#finally gonna be playing matchmaker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pandapetals · 21 days ago

Text

sunlight & sawdust

chapter ten: daffodils & drills

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop, for free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, minor jealously

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

"You both oughta thank me." Tommy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, wearing the smuggest damn expression. "Wouldn’t even be together if it wasn’t for me."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you sipped your beer. "Tommy, you are so full of shit."

Joel chuckled beside you, the deep, warm sound rumbling in his chest. His arm draped easily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns along your upper arm—something he did without thinking now, like touching you was second nature.

Tommy smirked, tipping his beer toward you. "Damn, I swear—ever since you started datin’ Joel, you’ve gotten a little meaner toward me."

"Nah," Joel said, tilting his bottle to his lips. "She’s just finally realizin’ how damn annoying you are."

"Annoying?" Tommy gasped in mock offense. "I introduced y’all."

"And?" Joel raised a brow. "That supposed to make up for twenty years of bein’ a pain in my ass?"

"Twenty? Please. I was an angel until at least the age of seven."

"Bullshit."

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but you cut in smoothly, smirking over the rim of your drink. "You’re just mad. I stopped babying you and started babying Joel instead."

Joel snorted, shaking his head, while Tommy placed a dramatic hand over his heart.

"Damn. You don’t even try to deny it." He sighed, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "Fine, fine. Can’t blame a man for missin’ a pretty woman makin’ him feel special. Joel’s one lucky bastard."

Joel usually would’ve shot back something sharp, but he nodded instead. Then, before you could even process it, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

"That I am."

The words were simple, but the weight behind them settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through you.

Tommy groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. "Alright, that’s enough of that. If y’all start gettin’ mushy on me, I’ll leave."

Joel smirked against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Wouldn’t be the worst thing."

Tommy scoffed. "See? This is what I get for bringin’ y’all together."

You grinned, leaning further into Joel’s side, feeling light like you hadn’t in a long time.

"Guess you should’ve thought of that before playing matchmaker, huh?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, lifting his beer. "Yeah, yeah. Y’all can buy the next round since I’ve clearly suffered enough."

You chuckled, slipping out from under Joel’s arm, already reaching for your wallet. "Fine, fine. I’ll get ‘em. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone."

Joel’s hand lingered at your waist as you stepped away, his fingers trailing off your skin like he already missed the contact.

You weaved through the crowded bar, making your way to the counter, waiting for the bartender’s attention.

Joel leaned back in the booth, exhaling through his nose, watching as you walked away.

"You ever gonna stop glarin’ at her ass every time she leaves the table?" Tommy teased, smirking over the rim of his beer.

Joel grunted. "Mind your damn business."

Tommy only chuckled, about to make another smartass remark—until his eyes flicked toward the bar and narrowed.

"Shit."

Joel didn’t like that tone.

His brows furrowed. "What?"

Tommy’s smirk faded, replaced with something mildly amused but mostly knowing. He nodded toward the bar. "Think you got some competition, brother."

Joel turned his head and immediately felt his stomach tighten.

Some asshole was talking to you.

Tall, well-dressed, leaning in just a little too close, his elbow braced against the bar as he flashed you an easy grin.

You were smiling back.

Joel’s jaw clenched.

Not the real smile—the one you gave him when you let yourself soften, let yourself feel. No, this was your polite smile, which you used with customers, strangers, and people you didn’t want to be rude to.

But the guy didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t notice the way you kept a little distance.

You slightly shifted your body away, your fingers tapping absently against the bar as if waiting for the bartender to hurry the hell up.

Joel noticed, and he hated it.

"Relax," Tommy drawled, watching Joel’s hand flex against his thigh. "She ain’t interested."

Joel knew that, but that didn’t stop the irrational heat curling in his chest. Didn’t stop the urge to stand the hell up and ensure that guy got the message.

Tommy smirked, clearly entertained. "Jesus, you look like you’re two seconds from knockin’ his teeth in."

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay seated, fingers curling into a loose fist on the table. "I ain’t doin’ nothin’."

"Mhm. Sure." Tommy took another sip of his beer. "You’re sittin’ there lookin’ like you’re about to start a damn bar fight, but yeah—nothin’ at all."

Joel ignored him because the guy was still talking, still smiling.

Then—he reached out, his fingertips grazing your forearm.

Joel’s vision went hot.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, grabbing Joel’s arm in a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but Joel had already slipped out of the booth, making a beeline for you.

Joel barely heard whatever excuse Tommy threw at him. His focus was locked on the man standing too damn close, all easy smiles and casual confidence, his fingers brushing against your forearm like he had any business touching you.

Joel sized him up as he closed the distance. Younger than him, well-dressed, and looked like the kind of guy who had never worked a hard day in his life. His posture was relaxed and comfortable, as if he were used to getting what he wanted.

Joel clenched his jaw.

"No, it’s fine. I can totally arrange that," you said, voice polite but distant, the same tone you used when helping customers at the shop.

Joel didn’t care.

He stepped in behind you, his arms sliding around your waist with a slow, deliberate movement before pulling you firmly against his chest. His grip was secure, almost possessive, his chin hovering just above your shoulder as his eyes flicked up to meet the guys.

The man hesitated, glancing between the two of you. His friendly smile faltered just slightly. "Oh. I didn’t realize—"

Joel didn’t say a word; he just kept staring, sizing him up in silence.

The man cleared his throat, shifting his weight before taking a step back. "Well, uh, thanks again. I’ll swing by next week to pick up the arrangement."

Joel frowned, glancing down at you. Arrangement?

You sighed, leaning back into his chest a little, but your voice held amusement. "Joel, this is Andrew. He’s a customer at the shop."

Joel felt his stomach drop, heat creeping up his neck.

The guy wasn’t flirting. He was ordering flowers.

Joel had just made a complete fool of himself.

Andrew gave a small, awkward chuckle. "Yeah, I just needed something special for my mom’s birthday. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

"You didn’t," you assured him with a warm smile. "I’ll have it ready next week."

Andrew nodded, giving Joel a final glance before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, you twisted in Joel’s arms, looking up at him with a smirk. "You thought he was flirting with me?"

Joel exhaled through his nose, looking away, but he didn’t let go of you. "He had his damn hands on you."

You laughed softly, reaching up to rest your palm against his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. "Are you jealous, handsome?"

Joel grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head, but his grip tightened slightly on your waist.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "You don’t have to be jealous. It’s only ever been you."

Something flickered in Joel’s expression, and instead of answering, he kissed you, slow and deep, right there at the bar, letting everyone see exactly who you belonged to.

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you out of the moment. Joel’s lips hovered near yours for a second longer before you stepped back, catching your breath.

You pulled out your phone, skimming over the text from your babysitter.

Hey! Sorry, I can’t stay later tonight. Let me know when you’re on your way!

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I have to go. Babysitter’s gotta leave."

Joel gave a small nod, but his jaw was still tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he was barely holding something back.

"I’ll drive you," he said, no room for argument.

As much as you wanted to tease him, to smooth over the jealousy still simmering in his chest, something about how he looked right now—his shoulders tense, his grip still firm at your waist—made your stomach twist with something else entirely.

You both quickly said goodbye to Tommy before Joel led you outside, his hand on the small of your back.

The air was thick with summer heat, but the tension between you two was heavier.

He opened the truck door for you, waiting until you climbed inside before shutting it and walking around to the driver’s side.

The moment he slid into his seat, he started the truck, gripping the wheel a little too tightly as he pulled onto the road.

The silence was charged.

Streetlights passed in flickers of yellow glow, cutting across the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow between his brows. His fingers flexed against the wheel, his knuckles pale from how tight he was holding it.

You let the quiet settle for a moment before finally speaking.

"Joel."

He grunted in response, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You’re still jealous."

His grip on the wheel twitched, but he didn’t answer right away.

"I ain’t jealous," he muttered, but the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel said otherwise.

You smirked, shifting in your seat to face him. "Really? Because the way you were looking at Andrew said otherwise."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. "He put his hands on you."

"He touched my arm, Joel. Barely."

Joel’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening. "You laughed at somethin’ he said," he muttered.

You blinked, then bit back a smile. "Oh my god. You are jealous."

Joel didn’t respond, but his glare deepened, his hands gripping the wheel like it had personally offended him.

Your smirk softened into something fonder and warmer. You reached across the console, resting a hand on his thigh. "Joel."

His breathing slowed slightly at your touch, but he still didn’t look at you.

"You really think I’d let some random guy flirt with me when I’ve got you?"

Joel exhaled slowly, but his shoulders were still stiff.

"You don’t gotta—"

"I want to," you interrupted, squeezing his thigh gently. "You know it’s only you, right?"

His fingers flexed again, but this time, he relaxed, exhaling deeply, some of the tension finally unraveling.

After a long pause, he let one hand slip from the wheel, reaching over to cover yours, squeezing it tight.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice low. "I know."

At the next red light, Joel turned to you. "C’mere."

His voice was rough, thick with something you didn’t have the strength to deny.

You barely had time to react before his hand slid up your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in.

The first press of his lips was firm, needy—not desperate, not rushed, but intentional like he had been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t going to waste a single second now that he had it.

You melted into him instantly, hands fisting in the worn fabric of his flannel, tugging him closer across the console. His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

The light changed.

Neither of you moved.

The driver behind him honked, and Joel growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to mutter, "Fuckin’ hell."

You bit your lip, breathless, your forehead still resting against his as he put the truck in gear and gunned it down the road.

The second he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and turned to you, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, leaving only the low hum of the night around you—the distant chirp of crickets, the faint sound of a car passing somewhere down the street. But in his truck's small, dark space, all you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat.

"I have a few minutes," you murmured, your voice softer. You breathed more than the sound.

It was all he needed.

"Ain’t gotta tell me twice, sweetheart."

His hand was on you before you could take another breath, rough fingers sliding up the back of your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulled you in.

Heat surged between you when your lips met, deep and slow, like a fire catching just right.

Joel kissed you like he was making up for lost time. Like he’d been starving for this all night. His lips moved against yours with purpose, his free hand gripping your thigh, fingers flexing, kneading like he needed to feel you.

You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you closer, your body half-shifting over the console, desperate to be nearer, to press up against the solid warmth of him.

"Fuck," Joel muttered against your lips, voice rough, reverent like he was losing himself in this—in you.

You barely registered the way his hand skimmed along your side, dragging over your ribs, your waist, holding you firm as his mouth dipped to your jaw, then lower, hot breath fanning across the column of your throat.

"Joel—"

His name left your lips in a breathy sigh, and fuck—he shuddered at the sound, his grip tightening, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck before he kissed over it, tongue soothing the spot.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your skin, his hands sliding lower, spreading over your hips like he was memorizing the shape of you.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, voice strained, but he didn’t pull away. His forehead rested against yours; his breath was hot and heavy between you.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your ears.

"I don’t want to," you admitted, hands still fisted in his flannel.

Joel cursed under his breath, lips brushing yours again, a promise, a plea.

Your eyes snapped open. "But, I really have to go."

Joel let out a pained groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder like he needed a second to compose himself before letting you go.

You exhaled, smoothing your hands down his chest before pulling back, lips tingling, your body still buzzing with want.

"I have to go," you whispered, hating the words even as you said them.

Joel’s hands flexed on your hips like he was considering telling you to stay.

But then he sighed, nodding once. "I know."

Still, he didn’t let you go right away. His fingers trailed one last time along your thigh before he finally pulled back, watching as you reached for the handle.

