid ground, always steady, always there to keep you safe and keep you going.

but, of course, staff!mingyu was a catch to more than just you. you’d see the way the other staff members watched him, the way some of them giggled and whispered, eyes lingering a little too long. and mingyu, ever the nice guy, didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t really care. he’d give his number when they asked, smile back when they flirted, just being his usual, friendly self. you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but the truth was, it was like a little ache in your chest every time.

after a show one night, you and the whole team went out to celebrate, and mingyu was right there, laughing, clinking glasses with everyone, in his element. when it got late, exhaustion finally started to settle in, and you decided to call it a night. you told everyone you were heading back to the hotel, hoping he’d maybe do the same.

but mingyu didn’t. he stayed behind, still chatting and laughing with a few of the girls from the staff, and you could feel it—that twinge of jealousy, the frustration, knowing they’d probably spend the rest of the night with him, hanging on his every word, maybe more.

as you looked back one last time, watching him, it hit you like a punch in the gut. maybe to him, all this was just work—a job. you were part of that, someone he cared about, but just someone in his care. and the pang of that realization stung. maybe you weren’t so special after all.

what you were about to do wasn’t right. hell, it felt downright selfish. you sat in the bathtub, hot water swirling around you, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that told you to just let it go, that this was a bad idea. but you couldn’t shake it off—every thought twisted into a knot in your stomach. you felt almost sick, like you had this strange, heavy weight pressing down on your chest, something that felt more like heartbreak than anything else.

“god, what am i doing?” you muttered to yourself, scrubbing at your skin like it might wash away the confusion. you knew mingyu was just doing his job, that he was sweet and caring and everything you admired. but watching him flirt with those girls, knowing they’d likely take him away for the night, made you feel like you were going to hurl.

“ugh, this is so dumb,” you groaned, splashing water around, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “why can’t i just be normal about this? it’s not like i’m his girlfriend or anything.”

but then the truth hit you again, a sharp stab of clarity amidst the chaos. you wanted to be.

after a few more minutes of spiraling, you said “fuck it,” feeling a rush of determination surge through you. you fished your phone out of your towel, thumb hovering over his name. your heart raced as you typed out the message.

“hey, mingyu. i know you’re probably busy, but i just wanted to say... i’m not feeling great. kind of sick, actually. do you think you could come by?”

you hit send, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter as you leaned back against the tub. was this too much? but then again, maybe it was time to stop hiding how you felt, to admit you needed him without a million excuses holding you back. it was either that or let him slip away for good, and you weren’t ready for that.

mingyu came in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for your text the entire time. you barely had time to wrap yourself in a towel before he was at your door, knocking frantically. “y/n! are you okay? open up!”

you opened the door, and the sight of him—hair a little messy, eyes wide with worry—made your heart race. “yeah, um, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered slightly. you didn’t want to come off as dramatic or needy.

he touched your forehead and you leaned into his touch without even realizing it, closing your eyes for a brief second “you don’t have a fever at all,” he said, confsed.

you pulled back abruptly, the warmth fading as reality crashed back in. clutching your towel tight around your body, you walked over to the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside. the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“y/n?” mingyu called, confusion clear in his voice. “what’s going on?”

you couldn’t believe you took one of his rare moments of lounge because of being selfish. mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “y/n, you were perfectly fine just a few hours ago. what’s really going on?” he asked, the suspicion creeping into his voice.

“i told you, it’s just a little... off,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. the guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing you were lying, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to come clean.

“off?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the best you can come up with? you don’t just go from fine to ‘i need my staff member to check on me’ for no reason.” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’re not actually sick, are you? what’s up?”

you shifted uncomfortably, the towel clinging to you. “seriously, mingyu, it’s nothing. maybe just a little headache or something,” you said, hoping the casual tone would brush off his concern.

he let out a huff of disbelief. “a headache? so bad that you needed me to rush in here? that doesn’t add up.” he studied you, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “just tell me the truth. are you really feeling sick, or is there something else bothering you?”

“i just thought maybe you could... keep me um... company, you know? just for a bit.”

“keep you company?” he repeated, tone incredulous. “so you fake being sick just to get me in here? you could’ve just asked! you know i’m always down to hang out.”

“mingyu—” you started.

but he cut you off, his voice firm, the playful light fading from his eyes.

“why would you do that? this isn’t some joke, y/n. my job isn’t a game. it’s serious.”

you pressed your lips together at his louder tone, the shock of it stinging more than you expected. you hadn’t meant for things to escalate this badly, and as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, it hit you like a ton of bricks: you never thought mingyu would raise his voice at you. it felt so out of place, so foreign, and your heart sank.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” he said, the anger melting away as he noticed your expression. he stepped closer, the care flooding back into his eyes.

you quickly wiped your eyes before the tears could fall, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “you know what? i hate it,! you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “i hate when they’re all over you, mingyu! it makes me sick to my stomach!”

his brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. “wait, what? you hate it when who’s all over me?”

“those girls! the staff!” you said, your voice rising with every word. “the way they throw themselves at you like you’re some kind of trophy. and you smile back at them, like it’s all just a joke or something. it drives me insane!”

mingyu looked stunned, blinking at you as if he were trying to process what you were saying. “y/n, are you—are you... jealous?”

“i — well— hell yeah, i’m jealous!” you shot back, frustration spilling over. “you’re so kind and caring, and they see that. they want you, and it feels like they think they can just waltz in and take you away from me. it’s infuriating!”

“but it’s just… it’s just me being friendly,” he stammered, “i’m not trying to lead anyone on. you know that, right?”

“i know, but it doesn’t change how it makes me feel,” you replied. “it’s like you’re this perfect guy, and they all want a piece of you. and here i am, just trying to keep my head above water, feeling like i have to compete for your attention.”

mingyu shook his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “you don’t have to compete for anything. you’re… you’re the one who has my heart. all those girls? they’re just… coworkers.”

you pause, processing his words, and mingyu scoffs lightly, a teasing grin on his face.

“oh please, it’s true. you think i’m not bothered when i see those idols shoving their numbers on your sandwiches?”

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “wait, sandwiches? what are you talking about? i only eat the ones that you make for me.”

he interrupts you with that signature smile of his, one that always makes your heart race a little faster. “yeah, exactly. that’s ‘cause i always give those sandwiches to someone else.”

“mingyu, what the hell?”

“y/n, what the hell?” mingyu mocks, raising an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “you seriously thought you could pull this off? lying about being sick? that’s low, even for you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance. “i wasn’t lying, i just—”

“sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “and is wearing just a towel part of your grand scheme too? because if it is, you’re gonna need to step it up a bit.”

“and what if i just want you to come over… in a towel?”

“then i’ll take that as a personal invite,” he grins, his gaze flickering to your towel before meeting your eyes again. “just know, if you’re gonna pull this kind of stunt, you better be prepared for me to take advantage of the situation.”

staff!mingyu who wastes no time, pressing forward until you’re caught between his solid frame and the cold glass, as his body pins you in place.

“you really went all out for this hm?” his fingers trailing down to the knot of your towel.

staff!mingyu who tugs the fabric free, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you fully naked. his hands spreading wide over your back, fingers firm as he turns you around to face the glass. your chest presses against the cool surface making you gasp as mingyu’s hand trails up your spine, steadying you.

staff!mingyu who grips your hips, pressing you forward, and then trails his hands up over your sides, his fingers brushing along your curves until he reaches your shoulders, leaving no part of you untouched, as though he’s marking every inch of your skin as his.

staff!mingyu who leans down, one hand sneaking around to splay across your stomach, pulling you closer to him, making you feel his hard erection on you.

staff!mingyu who lets his hand slip lower, teasing over the sensitive skin of your thigh before slipping higher, his fingers skillfully finding your pussy as he watches you through the reflection, face contorting in pleasure, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t look away.” he instructs, his tone a command softened by that grin of his.

staff!mingyu who keeps one hand firm on your hip, controlling your every move as he slips his fingers inside you, “all this just because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else, huh?” he curls the fingers, trying to pull a response form you. “admit it,” he coaxes as he presses you harder against the glass, his fingers never relenting. “tell me you wanted this—wanted me.”

staff!mingyu who doesn’t stop until he feels you melt against him, a soft, teasing chuckle escaping as he takes in your breathless state. “next time,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “just say the word. i’ll come running.”

staff!mingyu who yanks your hair, tipping your head back to meet his lips as you twist in his grip. it’s a little clumsy, the angle throwing you off, but he holds you steady, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. you’re all melting into him, trusting the way his hands keep you secure, letting him take control as his grip on you tightens.

staff!mingyu who, somehow, maneuvers you both towards the bedd, he scoops you up with ease, laying you back as he hovers over you, he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you in as he dips down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down to your shoulder, and back up to your jaw.

staff!mingyu who takes his time, exploring every part of you with slow touches, like he’s determined to map out every reaction, to memorize every place that makes you moan.

staff!mingyu who, even in bed, is all about making sure you’re comfortable, arranging the pillows just so, adjusting the blankets if they’re too rough, whispering “is this okay?” and “tell me what you need” like he’s got all the time in the world. his hands are warm, grounding you, and he never rushes, taking the time to check in, to make sure you’re exactly where you want to be, that he’s giving you what you want, down to the smallest detail.

staff!mingyu who lets you wrap yourself around him however you want, all limbs and tangled sheets, whispering soft reassurances in your ear as his hands trace your back, making sure you feel safe. he’s patient, careful, coaxing you with soft, murmured words, taking his time until you’re both lost in it, every sensation heightened.

staff!mingyu who surprises you by pulling back, catching his breath, and suddenly flipping the roles—guiding your hands to explore him, encouraging you to take control. “i’m yours too, you know,” he murmurs, watching you with that familiar smile, the one that’s equal parts playful and sincere, as he lets you explore, giving you the chance to take the lead.

staff!mingyu who’s all breathless and desperate under you from the moment you take the lead FORREAL and ride him, his hands gripping your hips, trying to guide you even when he’s struggling to keep up. soft, wet sounds filling the room as you roll your hips in slow circles, making him whine. his head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, but you bring a hand to his cheek, making him look up at you.

“tell me,” you murmur, lips brushing just against his ear, “tell me you’re mine, mingyu. that none of these hoes matter.” he looks up, his eyes hazy but still so focused on you, like he’s trying to pour everything into that gaze.

“i’m yours—yours, only yours,” he chokes out, his voice rough and pleading, like he needs you to believe it. he’s babbling now, his grip tightening on you, thumbs pressing into your skin, anchoring himself as you move, each drag pulling another whimper from his lips. “none of them—none of them mean anything,” he gasps, desperate, brows knitted together. “just you. only want you.”

staff!mingyu who’s practically begging at this point, his hands sliding up to your waist, trying to pull you down, closer, as if he could somehow get more of you. “please.” he whispers, his eyes filled with so much want it makes your heart pound.

“you’re mine, mingyu. no one else. got it?” and the way he shudders, that choked, relieved sound he lets out, is everything. he nods frantically, hands gripping you tighter as he starts to lose control, bucking up into you.

staff!mingyu who’s wholly ruined beneath you, lost in every kiss, every whispered word, clutching onto you as if he’s scared you might sneak off, even when you’re right there, telling him over and over again—“all mine.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x oc #mingyu x you #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n

822 notes · View notes

ceesimz · 4 months ago

Text

feels like we only go backwards

is this all you'll ever be? (angst -> comfort/fluff)

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I am done with this.”

All of your adult life, you thought that the six month mark argument stage was a myth. Maybe that’s because you hadn’t ever made it to that milestone before, dating wasn’t your thing.

“And everytime you say that, I don’t understand what you mean!”

Apparently it was true.

“No, you do not get to pull that card. You know exactly what I mean. I come home after working all day, exhausted, just to hear you whine and complain about chores and other bullshit. You work from home, I travel all over Spain and Europe, so I'm sorry if I forget my chores once in a while!”

You think it's unfair that the person you are truly, genuinely, wholeheartedly in love with is the one you can't stop arguing against. Relationships aren't meant to be like that, even you can recognise and acknowledge that after years and years of failed attempts at them.

“What, just because you're famous you think you're more important than me? That your job is more exhausting? I rarely work from home, the only time I do is when you're actually in the city so that I can try and see you! How fucking selfish are you? My job is important, in fact I make an actual difference to people's lives whereas you kick a ball around the pitch and expect everyone to worship you for it!”

The first one began when you were running late picking Alexia up after she had a meeting, her car was in the garage and the weather was especially awful that day. Maybe the torrential downpour should have been a sign of things to come, things only got worse from then onwards.

“My job IS important! It is my life, if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!”

Alexia feels like the walls are closing in on her where she lays on her couch, thinks her life might end after a particularly bad argument, the worst of them all so far. For weeks, the tension had been simmering slowly, but now it had boiled over completely. She wasn’t sure she would get you back.

“Wow. Okay. You know, if you never loved me, liked me, even. I wish you would have told me to leave sooner.”

Both of you were to blame in all this, you two knew that. For some reason, you were just too stubborn to acknowledge that fact and do anything about it. So you both sat in different apartments in the same city, lost and fatalistically melancholic about a situation that could be solved with some simple communication. One conversation could save you from this, but were either of you brave enough to take that first step?

“Dios mío, now you are being even more ridiculous. How can you say that after all I have done for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you did, lying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. Your neighbours were probably on the other side of the wall, laughing at the pity party happening in the next apartment over. From this moment on, you could never take the elevator again, you think the small talk that would occur might be your last straw.

“All you have done? Enlighten me on what you think love is, Alexia, because you’re making it out to be something transactional, and if that’s the case then this relationship might be the worst fucking ‘investment’ of my life. Don’t even act like you’re some kind of saint either, I have spent the last month feeling more alone than loved.”

That final statement from you was when the penny dropped for Alexia. It was a sentence that would haunt her forever. There wasn’t even a thing she could do about it either; you slipped your shoes on, and walked out after it.

You didn’t mean to leave at that precise moment, you knew that was the worst thing to do in an argument. In all honesty, it wasn’t even to make a point to Alexia. What you admitted in that moment felt way too vulnerable, you inwardly cringed when the words fell out. Your only choice then, it felt like, to save the last ounce of your dignity was to flee so that you didn’t give your heart the chance to feel bad for saying that to the woman you loved.

Being annoyed and angry didn’t come naturally to you, being sympathetic did. You knew you would have instantly felt a hundred times more guilty if you had stayed to see her reaction. And thankfully, for some time, you didn’t feel regret or remorse, you were hot with rage. Alexia didn’t try to stop you leaving, nor did she follow you.

But then, in the quiet safe haven of your apartment, those feelings began to set in. Not even the dark of your bedroom or the comfort of your duvet could fend them off, sleep decided to go against you that night and opt out of helping you. That left you with no choice but to dwell on the evening’s events, the week’s dramas, and the month’s emotional turmoil.

It had been one of the hardest months of your life, you just wanted it to be over. Instead, the only thing that seemed to have ended was your relationship.

And on the other side of the city, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner had reduced herself to tears after the realisation that all she had come to be in football had meant she had totally disregarded who she was at home and, more importantly, who she came home to.

In football, when you make a mistake, there are twenty-plus people that will put you in your place and tell you exactly where you went wrong. In life, there is no such thing. There is no system, only consequence. Age was irrelevant when it came to learning things. Here, she was humbled in a way she had never been before, no nutmeg or own goal could match this. She knew, the moment it sunk in, that she needed it.

She also needed you; she needed your love, your joy, your touch, if she ever hoped to feel whole again. The pain of the night’s occurrence was almost as horrible as the longing she felt when she thought back on the first months of knowing you. All was right in the world then – she was playing great football, and she had an incredible partner to come home to. Out of all the things she missed, all the obvious things, one thing that once seemed incredibly minor soon stepped out of the shadows and stabbed her right in the chest.

Knowing that, after the day she’d had no matter if it was good or bad, she would still get to come home to you was an unexplainable feeling. It was a phenomenon she wasn’t sure she could ever put into words. Something about being exhausted or full of energy, grumpy and miserable or content and calm, and still having someone that loved her was… priceless. If she lost that, you, forever, she was sure her heart would beat a little slower, have less will to live and function. A life without love like yours simply wasn’t worth it.

As you both lay down in separate flats, only a car ride between you, the anxieties and the doubts were the same. Your soul was nearly a reflection of hers; the same morals, the same worries, the same guilt. Only the reasons for the last two were different. You were both determined characters, at work and in life in general. Alexia decided to put hers to good use.

Alexia: I’m coming over.

Initially, that text you received only made you feel a thousand times worse. The moment your phone vibrated with the notification, you scrambled to pick it up, hoping it was anything but that text. Maybe if you were in a better state of mind, you wouldn’t have spiralled at the sight of it. Maybe if you didn’t think your relationship was already dead and done with, it wouldn’t have been the final nail in the coffin.

Staying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself was no longer cutting it, you had to get up and move. So, move you did. You never stopped pacing for a second. You waited for her in the lounge, a room that may as well have been a shrine to the woman about to serve you the worst news of your life. Framed photos littered the walls and any surface in sight – you were always an old soul, something Alexia adored about you. The way you demanded to have photos of every single person you loved on display reminded her of her mother, it was a sentiment that never failed to make her smile.

But it wasn’t just the photos, it was the signs of life. The most agonising reminders of what simplicities you would lose; one of her jackets hung on the wall by the door, the dishes piled up in the sink from when you had shared breakfast just that morning, the book of yours she had been borrowing to read when she came over. They all served as a horrifying mockery of what you were about to let slip from your grasp.

You had her, and soon you wouldn’t.

The pacing stopped then, the sudden, strange grief strong enough to break through the autopilot movement of your legs and allow the world to come falling down on you. Whoever said that heartbreak didn’t cause a physical reaction clearly hadn’t lost a person like Alexia. She was one-in-eight-billion. No amount of searching would lead you to anyone that came remotely close to the beauty of her heart, her mind, and her soul.

“Cariño, let me in, please!” The pounding at your door brought you out of whatever pit of dread you had fallen into, only for you to fall right back into it the moment you came to. “Please. I need to talk to you, amor.”

“-if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!”

Then why is she here?

The sound of the lock sliding and the door opening sent a surge of relief through Alexia, though it left the second she saw your face. Eyes full of tears and cheeks reddened by past drops that had fallen, even hours after the earlier altercation. The sun had set long ago, and it had taken any remaining hints of hope with it.

“Why are you here?” You said, knowing that the confidence you tried to put on crumbled with the crack of emotion in your voice.

“Let me in. Please, amor, I can’t… I can’t.” Sounded like she didn’t have much faith in her facade either, judging by the desperation in the way she spoke. There was also a drop of disdain too that you knew was aimed entirely at herself, you’d heard it before, and even after the way the day had gone, or rather the month, it still hurt to hear your favourite person in the world to talk like that.

If she was surprised at how you stood to the side to let her in, she didn’t show it.

“Alexia…” You started, but trailed off fairly quick. You didn’t know what to say.

“No, don’t call me that. Please, not you.” She shook her head with the same amount of desperation as what was in her tone.

You closed the door and slowly padded your way over to where she stood in the centre of the lounge. As you came to stand in front of her, you noticed the gloss of her eyes that glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window. The way you reached out and delicately put a hand on her arm was all instinct.

“What's wrong?” You asked quietly, but that only seemed to cause more unrest.