"I’ll call you," he said, voice still rough, filled with something more profound.

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. "Damn right, you will."

As you slipped out of the truck, legs still shaky, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you like he was already counting down the hours until he could get his hands on you again.

____________

Joel was rarely a desperate man. He prided himself on keeping a good head on his shoulders, staying level, and not letting things get to him.

But when it came to you?

Jesus, everything went right out the damn window.

He stood on your porch, arms crossed, watching you wrangle Ellie into her sneakers. The little girl was practically excited, rambling a mile a minute about the perfect picnic spot she had picked out in the park.

Joel didn’t know how he’d gotten here—how he’d gone from keeping you at arm’s length to standing on your porch, waiting to haul a picnic basket down to the truck like this was normal.

Hell, maybe it was normal now.

Not that he minded. Spending more time with Ellie was something he wanted.

She’d warmed up to him over the last three months in a way that wrecked him—slow at first, quiet stares and shy little hellos, then tugging at his hand when she wanted to show him something, then climbing right into his lap with a book like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now she was damn near bossing him around.

“Joel, we have to bring the lemonade,” Ellie insisted, standing on her tiptoes to rifle through the fridge.

You chuckled, grabbing the pitcher before she could knock anything over. “The lemonade is packed, sweetie. Anything else?”

Ellie nodded seriously, placing her hands on her hips. “Yeah, we definitely need extra cookies.”

Joel smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Kinda sounds like you just wanna eat cookies instead of lunch, kiddo.”

Ellie gasped, looking offended as she turned to him. “Excuse me, we are having a balanced meal—” she pointed at the basket. We got sandwiches, fruit, and veggies. That means we can have all the cookies.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That right?”

Ellie nodded firmly. “It’s called science.”

You snorted, handing her the container of cookies. “If it’s science, who are we to argue?”

Joel just shook his head as Ellie beamed in victory.

Once everything was packed, he loaded the basket into the truck, letting Ellie climb in first before helping you up.

The drive to the park was filled with Ellie’s chatter, flipping through the radio stations, making up ridiculous scenarios about the squirrel mafia she’d seen the last time you were there. Joel just listened, letting the warmth settle into his chest.

When you finally reached the park, Ellie practically jumped out of the truck, pointing toward a big oak tree near the pond. “That’s the perfect spot.”

Joel carried the basket while you laid out the blanket, Ellie helping in her own way by sprawling across it dramatically.

“This is perfect,” Ellie sighed, staring at the sky like she’d solved all the world’s problems.

Joel settled down beside you, stretching his legs out. “You gonna actually eat or just lay there talkin’ about eatin’?”

Ellie shot up, grabbing a sandwich. “I can multitask.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as you passed him a sandwich of his own.

The afternoon passed in easy conversation, laughter, and too many cookies. Ellie had conned Joel into arm wrestling (he let her win, but not too easy), and then she’d made him tell a story—“a cool one, not some boring old man story”—which turned into a ridiculous tale about outlaw squirrels that had you both laughing until your stomachs hurt.

At some point, Ellie dozed off in the shade, curled up next to Joel, her head resting against his arm.

You watched him, heart aching in the best way.

“She’s comfortable with you,” you murmured.

Joel glanced down at Ellie, his expression softer than you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Guess she is.”

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering on Joel, tracing the familiar lines of his face—the roughness of his beard, the creases around his eyes that deepened when he smirked, the way the sunlight caught the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

Joel caught you staring.

"What? Got crumbs in my beard?" he asked, smirking as he wiped a hand across his jaw.

You shook your head, your smile soft. "No. Just looking at you."

His smirk faltered slightly, something else flickering behind his gaze. Your eyes drifted to his lips, and Joel wasn’t usually a desperate man, but goddamn, you did things to him. Made him feel things he hadn’t in a long, long time.

His voice came out lower, rougher. "C’mere."

You raised a brow, smirking. "Nah. Last time you said that in that tone, it meant trouble."

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Now, darlin’, I just wanna kiss ya. I wouldn’t try anything with Ellie here."

His voice was playful, but his eyes said more.

Something warm unfurled in your chest, spreading to the tips of your fingers as you slowly shifted, moving around Ellie’s sleeping form to press closer to Joel.

His arm slid around you instinctively, his other hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along the curve of your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet his eyes.

"See?" he murmured. "Not so bad."

You let out a breathy laugh. "I never said it was bad."

Joel smirked, then closed the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was steady like he had all the time in the world to savor it, and he did.

Your lips moved against his, and you sighed softly into the kiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It was something tender, real.

He didn’t go far when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

"Could get used to this," he murmured.

You smiled, your fingers brushing lightly along his stubbled jaw.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Me too."

Joel smiled, a soft sigh escaping him as he traced slow circles against your hip with his thumb. "It’s been a hell of a time these past three months, sweetheart."

You searched his eyes, catching the slight hesitation in his voice. "But?"

"Ain’t no but," Joel assured you, his grip on you tightening just slightly like he wanted to hold onto this—onto you. "I ain’t in no hurry."

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sincerity in his face. He meant it.

Still, you exhaled softly, nodding. "I get it." Because you did.

The lingering glances, the way his hands roamed just a little slower each time he touched you, and the long, heated kisses that left you both breathless led to this unspoken moment.

Sleeping with Joel wasn’t just about desire. It would solidify this thing between you.

Maybe that made you both hesitate—how real it all was.

"Like I said, no rush," he murmured, his knuckles grazing your cheek, his touch softer than it had any right to be.

You smirked, tilting your head. "You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me."

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "And how’s that?"

Your fingers trailed lightly over the collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the fabric. "Like you wanna devour me."

Joel let out a rough breath, his hand tightening on your waist. "You’re makin’ it real damn hard to be a gentleman, sweetheart."

You grinned, leaning in, lips just barely brushing his. “Soon. Real soon.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—like all that mattered was the space between you, the heat, the tension, the pull.

Joel exhaled sharply, pressing a firm kiss to your temple instead of your lips like he needed to ground himself. "You ain’t makin’ this easy."

Your heart fluttered at the restraint in his voice, the way he wanted you so badly but refused to rush it.

You smiled against his cheek. “Good.”

taglist: @hermionelove, @niceforcum, @ashhlsstuff, @doeeyestoji, @12thatsanumber, @cherrygirl19, @thottiewinemom, @ladynightingale, @doodlebob-mp3, @alitaar, @starwarskawaii, @hduuc56, @naniiiii12, @possiblyafangirl, @alienjoel, @leesromanova, @kungfucapslock, @forpunishers, @yallgotkik, @cuteanimalmama, @worhols, @lumpatto, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @vickie5446, @its-in-the-woods, @onlythehobi, @ro-nahime-things, @ashleyfilm

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #joel tlou

597 notes · View notes

luvether · 2 months ago

Text

STAR-SHAPED BRUISES ✦ he who once felt the cold touch of death before, so why did it matter if he risked it again? Only that it did matter, to you, and your yearnings for him felt so warm it almost made him want to be selfish.

anaxagoras x gn!reader. angst? & fluff! content. hurt with comfort (?) tensions and arguments. yearning and hidden pining. cerces playing matchmaker. might be ooc + anaxa character study. written before 3.2 and spoilers for the 3.1 story! [2.4k wc]

tagging @rainswept @eterjie @kazucee !!

“You seem troubled today, more than usual.”

The thin-layer of soundlessness is quickly replaced by the tamed billow of Anaxa’s tone, one that seems like he’s questioning for the sake of curiosity and not because of empathy. Looking up at how busy he looked, his eyes maintained upon his alembic that bubbled a violent cyan-gold hue, any second and you’re sure it’s gonna fulminate from the vessel.

You shift from your seat, feigning skittish. “Did my morose pique the curiosity of the grand performer? Or are you simply worried?”

“Neither.”

“What a benumbed reaction, Anaxa—“

“—goras.” He finishes for you. Usually, whenever he’d add on your behalf, you’d combat it with a snide but today, he’s left with nothing but silence. This made him look up from his instruments and papers, your lack of reactions made him forgo his current experiment.

It made him almost worry, almost.

He sighs instead. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter.”

“You’re quick to lie to me,” Anaxagoras is now facing you, laying a hand on his hip. “That seems like something.”

The way he conducts his questions is making you want to be defensive with your petulant behavior. “Even if something is on my mind, I don’t see why I should be telling you about it.”

“Maybe you should, because if I can find some way to help, your mood would lift, no?”

“Since when have you cared about my moods?”

Silence then.

“Are you aware of what the principle of correspondence is?” Anaxa mutters out and you have the urge to exhale.

“Please spare me a lecture…”

“As above, so below, as within so without.” The professor starts nonetheless. “Everything around us is a mirror that reflects a projection on both our inner and outer manners, think of the relationships as interconnected roots of trees or simply dendrites. It’s the simple work of magic tricks—human behaviors more so than divinity at play.” Anaxagoras approaches you, the chains of his eyepatch filling the slowness of the room.

He levels his face with yours and from your position, you can clearly anatomize the fullness of his eye from here—the hollow of mint with a cut of boysenberry in the center, glowing beneath long lashes.

He continues, “even if I’m half-dead as what that titan said, I can still feel your vibrations and stress, an internal conflict, it’s making shoddy trembles of my glass flasks on that desk.”

“How does that even—“

“Your feet.” Anaxa finally says. “You were unconsciously tapping your feet.”

Oh.

You lay your palms flat on your knees, an unconscious manner.

“I apologize.”

“So you have the decency to apologize and yet not speak your mind further?”

The silence is indefinite yet present. It shallows over at every retort that spills in between both your stubborn tongues.

You shake your head. “You’re difficult.”

His eyes narrow. “You are the one being difficult, actually. I offered help, you refused, I asked about your well-being, you dismissed me.”

“You should consider how your candidness makes it exceptionally hard for me to be open to you, maybe think about that.” You bite back at him, the tension threatening to spill over. “You’re the last person I’d want to go to whenever I have worries, so just simply drop it for today. I’d have to apologize for my lackings, I'll provide you with better companionship and arguments when I’m feeling well.”

“…Truly, I didn’t mean to come off as heartless—“ but you’d already brush past his shoulder before he can fully explain himself like he’d always have, leaving Anaxa to his bubbling vessels, untidy scrolls and a heavy sigh.

Much to his dismay instead of the privacy that he wishes after that argument, Cerces appears just as you vanish from his sight, a liquidy chuckle slipping past their lips. “Sometimes, I even wonder if your heart died along with you, child of humanity.”

“I’d rather you keep silent while I work.” Anaxagoras distastefully returns back to his apparatuses, more quiet and solemn than before.

“You should give chase.” Cerces suggested instead. “That child was simply worried.”

“Worried?” He finds the titan’s words as credulous. “Did you not see the flush of anger directed at me? Besides, I’m preoccupied right now.”

“You say you’re preoccupied and yet it’s you who seem quite distracted. Are you curious about their source of trouble?”

“It’s nothing new, arguments like that. We’ve known each other long before you ever knew me on my deathbed so back off.”

When he’d state his intentions clear, the Titan of Reason—unfazed in their countenance—leaves the professor to his own bearings and he finally has room to breathe.

Your relationship with him has always been rocky. Arguments and walking outs weren’t new, you used to debate about claims and theories a multitude of times back in the Grove, it was part of your dynamic, but every time he realizes belatedly how his string of words had cut you deep beyond the usual shallow jabs thrown on a daily, Anaxagoras cannot help but feel like his hollow chest is being twisted upside down.