“Qué? What's wrong?! The fact that we love each other and we cannot stop arguing! Why are we against each other when we are supposed to be on the same team? I-it’s absurd, amor, I-”

“Ale, Ale, calm down.” Your other hand came up to grab her arm, holding tightly in an effort to grasp her attention.

She didn't deserve your time. She had neglected you for the past month, yet here you were, taking her heart and caring for it with a tenderness that would make the world stop.

“I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t treat you like this anymore.”

Here it comes.

Your hands fell away when she said that, and the roles reversed. You slipped into a state of panic, though you tried to hide it, whilst Alexia’s composure came back to her.

“From now on, no more arguing. No more arguing, no more shouting, no more of it. It is not good for us, you don’t deserve it.” She had to get that out first, then take a deep breath, before she could move on to what really mattered to her. “I love you. These arguments hurt the both of us, but I cannot stand making you cry or making you feel alone. Dios, I will never make you feel like that again even if it kills me.”

Her words weren’t registering in your mind, you were nearly in a state of shock. Only minutes before she had showed up, you were in a near catatonic state at the anticipation of the death of your relationship. That wasn’t the case here.

“What?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that broke Alexia’s heart once more, because it was like you did it to defend yourself.

She tried her best to soften her demeanour, from her body language to her eyes, and she cautiously stepped over. Her hands landed gently on your cheeks, brushing away the tears there, and she gazed at you with a softness you weren’t expecting to ever see again.

“I am sorry for how I have behaved towards you and I will say sorry for the rest of my life. I can’t lose you, amor, I would rather lose everything else in my life if it meant I could have you. I didn’t recognise that in the past and I am so sorry it took me this long to realise it. You don’t deserve my behaviour and I don’t deserve you.”

She let out a shaky breath, leaning down to rest her forehead against yours as she swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself to get through her next words.

“What I said earlier, I do not mean it and I never could. I have never loved someone like I love you, and even though that scares me a tiny bit, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you around, and I want you to want me around too. There are no excuses for the way I have neglected you and treated you, and I will be better. I will be better, I promise.”

“I…” You choked back your emotions and prepared yourself for her reaction to your next words. “I thought you were coming here to break up with me.”

Even though she was the one touching you, you sensed her whole body stiffen at that. You opened your eyes, not having even realised they were closed in the first place, and saw her eyes tightly shut and the familiar frown to her face. Though, there was a tremble to her chin that told you she was fighting back her sobs.

“No.” Was all she muttered as she shook her head gently against yours. She quickly moved away then, and the loss of her was terrifying for a moment, before you realised she had just turned around to hide her tears for a moment when she wiped her face on the inside of her shirt, turning back afterward. Her hands cradled your face in the same way she did a moment ago. “No. I’m not breaking up with you and I don’t want to break up with you, ever. For as long as you let me, I will love you. I even-”

Her eyes went comically wide then, and if the moment wasn’t so serious, you probably would have laughed.

“What?” You wondered, watching in amusement as she groaned and threw her head back.

“I bought two bouquets of flowers for you and I left them both in my car.”

Even though you felt a little bad, you laughed at her admission. You laughed, genuinely and freely, and it felt different to any of the laughs you’d let out in the past few weeks. When Alexia moved past her frustration, she couldn’t help but join in with you. And before you knew it, your shared laughter bounced off of the walls despite the tears still present on either of your faces. The moment was funny, in fact the whole situation of both the flowers and the arguments that had been had were ridiculous.

Most of the time, you couldn’t even pick out why the argument started. Not to mention most fights were just rehashing the same points and excuses over and over. So yeah, it was ridiculous.

Alexia, however, wasn’t expecting you to wrap your arms around her in a hug she had missed for… she didn’t even know. Every act of intimacy of the last month had felt forced, with an ounce of apprehension in them. This hug, it was different. It was sincere and filled with the love that had been lacking recently. To be honest, it took her breath away.

“You’re not breaking up with me.” You mumbled into her neck where you had buried your face, a bashful smile on your face.

“I’m not breaking up with you. If you’ll forgive me, if you’ll have me still, I’m not breaking up with you.”

That sentence especially caught your attention. You leaned back in her arms, keeping your own tight around her, and looked up at her in confusion.

“Ale, if you forgive me. I said some horrible things too, it wasn’t only you. I was just as bad.” The blonde smiled sadly down at you and shook her head softly before moving forward to place a gentle, reassuring kiss to your temple.

“We both said some mean things. I want to forget it for now.” She whispered. You were more than happy to entertain her in that.

“Me too. I love you, Ale. So much.”

No relationship was perfect, that you knew now. But even through the arguments, the disagreements, the particularly bad fights, every moment outside of those occurrences were worth it, and more.

—

wrote this on a whim, and its... actually short? 😧 overall im not too sure about it, it's been a while since i posted something like this but hope you liked it 🙃🧡

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas one shot #woso #woso community #woso fic

680 notes · View notes

scoupsakakitty · 27 days ago

Note

heyyy, i was thinking maybe ATEEZ reaction to you going to another idol fanmeeting or concert? (i just had this idea of the video they did literally fighting about this HABAHAHA) 🙇‍♀️

Ateez’s reaction to y/n going to other idol’s concerts or fan meeting

Seonghwa

Seonghwa hears about your plans while you’re casually chatting over coffee. At first, he just smiles politely, but his eyes narrow slightly.

“You’re going… where?” he asks, setting his cup down with a deliberate slowness. When you tell him again, he feigns calmness but starts tidying up furiously.

“You’re going to cheer for them? Do they fold their laundry as perfectly as I do? Can they build a model spaceship? I don’t think so.” He huffs dramatically and crosses his arms.

Later that night, he’s pouting in your direction but sneaks in soft glances to see if you’re paying attention to him.

Hongjoong

When you casually mention attending another idol’s fan meeting, Hongjoong freezes mid-task. Slowly, he puts down the notebook he’s been scribbling in.

“Wait,” he says, tilting his head, “so you’re saying… you bought tickets? To someone else’s event?” His tone is deceptively calm, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze.

He’ll act like he doesn’t care, but later you find him trying to write a diss track. “I’m not jealous,” he mutters, “I’m just… creatively inspired by betrayal.”

You catch him googling the other idol group late at night, muttering, “Let’s see what they have that I don’t.”

Yunho

Yunho laughs when you tell him, assuming it’s a joke. But when he realizes you’re serious, his smile falters.

“Wait, are you… cheating on me with another fandom?” He grabs his chest as if wounded. “I thought we had something special!”

Yunho dramatically whines about it all day, but he doesn’t actually get upset. Instead, he keeps cracking jokes like, “Do you think they’re taller than me? Probably not.”

He sends you texts while you’re at the event, including a selfie captioned: Remember who your bias is.

Yeosang

Yeosang’s expression barely changes when you tell him, but his tone betrays his feelings. “Oh? Another idol group? That’s… nice.”

You try to explain it’s just for fun, but he cuts you off with a dry, “No, no, enjoy it. Really. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

He pretends he doesn’t care but gets strangely competitive, suddenly talking about how hard Ateez works and how much he appreciates you.

Later, he casually asks, “So, what did they do that was so great?” but he’s clearly fishing for compliments about himself.

San

When you tell San, his jaw drops, and he gasps as if you’ve just committed a crime.

“You’re going to see them? But what about me? What about us?” He clutches his chest and falls onto the couch dramatically.

San spends the entire day “rehearsing” just to remind you why he’s your ultimate bias. He even performs some over-the-top aegyo, saying, “See? They can’t do it like this.”

When you come back from the event, he greets you with a half-joking pout and asks, “Did you miss me? Did you think about me the whole time?”

Mingi

Mingi looks genuinely confused when you mention your plans. “Wait… but why? Don’t we give you enough content?”

When you explain, he narrows his eyes playfully. “Are you… betraying me? I didn’t think you were that kind of person.”

Mingi spends the next few days randomly asking questions like, “But do they rap as well as me?” He acts hurt, but it’s all for fun.

When you come back, he dramatically says, “Tell me the truth were they cooler than me?”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung immediately reacts like he’s been stabbed. “EXCUSE ME? Another idol fan meeting? Do you think I’ll just let this slide?”

He turns into the playful chaos king, staging mock scenarios where he confronts the other idol group. “Do they know you’re mine?” he says, pretending to argue with an imaginary rival.

Wooyoung makes it his mission to remind you why he’s your favorite, showering you with extra attention. He even threatens to “outperform” the idols at their own concert.

When you get back, he smirks and says, “So, how did it feel to downgrade?”

Jongho

Jongho raises an eyebrow when you tell him, his expression unreadable. “Oh, you’re going to their concert?” he says coolly.

He doesn’t say much at first, but you can tell he’s quietly competitive. He suddenly starts singing around the house more often, his voice extra powerful, as if to remind you of his talent.

When you come back, Jongho nonchalantly asks, “So, were they good?” before casually cracking an apple in half and smirking.

“Just don’t forget who you come home to.”

186 notes · View notes

lovedrruunk · 1 month ago

Text

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part v]

powder finally made it to the hangout stage (good for her!), and guess she never really realized how good talking to you one on one would feel. [part iv]

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ < banger song inspo!!

Powder shuffled along the stone sidewalk, her head down and her hands buried in her worn jacket pockets. The town square was deafening. The noise of it all was something she just couldn’t seem to get adjusted to. Sure, the undercity was loud, people yelling, arguing, running, sounds she was used to, sounds easy to block out. But this?

Easy laughter, happy chatter, meaningless conversation just for the sake of it. It was like a ringing in her ear, irritating her brain as if she wasn’t meant to hear it, like her ears weren’t developed enough to process it.

Looking up at the people passing by she noticed how all of their faces were unfamiliar. Either she’d never met them, never looked them in the eye, or had totally forgotten about them. She wanted to feel bad about it but she just… couldn’t. All the faces here seemed so generic, like NPCs in a video game. Every face just seemed like a blur. Every face but one.

“Powder!”

And suddenly the ringing in her ear stopped. Your face wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t part of the background. It was clear, vivid, impossible to ignore. You were smiling at her, waving like you’d been waiting to see her. For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stood there like an idiot, staring back.

It happened. In less than a week, the interaction she’d dreamed of had… actually happened.

It was a weird feeling, to watch the scene she pictured in her head constantly play out before her in real time. You called her name and waved her hello, because you knew her, because you were here to see her this time, not the baker, not the merchant, not your neighbors. The realization made her lips twitch upward and before she could stop herself, a goofy smile spread across her face. She probably looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Sorry, did I make you wait long?” You asked, catching your breath.

“No, don't worry, I just got here.” She said quickly, shaking her head.

It was a total lie of course. She had been waiting long, long enough to overthink, to second-guess whether she should’ve shown up at all, and to count the cracks in the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter now. You were here, and somehow, that made the waiting feel insignificant, like it had been worth it.

You smiled, not questioning her answer, and pointed down the street casually. “I was thinking we could head down to the river.” you said, like the thought had just popped into your head. “It’s quieter there. I know the noise here can be a lot sometimes.”

Powder blinked, startled by how easily you seemed to know her, like you’d figured out something she hadn’t even put into words yet herself. She hesitated for a moment, her hands still shoved deep into her pockets, before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

You started walking, and she followed you without a word, just like she always had. Except this time she wasn’t sneaking around, because you had been walking together. At first, it felt strange. Her pace awkward, her head down, unsure of what to say or do. But you didn’t seem bothered by her silence, didn’t rush her to keep up or pressure her to fill the space between you. You just…walked, calm and easy, without a second thought.

The town square got quieter and quieter, replaced by the faint sounds of nature, birds chirping, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the distant sound of flowing water. Powder glanced up as they rounded a corner, catching the sight of the river.

The water wasn’t super deep where you guys were, she could see the smooth rocks under the water from afar, some sticking out a little. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen water this clean or blue. The sun was out, but not in an annoying way. Just enough to keep things warm without making her squint. The wind was nice too, just enough to ruffle her hair, the perfect balance of warm and cool. The only sounds she could hear now was the soft splashing of water and chirping of birds

For a second, she thought about how different it felt here. Like the world had slowed down just for you two. She glanced over at you and caught you smiling, like you’d been here a thousand times, like this was just another day for you.

When you reached the riverbank, you didn’t hesitate. You spotted a bench with a clear view of the water, sat down like it was your favorite spot in the world, and gestured for her to join you.

“See? Way better.” you said with a grin, stretching lazily.

Powder lingered for a second, her eyes flicking between the bench and the water, before finally sitting down. Stiffly. Like she’d never sat down a day in her life, or like the bench might break just to spite her. She looked around, her arms stuck to her sides, half expecting something to go wrong.

But nothing did.

The river kept flowing, and the trees kept swaying. The world didn’t seem to care that she was sitting there, that she felt out of place.

And then there was you.

You didn’t seem to care either, not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel like it didn’t matter if she was awkward or didn’t know what to say. You were just… there. Sitting beside her, relaxed, watching the water like it was the only thing that mattered.

Powder shifted slightly, her arms relaxing a little. She wasn’t used to quiet like this, the kind that wasn’t filled with tension or internal voices, the kind that didn’t demand anything from her.

She still felt a little off, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for the first time in a while, it felt like maybe… maybe nothing had to go wrong.

“So, how are you liking the town?” You asked, breaking the silence.

She thought about it for a bit. It was such a simple question yet she had no idea how to answer it. Where would she begin? It was nice sure, peaceful, lively, the perfect place to settle, but how did she like it? Guess she never really thought about it.

She liked her cabin. She made it her own and it felt nice to have a place to herself. She liked the market, even though she was always quick to scurry out of there. She liked the kids in town, she’d sometimes linger by a little longer and listen in on their conversations. Sometimes they’d be arguing over something stupid like who won which game, other times they’d be happily chasing each other around. She liked you, of course.

Sometimes she wondered what it would’ve been like if she had moved here earlier, before everything went wrong. It was a selfish thought really, but one she found herself often staying up picturing. Afterall, she knew someone who would’ve loved to play with the kids in town. She would’ve liked you too, would’ve liked this new life.

“It’s nice.” She muttered, keeping her eyes on the moving water.

“Seriously…? That’s it?”

That made her chuckle. She turned her head to look at you with a small smile and furrowed brows.

“What? It is nice.” She exclaimed

You stayed silent, rolling your eyes with a small ‘hmph’ looking away.

“It’s also… new.” She continued after a small bit of silence. “Believe it or not, I’d never seen a forest before coming here… oh, or water this pretty.” she added absentmindedly as she took in their surroundings.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where did you live before you came here?” You asked curiously as you turned to look at her again.

There it was, the dreaded question. Well, one of them. There were a lot of questions she was dreading. But she figured this one would come up sooner than later.

It wasn’t like Zaun was known for its great living conditions.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she didn’t know how you’d react to her being from somewhere so… Scary? Dirty? Horrible?... she figured any one of those could work. A part of her was tempted to lie, say she was from Piltover or somewhere else that's fancy and shiny, but she knew she couldn’t do that to you, lying now? So early into your conversation? No way. And besides, she doubted she could stomach the idea of calling herself a Piltie.

Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out quieter than she intended.

“I… I’m from Zaun.”

“From where now?”

“The Undercity.”

There was a pause.

“Piltover.”

Still nothing.

She blinked at you, deadpan. “The ‘City of Progress’?”

Your expression lit up in sudden recognition. “Oh! With the Hex Portals?”

She didn’t even have the heart to correct you…

Your confusion confused her, but she wasn’t exactly mad about it. It was... surprising, in a good way. Guess all that worrying was for nothing. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in your cluelessness, like it drew an even thicker line between her past and her present.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” you said, your voice casual like this was just small talk. “Hm. It’s a long way from here, though. What made you leave?”

Her body stiffened. What was it with you and these dreaded questions? She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting back to the river.

As much as she wanted to be annoyed at you for asking the one thing she wanted to avoid, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t the question that was the problem, it was her answer. Anyone else might’ve taken it as a casual, perfectly normal thing to ask. The issue wasn’t you. The issue was her.

She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing felt right. Her chest tightened

Thankfully, you seemed to catch on to her hesitation. Your voice softened. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I get it.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until that moment. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she gave you a small nod, grateful you didn’t push for more.

“Well,” you continued, leaning back on the bench with a smile “whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here now,”

She smiled again, her heart warm-

“even though you were kinda creepy at first.”

“What!?” Her head snapped towards you.

“Why is this surprising? You were like totally stalking me. Kinda had me worried.” You said casually with a laugh.

“Well- I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” She said defensively. “I just thought you were cool…”

Your teasing grin faltered, replaced by a look of surprise.

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh.”

Powder winced, feeling like she’d just made things worse.

“Oh?” she repeated, nervously twisting her fingers together.

“Sorry, just didn’t expect that.” you said, your voice softer now, glancing down at the ground.

Her eyes darted away. “Was that... weird to say?”

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean,” You laughed a little, still processing. “I didn’t think I’d come off as cool to anyone, let alone you.”

Her brows furrowed, she almost looked…offended. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty average overall. My life’s pretty mundane.” You said looking towards the sky absentmindedly. “No mysterious backstory, no crazy hair.” You finished with a laugh as you looked back at her again, only to be taken aback when you were met with a stern face.

“That’s what makes you cool.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You just sat there staring at one another. Her face still serious and yours all the more surprised.

“If you say so…”

Powder nodded sharply. “I do say so.”

Then you smiled, like you weren’t sure whether to laugh or say thank you

“Well... thanks, I guess,” you said finally.

. . .

The sun was starting to set now, the gentle sound of the river filled the quiet, and Powder found herself feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

“It’s nice here,” she said, almost to herself.

You glanced over at her. “Yeah. It is.”

You leaned forward, tilting your head to get a good look at her. “We should do this again sometime. Y’know, hang out.”

Powder blinked, looking over at you. The casual way you said it made her chest ache in that strange, unfamiliar way again. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”

You smiled at her, a small, genuine one that made her stomach flip. Then you stood up, stretching contently.

“Come on,” you said, reaching out a hand to her. “We should head back before it gets dark. Can’t have you tripping over something.”

Powder rolled her eyes, smiling back. “I’ll have you know, I’m very good at walking.”

“Yuh huh,” you teased, grabbing her hand to pull her up anyway. “Whatever you say creep.”

“Ugh.”

. . .

"next part will def be out before new years!" i said knowing damn well it wouldnt be LMAO guys pls i have a life outside of tumblr OH MY DAYSSSS shocker ik

anyways sry this took long (i rewrote it TWICE) im actually not thattt happy with it STOP I CAN ALREADY HEAR THE BOOS AND TOMATOES BEING THROWN ik guys im never satisfied BUT TO POST SOMETHING I TRULY LIKE IT WOULD TAKE A WHOLE 2 MONTHS AT LEAST

ALSO THE STORY IS COMING TO AN ENDDD IM HEARTBROKEN TOO BUT BUT BUT DW I still plan on writing for this "au" or wtv, ill make a separate post explaining why/how ;P

THX SM FOR STILL READING I LOVEEEEEE U GUYSSS BYEBYE XOXOXO KISSKISSKISS

p.s ik jinx leaving zaun before act 2 wouldve been pointless cuz she needed the closure i just wanted to write abt her thinking abt it ;P

notes r appreciated ofc (˶ > ₃ < ˶)

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv @luvs4rc0r3

#ignore the banner pls #PROOF READING THIS WAS A NIGHTMARE #U BETTER HAVE LISTENED TO THE SONG!!#im free!!!!#jinx arcane #jinx #arcane #jinx x reader #arcane league of legends #x reader #arcane x reader #jinx league of legends #jinx imagine #series

186 notes · View notes

endereies · 3 months ago

Text

THOUGHT YOU WERE MINE - CS

No Nut November - Day 5

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When Chris was finally ready for a relationship with you, it was too late

Your situation with Chris was complicated to say the least. You had been running around with his for the past few months, sneaking off during parties and events. You loved the risk between getting caught with someone who was only meant to be your best friend. But it never stayed that way.

At first you sought out Chris’ attention in the midst of a drunken decision, yet as time went on, you found yourself seeking his frame in the crowd as soon as you arrived. It was stupid, you were aware of that. Chris never did commitment, that he made clear. Countless conversations spiralled around the idea of you two and what you both wanted.

You had thought you could escape the pain of falling for someone you couldn’t have. As soon as your heart clenched when he complimented you, you knew it was over. That feeling only grew and even if in the moment you felt like the only girl he’d ever look at, it was a lie. It didn’t help that when you snuck off with him, it wasn’t always for sex. Occasionally you’d find his hand tangled in yours while the concrete steps lay below you. Sounds of the party called the pair of you back. You always ignored it.

He'd steal the odd kiss from you, in front of people and never batted an eye. The two of you would be dragged into the stage by the other to your favourite songs and you never care how you looked when you were with him.

Those moments made him question how he felt about you, seeing your vibrant smile as you danced with your friends. Or the way you’d laugh without a care in the world. Little did you know he was falling too. He hated it.

Chris was open about his commitment issues to you. He wasn’t someone who was immediately happy getting into a relationship, the whole idea intimidated him. Having a label felt too intimate for him, and after being hurt in a previous relationship it was easy to see why. The fact he was falling for you was already enough to throw him off course, he just couldn’t turn away.

The way you both felt wasn’t subtle. Your friends always giggled when they noticed the smudged makeup that was lining your lips. No matter how many times you denied the accusations of you two dating, the butterflies in your stomach became obvious.

That was until you confronted Chris about everything.

“Hey Chris...? Vulnerability filled you as soon as the words left your mouth. Quick glances around the room failed to aid you in finding anything else to converse about. His hand stilled from your hip, the touch burning your skin. “Mm? What’s up?”

You hadn’t even said anything to him, and you already felt sick in your stomach. Is this how every confession goes? “Can we talk…about us?”

“What about us Y/n?” You could tell he was getting concerned, yet not out of fear, but the fact he’d have to repeat himself again.

“I don’t want this anymore…like, I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to act like this is all casual anymore.” His touch on your hip no longer burned as it withdrew completely.

“I’ve told you, I’m not into that shit Y/n. We agreed on that, you knew. I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you. That shit would hurt the both of us. We talked about this, end of.”

Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you felt so childish. He was right. You had discussed this more than once, the rules were clear. Weren’t rules meant to be broken. You couldn’t believe that you could be so stupid, the false hope from your friends fed into things that shouldn’t have been touched.

“Right…Well maybe I should go.” He didn’t protest, or even acknowledge you leave. Asking you to stay felt like too much to him, even if every cell argued with him.

The door shutting felt too real. You had actually left, this wasn’t a prank? Chris’s gaze was held on the door, praying you’d push it open and walk back through. You never did.

You quietly left through the front door and walked away from the porch, both your hands in your pockets. You were thankful for the dark sky, that way no one could see your tears. It was too quick, to reactive. It felt scripted hearing those words from him. ‘I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you’

With you…

Maybe if you were someone else, he’d be more willing to hold your hand and call you his. He would always step in and call you ‘his girl’ when any other guy got a little to close to him. For once you wished it wasn’t a ploy. Chris never played you, never treated you badly, never gave you a reason to walk away. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much, he was too perfect.

Steady weeks went by with no contact from you. You never came over to his place anymore, invitations to parties remained unread. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t. What was this weird feeling in his chest.

It hurt seeing you so close and yet so far. Your contact was there, staring him in the face. Your face beaming in the profile picture wasn’t helping him. Chris felt out of place now. Without you by his side he had no one to kiss, no one to hold. He had no one to rant about his day to, no one to console when things got bad. His friends weren’t the same, he needed you. As much as he hated to admit it, all his thoughts revolved around you more than ever. Whenever he used to think about you, his heart clenched with resolute admiration towards you, now it felt sour. It was like a deep breathe wasn’t deep enough, distractions weren’t fulfilling enough.

He hated the feeling of falling for you, but the feeling of losing you was a nauseating sensation he wanted to scratch off his skin.

Not even alcohol could wipe the stain of you, nothing was working. He waited too long and fell comfortable to the casualness of your relationship. He was willing, willing to work through any fears if it meant getting you back.

Before he knew it, his front door was locked, and footsteps disappeared into the night. Stars began to light the sky above him. He found himself wondering if you were looking at them too, like you used to. The walk was only 15 minutes away but each second felt too long. he had waited too long. Now he hurt someone he cared about for his own selfishness.

When Chris turned the corner, his body stilled, and his stomach dropped to his feet. An unfamiliar car was parked outside your house, tilted against the concrete. Your hand placed gently into another’s as they pulled you from the car. You inched closer towards them, yet Chris remained frozen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Who was he, why was he here, with you.

The voices were too meek for Chris to make out, yet the message was clear. It was evident when the distance between you two close, his lips softly touching yours.

Only then could Chris turn his eyes away, he felt betrayed without reason. Chris wasn’t ready and when he finally was, he pushed you away enough to move on.

Yet, he loved you first.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

367 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

The One Where 404 Harry Gets Jealous:

Harry is mad.

No, Harry is past mad. He’s furious. Irate. Enraged and incensed and staring a hole right through Levi’s head.

You work to bite back your smug smile as you nod along to your date's story. And you pretend to be fascinated, even though you’re more fascinated by the furious man a few feet away.

He’s been watching you since the moment you and Levi walked through the door. And he’s been fighting his own urge to come over and interrupt, that much you’re sure of. But he doesn’t have any right. And he knows it.

And you can’t help but make things just a bit harder for him. You grin brightly at Levi’s comments. You laugh loudly at his attempts at jokes. You touch his arm and lean into him as you listen to the live band.

And it’s driving Harry up the wall.

He’s moments away from snapping. Subtly but angrily scooting closer with every passing minute. And you don’t need him to snap. Or cause a scene. But if he’s gonna act like a big fucking baby just because you’re on a date, well…

“Which was fine,” Levi is saying. “I didn’t really care for it anyway, but…I sent it back and we’ll see if they can do better this next time.”

“Sure, sure,” you agree half-heartedly, eyes drifting toward the tall, surly man in glasses now somehow even closer than before. “And, uh…you said you were hoping to stick around for a while before heading back east?”

“Yeah, that’s my plan,” he says. He points to the stage. “I like these guys. They’re good. It’s so funny, I’ve never really thought about—”

“What the fuck is this?”

You and Levi both turn as an unexpected voice loudly intrudes on your conversation.

You find Harry, unsurprisingly, looming over you as he glares down at your poor date.

“Uh, this…is Levi,” you introduce slowly, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress another smirk. “And this is also none of your business.”

Harry frowns. “Bullshit. You said you weren’t going out tonight.”

“No, I said I couldn’t go out tonight,” you correct. “Because I already had plans. With Levi.”

Levi blinks.

Harry snorts. “Right. And how the fuck did you even meet this Levi in the first place?”

“Okay, well, one...you don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you scold. “Don’t be rude—”

“I’m not being rude. You’re being rude.”

“I—” You huff. “How am I being rude when you’re interrupting my date?”

“Because this isn’t a fucking date and you know it.”

You cross your arms. Stubborn. “And how would you know what a date looks like? Much less a date with me?”

“Because you’ve spent half the fucking night staring at me,” he says smugly and you feel your skin warm. “So, I’ll ask you again. What the fuck is this?”

You turn to Levi—poor, innocent Levi—and offer a sheepish smile. “I’m…so sorry. I just need to work this out with him for one second—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says kindly and you’ve never felt worse. “I get it. I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Thank you, really,” you sigh and he nods before disappearing into the bar. And once he’s gone, you turn back to the outrageously annoying man in question. “Okay, seriously, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Harry crosses his arms now, too, and nudges his glasses back up. “You don’t actually wanna be alone with him.”

“Says who? You?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know what I want. Because I want nothing more than to be alone with him. In fact, I want to be anywhere you aren’t.”

“Bullshit, Princess. You knew I was gonna be here so you brought him just to piss me off.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re fucking annoying.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“And what would bringing him here accomplish, huh? It’s not like you’re jealous or anything, right?”

He leans back and you’ve got him. “Oh, real fucking mature, Tink. Very nice.”

“What? You’re not,” you argue, shrugging one shoulder up. “Why would you be? We’re not exclusive or anything. I mean, maybe if we were, I wouldn’t have to go home with him tonight, but…good thing we’re not.”

He scowls at you. “So that’s why you brought him here? Cause you wanted to play your little fucking game and try to make me jealous?”

“Of course not. That would never work.”

He snorts and looks away and you finally grin.

“Anyway, you should let me get back to it,” you say, beginning to slip past him. “But this was fun—”

He grabs your arm and yanks you back to your spot. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back to my date,” you repeat pointedly, slipping his fingers from your skin. “Do you mind?”

“Yes.” He dips down and he doesn’t let you go. “I don’t like games. And I don’t like tricks. You don’t get to fucking play me just cause you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored, I’m single,” you retort. “And I have every right to date him if I want—”

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

“No.” He holds you tighter and he’s resolute in the way he speaks. “I don’t want you going out with him.”

“Yeah? And why do you think I care what you want?”

“Because I know you,” he says calmly, and you can hear the devious undertone even beneath the loud music in the bar. “You brought him here because you don’t want to fuck him. You don’t want to waste your time on a man that talks about the fucking stock market and how much he spent at Erewhon. And you wanted me…to remind you of that.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. He knows he’s right. But you’ll be damned if you ever admit it.

“The only thing you remind me of is disappointment,” you huff. You take your arm back. “Levi is everything you can never be. And maybe it’s time you realize that.”

You attempt to brush past him again but he stops you once more. He tugs you into his body until your chest is brought to his and everything grows quiet inside your head. Your only focus is him, and his mouth, and his familiar smell, and the way he holds you in his arms.

He’s leering at you—pissed beyond belief—and yet you feel so incredibly warm and safe. Pleased.

“Do not go back to him,” he says and a chill rushes down your spine.

“What?”

“Don’t go back to him,” he says again and you want to smile. “Because you aren’t leaving with him. You’re leaving with me. And tomorrow, you aren’t gonna fucking call him and apologize and set up the next date. You’re gonna lose his fucking number. Is that understood?”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really fucking annoying—”

He yanks you closer until you can almost taste the lips hovering near yours. “I said, is that fucking understood, Princess?”

You’ve never felt this kind of need before. This kind of yearning for another person and this kind of pain radiating between your thighs. But you’re desperate to fix it—desperate to ride this wave of his anger until it washes you both away.

"Why?" you whisper and you want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him, but you resist.

"Because," he says. He breathes you in and then he reaches up to brush his thumb along your lip. "Because how can I let you leave when I know you'll be so unsatisfied?"

Your insides feel like they've been set on fire.

"How can I go home when I know he won't take care of you the way I do?" He brushes his nose against yours. "How can I let my pretty, little Tinkerbell spend the night faking her orgasms when I know how perfect she cums when she cums for me?"

Fuck.

"You can hate me all you want," he murmurs. "But I'm good to you. And you fucking know it."

You can't seem to find a response. Can't seem to make your feet work or your lungs work or any part of your brain actually work.

Instead, you simply exhale, "Okay."

And he smiles.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. He leans back and takes his kiss way. "Then let's go."

He leads you out of the bar and toward his bike in the parking lot and you go without question. He hands you the extra helmet—which he also has to help you put on—then pulls you onto the back and secures your arms around his middle. Just like last time.

“Where are we going?” you yell as the engine comes to life.

There’s something cunning in his eye. “Figured it was about time I took you home.”

“Oh…well, my apartment’s all the way on the other side of town,” you tell him. “It’s kind of a long drive.”

He shakes his head. “Not your home,” he says and your heart instantly lodges in your throat.

Shit, shit, shit.

He smiles. “I want to take you to my home.”

DEDICATED TO MY SWEET BIRTHDAY ANON!!! I HOPE IT'S SOMEWHAT OKAY AND WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING! I KNOW THERE'S NO SMUT BUT........WE CAN WRITE THAT LATER HEHE

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @nuggetdean

834 notes · View notes

bobardo · 5 months ago

Note

i NEED to hear your thoughts on reader's arguments with boxer!carmy. what's their first argument about? who usually caves first?

you, anon, are a hero and a scholar and are about to receive the greatest blurb in the history of the the tumblr industry (pls someone understand this reference 😭😭)

BUT IT ALL SERIOUSNESS, this is fucking gold; i love you for sending this.

tw!! ooooohh they get into it yall. carmen being a man (ik, i’m sorry). some suggestive content. happy ending.

bf boxer!carmy and reader fighting!!

concept 1. concept 2. bf boxer!carmy hcs.

ok, so, me thinks bf boxer!carmy and his pretty broad actually argue a lot. so often it teeters just on the edge of being unhealthy. but, they also know each other and realize they’re two petty asf ppl (😭😭). so, even though they argue often, it’s usually over stupid shit, or their little fears (like who was supposed to wash the dishes that night, or how carmy’s profession holds a great deal of power over his life, enough to take it away—

she tries hard not to think about it too much; that argument is a losing game).

if carmy’s being frank, it’s half the reason he’s so fucking obsessed in love with her. she’s feisty—she’s trouble, and carmy’s never been good at staying out of it, even before he was the one starting the fights.

however…

when they fight—oh boy! do they fight.

i’d like to think bf boxer!carmy has a hugeeeee jealousy problem (lil insecure loser ☹️🫶🏽), and so that’s usually how their more heated fights begin.

i think their very first BIG fight has to do with a mix of his jealousy issue and the nature of how their relationship came to be.

allow me to set the scene:

so carmy wins the fight against timmy boy (surprise??) and starts talking to his pretty broad, finds out her and timmy aren’t exclusive, just messing around, and takes the green light.

a few weeks go by and everything is going smoothly—you know, the usual, extravagant dates and expensive gifts, lots of pampering and affection from both ends; the rose-hued, honeymoon stage—and carmy invites her as his plus one to some big party/event for his job.

he knocks on the front door of her apartment at 7:15 pm on the dot with a stunning bouquet—baby’s breath and lilies and anemones—of flowers in his right hand. he’s dressed to the nines; a fitted black tux—double breasted, with peak lapels, and slightly high-waisted trousers—and a brown dress-shirt, first thee to four buttons undone (whore 🥸) with a black chiffon, nearly iridescent slip over it that makes that same brown look an earthy, rich green at a swift glance. one gold bracelet, one gold ring for each hand (middle and pinky fingers), his unnecessarily attractive little gold hoop earrings, and a simple gold crucifix hangin’ ‘round his neck.

he raps his busted knuckles against the door with his left hand, and then patiently leans against the frame and awaits the telltale sign of her heels against the hardwood floors.

he counts to seventeen before her front door is swinging open.

the first thing he notices is that smile (that smile, the one she only ever gives to him—not eddie (god forbid), or nacho, or benny, or fucking timmy—just him). pearly whites, with bow and cherry gems (i loveeee teeth gems if my pfp didn’t make that clear), on display, framed by those plump, painted lips—brown liner, blackberry pink lipstick, and a nice, shiny gloss—that never seem to leave his head; burned into his memory, melded to his mind.

his eyes drop to the baby pink toes he’s become far too fond of, the white strap and silver chain of her dior heels placed prettily over top. flits his appraising gaze up to her ankles, the left one wrapped in the anklet he gifted her on their fourth date, a (boxing) glove charm hanging from the gold link. up—up, up, up—they go, trailing the soft ruffles and tedious buttons lining her long sleeve knit dress, hem hitting just at her shin, tight fitting—cinched to her figure—with a swoop neckline that shows off just the right amount of cleavage.

he stops when his eyes find hers again, brown sugar and saccharine.

he pushes off the door frame and steps through, ‘til they’re standing toe to toe and her head is awkwardly bent backward so she can keep eye contact.

“hi, bear,” she chirps, soft and taunting. grins at him while her jewel adorned hands slide up the smooth lapels of his tux.

the left corner of his mouth kicks up into a smirk as he snakes his left arm around her waist, dragging her closer.

his head spins with the scent of cinnamon and evergreen, and he wants to nuzzle in her neck because of it.

“hey, cub,” he rumbles back, and neither of them acknowledge the way she practically melts into her, she just curls her fingers into his lapels, and he tightens his hold on her waist.

she looks at the flowers in his right hand, “those for me?”

carmy turns his head to look at the flowers, lifts his hand with a noisy crinkle to present ‘em to her.

still, he shakes his head, puts on his best poker face and huffs, “nah, i’m taking that real pretty broad down the hall on a date tonight. just dropping in to say ‘hi’.”

her grin drops, face flat, eyes narrowed.

she unfurls her fists from his jacket, starts pushing him away, out from where he came.

“well, since we’ve finished swapping pleasantries—”

this time when he huffs, he’s huffing out a laugh, “i’m kidding. hey, baby, i’m kidding. swear.” he drops the flowers (unimportant; he can get more if she really wants them) to the ground at the side of their feet and wraps his other arm around her waist, crowding her space, barely giving her room to breathe, let alone slip from his grasp.

she wriggles in his hold, still shoving uselessly at his firm chest. “carmen, let go—”

and, well he’s definitely in trouble, but there’s not much to be done about that now, is there?

he takes both her tiny, pounding fists and locks them behind her back in one fell swoop “never. now look at me.”

she looks into the hallway, just over his shoulder, to piss him off.

his eye threatens to twitch.

“look at me, cub. don’t make me say it again.”

she rolls her brown sugar eyes, but does thereafter shift her gaze to look at him. raises an impatient brow.

“i’m sorry for saying that. it was a shitty joke—”

“it wasn’t fucking funny, carm.”

he grunts, “all right. wasn’t funny, i’m sorry, baby.”

she continues to glare at him for another 30 to 45 seconds, but then her shoulders are slumping and her face is scrunching in that cute little pout and she’s whining like a sweet little baby.

“wasn’t funny, bear,” she grumbles, and carmy snickers.

“y’already said that; gimme a kiss.”

she shakes her head, fussy, and now it’s carmy’s turn to raise an impatient brow.

“what was that? speak up, baby.”

“no,” she groans, stomping her foot, trying to free her hands from behind her back, but there’s no way she’s getting out now, not if she wants to act like a brat.

“try again.”

“n—”

he yanks her into his chest, “try the fuck again.”

but when has she ever just willingly rolled over?

“let me go, carmen.”

“give me a fucking kiss, cub.”