In some way, maybe it mattered because despite the clashes and quarrels, you’d stay. You’ve stayed by him for years even after he was ridiculed as a blasphemous fool or a heretic—you’d stay even longer, waiting for him to finish lectern speeches or classes without so much as an ounce of complaint. A simple gesture that he’d been grateful of and even he admits to himself that seeing you being upset with him and his words were the least satisfying things to behold.

It did bother him but admitting that aloud to that titan was the last thing he’d want.

So after an hour or two after he knew you’d calm down, the professor drops his vials and walks down the distasteful and boisterous streets of Okhema in search of you—or more specifically, cruising over to Hyacine and asking for your whereabouts to save him the trouble of turning the Holy City upside down.

It was tempting, for the sake of bringing an irate reaction out of that woman and her golden threads, but his sick body and rational mind stopped him so.

“You are here.”

Anaxagoras has finally found you in some remote corner of the city, you were sitting shiftless above limestone, carving names upon ordinary stones. There was a spare moment in which his dull eyes sought down to you—he’d noticed how your hair is wind-swept and how strands of it stick to your forehead and the skin of your neck. The leaves of your collar are strewn as well, showing the barest hint of collarbones and almost immediately Anaxa shifts his eyes away, he’d asked what you were doing to distract himself from his own keen observations.

“Nobody will remember each scholar that perished fighting the Black tide. I’m merely writing companions I remember that I used to do thesis with, those that don’t have families here in Okhema to remember them…”

Anaxa observes you again, then after a long silence you feel him approaching closer, his shadow stretching before you. Your mind stirs in alertness, noticing what he’s up to—but Anaxa is always two steps ahead of you, before you can cease the pen laid by your side, he has already swiped it. You tried your best to wrestle it from him but Anaxa held it out of reach from you, causing you to sneer.

“Give that back. I forbid you to write your own epitaph!”

“And why not? I’ve done it once in the Grove—“

“Well, this isn’t the Grove—!“ You've paused quickly, noticing that you interrupted him. You waited for an ire to come throttling down at you but when you gaze back at him, Anaxagoras merely raises a brow at you, a faint sheet of amusement in his expression.

“Give me a stone.” He’d ask.

“No—“

“Stone.”

Your shoulders deflate at his tight tone, accepting defeat with petulance and a huff.

Stubborn man, you curse in your head. Stubborn and hard-headed and mean…You digress, ending up giving him one, laying the stone harsher onto his open palm than you intended but his expression remained amused.

When a balance of tamed silence settles, Anaxagoras is the first to speak again after writing an elegy onto the stone, changing the subject with ease.

“It's getting late, you should retire for today.”

And in response, you turn away with a quiet huff of breath. “I‘m…still not used to the Holy City's constant daylights, and I should be saying that to you, the moment you were given apparatuses to quell your complaints, you’ve been doing nothing but your experiments since you’ve arrived from your fight in Castrum Kremnos.”

“Well, thanks to your concern this ill-stricken body has been recovering. Besides, I have nothing much to do, especially when that woman’s threads are all over the place.”

“You almost died.” Your statement held more bite than necessary. For you it showed him your true feelings and for Anaxa—the answer to today’s dismay.

A laugh breaks from his lips.

“Is this why you’re upset?” There’s a hint of mirth in his tone. “You’re upset that I got hurt back at the Grove.”

You rise from your seat, meeting him tooth for tooth, jab for jab. “Is it truly hard for you to comprehend that there are people that care whether or not you’re doing well—?”

Despite your anger, Anaxa is distracted for a moment, watching the sneer on your lips shaping vowels and long consonants, almost as if you're baring his teeth at him. The sudden urge to lean down, kiss you quiet and taste those angry syllables on his teeth stirs in his mind.

The Nousporist sage is anything but a romantic, but temptation truly is a humanistic sin, what is he to be shameful for such selfishness?

“It’s not that.” He answers your spite with dullness. “My field of study has made it easy to forget about one's well-being. You of all people know that very well.”

“Anaxagoras, you could’ve died again and—“

He never wanted for you to concern yourself with him like this. Anaxagoras knew he was risking himself, the nuances of alchemy and the splitting of his soul. So how come—observing the way your expression creases with a certain type of pain that makes it seem like you were the one that felt it, not him.

“If you continue like this, I would go through the same grief of losing you like I did the first time around.”

“Don’t say that, as a Chrysos heir it’s bound to—“ Anaxa is surprised when you reach out to touch him, to dare touch him so freely and yet rebuttals fall flat on his heavy tongue. The warmth of your fingertips that brush over the coolness of his own palm, you bring his hand up to cradle your cheek with utter delicacy like you’re holding glass, it makes his mind go numb.

He is aware of the way his skin dances with the plush warmth of your cheek, strands of your hair he wishes to tangle between his long fingers—to give into temptation and drag his hand slowly down your jaw, the expanse of your neck, down your arms…

“You really should start taking care of yourself more.” Your lips murmur onto his open palm. “Maybe not for yourself, but for me and Hyacine.”

He swallows. ”…I cannot keep promises.”

And you’d feel a faint tug on his end—and that fissures the tension. You let go and he quickly lets his own arm fall back to his side immediately. There’s a part of you that was terrified at the thought of offending him, you never got into Anaxagoras’ bubble without permission, your relationship stayed at a mere arm’s length. Only quirked lips with tongues of appraisals and maybe the occasional longing stares from across large rooms were exchanged between the two of you, no shoulder brushing, hand-holding, breaths upon goosebumped necks—this was your first time ever touching him, his numbed, cold skin against your own.

Maybe your sudden approach shocked him from his nonchalance and arrogance, you’d know because for the first time since you’ve known him, Anaxagoras’ frown is an inch too deep and there’s a concerned fold on his brow.

He clears his throat, his eye looking anywhere but at you. “I need to go, I have to meet with the other Chrysos heirs at the baths today.”

Anaxa looked quite adamant to join the meeting, despite his distaste of the baths and Chrysos heir meetings.

He spares you one last look, “after you’re done with your business, you really should try to rest.”

You frown at his dismissive behavior, nodding your head nonetheless. “Alright, best of luck then.”

He’d merely nod stiffly at your reply and quickly turn on his heel. You would have let out a heavy exhale and scold yourself for touching him without prior permission—if it weren't for a certain titan that appeared before you, their brown curls turning gold under Kephale’s dawn.

“He’s quite provocative, that Nousporist sage, don't you think so too?” Cerces spares you conversation, their voice honeyed with light teasing.

“Anaxagoras’ probably born to be spiteful, so I cannot fault him for such a character flaw, we all have one.”

“You’re fond of him, aren’t you?” Cerces states and heat furnaces upon your cheek at their bold claim. Before you can find some excuse to defend yourself, they spoke again.

“So is he to you. I’ve noticed that whenever you’re around, he’s reduced to a passive child. His tongue is barely glib when you try to put him in his place and the way those sharp eyes soften, oh it reminds me of my lover all too much. It’s an endearing exchange.”

Cerces spoke their affections and you could do nothing but listen to them with a credulous expression. Anaxagoras being endeared by you? You’d try to wrack your mind of instances where you capture such a manner, but all you can remember of him was his sassiness, his dullness, his casual dismissiveness. There was no softness, endearments, fondness.

Despite being called the Titan of reason, you find their reasoning hard to comprehend.

You wouldn’t have believed them, that is until you gaze back at Anaxagoras’ retreating form in the distance and watch him closely, and closely you watch when you catch him moving his hand that you held so closely,

Observing how he flexes his fingers by his side.

#anaxa x reader #anaxagoras x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr anaxa #⋆ ࣪. 🪐 kou works.#—stellaronhvnters.

664 notes · View notes

narnian-neverlander · 5 months ago

Text

For You, Always [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: slight angst, self-worth issues (both of them need a freaking hug), internalized ableism, talk about a non-consensual relationship (nothing explicit/graphic or sexual, but reader’s ex is clearly an abusive, ableist pos)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Jayce is playing matchmaker, because both Viktor and the Reader have such bad self-worth issues, they’re not gonna get anywhere unless he whacks them over the head with his hammer

“According to Mel, he is an absolute ass, but unfortunately one of the most influential people in Piltover, so—“

“Unfortunately, he’s also kinda, sorta my ex…” you mumble into the rim of your glass, interrupting Jayce and it is comical, cartoonish almost, how his head turns to look at you so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap. Not to mention Viktor accompanying his reaction perfectly by choking on his own drink. You watch Jayce open and close his mouth several times until he finally settles on: “That guy? Seriously? Didn’t think that was your type…”

He casts an incredibly unsubtle, overly obvious glance over at Viktor as he says this and you would’ve loved to strangle him for it; thankfully the man in question is too busy coughing up fancy champagne to notice, he does however manage to get out a “Oh please tell me you lost a bet.”

Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you shake your head. “Gods, I wish. Just… young and stupid and naive and always too eager to please and — and he’s coming this way. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” You all but flee the scene about to unfold, grabbing another glass off a passing waiter’s tray as you make a break for the nearest balcony. Your friends watch you disappear into the crowd with worried frowns; Jayce’s statement of “Probably a pretty bad breakup…” getting answered with an eye roll and a heavily sarcastic “You think so? I never would have guessed.”

The next hours are spent hopping from hiding spot to hiding spot, snatching drinks and snacks off trays whenever you manage while keeping an eye out for your personified worst nightmare. By some godly miracle you manage to utterly avoid the man and the next familiar face you spot when you dare venture back into the crowds is the Man of Progress himself, surrounded by nobles and merchants alike, polite smile on his face as he makes conversation. A polite, fake smile in danger of slipping that you spot from a mile away. Catching a glimpse of the band getting ready to strike up another song, you decide to be merciful and rescue him. It’s not entirely selfless though, as you figure if the asshole does end up spotting you, watching you dance with Piltover’s very own golden boy might be a good enough repellant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Talis?” Relief floods his features as he turns around to find you right behind him, having shoved your way through the circle of admirers. “I hate to interrupt, but you did promise me a dance. You’re not the kind of man to go back on his word are you?” Voice all sweet and coy and honeyed, batting your lashes at him; the picture perfect flirt making starry eyes at the man leading the city of progress into a brighter future. And it takes all he has not to burst out laughing, because he’s seen this from you before, except it’s usually not him on the receiving end of it, but his partner. It is charming, endearing even, he will admit. No wonder Viktor can never say no to you when you look at him like that. And right now he’s beyond elated you’ve decided to play his saving grace for some reason, so he wouldn’t even dream of turning you down.

“Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” he states, ignoring any protests from bystanders and guides you to the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back. He leads you into a waltz and waits until you’re swallowed by dancing couples until he lets his face drop into an exhausted grimace. “Oh sweet Gods, thank you. Anymore of that and I would’ve driven the cocktail sticks into my ears.”

“You’re welcome. How did you even end up like that, though? Where’s your better half? He’s usually pretty capable of getting you both out of situations like that.” He sends you a knowing grin as he spins you. “Oh so you think he’s the better half? Ouch.” It earns him an eye roll, but you’re smiling nonetheless. “Like you don’t know I have a favorite. Now answer the question, golden boy.” There’s hesitation before he answers with, “He went home for the evening.” and you almost fumble your next steps. “Excuse me? The bastard begged me to come along for weeks and now he just ditches? The only reason I agreed to come was because he actually promised me a dance.”