—

they show up to carmy’s work gathering an hour and a half late, but who’s fucking fault is that (this, too, is a losing game)?

when they step into the venue together, all eyes immediately fall on them. how could they not?

carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto, the bear, and his new girl.

timothy ‘timmy’ grayson’s ex girl.

they don’t let it phase them, the side eye and poorly disguised whispering, just find their way to their way to the open bar and mingle with their inner circle.

the night quickly descends from business to casual, but that could just be because they were so late. as the older patrons slip out, the inconsequential jazz humming in the background is shut off, and then the ceiling is shaking with the bass of keep it g by asap rocky.

somehow, carmy’s on his second glass of bourbon and his girl just finished her third glass of wine and they’re…tipsy.

it’s not even like the song playing is inherently sexual, at all, really, but carmy’s lips are trailing over the back of her neck, uncoordinated—messy—and his fingers are digging into her hips because the way she’s fucking grinding on him should not be legal.

“god, cub,” he grunts in her ear, rolling his hips back into her.

“mhmm,” she moans in the back of her throat, subdued, swallowed down, and places her hands over his that grip at her like a lifeline. she lets her head fall back, settle in the crook of his neck so she can nose at the hinge of his jaw and suck a pretty hickey there, too.

he fully thrusts into her, the bass of the speakers muffling the too audible slap of their bodies connecting.

she squirms and squeaks, “bear!”

he growls, “what?”

she giggles in the shell of his ear. “down, boy. i gotta hit the restroom.”

carmy, very reluctantly, lets her slip from his grasp and venture to find the woman’s room. he nurses on another drink—whiskey, this time—but paces himself as he waits for his girl’s return.

that is, until he sees his girl in question talking with timothy fucking grayson. then, he downs the rest of his drink like water and calmly—calmly—walks up to them.

now, if (and this is a very big fucking if) carmen wasn’t being a complete a***** ******* ****** ***** *****, then maybe he would’ve noticed the rather unkempt state of his pretty broad, her soured expression and guarded body language.

he was being a complete redacted though, so he just steps behind her with his chest puffed and his jaw set, just itching for timmy to say something fucking stupid.

and that stupid fucking smirk on his stupid fucking face might scratch that itch just enough to satiate him.

“what’re y’doin’ with my girl, timmy?”

he doesn’t register the way she bristles against him at the term.

my girl.

“just makin’ friendly conversation,” he shrugs, still smirking, and carmy has never wanted his knuckles to split so fucking bad.

“friendly conversation?” he nearly coos back, the condescending, possessive prick. “why don’t y’find someone else to go make friendly conversation with, yeah? fuck off.”

he walks away before timmy boy gets the chance to respond, dragging his girl behind him.

when they make it back to the bar, he finally has the decency to assess his pretty broad. or, hound her, more like.

"what was he sayin' to you? and what the hell were you doin' with him in the fuckin' first place? if he bothers you again you come straight to me, understood?"

he's met with silence.

he frowns, looks down at his girl to find the same expression on her face, and goes to repeat himself. "i said, underst—"

"take me home, carmen."

his frown deepens. he bends in the knee to try and catch her eyes, but she turns her head away as soon as he glimpses her brown sugar irises.

"cub—"

"take me home, carmen. now."

and they've fought, all right? small tiffs here and there, "pick your fucking shoes up, carmen!", "stop fucking touching shit, carm!", "god, carmen, just leave me alone!" but this is different. deeper.

he's still frowning as he nods, mutters "okay," softly, as to not upset her any further, and places his hand on the small of her back to guide out of the venue doors and out to the valet.

usually, after a date, carmen will pull in to a parking space and get out first to open the passenger door for his girl and walk her up to her apartment, before either getting sent off with a goodnight kiss or getting tugged through her front door to continue where they'd left off.

this time, though, she out the door before the cars even full parked.

carmen rushes to keep up with her takes the stairs to her apartment two at a time.

"cub, wait up!"

she does no such thing.

in fact, she only seems to move faster in lieu of his request (brat).

he nearly misses his window to at least say goodnight to her, with the way she quickly keys into her home and tries to slam the door in his face, but a foot in the frame easily rectifies that.

"hey!" he barks at her, shoving the door open and slamming it shut after him.

"don't slam my damn door, carmen!"

"don't try to slam your damn door in my damn face, then!"

she frustratedly groans, arms flailing in exclamation. he watches her cautiously as she looks frantically for something—something, anything—before she's bending down to take off her dior heels.

clearly, something has pent up—boiled, festered—within her, because she chucks a shoe at his head (and for someone so unassuming, she has a damn good arm).

he ducks just before it can hit him, instead banging into the wall.

"what the fu— ow!"

she doesn't miss the second time.

"fuck you, carmen!" she screams at him.

"fuck you! you just threw your fucking shoe at my head! twice!"

"and you fucking deserved it," she cries, taking a step closer to him, pointing an accusatory finger. "you dick!"

"what the fuck did i do?" he shouts back, taking a step forward himself, brows furrowed in frustrated confusion.

"you— y-you—"

he takes another step toward her, "huh? i what? spit it the fuck out, baby."

not for the first time, she pouts like a kicked puppy, and her hands brace on his sturdy shoulders, and she pushes at him, angry. but, certainly for the first, carmy actually loses his balance. nearly trips over his feet with the way he stumbles backward.

"ugh, asshole! you made a bet!"

he frowns, bewildered. "what?"

"don't fucking lie to me, carm—"

"baby, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"stop fucking calling me that!" she screams, "with timothy! you made a bet with him before the fight, a bet on me!"

carmy's mouth hangs open, forming to phantom explanations that all fall too short or get too intimate—personal; she doesn't need to know the backstory, the why in his road to success. she can't, not yet. not so soon.

she shoves him again at his lack of response, and, for the second time, carmy stumbles back.

"fuck you, carmy!" she screams, eyes brimming and— fuck, she was not supposed to find out this way (well, ever, really, but surely not in this way). he racks his brain for sufficient a justification.

"fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! is that how you fucking see me? i'm just another belt you meatheads pass around and compete for? fucking kill yourselves over?"

"that's not true, baby—"

"i'm not your fucking baby!" she goes to shove him again, but he's ready this time, steeled. she throws her weight into each nudge and push and shove she gives to him, grunts and grumbles through the exertion of it, but he's stock-still like a statue now, and immovable force to be reckoned with.

"you done?" he mutters when she's huffin' and puffin' too hard to keep going.

her eyes snap from his chest to his baby blues, glaring. "fuck—!"

"—me? yeah, you've already said that, several times actually. now are you gonna let me explain, or do you wanna keep screamin'?"

her eyes, somehow, narrow further, teeth barred.

carmy prepares himself.

"do i wanna keep screamin'? well, since you fucking offered," she gripes, pounding her fists into his chest again. and he lets her. "you don't fucking think, do you? just puff your chest and fucking take it if you want it, right? god, carmen, i'm not some fucking toy—"

"i never implied that you were—"

"so you didn't bet you could fuck me better than timothy at the weigh-in?"

he snaps his mouth shut.

she scoffs, shakes her head. "un-fucking-believable," she mutters under her breath.

she sighs, and the (arguably) worst is over. but it's not like he necessarily welcomes the tears, either.

she sniffles, red-rimmed eyes sparkling in a pool of saltwater, and weakly shoves at his chest again.

"f-fuck you, bear," she weeps softly, voice cracking, head hanging, and carmy's never wanted to fix something so badly in his whole goddamn life. more than mikey. "i thought you fucking liked me—

"i do—!"

"stop lying—!"

and suddenly, carmen's had enough.

"be quiet," he barks.

the room falls silent.

he sighs, grips hers arms to keep her close and up right. drops his head to rest on hers, eye-to-eye, and she's too tuckered out to fight it.

his adams apple bobs, "i'm sorry, y/n," he whispers, and she doesn't think she's ever heard him so earnest before, so sad. "i'm sorry i made a bet on you, and hurt your feelings because of it. you're not a toy, or a belt, or any other prize, boxing or not; you're a human fucking being. and i'm sorry."

she sniffles again, and he takes her lack of shoving and yelling as clearance to continue.

"i'm not fucking sorry it worked, though." he can feel her tense, so he hurries on before she gets the wrong idea. "i'm not fucking sorry i saw you in that damn pink dress, in your damn pink heels, with you fucking pink toes. i'm not sorry that i talked to you after the match, and made good on my promise to timmy."

"carmen—"

he squeezes the sides of her shoulders, "i'm not sorry 'cause i do like you, cub, so fucking much."

she lifts her head, teary eyes blearily finding his, and she frowns up at him, like she doesn't believe him.

"why're lying?" she whimpers, all watery and sad sounding, and carmy just wants to swaddle her in a blanket and kiss her tears away.

he smiles gently at her, "m'not lyin', baby. do you think i'd still be here if all i wanted was a fuck and duck? that's what the ring girls are for, cub."

she makes a face at him, "ew! g-ross, carmy, don't—!"

he bites back a smirk. "you drive me insane," cuts her off, sliding his hands from her arms to her shea butter smooth palms. "you drive me up the fuckin' wall, actually. but i love that about you. i love that you don't take anyone's shit, including mine. love that you put me in my place, and tell me off when i step out of line." his tongue peaks out to lick his chapped bottom lip before he continues. "i love the way you curl up in a ball every night before bed because you can't sleep any other way, and i love the way you bitch and moan about your bones feelin' too stiff in the morning because of it." he regards her fondly, eyes flitting over every feature. “i love your teeth gems, and your long ass nails. i love it when you’re bare-faced and bushy-tailed, or when you’ve got a— what is it?”

she chokes on a snotty laugh, “a full beat?”

“a full beat!” he repeats, enthusiastic and beaming. they both take a moment to giggle, carmy’s hands finding purchase on her hips to draw her in, chest to chest. “i am sorry i hurt your feelings, cub, so fucking sorry. but i would make that bet ten fuckin’ thousand times over if it meant i’d end up anywhere with you.”

and now she’s crying for a whole different, much sweeter reason.

she pouts at him cutely, “bearrr!”

and it’s like nothing even happened.

“whaaat?” he groans, feigning annoyance. “snotty girl, look at those tears,” he tuts, “such a crybaby.”

“that’s not fair—!”

“hush,” he muses, walking them back toward her bedroom, deft fingers working to unfasten the many buttons of her dress. “you talk too much, anyone ever told you that? whatever, you should let me fuck you.”

“what?”

“you should let me fuck you.”

“you literally ate me out for an hour before we left, that’s why we were so fucking late. and who says you fuckin’ deserve it?”

carmy smirks, that’s his girl.

fuckin’ trouble.

he quirks a brow at her, fingers pausing their decent.

“you gonna let me earn it?”

—

a/n: hope u like it babies bc getting this done made me SICK (im serious i can’t fucking breathe right or swallow properly anymore 🙂‍↔️🫶🏽)

not proofread!!

185 notes · View notes

maxispixels · 10 days ago

Text

HANDPICKED

PART NINE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

3.2k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine.

The week passed by painfully slowly. Hobie, busy rehearsing with his band, wasn’t keeping you company at the shop. Rose wasn’t there either, actually enjoying retirement for once. The only thing to entertain you was the old radio, but you didn’t dare put on one of Hobie’s favorite pirate stations, unequipped to explain it to the next customer. Additionally, you still had the irrational fear that the cops would somehow know you were listening to a pirate station and come arrest you right away.

When the weekend finally arrived, you still felt anxious at the idea. Especially considering that Hobie being on stage meant he couldn’t be by your side for your first concert, and you didn’t look forward to being thrown alone in a crowd of energetic punks. The day of, your anxiety only increased. He had left to rehearse with his band, and you were alone with your thoughts.

Before he could leave, you did ask him what you were supposed to wear.

“Dunno mate. Something comfortable. Layers so you can take ‘em off when it gets warm inside.” He shrugged, and you only looked more confused.

“Don’t I have to dress… I don’t know… Punk?” You tilted your head.

“Wot? Nah, just wear whatever you want. You don’t have to put on a punk costume, there’s no such thing.” Faced with your anxious gaze, he sighed. “I mean, if it makes you feel better, ya can always put on fishnets or som’thin’, I don’t know.” He rummaged through a pile of his junk on the floor, grabbing a black pencil and holding it like a weapon of mass destruction. He unceremoniously grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. You shut your eyes as the pencil approached.

“Don’t stab my eyes please—”

“I know what I’m doin’! Stop movin’!” He mumbled as he carefully applied the black around your eyes, before letting your face go. “Now rub yer eyes like your life depends on it and smudge it real well.” You followed his instruction.

He laughed at you. “Perfect. You look like a sad racoon. Punk as hell.”

You puffed and pouted, but he was already out of your flat.

You weren’t too mad.

When the time went to leave, you almost convinced yourself not to go. Almost. But then you spotted the crumpled yellow sticky note on your desk, his messy handwriting barely legible from how the ink had bled. You traced the letters with your thumb, inhaled sharply, and forced yourself out the door.

You dragged yourself in the cold, trying to wash away whatever worries you had. You were just there for him. It was going to be alright. You stole a jacket of his, hoping the spikes would act as some sort of protection.

The air stung the skin of your nose as your steps quickened in hope of finding some warmth inside the club. The closer you got, the more alive the street seemed to grow. Distant laughter, muffled music spilling from unseen doors, and the faint smell of beer and cigarettes hung in the air. Your steps faltered when you saw the neon sign above the club, its flickering letters buzzing like a warning.

Groups of punks were gathered near the entrance, some sharing cigarettes, others already tipsy and singing something off-key. Two men, swaying slightly, were either arguing or playing, you weren’t sure. You swallowed down your nerves and slipped inside.

You were hit with the suffocating atmosphere of the place, the smell of alcohol and smoke stronger than before, music already blasting, bass rattling your chest and almost deafening you. Glowing lights in the dark blurred with moving masses of bodies, laughter meddling with rugged voices as you tried to make your way further front, sliding along the wall, shoulder against the graffitied bricks..

You spotted some wooden boxes in a corner and made your way to them. Perfect. You shamelessly climbed on them, granting yourself a place to sit and see the stage.

Whoever was there wasn’t Hobie yet, but the music was good. You nodded your head to the rhythm, a thoughtful smile gracing your lips. The crowd swayed and surged, like a living, breathing thing. Some danced with abandon, their limbs flailing wildly, while others simply bobbed in place, their heads nodding in time with the music.

Soon enough, another band was called for, and your heart raced as you scanned the stage cautiously for a familiar silhouette. When your eyes landed on Hobie, you couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling in your stomach, cheering the rest of the crowd. He strode across the stage like he owned the place, his movements effortless and magnetic. It was the same way he moved through your apartment or the flower shop, that unshakable confidence oozing from his every step.

He wasn’t the frontman, someone else had that role, commanding the mic with probably equal charisma, but your eyes were on Hobie, and him only. He adjusted the strap of his guitar with ease, his lips curling in a smirk as he plucked the first few notes, his piercings catching the light from the spots. His body swayed with the music, his head tilting back as he played.

And you couldn’t look away.

A mix of awe and pride made your heart beat faster, matching the tempo of their drummer, and you hung to each note tugged on both the strings of his guitar and of your heart.

He looked so at ease, so completely in his element, and it hit you like a freight train—this was his home. This was where he was meant to be.

You weren’t sure when it started, but at some point, your throat tightened, and your eyes burned. You blamed the lights, the smoke, the intensity of it all, but deep down, you knew. Seeing him like this, so free, so unapologetically himself, made your chest ache in the best way possible.

You didn’t miss one second of his performance, barely blinking. During the short moment between songs, you saw his eyes scan the crowd and part of you hoped it was you he was looking for. But up on your dark corner, away from the blinding spots, you knew he couldn’t see you.

When the set ended, you forced yourself off your makeshift seat, weaving through the sea of bodies. Hobie had told you his band usually hung around after, so you had to find him.

That proved to be harder than expected, and you were getting pushed around on the way. The room felt tighter now, the music louder as you were jostled left and right. It was harder to find him there, in the overwhelming sea of punks.

Someone much taller than you stumbled toward the bar, bumping into you hard enough to send you straight into a solid figure.

“Watch out mate—” Hobie started, turning to steady whoever had crashed into him, but his expression shifted the moment he saw you. His smile flickered from amusement to something softer, and the warmth in his eyes eased the sting in your nose. "Oh. Hey."

Before you could respond, his gaze flicked over your face, his smile dropping slightly. "You alright?"

Many conflicting feelings bubbled up in your throat, excitement, relief, but your nose still stung from the impact, and you realized—too late—that your eyes were glossy.

You didn't even have time to think of an answer, before his fingers found your wrist. “Come on.”

He didn’t wait for permission. One second you were in the club, the next, the cold air slapped your face as he dragged you outside. Your tears finished to smear the eyeliner Hobie had so proudly smudged onto your eyes earlier.

“What happened?” Hobie asked, his brows furrowed. “Some prick shove you too hard?"

“No—No. I’m fine,” you managed, as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m alright.”

“Then why are you bloody cryin’?” He asked and you felt the slight panic in his voice.

“I’m not sure,” you babbled, wiping your face, “I just really liked your show.”

Hobie blinked.“Yer cryin’ because you liked the show?” He sounded slightly confused. “We play punk, not tragedies!” He exclaimed, still a little worried, but amusement started to mendel in as it looked like there was no serious issue. “You scared me for a sec’. Didn’t think our music was that bad.”

You let out a small laugh. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know. That was moving.”

“I mean, I get it,” he quipped, his grin widening, “Overthrowin’ capitalism could bring me to tears too.”

You let out a shaky chuckle, and he pulled you closer, his voice dippin’ back down. “Are you sure yer alright?”

You nodded fiercely. “I loved it, really. It was so amazing.”

He hummed, unable to hide that your reaction, although unexpected and a bit dramatic, touched him deeply. His hands found your face, thumbs gently wiping underneath your eyes. “You really do look like the saddest raccoon.”

You lightly hit his chest, earning a quiet laugh.

“Are you okay goin’ back inside? T’s freezing out ‘ere.” He commented softly, unsure if he should really take you back inside in case you were overwhelmed.

You nodded, eager to feel the warmth again, and he led you back, this time keeping close. His hand occasionally brushed yours—not quite holding, but there.

“Oi, here comes our guitarist!” A huge guy with a green mohawk called out, and before Hobie could react, he had yanked him into a mess of half-hugs and slaps on the back, to which he answered by pulling him in a headlock. You remembered him being the frontman. Not that you really focused on him.

His bandmates spotted him immediately, their energy still crackling from the set.

You could barely distinguish the mess of people, even less the limits of bodies or facial features. You hovered a few steps away, unsure whether to try and insert yourself or just wait by the side. You loved seeing him interact with his friends, he was so different and at the same time the exact same. He was just much more playful, shoving and grabbing easily.

“This is your mystery guest?” A man leaned against the bar, his brown mullet sticking to his forehead, pointing right at you. He looked you up and down with an exaggerated nod of approval. “Thought you were makin’ ‘em up, mate.”

“Right? The way he talks, we figured you were imaginary.” A woman with a side shave and gorgeous curls added. You saw her on stage too. Nerves were eating you alive faced with all that attention. “I really like your eye makeup. Very avant-garde.” She added, as Hobie pulled his arm over your shoulders to bring you in the circle, and you unconsciously pressed against him, grateful he was saving you from the interactions. You just gave your customer-friendly smile, hoping it was good enough.

“Yeah, t’s proper romantic, the way he goes on. Got us all choked up!” The guy with the mullet said, idly swirling his drink in his hand. Your face burned, but Hobie interrupted you before you could say anything.

“Shut it, Karl.” He groaned, clicking his tongue. His thumb gently rolled against your shoulders, hoping to ease your nerves.

“Oohh, shut it, Karl,” the guy with the green mohawk mocked in a high-pitched voice. He playfully shoved Hobie, and let his arm pull him a near-headlock he barely dodged.

The woman smirked, shifting closer to you. Her voice was so soft and alluring and you swore you could hear her clearly despite the deafening noise. “Are you sure Hobie’s not your partner or something? Cause he’s actin’ like a proper schoolboy.”

Your brain stalled. “What? No? I mean, we’re just—”

“Oi, don’t do this to ‘em,” Hobie grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Karl, completely ignoring him, slung an arm around your shoulder, a bit gentler than he did his friends, grinning. “Don’t worry, love, we’ll take good care of ya. Hobie’s a pain in the arse, but he’s got exceptional taste.”

Hobie swatted him away with a muttered “piss off��, but you barely noticed. Your head was still spinning from everything that was happening at the same time.

Before you could dwell on it, someone shoved a drink into your hand.

“Here, have a taste,” Mohawk grinned, way too pleased with himself.

You took a sip, and immediately choked. The whole group laughed, even the woman although she at least tried to stifle it.

“Yeah, yeah, give the newbie the strongest thing ‘ere, real original,” Hobie deadpanned, plucking the drink from your hands before you could suffer further. He took a sip himself, barely reacting.

You were still coughing, “What the hell was that?”

Hobie sighed dramatically. “An’ you lot wonder why I don’t bring people ‘round.”

The laughter only grew louder. You felt warm, dizzy, not from the drink, but from this. The noise, the heat, the way Hobie lingered closer without ever quite touching you.

You learned the names of his bandmates, beside Karl, Robbie with the green mohawk and Riri the gorgeous bass player. Conversations followed, most you zoned out of.

By the time Hobie pulled you away, you weren’t sure if your lightheadedness was from the alcohol or from him.

Once again, the wind made your cheeks sting, and you tightened Hobie’s jacket around you. A comfortable silence stretched between you, only interrupted by the sounds of your steps and the occasional music coming from bars around.

Neither of you dared to break it, until you reached your flat, shuffling for the warmth inside.

You took off your shoes and he untied his tall boots, both of you exhausted. You snacked on whatever was in the fridge before making a way to the mattress.

“D’you like the jacket?” He asked, watching you take off the jacket you stole from him. You gave a shy smile.

“I thought it’d fit the place more than anything I own.”

“Anything would’ve fitted.” He said earnestly, and it made your smile widen. After a short silence, his own slightly faded. “Tell me if I’m pushin’, but you are sure nothin’ happened to make you cry?”

When you were done, your eyes found his again, and he was a little dumbfounded by your rambling. His guard kept slipping around you, and he didn’t feel like keeping it up tonight.

You felt slightly embarrassed at your earlier display of tears. He looked so worried. “No, it was just… I’m not fully sure, I guess I was overwhelmed by all the noise and the lights and the people. And seeing you up there, so…” You paused searching for your words, too tired to care about hiding your admiration. Deep down, you knew he already knew anyway, he saw the pages of your sketchbooks and he would’ve had to be blind to not see the stolen glances. “So amazing and cool and free. It’s like something clicked, y’know?” You kept going on, speaking your thoughts out loud helping you to make sense of them. “Sometimes it’s hard to figure you out, but not when you’re on stage. You seemed so happy, so in your place. I was proud, and… I don’t know. I broke down.”

“Mh.” He crawled closer to you, his weight shifting the mattress underneath you. “Ya just can’t help but pull stuff like that on me,” his voice much lower and quieter than usual, “I’m not goin’ to be able to take it much longer, ya realize?”

You tilted your head. “What?”

“You make me so fuckin’ nervous,” he finally muttered.

You gulped, his name escaped your lips and his eyebrows furrowed. His fingers nervously rubbed the line off of his forehead before reaching for yours, and you felt your hands go clammy and your pulse quicken. It beat in your throat, in your temples, in your chest, in your wrists as your hands laced together. Your eyes searched for his, unsure yet full of something you didn’t grasp fully.

“It’s like you have no idea what you do to me, I’m tryin’ not to lose my goddamn mind, and here you are, makin’ it bloody impossible.” He let out, his softer tone betraying his vulnerability. You were frozen in place, unsure if he was scolding you or something else you didn’t let yourself think to avoid getting your hopes up.

“See, I’m tryin’ to act cool, and then— then you look at me like -this-,” he rubbed the tip of his nose, almost hiding his face for a second, “and then I’m just done for. Can’t think. Can’t really breathe either, y’know?”

Hell, you knew very well, and at that moment, you couldn’t really breathe or think either. You just stared at him, eyes wide shifting between his left and right eye as if you’ll decipher something else in them. His fingers twitched between yours, and he looked like he regretted his words already. Your hands felt cold as he tried to let go, and you just reached back for him, almost in an act of desperation.

He let you go, and you shuffled inches closer, your brain mushy and your ears still ringing from the club. You didn’t have time to process your own pining, but you had to face the reality of your feelings, and the warmth that pooled in your veins at his words.

“Hobie,” you called softly, almost scared to pronounce his name. “Don’t pull away from me.” Your murmur barely reached his ears. Your gaze fell down to his lips, but you forced it back up to his eyes. The distant muffled noise from the city below didn’t help to drown out your thoughts, all running miles a minute. “Can I?” Your voice cracked under your words.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he nodded and you felt a portion of the weight alleviate. You leaned closer, legs tangling together. You did let go of his hands, but only to find the nape of his neck. You felt his eyes on you, heavy lidded, watching all of your movements, almost unsure. You closed yours and let your lips brush against his. Everything paused for a moment, and you felt your stomach move in ways it wasn’t supposed to.

His hands found your sides, grounding you as he leaned in, the cold metal of his piercing a jarring contrast to the warmth spreading through your chest. When you pulled away, he was looking at you with an expression you never saw on him before. His eyes were half lidded, so soft, almost dazed. You wanted to imprint that vision in your memory forever.

He leaned in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek in a tender gesture, his arms on your sides now fully wrapping around you and pulling you in. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

tags: @hoe-bie

Been struggling with this one for a while, I hope there isn't any major mistakes or inconsistencies!

edit: there was in fact major mistakes and lots of repetitions, most of them should be corrected now, sorry for those who had to read it before!

#hobie brown #astv fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderpunk #x reader #handpicked

103 notes · View notes

novvabee · 3 months ago

Text

The Boys in the Band

AN: I got carried away with this one, but here is the second part to the band au

word count: 2.8k

cw: language? there is nothing really bad about this one.

Since your first show, you had been quite busy. You had opened for a couple bands at The Common Room, you booked a few nights at the popular club, The Hog’s Head, and managed to snag a spot in another festival. You had become popular very quickly amongst the girls, gays, theys, and young people in the city. Each gig you noted more and more fans, crowds growing, singing so loud and dancing so hard.

This is what you always dreamed of, performing and making people happy. You lived for the drama and theatrics of it all, dressing up on stage and singing your heart out. The girls felt the same electricity, the same passion as you. That made your bond as a group that much stronger.

Not to mention, you were all good friends. Lily had mentioned to you that she and Mary had been messing around and found out they actually sounded really good together. Then they asked Marlene if she would play drums, which she said yes to in a heartbeat. And then Lily realized they needed a front woman, someone who could sing and bring the most energy. She thought of you, your bold and fierce attitude, your flirty and fun personality. And that is how you started.

The four of you wrote all the music you performed; the fun and girly songs by Mary, the campy over-the-top songs about women by Marlene, the sad and slow ballads by yourself, and the thought provoking and experimental ones by Lily.

Mary had the upbeat, girly, pop songs down. Her personality just flowed with inspiration for them, so those were the types of songs that you mostly sang and performed. You weren’t complaining, her songs were half the fun.

Marlene was full of something you all liked to tease her about; lesbian angst. But all that angst made for great songs to perform and were usually the crowd favorites.

Lily was slightly different, she was full of thoughts and ideas about the world, and her medium to get them out of her brain and into the world, was through music and lyrics. She wrote a lot of songs for women, for rights for all and for political change. If you had to pick, you would say hers were by far your favorites. She didn’t write often, but when she did, she had a message, something to say. You loved that about her.

Your songs were all ballads and sad. The girls teased you about that too, saying you shouldn’t let a man make you cry. It wasn’t exactly your fault, you had just gotten out of a long term relationship, and were drawing inspiration from all the confusing, mixed feelings that came with that.

You had been dating this boy, Matthew, for about a year and a half, but everything seemed to take a turn for the worse a couple months ago. Your once sweet and charming boyfriend had turned into this cold, vacant man right in front of you. You two argued all the time, about small things as well as very important, serious things. He started accusing you of sneaking around, hiding things from him, cheating on him. None of it was true, and you tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

So you had enough. You told him that if you two couldn’t work things out, you didn’t know if you could continue on. He said nothing, just agreed with you. He didn’t try to mend the broken relationship, didn't try to fight either for you or with you. You would’ve taken either, but he just walked away.

As much as you tell yourself you’re doing so much better, that you have moved on and don’t care about him anymore, that isn’t exactly true.

You leaned into the band to distract yourself, putting everything you had in it so that you wouldn’t be left with those feelings. You’re just glad you had your friends, your girls who not only could help you through it, but also help you see this band through. They ignited you.

You felt that way even just sitting on the floor of Mary’s apartment. The space was cute and cozy. You girls were sprawled out over fluffy rugs, a plush couch, and two oversized bean bags.

Mary was nodding her head along to a beat that only she could hear, writing down what you could only guess were new lyrics. Lily was strumming a tune she had been working on for over a week. You and Marlene were talking about what to wear for your upcoming show.

“I think you'd look good in that pink leotard with the matching cowgirl boots.” Marlene recommended.

“The pink tassels or the pink heart?” you asked.

She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “The tassels, that way you can wear the boots and maybe a cowboy hat,” she paused looking at the other two, “maybe we can try out Pink Pony?”

Excited, you clapped your hands together. You had been dying to perform this new song in front of a crowd and this was the perfect opportunity. You were playing at The Common Room again, but this time it was only you. Unlike every other performance you had, this time there were no openers, and no one else after you. You got a whole set for yourselves and the whole night to perform and party with fans.

The night was going to be nothing short of magical.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James followed Remus and Sirius into the stage door of The Common Room.

All three boys wanted to come and see the performance that The Pixies were giving tonight. They had gained a lot of traction recently, seemingly overnight.

James didn’t feel at all jealous or threatened, they were doing just as well themselves, and they made entirely different music. He was more curious as to the fact that this band came out of nowhere.

The Marauders were used to competition revolving around the music world. They had been doing this for a while now, they understood the fight to fill spots and book sets. This band was just another contender now.

James was more frequently used to The Snakes stealing their gigs or spots in festivals, but now even they were pushed aside for this new band. The Snakes was led by Sirius’s little brother Regulus, another person on the list James hadn’t spoken to in a while. James knew that Regulus was a grudge holder, hell, he was related to Sirius, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Regulus cut all contact.

He fucked up, he knew he did. But he still wasn’t ready to think about it.

Slipping through the crowd and continuing to follow as best he could, all three boys ended up in the back of the already packed room.

“Holy shit,” Sirius began, “there are so many people. How much were tickets?” He asked Remus.

Remus answered with a head shake. “Don’t know, Lily told me to come in through the back door so we wouldn’t have to pay.”

James’s stomach sunk, maybe he shouldn’t have come. Lily didn’t even invite him, he just tagged along with Remus. But, she had to have known that would happen, right? The boys didn’t do anything or go anywhere without each other.

“Oh my god! Hi,” came a voice from a girl to his right. “You’re The Marauders right? I love you guys. I’ve been to, like, a bunch of shows.” James recognized this girl. She was always front row or close enough, always giving Sirius a look that showed she wanted to fuck him, or at least become a groupie. “Could I get a pic?” she asked.

Sirius smirked. “Course you can sweetheart.” he said while she handed her phone to someone she was with. She stood between Remus and Sirius for the photo, then thanked the boys, obviously wanting the interaction to continue.

James did not. He would look like such an asshole taking pictures with fans at Lily’s show.

The thought was cut short when the house lights dimmed and the stage turned a hazy pink color. James lost every thought in his head when you came out on stage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking out onto the stage, you were met by a wall of sound, cheers and screams. Your nerves and butterflies instantly fluttered away. This is where you were meant to be, up here on this stage, in front of a crowd, making music. You had dreamed of this since you were a little girl.

You pranced yourself out in a cowboy hat and high heel boots, a matching sparkly and intricately tasseled leotard to top it all off. Your ass may be out, but that was the fun of it, the aesthetic. Especially for the new song you had prepared for the night.

“Hello my friends.” you said, the cheers and screams somehow getting even louder. “We are The Pixies,” you introduced, “and we are here to give you the night of your life.”

You looked around the crowd to see so many faces enhanced with intricate and beautiful makeup looks, so many fans copying looks from your previous performances, so many bodies in bright colors. So many people who felt confident in what they were wearing and how they looked.

“We’re gonna start off with a new one if that’s ok with you.” You announced you got an astounding amount of cheers, noting many phones launch into the air to record this new one. “This song is a fun one but more importantly,” you paused, the whole crowd hanging on your breath, “it is about what my mother thinks I am doing with my life. Here is Pink Pony Club!”

The girls started playing the intro and you walked to the front of the stage, sitting down, legs dangling off.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

You stood, walking back to center stage.

I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee

Hear Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

You whipped around to the audience

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You started dancing and jumping around stage, Lily and Mary joining you, smiles plastered on their faces

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The audience had settled into the performance, had gotten into the groove of the song, and joined in the dancing and the fun.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

I thank my wicked dreams a year from Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica, you've been too good to me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The crowd was going crazy, right along with you, until you slowed down and the girls played quieter for the bridge.

Don't think I've left you all behind

Still love you and Tennessee

You're always on my mind

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You jumped up and danced like crazy, the crowd joining in, loving this new song. Some picked up on the lyrics and were singing them back to you, the feeling indescribable.

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing

You kept dancing as Lily and Mary played the outro, out of breath and so happy. Once the song was finished, the whole building was filled with cheering. You looked to Mary, then over to Lily, they looked just as ecstatic, you could imagine Marlene felt the same.

“Thank you, thank you!” you said into the mic. “Well, if you like that Common Room, we’re just getting started.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James had never seen a concert, a band like yours. There was no way to describe it, you were just, stars already.

The rest of the concert was filled with just as much fun, joy as the first song. The dancing and singing and laughing was indescribable.

The boys waited after the concert, waited until the last of the fans trickled out, then they made their way backstage. Walking down the halls and to the dressing room that had a piece of paper with the word “Pixies” in bold letters, Remus knocked on the door.

The giggling and sounds of excitement were radiating from the room, loudly even with the door shut.

They waited for a moment before the door pulled open, revealing Mary. The smile dropped from her face for a moment before she put another one in its place, this one though, was more of an uncomfortable grimace more than anything. “Hey! I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mary said, opening the door to let the boys slide through. She hugged each of them on their way in.

James made eye contact with Lily who was on the couch with Marlene. She didn’t break away. He quickly looked over to Marlene and smiled. “We wanted to come and say great show!” he said, directed at them all, but not being able to look away from Marlene, who just smirked, knowing the situation and that James was incredibly uncomfortable right now.

“Thanks.” Marlene replied smoothly.

Sirius noted the tension and decided to break it. “Where is she?” he asked.

All eyes went to him as Mary asked “Y/N?”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes, “No, the queen.” he said sarcastically.

“Are you going to try to sleep with her?” Mary asked, not holding back.

“What, no!” Sirius denied as if it wasn’t exactly something Sirius would do. “I just want to meet her. ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that.”

Lily scoffed. “She’ll be out in a minute, I think she's taking off her makeup.”

And as if right on que, you waltzed right out of the connected bathroom and into the dressing room. Smiling, you looked at the boys standing across from the couch.

“Here she is!” Mary ushered you over, chipper and still energized from the performance. “This is Y/N, Y/N these are the boys in The Marauders.”

Your smile grew. “The Marauders? You guys were amazing at the festival.”

Sirius smiled back at you, charming as ever. “‘I'm Sirius.” you looked to the next boy, who was glancing at a fuming Lily.

“Uh, I’m James.” He smiled, seeming to come back to reality and out of whatever thought he was lost in.

You looked at the final boy, tall and leaning against the wall. “And you’re Remus, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah we met a while back, lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you! And it is lovely to finally meet you two.” you said to the newly acquainted Sirius and James, they nodded and smiled politely. There was a noticeable tension between everyone in the room, was there really that much of a rivalry?

“I think the boys were just heading out,” Mary said to the three boys standing in front of her. “Isn't that right?”

Sirius huffed and led the other two out throwing a “See you all soon.” over his shoulder as Mary escorted and followed them out into the hallway, shutting the door beyond her.

“That was… strange.” you said to Lily and Marlene. They just looked at each other and laughed, rolling their eyes. You didn’t understand.

“They're idiots.” Marlene supplied.

“They're boys.” Lily corrected.

Taglist 💌: @adharalikethestar @mayuwolfstar @ieatboysalive @maraudereestauderelb @bugg06 @slytherinambitious (yell at me if I forgot anyone)

116 notes · View notes

floweycidal · 3 months ago

Note

do you think when flowey was a wee weed and just got into calling himself flowey that he had a kind of embarrassing stage he does not want to talk or even think about where he tried too hard to be the opposite of asriel and it was so obvious everyone could tell it was asriel

BAHAHAHAHA, YOU BET I DO! this is probably going to be as headcanon-y as it gets (kinda), sorry in advance. but really, making him a total sopping wet soggy loser is the best part of writing him. it's my favorite angle, no doubt.

the first month of being "flowey" was an exercise in second-hand embarrassment, except the person you're embarrassed for is yourself. and you can't even leave the room to escape it, because surprise! you are the room. you're a flower. stuck there. living it.

he had it all planned out. goodbye asriel dreemurr, the prince of crying-at-literally-everything, hello to... whatever cool and clever thing he was supposed to become. the details were fuzzy, but he figured being soulless meant the whole "evil" thing would come naturally.

it did not come naturally.

the cracks showed almost immediately. everything he tried just came out wrong. his threats sounded more like worried suggestions. his evil schemes kept accidentally making things better. his idea of entropy was essentially community service with attitude.

he couldn't even get the basics right. he'd tried tossing out sick burns, but they'd just hit with all the impact of a wet napkin. they weren't even insults half the time—just weirdly specific observations that petered off awkwardly.

he sucked at it. no way around it. he sucked ass.

so, he worked harder. determined to sound edgy, bad to the stem—whatever that meant—but it didn’t seem to take. every affront felt more like an accident than an attack.

and the laugh. god, the laugh. he practiced it, forced it, tried every variation. dry chuckles, derisive cackles, even an exaggerated villain’s howl. none of them worked. what kept slipping out instead was the exact same dorky laugh that used to bubble up when #she would do silly voices during storytime.

this was the worst. he was the worst at being the worst.

his own body double-crossed him at every turn, still running on years of ingrained kindness his mind was trying to stamp out. he'd be right in the middle of his most "menacing" speech yet, really getting into the whole eternal suffering thing, when someone would sneeze.