Jayce hems and haws and you’re ridiculously close to intentionally stomping on his foot to get him to cough up an explanation; luckily for him he manages in time. “No, no, it’s more like… I sent him home cause if he would’ve had to be in the same room as your ex any longer, I was genuinely afraid he’d take the guy’s head off with his cane.” The laugh that bubbles up from your throat is joyful and real; Jayce has always been good at defusing your irritation with humor. It takes another few seconds and another look at his face to realize that he’s dead serious and your laughter dies on your tongue, leaving behind the taste of ashes. “You can’t be— He— What?! I left you guys for two hours max!”

“Yeah, well…” he starts as he dips you, “your ex has a way of getting under people’s skin.” No shit. But you’d honestly thought Viktor was above it. “What did the asshole do? Dismiss Hextech as an obsolete fantasy?” Shaking his head, he leads you into another turn. “No, quite the opposite, actually. He was incredibly interested, but his demands for becoming a sponsor were ludicrous, to put it mildly. Final say in the direction of Hextech, majority of the shares, unrestricted access to all stages of development and… you.” This time, you do stumble over your own feet in shock, falling straight into his chest. “Pardon?!”

The poor man looks as uncomfortable as you feel as he explains. “Apparently he saw the three of us talking earlier and one thing led to another and— fuck, I don’t know what happened between you, but that man is absolutely not over you. For some reason that is entirely beyond me, he was under the impression that because we’re friends we’d somehow be able to coerce you into being with him again. And the way he was talking about you? Gods, it made me wanna punch him in the face; it was so utterly vile I can’t even repeat it. Scratch that, I just really don’t want to.” All things considered, you’re glad for his hands steadying you, cause the room’s spinning even without the dance you’re still enagaged in and you feel like you’re gonna loose all the fancy hors-d’oeuvres from earlier on the polished marble floor any second now. “Great. Lovely. Perfect. And how exactly does Viktor fit into this now?”

He sighs. “Honestly, I can’t repeat what he said either.” This seems to ground your spiraling for a moment and you cock a brow at him. “Are you kidding? He’s usually pretty eloquent.” To say you’re surprised when he snorts in amusement would be an understatement. “I mean I literally can’t repeat it, because he was so utterly livid, he slipped into his mother tongue and while I can’t be sure, it didn’t exactly sound like he was complimenting the guy.”

Finally all the pieces click into place and when they do, you slow your steps to a stop and blink up at your friend owlishly. “He… Viktor got upset on my behalf?” The way he so openly laughs at you makes your ears burn and your fist connects with his chest in a halfhearted punch. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that!” Catching your hand as you ready yourself for another swing, this time aimed at his stupid, handsome face, he reigns in his laughter and simply smiles at you; not mean spirited or teasing, but shockingly gentle and sweet. “You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?”

The anger and embarrassment in your veins all but evaporates, replaced by something soft and warm; heat gathering at the back of your neck and the balls of your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. Your mouth drops open as you try to formulate some sort of response, only to fail miserably; incoherent stuttering and beginnings of words the only thing you manage to produce. The music finally fades out and is replaced by applause for the band as your friend chuckles and inclines his head towards the door. “You should go talk to him.” A glance over his shoulder shows you the gaggle of potential investors you’d saved him from earlier already making their way towards you again. “And you’ll survive if I leave you alone with these people?” An overly dramatic sigh is your answer. “I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for your happiness.” The ‘my hero’ he gets in return is dripping with sarcasm as he winks at you and makes a shooing motion towards the exit, then turns around to head back into the fray, giving you a clean escape.

Freezing winter air hits you as you exit the venue; bitingly cold but a welcome change from the sweltering warmth of the gala nonetheless. Starting left, you catch yourself after only a few steps to reconsider. Left would be Viktor’s apartment. Right would be the lab. You know him better than that, don’t you? So you change directions, readjusting your scarf over your nose. It’s a relatively short distance to the academy, even so your fingers are starting to go numb when you reach one of the big, heavy doors leading inside. The hallowed halls are quiet and dark, making the high ceilings and ornate walls seem even more imposing than usual as you make your way towards the lab with hurried steps. It all feels like you’re doing something illegal - or maybe it would, if all the security guards hadn’t seen you hang around the two Hextech pioneers often enough for you to know all their names by heart at this point. Arriving at the lab, first glance tells you it’s as empty as the rest of the building. Except for the tiny sliver of light peeking out from under the door. Bingo.

You gingerly, quietly press down on the handle, not wanting to involuntarily startle the man you know to be inside, just in case he’s handling something explosive. One experience like that had been enough to last you a lifetime. You’re in luck, as you instead find him hunched over one of the desks, furiously scribbling notes onto various scattered pieces of paper, muttering under his breath. The small lamp at his side casts deep shadows across his face, but you’re still able to make out the frown; thick eyebrows drawn together in irritation and lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened at the gala, could he? No, impossible. Preposterous. Idiotic. He’s hit a roadblock in his equations, that had to be it. But seeing as you’re not in any danger of accidentally causing him to blow you both to pieces you make your presence known to him.

“I do believe Jayce told you to go home, didn’t he?” Viktor almost drops his pen in alarm, swiveling around on his stool to find you have sidled up to him, leaning against the desk, in the process of ridding yourself of your coat and scarf, an amused grin on your lips. He puts a hand over his racing heart, as he says “And a heart attack is a fitting reprimand for my crime in your eyes, yes?” You only raise your brows in return, smile slipping from your face, disapproval obvious in your eyes as they flit towards the clock in the corner of the room for just a second; it’s the same look he always gets from you when he’s working when he clearly shouldn’t be. Running a hand through his already messy, chestnut hair, he shrugs. “I simply didn’t feel particularly tired when I left.”

“So I’ve heard.” you muse and pick up a random cogwheel from the table to fiddle with. “Apparently you had some… disagreements with a potential investor?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance and all but chucks the pen still in his hand across the desk. “Potential investor, don’t make me laugh. That appalling, pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t be allowed in a five mile radius of anything Hextech. Or a five mile radius of you, for that matter.” Humming in both agreement and intrigue, you continue with what’s really been eating you up. “Jayce said you hit him with some choice words. Mind repeating those for me?” A sideways glance your way to confirm you’re certain and then he launches into a repeat of his rant from earlier that evening. He gets about three or four words into it before you throw the cogwheel at him; it bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor with a ping. “Oh someone thinks he’s particularly funny tonight. In a language I understand, maybe?” Try as he might to hide it, you catch the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly. “That’s not what you asked of me, though.” Know-it-all bastard.

“Oh how dare you?” Hopping up on the table for additional theatrics, you grip your chest in mock offense and throw your head back dramatically. “Here I am, having braved a journey of freezing winds and complete darkness, to bestow my thanks upon you and you don’t even have the courtesy to thrill me with a retelling of your courageous deeds. Disappointing, truly.” A pointed cough into his fist does little to hide the laugh at your antics. “Please, the venue is a ten minute walk from here and all the streets are lined with lanterns. You’ll need to try a little harder, miláčku.”

Huffing, you run a hand over your face, desperately trying to hide how much the nickname affects you and give you a second to think. Your salvation stares at you from the other end of the lab, the golden horn of the phonograph glinting in the light of the moon that filters through the windows. And he immediately knows he won’t like what comes out of your mouth next, with the way your eyes flash and your lips curl in an absolutely wicked smile. “Well you see, I still haven’t been paid for tonight.” Confusion is clear as day in both his face and his voice. “I do not recall discussing payment for your participation in the gala…?”

“Oh but we did!” you giggle as you hook your foot around the center of his roller stool to drag him closer, very much enjoying the look of utter shock on his face and the slight graze of his hands on the sides of your things as they land on the desk next to you to try and regain his balance. “A certain someone promised to dance with me if I showed up. Guess who ditched before he made good on that?” At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish, a little knowing ‘Ah…’ sound escaping him as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to his lap. With how the night had gone, he’d genuinely forgotten all about it. And before the night had even started he’d hoped you’d forget. He really should’ve known better. A finger enters his field of vision to poke him in the chest. “You’re in luck; I am nothing if not merciful, so I’ll leave it up to you: a dance or an explanation. So what’ll it be, darling?”

He’s beyond grateful you can’t get a proper look at his face at the moment, with how pink he knows his cheeks to be, lest you realize how much the nickname actually affects him. And this shouldn’t be such a hard choice, really; the way his heart stutters at just the thought of either, he should be doing both. Besides, you deserve to know. Deserve to know that he’d told that pompous swine to go choke on his wine the moment he’d as much as uttered your name. Told him that he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, much less be allowed close enough to touch you. That he could amass as much money and power as he liked, he’d never be worth even a fraction of you.

You deserve to know all of that. And yet he doesn’t tell you. Because while he did what he did for your sake, it had still been selfishly motivated. Because if he tells someone interested in you off, then at least it feels like you’re his, even for just a second. Because the irony of the situation is that while your ex might be undeserving of you, so is he. For different reasons, yes, but he feels it’s true nonetheless.

So he doesn’t tell you any of it, his personal demons are not your burden to bear after all, simply grabs his cane in silence and walks over to the phonograph. Slow notes of a gentle melody fill the air a few moments later, as he turns and offers you his hand.

And you’re absolutely shell shocked, to say the least. This is… not the choice you’d been expecting. Words are his forte; he’d always choose them over physicality if given the opportunity. Or so you’d thought. This doesn’t make sense to you; why was he so desperately trying to keep what he’d said about you a secret? Or had Jayce completely misunderstood the situation he’d recounted to you and Viktor had never said anything about you at all? Why would he bother to anyways? You and your past demons aren’t his burden to bear, after all. The uncertainty must be written all over your face, as you’re met with a concerned, “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, yes or no, but all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Sitting bruised, bleeding, soaked to the bone and crying your little heart out in the shallows of one of the offshoots of the river, an altercation between you and some other kids having turned out to be another case of you biting off more than you could chew. And then a little pale hand holding out a dirty handkerchief had appeared in your peripheral, belonging to a small, lanky boy with a cane and big, worried golden eyes.

Are you alright?

You hadn’t known him then. But you’d taken his hand anyways. Had decided to trust him. He’d never once let you down since and you have no reason to doubt him now. So you do the same thing in this exact moment as you did all those years ago: just take his hand and trust him.

He pulls you flush against him, hands linked behind your lower back, your own coming up to rest on his shoulders. It’s nowhere near as elaborate and elegant as your waltz earlier this evening, more of a simple swaying from side to side, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not as long as it’s him.

Smiling softly, you say, “A dance with each one of the Hextech geniuses in one night. I must be the luckiest person in Piltover.” He hums in acknowledgment. “And do you have a preference?”

“Oh come now, that is an utterly unfair comparison.” And your heart aches at the way his face falls just the tiniest bit. “I’ve had my preference for years, regardless of dancing abilities; poor Jayce never even stood a chance.” It’s quiet and subtle, barely more than a deep breath in and out, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll break his heart.” In direct comparison to him, the bark of laughter that escapes you is loud and boisterous, only amplified by the muted, soft atmosphere surrounding you both. “Please, he knows. He’s been yanking my chain about that for a bit.” Not that you particularly mind; it’s a chain you wear proudly and for all to see after all. You’d shout your love for this man from the highest towers of Piltover if only he asked. “Besides…” you start while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m here dancing with you because I want to be. I really only danced with Jayce because I thought if… if you-know-who saw it, it might keep him off my back a little longer.”