"bless you!"

every. time.

the number of “villainy” monologues ruined by his automatic politeness was actually impressive. really, it was almost a talent.

it was a drawn-out process, this transformation. no guidebooks or cheat sheets. however... i’d argue the closest thing he had to a mentor here was toriel.

she didn't know it was him. obviously. somehow that made it worse, because she kept almost-recognizing things. little stuff he hadn't managed to burn away yet.

a familiar turn of phrase. how he'd end sentences. that godawful giggle that still sounded too much like pillow forts and frolicking in the mud. how he’d fill glasses, just enough to make them brim above the edge. the efficient way.

each time her eyes would catch on these moments, these tiny betrayals of self, he'd slam that reset button with all six petals. nu-uh, no buckaroo.

her reactions were the compass he followed, pointing to what needed to be carved away. reset after reset, he got better at it. harsher. finer. a little less like the kid who used to run up to her with flower crowns and scraped knees.

the kindnesses got rarer; the callousness came easier.

never easy enough, though.

she'd still tilt her head sometimes, something glittering in her eyes like she was hearing the first few notes of a song she’d once known by heart. and he'd realize he'd effed up again, let some stupid little piece of asriel show through.

she’d never know she was teaching him how to stop being her son. to her, he was just some weird flower guy that occasionally felt eerily familiar, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

every time she almost intuited something in him, he'd reload, desperate to finally become someone she wouldn't know at all.

ahhhhh. and so it came full circle. in his frenzied bid to unlearn being her child, he was still (by the most bruisingly contorted logic) turning to her for guidance. still just a kid, looking to his mom for answers. just… not in the way either of them would’ve wanted.

#flowey undertale #flowey the flower #flowey #toriel undertale #flowey ut #toriel dreemurr #sillyposting #not-so-silly #ask #i love toriel #half of me just wanted to write something for her #and him ig. he's there too

107 notes · View notes

slytherinshua · 10 months ago

Text

SURPRISE !

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. changmin w glasses skdjks??? pairing. changmin x fem!reader. wc. 553. request. no. a/n. changmin w his black glasses like in the babydoll stage actually DESTROYS me like wtf i need him...

A flurry of excitement filled your stomach as you peaked around the corner of the building you were hiding behind and saw your boyfriend standing with his back to you. You hadn’t seen him for months, and he didn’t know you had flown out secretly with the help of Chanhee to surprise him. He was talking about something with Eric, laughing at something he had said. You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine that the dimples you loved so much were displayed.

Eric made eye contact with you, and you gave him a quick thumbs up— the signal you had both agreed on for when you were ready. You heard him bringing up an excuse of having to go to the bathroom, and dip back into the restaurant. Changmin leaned his shoulder against the wall, still with his back turned to you, and took out his phone to type something.

You felt your own phone buzz in your back pocket and bit back a smile. Of course you would be the first person he texted. You ignored the message, and silently crept closer, being as stealthy as you could so he wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Once you got close enough, you reached out and grabbed his thick black glasses from his face, pulling them off easily with a giggle. Changmin gasped in shock, brain not processing what had happened until he turned around in a rush and saw your smug face and your hand held up high with his glasses clutched between your fingers.

“Y/n! Give them back!” He laughed, reaching forward to grab them, but you held them just out of reach of him.

“They’re mine now!” You said, satisfied as you slipped them onto your face while your boyfriend watched in shock. It didn’t take long for his brain to finally process that you had been away from him for months and you weren’t supposed to be in front of him now, except you were.

“How did you-” His jaw dropped again in shock and he reached out to touch you, as if to check if you were actually real or not. Upon finding that you were actually standing in front of him, his body seemed to act faster than his brain.

He pushed you against the wall, closing you in with his hands on your shoulders. His lips were entangled with yours before another second could pass, and all you could do was sigh and kiss him back eagerly, hands finding their home in his dark hair. He had cut it while you were away, and while you had seen pictures, feeling it underneath your own fingertips felt different.

“Missed you too.” You giggled once he pulled away, still holding you close up against the wall. You took off the glasses you had stolen from him and carefully placed them back onto his face, kissing his nose after.

“You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve gotten you flowers or something.” He mumbled with a pout.

“That would’ve ruined the surprise.” You argued.

“I missed you so much.” He said, sounding relieved that you were back in his arms. He hugged you to his chest, breathing in your perfume and holding you like it was the last time he would ever be able to.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore

244 notes · View notes

ye4gerism · 23 days ago

Note

what do you think are some thinks curly and reader like to do together as a couple. Also how do you think it was in the early stages of them not dating but yk just getting there and then the early stages of oh were official. Also if reader and curly did actually have like the whole big wedding instead of just going to the court house do you think curly would like cry big ass tears or would you say in general of how they get married he would be crying big ass tears.

𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺 - 𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑳𝒀 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

author’s note these past few hours omg 😩 thank you for the ask. i’m going to go ahead and connect this to the curly headcanons i’ve been meaning to post. and, ugh, isn’t simon baker the perfect curly??😩

* answering this ask with good luck, captain in mind but can be read without it!

content warnings suggestive, black reader friendly

• you meet curly abroad in london and befriend him (and jimmy, i guess). your friendship only fostered because you were lonely in the city and curly had made an effort to hang out with you

• so things like going out for brunch or sightseeing. you’d have late-night conversations over the phone or you’d just sit in the car and talk. nothing romantic, just pure friendship.

• however, the attraction was clearly there. the both of you just didn’t want to make a move just yet. you had learned that he lived further away from you and so you even wondered if it was worth pursuing a relationship with curly at all. you were fine with being future pen pals

• curly just thought he was out your league - you’re beautiful, smart, a great conversationalist. he didn’t want to screw you over.

• eventually he confesses:

“I just wasn’t confortable leaving without telling you how I felt. You’re a great girl and anyone would be lucky to have you,” he told you.

• you propose you try long distance and it works.

• the two of you take turns visiting each other and you fall even more in love with him each visit

• one time he proposed you go hiking and you were absolutely dreading it. going hiking with this man you just met?? you were hot and it started raining but as crazy as it was, having your first kiss in the rain made up for it

• six months into dating and you two have your first time together. curly gentle and cautious of your body. he wants to show you how much me respects you. the morning after he’s so so touchy (1:48 and beyond does not matter unless you want it to lol)

• and curly is so crazy when it comes to you and intimacy. he’s over here painting your toes and teasing you all at the same time. he paints one nail and then leaves kisses up your leg and stops when he knows he’s getting close to your hot spot.

• he’s just a big tease in general. also…didn’t know where to put this but…👀

• not only does curly taking you hiking but he takes you to a mountains to ski and do a bunch of snow shit. a lot of his dates are outdoors but you like him, so you roll with it. A lot the dates you plan are dinner dates, going to the movies, just city stuff. you’ve both learned to have a mutual respect for your differences.

• but curly loves when he’s with you. he appreciates mini home dates and just being alone with you

• then he pops the question 6 months later. and you say yes. and you have a courthouse wedding bc you two enjoy your privacy. in good luck, captain, reader and curly do have a big wedding. it’s referred to briefly in ‘rest of your lives’. i would actually argue that curly was a bit more emotional during your courthouse wedding - he read vows that he wrote and he got to be with you. there was no one there to destroy the peace. your big wedding was more of a family gathering and appeasing to your families.

• now domestic stuff…i would say that you and curly are pretty decent cooks but you’re a little better than he is. curly likes to learn though! so he’s picked up a lot of your cooking skills.

• curly’s not the cleanest but he’s not a slob either. his office space is just a bunch of papers but when he’s not busy, he does get his act together and organizes his desk. you are a stickler for organization, so the house doesn’t get too busy bc you’re always one step ahead.

• you like to shower alone but Curly always hops in when you’re ready to get out

• i feel like reader and curly would be a family of three. you’d end up having one baby, a little girl bc curly’s a girl dad (convince me otherwise).

• but you’d definitely consider adoption if you wanted a second child.

• a family of four actually sounds fitting - a daughter and a son

• curly’s big on sports, so the minute your kids learn how to walk, he’s taking them to the rec center.

• kids also mean leaving you at home when he wants to go hiking. he recognizes you need a break and encourages you to have the day to yourself as he takes the kids out

• surprisingly enough, curly’s the stricter parent. he has the hard talks with the kids when they’re disrespectful. he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to time out or taking away devices.

• you like packing lunches for the kids. you like to leave little notes for them and organize everything neatly inside

• and most importantly, you guys live happily ever after. at least, within this post.

#captain curly x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader mouthwashing #black yn #black reader

62 notes · View notes

ceesimz · 7 months ago

Text

Reverie - Part 2

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení - part one here

Hey, welcome back for part two :) Thank you so much for the love, this genuinely wouldn't have been posted had it not been for the reaction to the first. Again, more things I wanna mention before reading. This part includes the aftermath of a bad meltdown, but the actual meltdown part is not written in. This was a personal decision because quite honestly there is no way to sum that experience down into a few words, it's impossible. The best example I have seen of a meltdown in the media is the character of Quinni in Heartbreak High on Netflix, if you're interested then you should watch that scene in the first season. I hope you enjoy this second part, thank you for taking the time to read it, let me know what you think :)

Your first Champion’s League game for Barcelona, a group stage game against PSG at home, didn’t quite go as planned.

From the first minute of the game, things weren’t clicking out on the pitch for you. Passes to and from you weren’t connecting, you were losing duels you definitely shouldn’t and you were missing key, game-changing shots.

Half-time came way too quickly, and to everybody’s frustration, the score was still 0-0. As everyone sat in the changing rooms receiving treatment or refreshing themselves with energy drinks and whatnot, the result wasn’t the thing at the forefront of Ingrid's mind. It was you. She could see defeat written all over you before the match had even concluded. It didn’t bode well what this game was doing to you. Before she could do anything, she was called away for a tactical discussion. Then the break was over and everybody was being ushered back to the pitch, and her opportunity was gone.

Rough challenges, an open goal miss, and a yellow card later, you were done for. Your streak was over, you knew what was coming and there was no way to avoid it.

Nobody heard from you for ten hours, nobody saw you at any point after the game, and quite frankly nobody knew where you were. Ingrid knew though. And if her gut feeling about what had happened was correct, she was going to need back up for this one. She hadn’t dealt with a situation like this for a while now, and she felt a little out of her depth.

“Why didn’t anybody stay with her last night?” Alexia asked with a deep-set frown, rushing to your flat alongside Mapi and Ingrid. “You guys live in the same complex as her, why didn’t you check up on her?”

“I don’t know, Alexia! If I could go back and change it, I would, I swear.” Ingrid replied desperately, looking through her keys to find the one to her old flat.

“Hey, let’s not argue. She won’t be in any fit state to deal with that, we can hash it out later.” Mapi attempted to de-escalate the situation whilst taking the keys from her girlfriend's shaking hands and quietly unlocking the door.

The thing they'd all been worried about made its presence known immediately. Ingrid’s heart broke, and she’d never regretted a decision more in her life.

By the door, your bag had been thrown haphazardly towards the shoe rack, causing the contents of both items to be strewn across the entryway. As the trio stepped past the mess and entered the main room, their concern doubled. There seemed to be two smashed glasses in the kitchen, one of the framed prints from your lounge wall had fallen down, a plant had been knocked over, yet there was no sign of you. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off, and the flat was deathly silent.

“What do we do?” Alexia questioned quietly, afraid of shattering the calm that had seemingly settled after the storm, and unsure what the best way to go about this was. She'd never really experienced anything like this before, at least not to this degree.

“Can you two clean up a bit? She will be in bed, I should go to her first I think.” Ingrid decided as her eyes were glued to your closed bedroom door.

“Of course. If either of you need anything, princesa, just shout for us.” Mapi reminded her, knowing that whatever was in store for her behind your bedroom door could be mentally taxing for her too. She nodded, and at that left the two Spaniards to clean up as she went off to do some damage control.

What greeted her when she entered your room was a sight she hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since the several hour journeys the pair of you would make throughout Germany to meet up, not since national camps, not for years.

Ingrid found you as a disfigured lump under the duvet, the only thing visible being your hair peeking out just slightly. Again, the lights were off and the curtains were drawn, but with it being morning there was enough daylight bleeding through the soft material to let her look around the room. Just like the rest of the flat, it was in a concerning state of disarray. That wasn't at the forefront of her mind though right now though.

“Elskling?” She called out softly, though got no response. Her only option was to step closer, around to the side of the bed you lay on to try and get your attention.

You were lay on your stomach, cheek smushed against the mattress, and most unnervingly of all, your eyes were open and staring straight ahead at the wall in front. The look on your face was hauntingly empty, yet agonised all in one.

“Hey.” Ingrid whispered, kneeling down before you, yet you didn't even acknowledge she was there.

It was that moment that the defender noticed the tear tracks, the redness to your face, and the internal agony and undertones of fear present in your blood-shot eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat, broken at the sight of you, before gently placing her hand on your back atop the sheets.

“If you can hear me, min engel, just give me a tiny nod at least. That's all I ask.” The relief that flooded her when you did exactly what she said was immense, it filled her from head to toe, so grateful you were at least present in the room now.

“Thank you, that's all I needed.” She smiled sadly, delicately pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. “I'm going to sit here with you for as long as you need. María and Alexia are here too but they won't come in unless you say otherwise, they are just cleaning up for you. I love you, søster, I am always going to love you no matter what.”

Her words, her compassionate and caring words, broke through the trance you'd been in ever since your explosive meltdown had ended however long ago. Ingrid's unconditional love that she consistently showed towards you made itself known yet again, it being quite possibly the one sole thing that could get through to you in this precarious moment.

The taller woman panicked the moment she saw you tearing up again, worried that she had said the wrong thing, but then your arm reached out from under the covers and grasped desperately at the hand on your back.

“It's okay, it's okay. I've got you. I'm here, you're safe, and I've got you.” Her free hand came up to wipe the tears that fell silently, the repetitive movement of her thumb across your wet cheeks a comfort you clung onto. Meanwhile, the arm of hers you'd grabbed now had both your arms wrapped around it, eyes scrunched tightly shut to keep the tears at bay as much as possible.

It wasn't possible though, they were coming out thick and fast with no way of stopping them.

“Let it out, snuppa, you will feel better.”

And let it out you did; all the anger you directed at yourself the second the final whistle blew the day before dissipated, and a fatalistic sadness washed over you. You don't know how long you spent sobbing into the mattress, all you knew was that Ingrid was there and she wasn't leaving. She repeated reassuring words over and over until they finally registered, eventually helping you to calm down.

All that was left was an exhausted, now mindless shell of you, stuttered breaths sounding through the quiet room every so often. Ingrid's hand was tracing light circles on the palm of yours, whilst she was quietly suffering through a numb arm that you held onto still.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink since yesterday?” Ingrid asked, her assumption confirmed by the slight shake of your head. “Can I leave for a few seconds to get you something, or shall I ask one of the girls to do it?”

“Stay.” You could barely get the single word out; your throat was already dry and hurting from the exertion it had experienced in the last twelve hours or so, nevermind the mental challenge it was to speak.

“Alright, I will stay. Is it okay if one of them comes in then?” Another tiny, barely noticeable nod. “I will text them, thank you.”

No more than a few silent minutes later, there was a polite knock on the door, shortly followed by Alexia walking in with a tray in her arms. On it was a glass of water, a variety of snacks, some electrolyte tablets and even a box of tissues. She had really thought of it all.

Alexia’s eyes glanced up to where you were, before turning back to Ingrid with a questioning look in her eyes. Ingrid only shook her head, and Alexia took that as her cue to leave. It was clear, from just one momentary glance, that Ingrid still had more progress to make with you, so Alexia quietly slipped straight back out of the room.

When Ingrid turned back to you, all she saw was the sixteen year old version of you, crying in a hotel room hours from home after being dropped to the bench for an upcoming match. She saw the seventeen year old inside of you, the one that had gotten way past drunk at a party and had collapsed into a blubbering, destroyed mess on your bed after near enough carrying you home. She saw you at twenty, breaking down when she revealed she was moving to Wolfsburg, fumbling through the congratulatory messages whilst trying to come to terms with the fact your best friend was moving to a whole different country, feeling like the world was collapsing around you. You, twenty-three, leaving your last national camp, physically and mentally ruined, unable to talk, body and mind exhausted after a night of tears, frustration, and a soul crushing amount of remorse at the decision you had no choice but to make.

Every version of yourself, past and present, was right there in front of her; every version needing the support she was giving. Every version was still alive in some way, they would never die. With this disorder, things don’t come and go, they’re always there, ready to be triggered at any given moment. She had seen this one and the others a handful of times before, but you’d have them with you for the rest of your life. Your own cross to bear, something she’d never come to experience or understand, but if she can carry the load with you then she’d give up everything else in her life to do so.

“Are you ready to sit up? Ale brought in some stuff for you.” She said, her hand resting on your cheek and caressing it lightly.

You only shrugged, not quite ready to leave your space yet. If you moved now, you had to face the world again, had to recover from the night’s meltdown and move on. It was daunting, nothing short of terrifying, and the longer you could delay the process, the better.

“The three of us have cleared our day, should you need us. We’ll go at your pace, do things how you want. I’ll be right here.”

You found solace in Ingrid’s company; having her here meant you could relax and focus on something else other than the noise in your head. Your thoughts were having a whale of a time up there, you couldn’t land on a single one as they were spiralling around too much to pick one out. It was exactly that - just noise. But then you’d avert your eyes slightly to the left and land on a certain dark-haired woman, and everything went silent. Knowing that Alexia and Mapi were just a few metres away behind the door might have made you panic, but you trusted them both and knew that they were equally concerned about you as Ingrid was. As Alexia had told you since one of the first times you spoke to her, she wanted to be a person you felt comfortable with to go to about any problems, and you did trust her. Mapi too, though she came as an unspoken package deal with Ingrid, whether she liked that or not.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, surprising yourself as much as you did Ingrid. She frowned at you, wondering why of all things you could say after the difficult time you’d had in the last day, you chose to apologise.

“Sorry about what? You don’t need to apologise for anything, elskling.” She told you, finally moving her dead arm to hold one of your hands and squeeze it comfortingly.

“Yesterday. The match. Me.” Talking was still hard, but the guilt was monumental.

“The result wasn’t your fault. That’s just how football is sometimes, but we didn’t lose and we still have more group stage games to go. The whole team was off, it wasn’t your fault.” Ingrid reminded you, her eyes wide as she tried to get the message through to you.

“Yellow card.”

“You did get a yellow card, but we all saw the replay afterwards and you got the ball. The referee got it wrong. You also scored our only goal of the game, engel, don’t forget that.” She shuffled a little closer on her knees, placing another kiss to your forehead.

“Suppose so.” You grumbled a minute later, Ingrid smiling in amusement.

“You did so.” She commented, thumb still stroking along the skin of your cheekbone. “Did you have a bad meltdown last night?”

“Mhm.” You hummed dejectedly, overcome with shame and embarrassment at now admitting it to someone. The evidence of it was all around, you knew the trio in your house had seen it all, but there was something gut-wrenching about admitting it aloud.

“Okay. We’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together, don’t worry.” Ingrid stated resolutely, like there was no other option.

With the next thing you said, someone might have to come along and piece Ingrid back together.

“Why do they have to happen, Ingrid? I hate them so fucking much.”

All your vulnerabilities poured out in two short sentences. Twenty-six years later and the process of a meltdown never got any less demoralising.