A slight turn of his head has him nuzzling your hair; the hushed whisper of your name almost sounds pained as his arms tighten around you protectively. He isn’t sure what exactly happened between you and your ex, but he’d be willing to bet that the nature of your relationship hadn’t been… consensual. It’s plain to see that the man scares you and it makes him sick. Angry. Desperate. But most of all, he’s disappointed - in himself. The conversation him and Jayce had had with him had been one thing; the bastard knew how to behave at least somewhat diplomatically while there were people of importance present. Of course, Jayce, and by extension, you, couldn’t know that he’d had the misfortune of running into him yet again while he was leaving. He’d had to listen to that waste of oxygen in expensive clothing talk about you like you were nothing more than a filthy piece of his property yet again and this time around he hadn’t managed to remain even remotely civil. Had thrown every curse and threat under the sun in two different languages his way. Had hissed at him that he’d turn him inside out if he ever even looked at you again - only for the pig to laugh in his face, pat his cheek condescendingly and give a disgusted, embarrassed look at his cane, telling him that he was ’welcome to try’ before vanishing back into the crowd. Viktor had wanted to scream at the top his lungs; it had been a while since he’d felt so utterly livid, yet so humiliated and useless at the same time.

And here you are, wanting to thank him for some courageous, chivalrous deed he didn’t actually commit. Looking at him with the biggest eyes, like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for you, when in reality, he couldn’t even properly defend you against someone who’d clearly hurt you. He has to tell you. He’s not the hero you think him to be.

“About what I said to him—“ is as far as he gets, as you promptly cut him off with, “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter.” Not even ten minutes ago, you were essentially blackmailing him into spilling this secret and now you don’t care anymore? “I would argue that it does.” He feels more than sees you shake your head, your hair tickling his cheek. “You stood up for me, right? That’s all I have to know. It’s enough.”

Anger and disgust come back full force, choking him like bile rising in the back of his throat, not aimed at you, never at you, but at himself.

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and bitter and cold.

“It’s plenty.”

Soft and sweet and warm, the exact opposite of his own words in every way; the reassurance and comfort he’s supposed to be offering you dripping from every word. When did your roles get reversed? You’re the one in distress and you’re comforting him? He’s not just useless, he’s absolutely pathetic. And even though you might be none the wiser to his self destructive thoughts, some part of you seems to know; it always seems to know as your fingers dance across his shoulders to busy themselves with the hair at the nape of his neck, calming his nerves.

“I haven’t had— I mean, no one’s ever— Most people—“ A sigh, a clear sign of frustration as you try to get your thoughts in order, warm breath fanning over his neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I can count the people who ever stood up for me over the course of my life on one hand; I mean, my birth parents never even bothered to. So knowing there’s someone who has my back, even when I’m not present? It’s…” Pulling back to look at him, his breath catches at the way the silvery light from outside empathizes the affection in your eyes and the tenderness of your smile. “It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”

His hand is moving before his brain has time to play catch up, cupping your cheek and all but melting when you nuzzle into his warmth, eyes fluttering closed.

“For you? Always.”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen you look quite so peaceful and at ease and it feels like his heart is gonna jump right out of his chest; his gaze is drawn to your lips before he can fully think about what that could entail.

He watches your lips part slightly and when he manages to wrench his golden eyes back up, he finds yours already on him, wide in astonishment and he knows he’s been caught red handed.

And you consider yourself most fortunate, cause if he’d looked up even a second earlier, he would’ve caught you staring. The air is heavy and promising and whoever makes the next move decides wether or not things between you both are gonna change irrevocably.

Tonight, you’re the one that makes that decision. The decision that you’re not ready for things to change. You like what you have and are too scared of losing it. Instead, you settle for something different, yet just as poignant and important; a clear and explicit expression of love for people from Zaun. Softly tugging on his neck, he goes oh so willingly, happily even. You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.”

He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Neither one of you notices the music coming to an end, replaced by the scratchy static of needle against vinyl, too wrapped up in the moment, in each other. A bell tolls outside, signaling the coming of midnight and just like in a fairytale, the spell you seem to be under comes to an abrupt end. With a deep breath, you step back, putting some much needed distance between you, if you want your brain to function properly again, that is, and clear your throat awkwardly. “I uh… I should be getting home. Some people still have a regular day and night schedule, unlike you.”

With a small smile, you go to gather your coat as he switches off the phonograph. When he turns back to you, his heart falls in disappointment; you’re already dressed and halfway to the door. He would’ve liked to walk you home, at least, but you honestly look like you’re fleeing from something; he apparently has imposed on you enough for tonight. Pausing with your hand on the handle, you call his name again, delicately, quietly. When your gaze finds him, you’re pleased to find his full attention already on you.

“Next time you’re pulling an all-nighter… save me another dance?”

And with the way his golden eyes start to shine like the stars and his beautiful lips quirk up into that crooked half smile you adore, you can almost believe Jayce’s words - almost.

You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?

“For you? Always.”

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #dancing #childhood friends #fluff #angst #mutual pining

934 notes · View notes

amorchai · 10 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

pairing(s): jim halpert x reader

words: 998

warnings/tags: established relationship, dwight being dwight.

you were typing at a rare fast speed, keyboard drowning out the sound of kelly squealing over the new season release of her favourite show. you didn’t even notice jim’s presence until his foot is nudging your chair, chuckling when you drag your eyes from the computer and to his smug face.

“can you sign these off by the end of the day? i need to pass them onto michael before five…” there was a hint of teasing in his tone, smiling at you. it been a few months of secretly dating, and the butterflies of a newfound romance were still swarming every time he looked at you like that.

“i have a few things to get through but after i sign these i can hand them to michael myself, saves you the task,” you smile back, overly sweet in sarcasm when his eyes glimmer. “oh great, well thank you, y/n.”

you smile in response, your gazes not leaving one another as he backs up towards the door to leave to the main office, not before smiling awkwardly at a peering kelly and glancing at the following camera.

“isn’t he like, so cute?” asks kelly. and you knew what she was doing, she was into ryan – which you heard all about – so she was playing matchmaker with you as she usually did.

thankfully it wasn’t with dwight this time.

“i guess.” you say back, typing on your computer with a wide uncontained smile, uncaring of the camera because at least kelly can’t tell your expression from behind. “why don’t you ask him out? i think he’s totally into you,” kelly continues and you look at the camera hesitantly before replying, “i don’t know, i’ll see.”

the next time you see jim is when you’re refilling your teacup, swirling your spoon around the aromatic herbs with a sense of boredom when your head turns to the sound of the door opening.

“hey, you,” jim smiles and you return it. he starts pouring himself a new coffee, shoulder pressed to yours in the empty kitchen. “what are you doing tonight?” you ask, pretending you don’t already know.

“oh, i don’t know, probably order some cheap takeout and watch the new movie i rented,” he says, as if you’re not involved in those plans, “what about you?”

kevin walks in the room, awkwardly smiling at you both as he heads to the stocked fridge and you try not to make it noticeable how much you’re staring at jim. his lips curling into a smile, raised eyebrows and some light stubble around his jaw ready to be shaved making him look better than normal, if it was even possible.

i clear my throat, “oh uh- dinner with some friends, then gonna go home and watch a movie myself.” jim nods at your lies, winking as kevin sits at the table, too busy struggling to open his boxed food to notice.

“have fun with that,” jim says when you begin to walk away, his usual smug smile making you want to kiss him there and then. you glance at kevin, who is in his own world, so quickly you lean up and kiss jim’s cheek. his cheeks turn red fast as his eyes widen, “how dare you,” he teases in a whisper as you walk back to your desk.

his eyes always look at you the moment you enter the room. the clock on the wall close to turning five when you enter the office from your desk at the other side of the floor. jim fidgets with a pen, stopping everything he’s doing when you walk through the room.

you smile at him knowingly, walking past him with a load of papers to take into michael’s office and he spins in his chair to stare at you when you shut the door. he can’t wait to sit out by his car to drive you back to his, finally being able to hold your hand and kiss you.

“never going to happen.”

jim turns back around, sighing as he clicks his mouse, “what’s that, dwight?” dwight rolls his eyes, invested in his work but too observant of everything else at the same time, “you and y/n.”

“oh really?” jim says, heavily amused. “y/n’s smart. too smart to date someone like you, jim,” dwight chuckles to himself, scoffing and sending a look of ‘am i right, pam?’ to reception as pam just watches in amusement with a shaking head by the constant bickering.

you walk out the office, sliding your hand over jim’s shoulder with a squeeze that only he notices and he smiles widely as the clock finally turns to five. jim didn’t mind what was being said, knowing he’d be in your company the rest of the weekend.

michael immediately sends everyone home – never a man to keep people late, stanley moving faster than anyone out the door as everyone bids their goodbyes.

jim shrugs on his jacket, watching as you wait in the kitchen area – laughing along to chatterbox kelly until everyone else is away. he loved it, the sneaking around, no one else knowing you were his or he was yours.

“you know what dwight, i think you’re right,” jim muses, minutes later. “i know. i always am. what am i right about now?” dwight says frustrated, scarf wrapped around his neck as he grabs briefcase, not correlating jim’s words to the previous conversation.

“have a great weekend,” jim replies, placing a hand on dwight’s shoulder, while smiling – eyes not leaving your frame. dwight gets defensive, pushing jim’s arm away, “bye, weirdo.”

soon, kelly walks away, waving jim off so it’s just you, him, and michael. and you walk towards him in excitement, both of you looking to michael from his desk, “see you monday, michael!”

“have fun, you guys,” he responds as you walk off. the moment the elevator door opens, jim’s tugging your hand into his, guiding you into the elevator. a stream of laughter follows, lips that missed one another meeting in a loving kiss.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐭𝐡𝐞 ꒰ 𝐮𝐬 ꒱ 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 ⁑ jim halpert ౨ৎ #jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert x you #jim halpert x y/n

590 notes · View notes

orchidniins · 10 months ago

Text

Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self.

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?”

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.”

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat.

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other.

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..? Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert Y/N: You’re impossible George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10 George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What? George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser.

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye.

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris.

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

480 notes · View notes

directivexero · 2 months ago

Text

It had been over a month since I booted up Guilty Gear Strive, I just hadn’t felt motivated at all to play. The many issues that I ran into with the Tower, matchmaking and just how nonfunctional the online lobbies are left me feeling completely deflated and uninterested in continuing to play.

And then tonight happened.

I got third in BAN’s Beginner Bracket. First time making Top 8, and made it all the way to Winners Final before I just ran out of steam (capitalism is the mind killer). I felt good, great even. I won two mirror matched and overcame a bad matchup in Bridget to make top 8. I played my heart out, and I was kinda fucking around? I was attempting some dumb shit, and I think that was the key.

I don’t play to be the best player in the room, I play to have a good time and do some dumb shit that makes me cackle like a supervillain. That’s how I get my power. And that’s how it’s gonna continue to be 😤

Remember everyone: Hard Work Pays Off

#guilty gear #guilty gear strive #ggst #fighting games #fgc

101 notes · View notes

teapartyprincess4two · 1 year ago

Note

your writing is sooo good! i NEED a johnnie smut omg please write one💞

Monster- J. Guilbert

pairing: Extrovert!reader x Shy!Johnnie

classification: SMUT w/ a plot

inspiration: request^^, Monster by Lady Gaga

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of y/n, dom!Johnnie (kinda), “slut,” alcohol use, slight cursing, Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

—

Johnnie’s been watching you all night, but he’s waiting for the alcohol to settle into his bloodstream before he finally walks up to you. You sit at the bar in a black, backless dress that allows a few of your tattoos to peak through. Bouncy curls are swept onto your shoulder, framing one side of your face as you chat with the bartender.

“Gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna make a move?” Jake nudges Johnnie’s shoulder.

Nights out like this are common for the pair, especially when living a fast paced life in the city of Los Angeles. When they’re not filming or editing, they’re usually out getting drunk, and they’ve managed to creat regular rotation of bars.

Today they find themselves at the Magic 8 Ball, the least crowded bar in L.A on a Friday night. No matter what unfamiliar faces that fill this place, though, yours is always constant. Every Friday, without fail, you saunter in and take a seat at the bar.

Johnnie can tell, just from watching you, that you’re an extrovert. You never seem to stay at the bar, you always wander onto the dance floor and lure a random stranger in for a quick bop around the room.

That’s what intimidates him, because as an introvert he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.

“I’m not staring,” Johnnie quips quickly, taking a swig of whatever alcoholic mixture swirls in his glass. He hisses as the liquid goes down.

If it were just Jake and Johnnie, the conversation would’ve died there. But tonight Tara joined them and she isn’t so adamant on letting the topic go.

“You should invite her to sit with us! You never know what could happen,” she prods teasing fingers into Johnnie’s sides, “plus she looks nice! I need a girlfriend to hang out with!”

“Johnnie needs a girlfriend, Tara. Not you,” Jake jokes. Johnnie rolls is eyes, scooting away from Tara as her fingers continue digging into his sides.

“I’ve had a girlfriend,” Johnnie replies, eyes darting back to where you sit at the bar.

“Yeah, had,” Jake says.

“It’s just hard to—“

“ALRIGHT! Enough!” Tara interrupts Johnnie mid sentence, slamming her hands onto the table as she stands up. “If you won’t make a move, I will,” she says, shimmying out of the booth.

Johnnie’s eyes are blown open in shock. He tries grabbing Tara before she can get too far, but she’s small and sneaky.

“That’s one way to do it,” Jake laughs, watching in amusement as his girlfriend does what his best friend doesn’t have the balls to do.

Johnnie, on the other hand, watches in horror.

There you are, sipping on your drink and chatting with the bartender, blissfully unaware of Tara’s approaching figure.

Tara sits at the bar, taking the seat directly next to yours. She interrupts your conversation with the bartender to order two drinks, one for you and one for her, before swiftly turning her attention to you with a warm smile.

Johnnie can’t bear to watch, but he also can’t look away.

You seem to like Tara, because you’re quick to engage in conversation with her. In the matter of seconds Tara has managed to learn your name, your favorite drink, and even your favorite song (it’s the one that plays over the club speakers).

“Oh God they’re coming,” Johnnie whisper shouts, trying to look casual. Tara’s arm is looped with yours as she leads you to their table, an accomplished look painting her face.

“What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?! Fuck!”

“Just act casual. Don’t be weird— Oh fuck! Just shut up!” for some reason Jake finds himself just as nervous as Johnnie. Maybe he was just being empathetic, but they both scramble to get themselves together.

“Don’t be weird? What the fuck does that—”

Johnnie can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as Tara reaches the booth she’s interrupting him. “Guys. This is Y/n, my new friend,” she gestures towards you, “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Jake and this is our friend Johnnie.”

The moment Tara says your name it’s engraved in Johnnie’s mind. He’s already in love.

Your smile is so big it could light up the room. You extend a hand to the two, immediately introducing yourself and falling into the booth next to Johnnie.

His heart is pounding and his ears are red hot with embarrassment.

“Well, while you two get acquainted, Jake and I are gonna go get drunk,” Tara says, pulling Jake out of the booth before he can get any more comfortable than he already is. She shoots Johnnie a wink before sending you a small wave, leading a confused Jake into the crowd of people.

“She’s nice. I like her,” you comment, watching until the couple disappears. “She’s… something,” Johnnie coughs, he’s so unbelievably awkward.

You chuckle, mostly because you think he’s cute and you find his fiddly personality amusing.

“Johnnie, huh? I had a friend named Johnnie once,” you say, attempting to make conversation. Your manicured nails tap against you glass cup, silver hoop earrings reflecting the strobing lights as you try catching his gaze.

“Bet he didn’t look like this though,” Johnnie replies, clearly referring to his all black attire.

“Hmmm, no. He definitely didn’t,” you giggle. You take a sip from your drink, a lipstick stain remaining once you place the cup back onto the table. Johnnie wonders what it’d feel like to kiss you.

“You’re much cuter,” you continue. Johnnie can’t tell if he’s dreaming, were you actually flirting with him?

Maybe it’s the surge of confidence your compliment gives him, or maybe the alcohol finally kicked in, but Johnnie suddenly finds himself being flirtatious.

“So do you flirt with all the Johnnies you know?”

He’s surprised at how fast you quip back, “Nope. Just the cute ones.”

You’ve subconsciously leaned closer to him, your faces dangerously close.

“Okay, so we’ve established that I’m cute,” he smirks. “What else am I?”

You giggle, a sound that Johnnie swears he can listen to for forever.

“Well clearly you’re not shy anymore,” your finger traces the rim of your drink. A drunk smile and sultry eyes lure him in, pulling him close enough for his lip rings to press against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, a wandering hand finding your thigh. You shiver at the sensation. His fingers were ice cold, but they still managed to ignite a fire deep within your core.

“Like this?” you tease, batting your eyelashes.

You never made it a habit of sleeping with strangers, but Johnnie was the sheep in wolves clothing that played innocent until you were close enough to bite.

“I warned you,” his breath fans against your lips one last time before he’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss. It’s the first kiss Johnnie’s had in years which makes it that much more exciting.

Your plump lips chase his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The club is loud, but you’re so immersed in the man in front of you that you forget you’re not the only two people in the room and lose all control.

Johnnie’s hands find your waist, tugging until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls away breathlessly, silently thanking Tara for working her magic once he sees you on top of him.

Your dress rides up slightly, revealing more of your backside than you’d like. The sight earns you a few whistles from bystanders, breaking you from your lustful daze. “Oh shit,” you squeak, trying to scramble off of Johnnie, but his grip is firm enough to keep you in place.

An animalistic, monster-like need has overtaken him and he’s willing to sacrifice his self image to fuck you in front of all these strangers. But he simultaneously doesn’t want anyone else to see you, to enjoy you, the way he’s about to.

“Restroom. Now,” he growls, pinching the soft skin of your ass. You squeal in excitement, allowing the desires of your flesh to cloud your judgement as you hop off of him and wiggle your way out of the booth. You adjust your dress as you wait for Johnnie to follow before taking his hand in yours and leading him towards the restroom. He makes a mental note to let this be the only time you lead him tonight.

Everyone’s watching, yet you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. If anything it excites you more.

You find the restroom quickly, a wave of gratitude washing over you when you realize it’s a single stall. This means you can be as loud as you want, and from the look in Johnnie’s eyes, you can tell you’ll also need the extra room.

He’s quick to lock the door and immediately engulfs your face in his hands, bringing you in for the second heated kiss of the night. Johnnie’s eager and it shows in the way he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

His left hand remains on your face while the other travels down to your ass, squeezing firmly against the material of your dress. A moan escapes your lips, providing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes surprisingly sweet, like pomegranate and pineapple.

He leads you to the sink counter, your bodies bouncing back slightly when they hit the cold marble. “Up,” he commands.

You hop onto the counter, giving him enough room to fit between your legs. Johnnie’s erection presses against your inner thigh, but he gives you no time to comment on it before his lips are back on yours.

Johnnie’s hand’s find your boobs, massaging your mounds slowly as he deepens the kiss. “More,” you murmur against the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you. He smirks against your mouth at your neediness.

“So needy.” He pulls your head back, providing him with perfect access to your neck. Sloppy, open mouth kisses trail from your jawline down to your exposed collarbone. Each one gives you goosebumps.

“Fuck me please,” you whimper, feeling your panties become more soaked by the second. “So polite,” he teases, sucking on your skin until it bruises.

The rough material of his jeans comes in contact with your clothed pussy. He dry humps you just to hear the strained moans that escape your lips.

Finally, when you rut back, he decides he’s teased you enough. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, exposing the wet underwear that he pushes to the side.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, kneeling in front of you to get a better view. He’s in love. What he wants to do is eat you out, but there’s no time for that in a club as crowded as this. Especially not when there’s only one restroom.

You watch in awe as he presses a quick kiss on your bundle of nerves, immediately licking his lips right after. “Yummy,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another hungry kiss.

Your hands find his belt, unbuckling it with fervor and tugging at his belt loop to bring him back in to you. He gets the message and helps you in unbuttoning his skin-tight jeans. Your forehead is flush against his as you watch his dick spring up, it bobs back and forth as you take in the sheer size.

“Holy fuck,” your voice is full of exasperation. How was that meant to fit inside of you?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done this in a long time, but Johnnie suddenly feels self conscious. He hides his face in your neck before you can notice how red it becomes, but you’re quick to push his shoulders back.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Where’d that monster go?” you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. His dick twitches and cries precum at the reassurance.

He pulls you back in for a kiss, feeling confident once again. He lines himself up tentatively with your entrance, rubbing the tip along your folds before slowly pushing himself in.

Your eyes are screwed shut, small tears forming at the corners as you struggle to adjust to the stretch. “Fuck Johnnie, wait,” you say, pushing against his stomach slightly. Suddenly you’re not sure you want him to fuck you dumb, his size alone was enough to have you seeing stars.

Your words fall on deaf ears, though, and before you know it he’s pushed himself all the way in. You gasp, throwing your head back against the bathroom mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you try to hold him in place knowing the longer you keep him there, the more time you’ll have to adjust.

It’s no use though, because he begins thrusting into you at a relentless, unforgiving pace. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix every time his hips slam into yours.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he grunts, strong hands gripping your waist so he can fuck into you even faster. You whimper at the sensation, his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Just like that, Johnnie. So good,” you egg him on, holding onto his neck for support. He hasn’t slowed his pace, instead moving one hand from your hips down to your throbbing clit.

Your legs instinctively push together, but his body moves them back into their previous position as he continues. “Such a slut,” he purrs, watching the euphoric look that paints your face when he rubs his thumb against your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Such a slut,” you’re drunk on dick, babbling whatever will get you closer to your pending release.

“My slut?” he asks, using the hand that was previously gripping your waist to take a firm hold of your face. Your eyes lock with his, taking notice of the way lust clouds his pupils. “All yours,” you whisper.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Your tongues collide in a heated mixture of moans and whimpers. All the while he continues pounding into you and rubbing circles on your clit.

One particularly hard thrust has you dumb, a string of curse words and chants of his name being the only thing you can manage to say. “C’mon baby, c’mon,” he growls, sloppily kissing you as he feels his climax approaching.

“Johnnie!”

Your walls flutter around him, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your hair falls in front of your face and you find yourself holding Johnnie’s wrist, pushing his hand away as it continues working on your clit. “Almost there,” he moans, pulling his hand away to focus his attention on fucking you.

You’re sensitive. You’re whimpering. You’re so fucked out that it’s overstimulating.

“Cum for me, handsome,” you moan, still coming down from your own high. He continues rutting his hips into you, chasing his release until finally it washes over him.

Hot spurts of cum paint your insides, lazy hips rolling against you. He’s panting from above you, hands falling from your body and latching onto the counter for support.