“I know, I know.” She moved from her place on the floor and clambered onto the bed behind you, recognising that you had entered a head space where you’d feel comfortable with it now. You confirmed that for her by rolling onto your side, allowing her to shuffle up and hug you tightly back to her chest. “Hey, think of it this way. This is your first one since moving to Spain, that’s amazing! I’m so proud. You’ve handled everything so well, I bet younger you is so proud too.”

Progress wasn’t linear, and it didn’t have the same definition in this case as it did for the majority of the population. Progress meant learning about yourself, learning what harmed you and what you couldn’t deal with, so that you could come up with solutions. There wasn’t a way to grow comfortable with certain things, like restaurants for example, it was about realising what precautions had to be taken beforehand and what support you needed afterwards. Progress was being able to ask people for help, it was having the courage to say no to plans you wouldn’t be able to cope with, it was accepting that yes, you were different, but no, it didn’t make you any less worthy than the next person.

You had made progress, but not the textbook definition of it. Autism took everything about the allistic world and re-defined it for itself.

“Thank you.” You said, voice cracking a little as you did so, a slither of a smile on your face when Ingrid kissed the back of your neck. “Love you, Ingrid.”

The defender felt as if her heart had burst upon hearing those two words. But with the swell of joy that filled her chest, quickly came the crushing sense of regret from earlier.

“I love you too. I'm sorry for not being here last night. I could have helped, or just been with you, and I didn't. I'm sorry for that.”

Her apology tugged at your heart; you didn't blame her, not one bit. 99% of the time, there was no stopping these things, no matter what you tried or who you were with.

“It's okay. Thank you for being here now.”

Ingrid nestled in closer at that, and the strength of her hug was the exact kind of pressure needed for the remnants of the dark cloud that had hung over you for a while to finally drift away. The pair of you stayed that way for a while, both more than happy to relish in the peace that had settled, but when there are two antsy women only a few feet behind the door, a disruption is inevitable.

“Can they come in? They’re both worried and will just want to see you're okay.” Ingrid asked quietly after one of them had knocked on the door. You nodded sheepishly, so Ingrid called them in.

“How are things going in here?” Mapi asked carefully, smiling at her girlfriend who gave her a reassuring nod.

“Good. We’re doing okay now.” Ingrid answered honestly, feeling just as relieved as the two Spaniards at the door looked.

“You guys can come in instead of hanging around by the door.” You told them, Ingrid stifling her laughter behind you.

“You two look cosy. Let me join, I'm jealous.” Mapi grinned, dramatically diving onto the bed and sighing contently as she threw an arm around Ingrid's waist.

Alexia was still lingering awkwardly at the door as three of you lay in one double bed, thinking that she didn't want to intrude on a friendship that had been around far longer than she'd known you. But, as you had done for months now, you continued to surprise her.

“Come lay here, Ale.” You waved her over and pointed for her to lay beside the bed on the ground.

Ale. Sure, everybody called her that, but today was the first time you called her that.

She came over in a heartbeat, probably too eager, but she immediately got down and laid on her back beside you. You looked down at her with a shy smile, red eyes and all, and she returned it instantly with pink cheeks.

“Have you eaten yet?” She whispered, looking at the untouched tray of goods next to her. As you shook your head, she reached to grab the paper bag of bakery-bought cookies she had found in your kitchen and opened them, before taking one out and breaking a bit off to give to you. “Cookies for breakfast.”

“Cookies for breakfast.” You gladly took it and ate it, all whilst smiling down at the woman on the floor.

Alexia Putellas, your captain, a World Cup winner, voted best player in the world numerous times, laying on the floor of your apartment just for you. Playing for this team, in this city, was still such a perplexing situation, though fortunately for all the right reasons.

The rest of the day was spent with Mapi and Ingrid as you had told Alexia to go to her family dinner she had initially cancelled. She was reluctant to do so, but eventually she agreed and you were left with Ingrid and her hyperactive counterpart. They kept you distracted enough throughout the day, going for a walk with you, watching a movie with you, even inviting you back to their apartment for dinner where you spent the majority of the time with Bagheera on your lap. Mapi made digs at the fact her cat loved you more than her, and you just sat there with a grin on your face, knowing it was true and revelling in it.

At the end of the night, you insisted on going back to your own flat after telling the pair of them you were tired of third-wheeling. With tight hugs from them both and one last gloat from you as Bagheera followed you to the door, you left them and made the very short journey back home. You had unknowingly left your phone there, and as you checked it for the first time in a couple hours, there was a surprise waiting for you on it.

Alexia: Would you like to get breakfast with me tomorrow?

Alexia: I can meet you at your apartment and we can walk somewhere of your choice

Alexia: But if you don't want to, that’s okay!

Her nervousness radiated through the phone with her slight spam of texts, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it was. As if you could ever say no to that. Even if it was a last minute change of plan, all you were going to do tomorrow was maybe go on a run or go to the gym before staying home all day. This was a welcome surprise.

Sticking true to her word, she showed up at 9am on the dot. Anyone would assume it was the middle of winter in Norway with the way she was dressed, when it was just a rainy day in Barcelona. But she was there, a shy smile on her face that was very uncharacteristic for her as she handed you one of the two umbrellas she had in her hands.

“I do have my own umbrella here, Ale.” You teased her, though you took it and closed the door behind you. When you turned back, there was a red shade to her cheeks.

“Well, good morning to you too.” She grumbled, trying to act grumpy but the smile on her face forced its way through sooner than she wanted. As soon as it did, she drew you in for one of those hugs that you may or may not think about more often than you'd admit.

You both easily fell into step after that, heading towards a quiet little cafe you had frequented since your first week in Barcelona. It was a short walk from your apartment, but that didn’t stop the grumbled complaints from Alexia about the weather the whole way, though by the time you arrived you were quite sure she was doing it just to hear you laugh. Again, it surprised you just how naturally conversation flowed between you both. There was no awkwardness, no nerves, just unfiltered joy spilling from the both of you. It hit you then. You were just being yourself around her. And that’s why it felt so good.

There was no reason to mask around Alexia; you felt safe around her. You could do or say anything, and most likely she would just smile right back at you. She’d seen most versions of you by now, and yet here she still was, inviting you out for breakfast even if it did rain on her parade. She had seen you at your happiest in your first game for the team when she came sprinting over, leading the charge for her teammates to celebrate with you. She saw you yesterday morning after a night of horror, eyes red and puffy, wrapped up unmoving in bed, and she lay on the floor beside you still with a smile on her face. You had already let her in more than some of the people you were closest with back in Germany and her opinion never faltered.

After finding a table, beside the window of course, Alexia went off to order for the pair of you. Though, when she came back, there was a surprise on your plate.

“Why’d you get me this?” You asked shyly.

“Because it is your… your comfort food, right? I thought you would like it.” She shrugged the gesture off, sitting down across from you like it was nothing. Like it didn’t mean everything to you. It wasn’t the cookie itself that had your heart racing, it was the thought behind it that topped your heart back up with the love it needed after the past thirty-six hours.

“They are, but you didn’t have to do this for me. Thank you.” You said, hiding your smile by taking a drink of the hot cocoa you had chosen.

“Eh, it’s nothing. Have you ever tried this?” She gestured to her choice of meal, one of her favourites. “Pa amb tomàquet.”

“I don’t like tomatoes.”

“Oh no, cariño.” Alexia muttered after a few quiet moments, shaking her head and dropping her cutlery. “No, no, no.”

“What?” You said in amusement, entertained by her dramatics.

“You just stamped on my culture. You broke my heart.”

“I broke your heart, did I?” You said with a smirk. “You broke my heart when you complained about the rain the whole way here.”

“How can anyone like rain? It is sad and boring.” She argued in mock outrage, though of course she can’t last a second around you without smiling.

“The rain reminds me of home.” You revealed sheepishly. Alexia’s shoulders dropped and her face softened instantly. “Both Norway and Germany, actually.”

“No, I understand. I get it. I never thought about it like that but I understand.” She told you, watching as you nodded and looked out the window. “Do you get homesick?”

“Sometimes.” You admitted in a whisper a minute later, only to clear your throat and turn your attention back to your food and start eating.

“You… you never speak Norwegian with Ingrid.” She stated, though it was clearly more of a question.

“Uh, nope. I find it hard to learn new languages, so when I learnt English and moved to Germany, it was like it became my first language. I can speak Norwegian still, obviously, and I would love to learn Spanish and Catalan but it’s just really tiring switching between languages. Mentally tiring, that is. I never learnt German other than a few basic phrases. It’s just too much to process if that makes sense.”

You stumbled your way through an explanation of a minor secret you’d been a little shameful of for a while now. It was common courtesy to learn and understand the language of a new country, as well as immersing yourself in that and the culture, but it was something you had always struggled with. Admitting that to someone like Alexia was slightly terrifying.

“That’s okay, a lot of people here speak English so you don’t need to worry about learning the languages. But if you ever want some lessons, if or when you are ready, I could help. Or Aitana, or Jana, or someone else.”

It was suggestions like that, easy solutions that were offered with no second thought, that made Alexia so endearing.

There was one thought that was ever-present in the back of your mind though, it had been for a while, but the meltdown brought it on even stronger. Once the pair of you had finished your meals and were merely just enjoying each other’s company, it came out before you could stop it.

“Do you think I’m doing well here?”

Alexia paused for a moment to think carefully, before placing her cup down and smiling over at you.

“I do. You want to know what I think?” You nodded with no hesitation. “I remember watching you play against us in the Champion’s League last year, you really caused us a lot of problems. And then I heard the coaches say they were thinking of signing you, and I really wanted you to come because I know you would flourish here. Our play style suits you well, and you are an amazing striker. Your positioning, your creativity, awareness, you are a well-rounded attacker. And outside of the pitch, well… the team is much better off with you here.”

“What do you mean?” You said, almost in a whisper.

“You are just a happy person. The happiest person in the changing room. Any one of us could be having a bad day, but then you are there with your smile and your cheeriness and it really lifts us all up.”

Dumb-founded. That's all you felt in that moment.

Perhaps your face may not show that considering there was a thoughtful frown on your face as you processed the words nobody had ever said to you before, but then the slight shock wore off and… nope, still dumb-founded.

“Really?” You had to double check, because is that honestly what other people thought of you?

“Yes. It's the truth. Ingrid said she has never seen you bond like this with a team before. Believe me when I say you fit in, everybody loves you. We can't imagine what it's like to not have you now.”

Well. You just might have to start believing that. What choice were you left with otherwise?

—

Something snapped inside of you after that day. A new problem had formed, one you couldn’t have expected at all. Had you dealt with a similar situation in the past? Yes. But those were much more convenient occasions. This one couldn’t be more inconvenient if you tried.

You couldn’t talk to Mapi about it, or Ingrid, or Alexia. Definitely not Alexia.

It’s just a crush. You could get over a crush.

Of course you fall for the first person who showed you a bit of humanity. What’s not to like about Alexia?

She lets you ramble to her when you want to, she sits in silence with you when you need it. During briefings at training, she’ll hand over a pack of chewing gum as she knows it helps you to concentrate or, even in some situations outside of training, she takes her rings off and lets you wear them so you can fidget with them instead of your bad habits of skin picking. She’s seen you very close to your worst, and she’s seen you at your best. She gives you her sunglasses whenever a place is too bright, not just because of the sun as it can be any kind of light, and she lets you squeeze her hand to death during take-offs and landings on planes whilst travelling for away games.

Maybe, maybe, it was a tad more than a crush. It’s not your fault though! She chose to act this way, she had inserted herself right into your life the moment she met you, so… what else were you supposed to do?

Oh boy.

“Frido! I need your help!” You said in an urgent, hushed whisper. The unsuspecting Swede was just walking to her car after training when you called her name from the window of your own vehicle.

“Everything okay?” She checked with a concerned scowl to her eyebrows, coming over in an instant.

“Yes! Well, no, but yes, but- just get in the car please.”

With a humoured smile, Frido headed around to the passenger side and hopped in, turning to you with an open expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit agitated.” She probed once more. Being long-time friends with Ingrid meant you had obviously come to know Frido well too, and she was part of the group you found yourself in at Barcelona, with Aitana and Esmee also. Esmee was the person you sat with on the coach most of the time, you both gave each other the calmness needed after a game… but that was when you weren't with Alexia, of course.

“Yes, I am just screwed, Frido. So screwed.” You groaned, clutching the steering wheel tightly and dropping your forehead to rest on it.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t tell anyone but it’s going to explode out of me if I don't talk about it soon. And I can’t tell Ingrid or Mapi, so here we are.” Then you slumped back against your chair, a frustrated sigh leaving you as you crossed your arms.

“You can tell me anything, they don’t have to know. Getting it off your chest will help.” Frido smiled reassuringly at you.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell anyone about it. Having someone else know made it a reality, for you right now it was just a thought, a daydream. But telling Frido would turn this stupid delusion into an actual, real problem rather than something you thought about at night. And during the day. Actually, most of the t- it doesn't matter.

“You must never tell a soul, Frido.” You glared at her in warning, though you trusted her with your life. “And you can't make fun of me or laugh either. It's not funny.”

“Never, snuppa. I promise.” She swore.

Another sigh as your eyes flitted around anxiously, moving from the car beside you, to the sky, to the blonde waiting patiently for you to find the words you need. Maybe the world will be thrown upside down when you tell her, but it's either that or an implosion, so.

“I like Alexia. Really like her. And it's going to ruin my life.”

It did not feel better saying it out loud.

“Why wou-”

“Because she is the captain! She’s the leader, everyone looks up to her, she's just being a human and now I have a crush on her! That's not fair on her! All she’s doing is just being nice to me, like everyone else on the team, and my stupid brain had to choose her. Of all people in the world, her! It's going to mess everything up, I've just found my place and I'm finally feeling somewhat comfortable here and then this happens and I just- I hate it!”

Your words shocked yourself, even. Apparently it was a much bigger problem than you initially thought. In reality, you should have picked up on that, relationships historically haven't gone well for you.

Everybody says they don't care that you're autistic until your disability actually debilitates you. One glimpse of it and they’re gone. Then the world has the audacity to label you as someone who is ‘high-functioning’ with ‘low support needs’ just because you can get up in the morning and go to work. That doesn't mean you struggle any less, you’re not ‘mildly autistic’, those struggles are simply just internalised, therefore other people experience your autism mildly. If anything, they should be thanking you. Thanking you for making their life easier by making your own a million times harder.

Should Alexia ever see you during one of your meltdowns, she’d probably run for the hills. Quit her career, change her name, and flee to another country. That’s what most people did.

“Slow down, slow down. Come back to me, you are spiralling.” There were soft hands holding your own now, stopping you from palming them roughly against your arms, something you did in anxious moments like now. Movement helped you process things, it was no wonder you became a footballer.

“I don’t know what to do, Frido, it will ruin everythi-”

“Hey, be quiet for a moment.” She urged gently, and you turned to look at her with panic in your eyes. “This won’t ruin everything, that is just your anxiety talking. You’re allowed to have a crush on someone, skatt, you’re only human. It’s natural.”

“Yes, but it’s not the fact I have a crush, it’s who the crush is.”

“I know.” She paused for a second, figuring out the best way to help you around this. “When you talk to me, who do you see? Do you see Frido, your friend? Or do you see Fridolina Rolfö, the footballer?”

“I see Frido, my friend.” You answered skeptically.

“When you’re with Alexia, do you see her as Ale, your friend? Or do you see Alexia Putellas, your captain?”

“She’s just Ale, but I don’t-”

“If you see Alexia like that normally, why are you picturing her differently in this case? As if she’s bigger than you and… unobtainable?”

Viewing it from another perspective definitely gave you some clarity.

…But, after all, she is your captain?

“I don’t want to mess this opportunity up though. I was really worried I wouldn’t like it here, but now I do and I actually already love it more than Germany, but if I ever acted upon my feelings it could fuck it all up. I don’t know if I could handle that.” You said insecurely, chewing on your lower lip to keep the emotions at bay.

When Frido had been silent for too long, you turned to look at her, only to find she was doing the same thing. As if she was deep in thought. Before you could coax whatever was clearly on the tip of her tongue out of her though, she was speaking.

“I know something that I shouldn’t. I’m going to tell you anyway because I think it will make you feel a lot better.” She began with a shy, yet excited expression to her features.

“What is it?” You prompted.

“Last week, in Seville. I was walking to my hotel room and… Mapi and Ale were ahead of me in the corridor. I don’t think they knew I was there, and I heard them having a conversation just like ours.”

Oh. Oh.

“How sure are you?” Your eyes searched her face, looking for even just an ounce of hesitation that would throw all this out the window for you. But it wasn’t there.

“I’m very sure, snuppa, I heard basically every word.” She said with an almost proud smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about anything. Sounds like Alexia feels the same as you do. And even if I hadn’t overheard that, it’s clear to a lot of us that Alexia felt that way anyway. Think of how much time she has spent with you since you joined. She doesn’t spend that much time with anyone on the team, to be honest.”

That caught your attention. Now that Frido mentions it, Alexia has spent a lot of time with you. There was that morning she took you out for breakfast, something you hadn't ever expected but after it, you wished it would happen every morning. She always chooses to sit next to you at any given point, whether that be in briefings or whilst travelling, as well as opting to partner up with you in training whenever the opportunity arises. She even took time out of her own evening to cook dinner for you and bring it to you once when you told her you had ran out of your meal prep.

“I guess.” You mumbled with a frown.

“She’s just a girl after all. Like you.”

Once again, the world had decided to show you just how much your life can change with one single conversation.

—

Not that you acted upon anything, of course. Over a month passed by with things staying the same as they had been for a number of weeks before the revelation with Frido. Training, match, recovery day, repeat. Dinner at Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment every Thursday if the season schedule allowed it. Morning jogs on days-off, evenings spent basking in the golden glow of a Spanish sunset, some of the best you’d seen. There may have possibly been a few more breakfast outings with Alexia. And perhaps just one movie night. Or was it two?

Regardless, the one good thing about having the natural ability to mask all the inner turmoil you had was being able to hide your feelings when you were around Alexia. On the other hand, your trait of analysing every detail of your life became a bit too exhausting. You were overthinking all of your actions - every word you said, the way you said it, what your hands were doing, what someone might interpret from your body language, every little thing you did kept you up at night.

You definitely still liked her, that might… never go away. Those feelings only grew and weighed you down more and more, but you couldn’t distance yourself from her no matter how loud your mind screamed at you to do so. You liked her company, she ranked almost as high as Ingrid on your list of… list of what? People you liked? People you felt safe with? People you didn’t have to mask at all around? People you lov- too early.

There was just so much to think about, and so few solutions. There were literally two; you either tell her, or you pretend it never happened. What the hell were you meant to do with those options? Both were equally as terrifying. As if your fear of the future couldn’t get any deeper, you were now stood at a crossroads. Alexia could become the most important person in your life, or she could just become another person you leave behind in this free-for-all career. She could just slip into the past and become a distant memory.

Massive leaps of faith still weren’t your thing. The fear of the unknown still ran rampant through your veins, and though you’d become a little more relaxed about certain things over the years, this was absolutely not one of those exceptions. The prospect of it all was just too overwhelming. Truthfully, you really didn’t think you could do this.

However, things all came to a head during the last training session of the year in December. Literally.