“Fuck that was… that was amazing,” Johnnie says, pulling out of you reluctantly.

He knows the sooner he pulls out and you two get dressed, the quicker you’ll become strangers. And that’s terrifying.

“You were amazing,” you reply, using your finger to pull his pensive gaze back towards you by his chin.

“Don’t tell me it’s a one and done,” you pout, “I was hoping to have more moments like that.”

Johnnie still stands between your legs, his limp dick resting on your exposed thighs. He lights up at your suggestion. His hands have opted for a much softer hold on your hips, thumbs massaging your skin. He knows he was rough, but he couldn’t help it.

“I mean— I’d like to— we could— fuck I’m so bad at this,” he stutters, suddenly reverting back to his natural, awkward state.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, pecking his nose and hopping off the counter. His ears flush red again.

“How about we get cleaned up and then we’ll worry about the rest later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” a big goofy smile adorns his face. His rosy cheeks make you wanna pinch him and gush over how cute he looks.

“Weren’t you just fucking my brains out a second ago?” you tease, only making him more flustered.

“I’m shy, I can’t help it.”

“Not that shy apparently,” you pull him in for one more kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Tara the goat, the best wingwoman ever!

I locked in. Thank you for ur kind words bby, I LUV U!

Enjoy 🎱😜 - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

838 notes · View notes

bwobgames · 11 days ago

Text

She decides to hang out with a friend!

Which is. A bit of a shame since everyone seems to be somewhere else.

Which is why, the wonders of technology!

She looks at her phone and sees a clear lack of signal. So that’s how it is huh.

But, she also sees some unread notifications from a dear friend.

She puts the phone close to her ear and hears the first of multiple voice messages.

“Hey girl! How are things going? Please tell me if the train is any good I’m dying for a quick escapade. If I hear anyone else try to explain to me how the stock market works, I’m going to be on the news.”

“Is my baby okay? Did he shave that awful moustache? Please say yes.”

It’s Eva! Her friend from work!

A fellow young mind wanting to live it up in the world of business, although unlike Mari, she had some family capital with her already.

Probably why she always managed to stay cheery even while taking difficult business decisions.

Before Nina stepped in, Eva was her one ally in the rough path of maternity, picked up the slack when Eugene got bored of taking care of his pregnant wife, as he does. Although due to her international responsibilities, she wasn’t available as much as she wanted.

Until Eva suddenly showed up with a baby of her own.

They made a glorious system. When Eva had to travel, Mari and Nina would take care of Owen. And when Mari and Nina were too overwhelmed by work, Eva would look after them.

And of course, they all got to have play dates together!

She’s a bit envious on how easy Eva could take care of 3 children. The second Nina was out of the picture Marigold started to struggle.

It seems that pure unfiltered love is not enough to stop children from chewing cables.

It takes a village, truly.

Of course, someone of Eva’s calibre could’ve just paid a nanny, but she wanted Owen to grow in an environment full of friends.

And when he already got those friends, boarding school it is. A boarding school the three of them got exact knowledge on who the teachers, the directors and even the janitors are.

At this point, those kids have 3 moms now.

“By the way, tell Nina her cake recipe is a godsend. I fought myself not to eat more than one piece of it and I lost. That wife of yours is gonna give me diabetes!”

For a long time, Eva thought Mari and Nina were already married. Which made for a very interesting situation when she finally saw Eugene at the house.

She called the cops.

Eva doesn’t know what happened at the mansion.

And if it were for Mari, it would stay that way.

Owen himself might tell her someday, but secretly, she hopes he doesn’t.

Eva already lost her husband; she doesn’t need to know her son died too.

Died under Marigold’s supposed watch…

She lied to her. She said she doesn’t know where Owen’s sudden aggravation of his storm fear came from. She said she can trust her with her son.

She refuses to break that promise again.

“Also, also, did Vivi go or not? If she did tell her I said hiiiii! If she didn’t tell her I said byeee! Oh, the two lovely boys as well!”

Ángel got along with her, he even played matchmaker with a friend of his! That cheeky little man.

“Bring me something yummy! Bring cheese! And meat! And many many drinks because I have gathered so much gossip you wouldn’t believe!”

She needs that information now.

“Alright I’ll leave you be, I’ll be watching your stocks from the sidelines, don’t worry. And! I booked a trip for the telescopes I was telling you about! This time I will not be stopped by sudden emergencies I swear! We will have a fun star gazing bonanza I swear!!”

“Okay byeeeee! buy me something nice, eat well, don’t let Owen convince you I allowed him to drink, don’t attack people and relax for once!!”

She’ll try.

But first, time to respond

“I need that information. I’ll get any and all drinks necessary, I need it. And I’ll be holding onto that promise, I want some stars!”

“Also, the TV show you recommended? I watched it all in 3 days. Amazing. The second I get signal and a private room I need to discuss it with you, or I’ll explode”

“Currently Owen still has that moustache and I’m afraid his mind is not going to change anytime soon. My condolences.”

“Everyone says hi and they miss you! If they don’t say it, I’ll make them.”

And for a final message, something important.

“That is all, I’ll call you later!”

It’s always nice to catch up with friends, even with both of them being busy working women, they always find time for a tea break.

Which sounds like a great idea right now! Relaxing tea adventure!

Until a pink haired creature finds her.

#Short and sweet #with a silly poll #its like going back to the og comic days #enjoy the color. it did indeed take a while #detective beebo overnight train #all for today uwah its not much but its honest work

76 notes · View notes

bradleysass · 3 months ago

Text

Pine - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 650 - Starchaser + Sirius

James Potter had always been a man with a plan. That plan, however, had been spectacularly failing for five years.

For five long years, he had been in love with Regulus Black. Five years of subtle glances, charming grins, and carefully placed love notes scribbled onto napkins, sticky notes, and sometimes, on the corner of Regulus’s meticulously organized notebooks. And for five years, Regulus had responded with the same level of enthusiasm one would give to an unsolicited email—mildly annoyed at best, completely indifferent at worst.

James had held onto hope, of course. How could he not? He was James Potter—stupidly optimistic, annoyingly persistent, and tragically in love with his best mate’s younger brother. And now, by some cruel twist of fate (or perhaps Sirius’s own misguided attempt at playing matchmaker), Regulus had moved into their shared flat.

If James thought he had trouble getting Regulus’s attention before, it was nothing compared to the obstacle of a closed bedroom door.

Regulus was a ghost in their flat. He emerged only in the dead of night to make tea, moving like a shadow through their kitchen, and somehow always managed to slip back into his room before James could so much as croak out a greeting.

Sirius, of course, found the whole thing hilarious. “Mate, I think it’s time to admit defeat.” He was lounging on the sofa, watching James stare longingly at Regulus’s firmly shut door like a dog left out in the rain.

James groaned and flopped down next to him. “There has to be a way. I mean, what do I have to do? I’ve tried everything. I left him handwritten notes, I bought him coffee—”

“You left those notes anonymously, didn’t you?” Sirius pointed out, smirking.

“Yeah, because it’s romantic,” James argued. “Mystery, intrigue, all that.”

Sirius snorted. “He probably thinks they’re from a serial killer.”

James groaned again and buried his face in a pillow. “I’m doomed.”

“No, you’re just painfully bad at this.” Sirius patted his back, far too amused by the whole thing. “But lucky for you, I’m feeling generous. Reg tends to come out when I’m not home. So, tomorrow, I’ll be conveniently out for the evening.”

James lifted his head. “You mean—?”

“You get your shot, mate.”

It was a shot James would not waste.

—

The next evening, James found himself strategically stationed in the kitchen, waiting. And sure enough, at precisely ten past midnight, Regulus emerged, clad in his usual oversized sweater, hair slightly messy from sleep.

James held his breath as Regulus moved toward the kettle, seemingly unaware of his presence. That was, until James cleared his throat.

Regulus froze mid-motion, eyes flicking up to meet James’s, and for the first time in five years, James didn’t look away.

“Hey,” James said, voice softer than he intended.

Regulus’s fingers curled around his mug. “You’re awake.”

James grinned. “I live here.”

Regulus hummed, noncommittal, and turned back to his tea.

“Look,” James started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just gonna say it—five years is a long time to pine, and frankly, I’m exhausted.”

Regulus blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You… what?”

James took a deep breath. “I like you, Reg. A lot. Always have. I left those notes because I was too much of a coward to say it to your face. But you’re here now, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you to notice me.”

Silence. James’s heart pounded. And then—

“I noticed.”

James stared. “You—what?”

Regulus exhaled, looking down at his tea like it held all the answers. “I knew they were from you. I just… didn’t know what to do with it.” He finally met James’s gaze, and for the first time, there was something there—uncertainty, maybe, but also something warm, something hopeful. “But I’m noticing you now.”

James’s breath hitched. “Yeah?”

Regulus gave the smallest of nods. “Yeah.”

#black brothers microfic #marauders #starchaser #jegulus #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #microfic

112 notes · View notes

itsnesss · 1 month ago

Note

What about axel x shy!reader who's best friends with Robby and Miguel and she's one of the best fighters? Let's just say after the big competition, shy!reader friends/dojo, feels bad about her being left out being single so all the dojos are having a goodbye party (no alcohol for me), exchanging numbers to hang out in the future, thankfully shy!reader made new friends. Shyreader friends/dojo took the title as the matchmakers and they're happy seeing axel and shy!reader talking but later they're making out steamy, not surprising axel has a HUGE crush on shy!reader obviously they're gonna date sooner or later. Then unknowingly to everyone, axel and shyreader are doing smut, just Missionary.

The next day, when shyreader friends worried about her and found her, wondering where she went last night but later realized they caught her doing the walk of shame. Just fluff

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | after the sekai taikai, at a party, your friends try to set you up, and they succeed. later, you and axel share an intimate moment. your friends catch you both, teasing you about the obvious connection between you

warnings | shy!reader, fluff, teasing, embarrassment, smut, explicit content, p in v, protected sex

word count | 2.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The Sekai Taikai was over. Everyone was exhausted, some with bandaged knuckles and others with bruises they wore with pride. But for the first time in a long while, dojos, rivalries, and differences didn’t matter. It was a celebration.

The farewell party was held in a large hall inside the hotel where many teams were staying. The music played at a moderate volume, and fighters exchanged phone numbers, promising to keep in touch.

You were there, leaning against the wall with a bottle of water in your hands. Your shyness had kept you on the sidelines of many interactions, but thanks to Robby and Miguel, you had managed to befriend several competitors from other dojos. Even so, you knew they were keeping an eye on you.

"It’s an injustice," Sam whispered to Miguel, watching you with a smug smile. "How is she the only one still single?"

"I know, I know," Miguel responded dramatically. "She’s strong, beautiful, and adorably shy. If I didn’t have you, Sam, I’d kidnap her."

"Don’t start," Robby huffed, crossing his arms. "But yeah, this has to change."

"Who’s the lucky guy?" Hawk asked, joining the conversation with a mischievous grin.

Miguel glanced around and smirked. "I think the lucky guy already found her."

Everyone turned their heads and saw Axel Kovacevic walking toward you.

You didn’t notice your friends' stares, only the presence beside you. When you turned, you found Axel wearing his Iron Dragons jacket, his hair slightly messy.

"Aren’t you bored standing here alone?" he asked in his usual relaxed tone.

"I’m not alone," you murmured, gripping your water bottle. "My friends are here."

Axel smirked. "But they’re not here."