“Ale? Are you okay?” You asked in a strangled groan, one of your hands coming up to your head as you squinted through one eye to look for the woman you’d just clashed with.

“Oye, sit down. Ale is fine, you both hit heads though so you need to be checked for a concussion. Lay down.” Mapi demanded just as you got back up onto your knees.

At that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about whether you had a concussion or not, all you cared for was that Alexia was okay. She was, maybe a black eye and a subsequent bruise to her ego, but she was fine. You had taken the brunt of it, straight to the temple.

You followed Mapi’s instruction and layed back down, your head already starting to throb quite a bit. Before you knew it, you were surrounded by some of the medical staff as they checked you over. Once they decided you were well enough to sit up, they urged you to do so as one of them came to cradle your neck to keep it steady. A bright light was flashed into your eyes, making you flinch, but they decided then that if you did have a concussion, it wasn’t too bad. The decision was made to take both you and Alexia inside as the rest of training went on, so the pair of you walked gingerly to the physio room.

“You okay?” Alexia murmured quietly as you both trailed behind the physios a little. You ignored the way your heart fluttered when her hand found your forearm briefly, and instead blamed it on your head injury (though it may not be physically possible for those occurrences to be linked.)

“Mhm. Are you? I’m sorry that happened.” You replied. The collision was a bit hazy for you, you couldn’t exactly remember what had happened so if you were at fault, you had to make sure she knew it wasn’t purposeful. She had to know.

“No, no apologies, it’s just football. Happens all the time.” She reassured you, smiling comfortingly down at you as she held the door open for you.

In the room, the team ushered you both onto separate beds, forcing ice packs into your hands as they carried out more cautionary checks. And to add to the guilt you felt, they decided to rule you both out of the game tomorrow as a precaution. Your stomach dropped, dreading Alexia’s reaction. Everyone knew about her mentality, a missed game was a missed opportunity. You weren’t quite sure you could ever look her in the eye again.

The second the physios said you both could leave, you hopped off the bench and went to make a run for it. The sooner you could get home, the better. If you avoided the conversation, you could avoid the whole situation, and hide until the Winter break ended.

“Cariño, wait!” Alexia called out, managing to gently stop you by your wrist before you could flee. You didn’t put up much of a fight, you just sighed and lowered your head. Alexia gestured for the rest of the staff to leave the room for the time being, and that only made matters worse. Not only was she going to trap you in a conversation, there weren’t even any witnesses. “I just want to talk about something. Could you sit down?”

You had no choice but to entertain her.

Reluctantly, you sat back down on the physio bench you were on a moment ago, and copied Alexia’s position. Perched on the edge, legs hanging off the side, except your hands gripped the fabric of it quite a bit tighter.

“Sorry.” You whispered with a chagrined look to your face, eyes trained on the swing of your legs.

“What? Why?” Alexia asked. The confusion in her voice led you to look up at her with your own questioning glance.

“For getting us ruled out. We can’t play tomorrow now.” You told her, your eyes again looking anywhere in the room but at her. Then again, that always happened, no matter the occasion.

“I told you that wasn’t your fault, you really don’t need to apologise. I’m not mad at you, so you don’t need to feel guilty or anything. We’re both okay, it’s just for our safety.” Alexia reminded softly, but with the head space you were in, you couldn’t believe her words just yet.

“What about the game though?” You uttered in a way akin to that of a down-trodden child, and Alexia could only smile in return at it.

“The team will handle it, they’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about anything, it’s all out of your control. Chin up.” Alexia said with a coy grin.

She laughed freely when you physically tilted your head up and squeezed your eyes shut to give a cheesy smile, and the sound of it instantly calmed most of your worries.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Um, no, actually. There’s another thing.” She scratched the back of her neck nervously as she spoke, and just like that your anxiety came rushing back. “I just, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, so please tell me if I am because that’s not what I wan-”

Was she about to say it?

“Say it, Ale. Just say it.” You interrupted, because if she was going to say it, you needed it right now. You couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Right. Well…” There was a bright redness to her cheeks, not just from the head-to-head a while ago. “I, um, I… I like you. Really like you, actually. As in, I want to go on a date with you.”

She actually said it.

“In a romantic way?” Your deadpan tone didn’t exactly help Alexia’s nerves in that moment.

“Uh, I’m not sure there’s any other kind of date, cariño, so yes, in a romantic way.” She laughed nervously. You were quiet for a few moments as you inwardly controlled your emotions so that you didn’t totally freak out in front of the woman who had just asked you on a date.

You had to play it cool, right? That’s what everyone always said.

“Sure. When?”

It was comical, really. You’d waited this long for something to finally happen between you both, and now it seemed you couldn’t care any less. If Alexia could see into your brain right now though, it would be total chaos. Like a scene straight out of Inside Out.

“I guess now that we can’t play tomorrow and we are the only ones ruled out, we could go to the game together?”

That was… actually a much better idea than you thought. Normally, people go on dates to the cinema or to restaurants or whatever other hellish activity neurotypicals chose to do. But a football game was common ground, something that the pair of you could talk about forever, and it was an environment that you were familiar with. That could absolutely work. A dream, actually.

Still, you had to play it cool.

“But I’m already going to the game. And I would have to sit with you anyway. And all you would focus on is the game, it wouldn’t be much of a date.” You were teasing her at this point, whilst also worrying that perhaps you had taken it too far again, but Alexia understood you by now. She’d caught on, and this was her favourite version of you she had seen so far.

“Fine, it doesn’t have to be a date then! You could have just said no instead of breaking my heart!” She argued theatrically, a wave of euphoria rushing through her when you threw your head back and laughed. “How about we go out for food after, that can be our date? We can go to one of the markets and get dinner from a food truck and go on a walk, instead of a restaurant. Does that sound like a better date?”

“Yeah, but I was going to say yes to the football game anyway.” You shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, a hint of a smirk on your face as you stood up to put your ice pack away. Alexia watched you do so with a huge smile on her face at your antics. You turned back to her, a hand on your hip where you stood not too far away from her now. “Dinner still sounds good though.”

“You are so annoying.” Alexia hopped down off of the bench and wandered over to you with a shake of her head, throwing her own ice pack down next to yours. “You know that?”

“It’s a love language. Get used to it.”

The midfielder chuckled under her breath. Secretly, she hoped she was able to get used to it.

“Wait, what do I have to wear tomorrow?” Your eyes suddenly went wide in panic, staring up at Alexia like she held all the answers in the world.

“Well, it is just a football game and a walk, so whatever you are comfy in. Why?”

“Because it’s a date, I don’t know what you expect me to wear.” You fretted. It had been a long time since your last date. And this was quite possibly the most important one so far.

“I have no expectations, cariño, just make sure you’re warm and comfortable.” Alexia brushed it off like it was nothing, a notion that silenced all those doubts once again. She had a real habit of doing that.

“Okay.” You nodded.

You realised your close proximity then, noticing you were both quite close. There was one thing that came to mind, but it was surely too early for that. No matter how much you wanted it. One step at a time. Instead, you shyly held your arms out and looked up at her.

She immediately knew what you were after, and who was she to deny you of that. You melted into her embrace the second she invited you in, finally being able to relish in the comfort her hugs brought without overthinking it.

“You are quite oblivious, you know?” Alexia stated with a smirk to break the silence.

“Shut up, you’re ruining it.”

—

You couldn’t sleep that night, you were way too excited for your date. You were like a giddy kid at Christmas, the smile didn’t leave your face for more than a second. Ingrid came around that night with the intention of checking up on you, but she never could have predicted what information she was walking back to her apartment with. When she found out, she thought she was excited, but Mapi, well, she was on a whole other level. Long story short, Bagheera didn’t surface from under the sofa until the Spaniard had long gone to bed.

The game kicked off at 2pm, meaning from the second you woke up at 7am sharp, you had way too much energy. Nervous energy. But there was one thing you noticed immediately. You didn’t feel scared, or anxious, or like you wanted to totally avoid the whole situation altogether. You were excited. You woke up feeling like a normal girl going on a date with someone they liked.

It was new. Refreshing. You felt light, you can’t remember the last time you felt that way about something that would normally freak you the hell out. Spending time with Alexia didn’t feel like a chore, the way it did sometimes with anyone in your life. Rather than draining your social battery, it stayed at the same level with her. If you were feeling especially burnt out one day, it didn’t seem so sickening to have Alexia’s company there like it was with the thought of anyone else. Your mind was peacefully empty when with her, unlike the fast-paced monologue that ran pretty much all hours of the day, even when you were asleep.

For once in your life, you were going to be optimistic. Because the woman you were meeting had never given you any reason to be otherwise.

So when she knocked on your apartment door, opting out of firing a text your way to say she had arrived, the surprise of not only her presence but the bouquet in her arms was met with a bright smile from yourself. You immediately took them from her and bounded towards the kitchen area to tuck them safely into a vase. Alexia gazed at you the whole time, feeling her own sense of disbelief at the situation she had found herself in. Never could she have imagined falling for you like she had when she met you for the first time six months ago, but she was happier than ever because of it.

There was a beaming smile of her own on her face, and her eyes crinkled with unfiltered joy when you leaned up to kiss her cheek quickly, before rushing around the flat to get everything you needed. Sunglasses, your coat to go over the matching jumper and joggers you were wearing (Alexia did tell you to dress comfortably, after all), and a cap for good measure. Between you both, there was a distinct difference between the amount of clothing layers, something that made you laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Alexia grumbled, watching you adjust your hair in the mirror after putting your hat on, huffing when it wasn’t agreeing with you.

“You look like you’re dressed for a Norwegian winter. It’s ten degrees.”

“That is cold for me, cariño.” She chuckled, before moving to stand between you and the mirror, and helping you to sort your hair how you wanted it. You blushed and lowered your hands, looking up at her with a shy smile as she worked. “There. You look cute. Cosy.”

“Thank you.” You hummed, cheeks aching from the intensity of your smile when Alexia took hold of your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “You look… warm.”

“Enough with your teasing, let’s go.” Alexia tutted, though she kept your hand in hers as the pair of you left your apartment. It wasn’t until you got to the car that you both reluctantly let go, shooting each other a bashful look before getting into Alexia’s car.

When you arrived at the stadium, both of you spent some time with the team in the locker room, and Alexia addressed them all quickly before you left to find your seats. You had full faith in the team, it was luckily just a league game that most of the younger members of the team would be playing anyway. To be honest, you were quite thankful to not be playing, because it had given way for something better instead.

The majority of the game was spent by both of you talking endlessly about football, both tactical discussions about the game and personal stories for you both. For Alexia, she spoke about how she came to love it so much and how it took her family’s relationship and togetherness to a whole new level. For you, you told her how playing football was the only job you could see yourself succeeding in. The system was routine-based, your work attire was a jersey and shorts, and you were indulging in your special interest everyday of the week. It was an autistic’s person dream to be able to do that, something you were grateful for every time you stepped onto a football pitch. Any other work environment, and you might not have survived.

Alexia hung onto every word you said, just as you did for her. Learning more about each other was something you both took great interest in, because every detail about your past was how you had become the people you were today. Maybe it was too early to class it as such, but falling in love was a phenomenon that people took for granted nowadays. It’s rare, it’s special, and it’s beautiful. Two people, from entirely different backgrounds, leading unique lives with respective struggles and wins the other hadn’t experienced, only to go on and share every high and low together. Yeah, pretty special in your book.

With you both being in view of the stadium’s crowd, you were mindful of the watchful eyes around. There was one exception though; during the later stages of the game, the other team had quite a fierce counter attack, something that had both you and Alexia on the edges of your seat. Though, as they neared the goal, the match was the last thing on your mind when Alexia’s hand landed on your knee in anxious anticipation. That hand didn’t move, even when Cata saved the shot with ease. Instead, she just settled back into her seat and turned to you with a deep breath out, the tension leaving her. Then she noticed what she’d done, but before she could retract it, you simply gazed up at her and put your hand on top of hers.

It remained that way until the whistle blew a few minutes later, when you stood up to make your way down to the rest of the team. You got onto the pitch, Alexia and yourself splitting ways to go and talk to your other teammates. Two familiar faces came bounding over to you and before they even spoke, you could tell what they were going to say just by the smiles tugging at their lips.

“How’s it going?” Mapi asked, poking you in the ribs.

“It’s not gone anywhere yet, we were more focused on the game. But it’s been nice, really nice. It doesn’t feel much different to the other times we’ve hung out, is that good or bad?” You replied with a nervous chuckle, and you got your answer in the form of an excited squeal from Ingrid.

“That’s a good thing! That’s what it was like on our first date, right María?” Mapi nodded enthusiastically, giving you a double thumbs up for extra emphasis. “See! I’m sure you’re doing great, skatt, and I am so happy for you.”

“Me too, preciosa, so happy. Think of the double dates!” Mapi shook your arm vigorously at that, the three of you laughing.

“Let me get through the first one, then I’ll think about it.” That sobered the pair of them up as they nodded in a calmer manner, before they both surged forward to wrap you up in a hug.

“Oh- she’s coming, incoming.” Mapi whispered, pulling away and spinning you around.

“Shall we go, cariño? It might be busy there, so the sooner the better.”

Just like that, you were being whisked away back into Alexia’s car. She drove to the market, which was decorated for the festive seasons, something you gasped at in awe the second you saw it. Alexia fought off a smile at your reaction which she found much more endearing than she thought she would, and she instantly knew it was a good idea to bring you here. Though you were flying back to Norway in a few days’ time for Christmas back at home, she had a feeling you were a bit more homesick than you were letting on, considering the vast difference in the season between Spain and Norway. Her plan to bring you here, not only for a date, but to cheer you up a bit, was already proving to work.

For a couple hours, you went from stall to stall with a childlike wonder, dragging Alexia along behind you with a tight grip on her hand that you said was just because of the busyness of the area, but both of you revelled in it secretly. That became the truth when you were walking away from the market, slowly heading in the direction of Alexia’s car, until she took you in another direction. Turns out, she was leading you to a beautiful walled garden you had no idea even existed, but the second you saw it you fell in love. Even if it may not have been as stunning as it usually was in the summer, it was still more than enough to capture your attention.

“This is amazing, Ale, how did you know this was here?” You wondered, head on a swivel looking at each tiny detail, as if there wasn’t enough time in the world to admire its beauty.

One day, in the future, Alexia will reveal that that’s how she feels about you. There are layers to you, and she fears she won’t have enough time in her life to uncover and explore each one. You hold beauty in your physical features, that was the first thing she noticed about you, but it’s the grace of your heart and how you proudly wear it on your sleeve that she adores the most. It's the sparkle in your eyes when you ramble about the things you love most, the unabashed care you treat everyone with, your humour that constantly keeps her on her toes, the purity of your soul and how you have enough unconditional love to give to nearly every being on the planet. There’s plenty to love about you, but that still doesn’t feel like enough for her.

“I have lived here for most of my life, preciosa, I know Barcelona like the back of my hand.” She said, and maybe if you weren’t so oblivious, you might have seen the adoration present in her gaze.

“So you’re saying you know more places like this? And you’ve kept them a secret all this time?”

“Yes, I will show you them all, don’t worry.” She chuckled, slowly walking over to where you were stuck staring at an abundance of pansies in one area of the garden. “Those are Alba’s favourite.”

“This whole place is my favourite. I love it, thank you for taking me here.” You turned your attention from the flowers and back up to Alexia, who didn’t seem to take any interest in her surroundings. She was just smiling down at you. “What are you smiling at?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re just standing there, smiling. You haven't even looked around yet. What are you smiling like that for?” You asked in utter confusion. She was genuinely just stood there, perfectly still, seemingly lost in her thoughts, with a soft smile on her face that’s directed solely at you. Instead of answering, she laughs, to your annoyance.

“I’m just happy, cariño. Happy to be here with you, on a date.” She answered, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh. Okay.” You said, hoping the dim lighting from the street lamp wasn’t enough for Alexia to see the blush on your cheeks. “I’m really happy too. I can’t believe you like me.”

You didn’t really mean to say that, but the words tumbled out of you regardless.

“Why do you say that?” Alexia questioned with a frown, deftly taking hold of your hands.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, looking down as your feet fidgeted on the spot, kicking a stone away from underneath you. “I can be a lot, I guess.”

“Well, luckily for you, I have seen your ‘a lot’ and it’s enough for me. You don’t have to worry about that, I promise.” Alexia replied, earnesty clear in her voice. She leaned forward then, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Why do you put yourself down like that?”

“Because I want to be your girlfriend, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.” You told her, taking a slight step back.

“Loving another human, that’s all I’m getting into.” She took a cautious step closer. “That little voice is taking over, cariño, take a breath with me and know that I’m not going anywhere.”

Trying to calm down is quite hard when there’s a beautiful woman in front of you being so kind that she makes your head spin. Or when she’s giving the softest forehead kisses in all of mankind and holding your hands with a delicateness you’ve never experienced. She’s not just holding your hands right now, she’s got your heart in the palm of her hands.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” You blurted out, sharply stepping back from her again.

“I know. You are the strongest person I’ve met, and you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. But who’s to say you can’t have someone by your side anyway?” She smiled like it was nothing. As if her words weren’t everything you’d ever wanted to hear. “Are you scared of me leaving?”

“Yes.” You whispered quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat and growing the confidence to look back up into her eyes.

“I’ve learnt a lot about you these past few months. Not a thing I now know has deterred me from you. I don’t think anything could. All I ask is that you take a chance and let me show you how much I adore and admire you. The feelings, the worries and doubts you have, they go both ways, cariño. I am worried that I might not be good enough for you and that I am not what you need. I am scared that I will get things wrong, and that I-”

You had heard enough, she’d proved her point.

You leant up on the balls of your feet, and kissed her. And she returned it almost instantly. Her hands dropped yours and landed on your hips, steadying you on your tip-toes. Yours wrapped around her neck, drawing her somehow closer. And just like everything had been so far with Alexia, it was easy. It was everything you dreamed of and more. Here, somewhere in Barcelona, not only had you made a life for yourself in just six months, you’d gained a new addition to it too.

Alexia had taught you a lot in the short time you had known her. But there was one thing that stood out to you; she had unknowingly taught you, just through her actions, that love is accommodation and consideration. It’s knowing what the other needs, and being there when they need it. It won’t be 50/50 everyday, in your case there will be times where it’s 90/10, and there will be occasions that are the same for Alexia. Your struggles don’t define you, and Alexia’s don’t define her. You’re worth it, just as much as she is. Just as much as everybody else.

Just because you’re stuck with a label for the rest of your life, a disability that beats you down when you want anything but that, those don’t mean that everything has to be hard. The truth is, when a genuine connection is found, things can be easy. They can be peaceful. With Alexia, you feel seen, as if you’re being mirrored back to yourself. Now, by loving the right person, you realise that other people shouldn’t always make you feel exhausted, they shouldn’t be the reason why you retreat back into yourself, and most importantly they shouldn't make you feel like you’re impossible to love.

Life will continue to try and break you down, there’s not a soul on earth that can entirely protect you from that, but having Alexia by your side, just like she said, can lessen the burden. After all, a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved, and joy shared is joy doubled. You have to live, you have to feel, you have to love, you have to take risks. Because if you hadn’t done that all along, where would you be now?

#woso x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi león #ingrid engen #fridolina rolfö #alexia putellas x reader

643 notes · View notes