You shot him a shy glance before looking away. It was incredible how Axel, who had a reputation for being cold and serious, relaxed so much when talking to you.

"It was a good tournament," you finally said.

"It was. Especially because I got to see you fight."

Your cheeks warmed, your heart beating faster.

"Thanks…"

Axel ran a hand through his hair, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Do you want to get out of here? It’s a little… loud."

You nodded, and the two of you slipped away from the crowd, unaware of your friends' knowing looks.

The night air was cool, and the hotel’s pool reflected the city lights. You leaned against the railing while Axel rested beside you.

"I didn’t think you were this quiet."

"I didn’t think you were this talkative," you replied, glancing at him.

Axel chuckled. "Only when I want to impress someone."

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise up your neck.

"And who do you want to impress?"

Axel let out a low laugh before leaning slightly toward you.

"I think you already know."

Your breath caught in your throat. Axel didn’t look away, his closeness making you feel trapped in the best possible way.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

Your response was barely a whisper.

"Yes…"

There were no more words. Axel pulled you in, his hands firm on your waist as his lips claimed yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly turned deeper. His hands slid down your back as yours clung to his jacket.

The kiss grew more intense, his body pressing gently against yours against the railing. His lips moved with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

To be honest, so had you.

"Well, well, well…"

Hawk’s voice made you both break apart instantly. When you turned, you saw Miguel, Robby, Sam, and several others watching you with triumphant smiles.

"I knew it was gonna happen!" Miguel exclaimed.

"We should start matchmaking as a business," Sam added.

Robby placed a hand on your shoulder with an amused smile. "How does it feel knowing we just created the best couple of the tournament?"

Still catching your breath, you glanced at Axel, who gave you a knowing smile.

"I guess it’s official," he said. "I’m now the luckiest guy in the Sekai Taikai."

And with your heart racing wildly, you couldn’t help but smile too.

After your friends' embarrassing (but inevitable) discovery, Axel intertwined his fingers with yours and whispered in your ear, "Let’s go somewhere else."

Your skin tingled at his low, husky voice, and though your cheeks burned, you nodded silently.

You walked through the hotel hallways until you reached his room. Axel slid his key card and pushed the door open, letting you step in first. You had barely taken a few steps when you heard the door close behind you and the click of the lock.

You turned to face him, and in less than a second, Axel was standing right in front of you.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured, his warm breath brushing your lips.

Your heart pounded, but the look in his eyes ignited something inside you.

"Yes," you whispered.

That was all he needed.

His lips crashed onto yours with pent-up hunger, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you against him. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, his touch setting your skin on fire.

You walked backward until the back of your legs hit the bed. Axel took the opportunity to lean over you, his lips trailing a burning path along your jaw and down your neck.

"I’ve always wanted to do this," he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, and he understood immediately. With a smirk, he pulled it off effortlessly, revealing his toned torso. His dark eyes roamed over you before he kissed you again, this time with an intensity that made it clear he had no intention of stopping.

His fingers found the buckle of your belt and unfastened it without hesitation, sliding your pants down. His hands traveled back up your thighs and stopped at the edge of your panties.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his warm breath brushing against your ear. Do you want this?

"Yes..." you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open under the fire of his gaze.

With a deep sound of satisfaction, Axel lay down and took off his pants and boxers, revealing his erection.

And when he approached again, his gaze left no doubt about his intentions. His fingers removed your shirt and bra in seconds, and soon both of you were completely naked in bed, with your bodies pressed against each other.

"Tell me I'm being careful," he said, his voice trembling with anticipation.

"You are" you whispered. "And don't stop".

The smile he gave you was so erotic that your thighs clenched tightly.

With one hand, Axel opened your legs, his fingers moving over your body. He brought you to his lips and kissed you in a place you had only dreamed he would kiss. And when his tongue emerged, the pleasure was so intense that your hips lifted off the bed uncontrollably.

"Axel…" you moaned, arching your hips in response.

The deep laugh he gave you was the perfect response. His lips and tongue devoted themselves to pampering you in that place until you felt your muscles tense. And before you could reach climax, his lips crashed against yours again, savoring the essence of your own pleasure.

"Ready?" he whispered between kisses.

"Yes... Yes..."

Axel took the time to look for a condom on his nightstand and put it on.

And with a softness you didn't expect, Axel entered you.

The pleasure was indescribable. They both moaned at the same time, your body trembling around his erection. The penetration was slow, his body moving inside until it stopped with the tip of his fingers against your navel.

"Mmm…" he murmured. "This is incredible".

And before you had the chance to respond, it started moving.

Each thrust was deep, both of them gasping every time their hips collided with yours. His fingers encircled your breasts, teasing them while his erection brushed against a spot inside you that sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

The combination of pleasure and intensity was more than you could bear. With a muffled scream, you felt the climax approaching, and Axel needed nothing more to give you permission to reach pleasure. The sensation was so intense that your eyes closed uncontrollably, your body tensing around him.

Axel gasped, his fingers gripping your nipples tightly before quickening his movements. The pleasure grew between the two of you until Axel gasped with a deep sound, his body trembling over yours.

They both stayed like that, panting and smiling, their bodies still connected to each other.

Finally, Axel slid to the side, but without moving too far away from you. He cradled you in his arms and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead before murmuring:

"I'm glad it happened".

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. Axel had always been mysterious, but in this moment, he was just a normal guy, satisfied with his conquest.

And you didn't care about that. In fact, you felt like you had found your own trophy. After all, Axel Kovacevic was the most successful guy at Sekai Taikai, but you had been the first to conquer him. And, as you had imagined so many times, you had turned out to be his perfect reward.

The celebration would last beyond the Sekai Taikai. And with his arm around your waist, you knew Axel wouldn't let you go so easily.

You had conquered him.

And he had also won you over.

Soon you start to feel exhausted, and your breathing begins to calm down.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Axel whispers, his voice soft and calm.

"Yes. Why not?" you murmur, smiling.

"Because, as far as I know, all our friends are in the same hotel. And I would like to spend a little more time here, with the most incredible guy at the Sekai Taikai..."

Axel caresses your cheek with his fingers, and you smile against his chest.

"That sounds perfect".

And the two of them stayed like that, embraced, enjoying the silence until they fell into a deep sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains as you woke up, feeling a warm weight around your waist. You blinked and turned your head slightly, finding Axel still asleep beside you, his arm wrapped around you possessively.

The memory of the previous night made heat rise to your cheeks. You couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

Carefully, you slid his arm away and got out of bed, fumbling for your clothes. You managed to get dressed and, with your heart pounding, opened the door to his room, praying no one would see you sneaking back to yours.

You weren’t that lucky.

“There you are!”

You froze. In front of you stood Miguel, Robby, Sam, and Hawk, their expressions ranging from relief to pure amusement.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked, crossing her arms.

“You worried us,” Robby added, though his tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Wait, wait…” Hawk narrowed his eyes, then glanced down at your slightly rumpled clothes, your hair a bit messier than usual, and the guilty expression on your face. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “No. Freaking. Way.”

Miguel caught on instantly, his hands flying to his head. “Are you…?!”

Your face burned. “N-No…” You tried to deny it, but the way Hawk and Miguel exchanged looks before bursting into laughter didn’t help at all.

“Oh my God, this is the best thing that’s ever happened,” Hawk said between laughs. “Axel? It has to be Axel!”

“AXEL?!” Robby’s eyes widened before he adopted his protective older-brother stance. “What the hell?”

“We knew this would happen sooner or later!” Sam grinned victoriously, as if this confirmed her matchmaking skills.

“Guys, shut up!” you protested, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

“Why?” Miguel asked with a teasing smile. “Are you afraid Axel will hear us?”

At that very moment, the door behind you opened, and a large hand rested on the frame.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone fell silent as Axel appeared, his hair tousled, shirtless, and looking utterly confused. His eyes landed on you and then on the others, and as soon as he put the pieces together, he let out a small scoff.

“Seriously?”

Hawk was the first to break the silence with a dramatic scream. “I KNEW IT!!”

Miguel and Sam burst into laughter immediately, while Robby groaned, rubbing his face in exasperation.

“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at Axel.

“Too late,” Axel replied with a smirk before casually wrapping an arm around you, leaning against you as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “It’s official now.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I guess everyone knows now…”

“And we’ll never forget it!” Hawk declared, pulling out his phone. “I need to document this moment.”

“NO!”

And with that, the entire group erupted in laughter while you buried your face in Axel’s chest, unsure whether to laugh along or die of embarrassment.

But when he pressed a quick kiss to your hair, you knew that, in the end, it was all worth it.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai series #cobra kai x you #cobra kai season 6 #cobra kai s6 #axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic #axel kovacevik cobra kai #axel kovacevic x you #axel kovacevic smut #axel kovacevic imagines

121 notes · View notes

muxshwriting · 11 months ago

Text

devil town

Erik Lehnsherr x daughter!reader

summary: Erik didn't realise he was a father, but as soon as he did, he became the best one || warnings: nightmares, mentions of death || word count: 918 || masterlist

You hadn’t grown up knowing your father, the same way Erik had lived not knowing he had a daughter. But when you, a mutant with the bizarre ability to control metal, Professor Xavier called in a favour from an old friend.

You’re standing in front of the mansion when he arrives, shifting between your feet. "So you can control metal?"

The man, Erik, removed his sunglasses. "Well, aren’t you direct. I’m assuming you’re the girl Charles called me about."

"Yeah." You shrug. "You're supposed to help me master my gifts or however the Professor puts it."

Erik laugh, actually laughed. "He does have a rather bizarre way of saying things, doesn't he?"

"Yes! Finally someone agrees with me! I mean, he's great and all but he's so weird."

You and Erik got along like a house on fire from then on. He pushed you past your limits, proving time and time again that you could do what you didn’t think was even possible. Before either of you released, it had been three months and Erik was still living at the school, living the lifestyle he once condemned.

One day he comes down to the training room to find you fiddling with a coin between your fingers, a nervous tick you’d picked up from him. "What's wrong?"

"My Mom's coming to visit for parent weekend." You tell him.

"And you're upset about that?"

You shrug. "She's very protective and is gonna be on my ass all weekend. It’s all going to be about what I’ve learnt, what I’m going to do next. Or worse, she’ll grill be about the boys here and ask which one I like best." You shudder at the thought of your mother playing matchmaker again.

The weekend grew closer and closer and before you knew, your mom was climbing out of her car and enveloping you in a rib-crushing hug. The bombardment of questions began immediately. You don’t think your mom stopped asking questions the entire time you gave her a tour. It was never ending.

When you reached the front of the mansion once again, Erik was stood by the front doors. You sent him an expression, begging him to save you. He chuckled slightly as you approached him.

"Mom, I want you to meet Erik, he’s been helping me with my powers."

A look of recognition flashed across Erik’s face as he shook your mother’s hand. Your mother, however, was frozen in place, staring at him. "Honey, this is Erik." She said slowly.

"I know this is Erik, he's been here for the past three months."

"This is the Erik I met 17 years ago..." She widened her eyes. "The Erik from the night I…"

"What?" Your brain restarts. "You mean-" It was as if you only heard what you wanted to, struggling to comprehend what was actually happening. "I can't be his daughter."

Erik finally entered the conversation. "Do you not want to be my daughter?" He asked carefully.

"I don't mean it like that. I would love to have a dad, someone to rely on. But it's just you- you-"

"I what?"

"You're busy." You reason. "You have more important things to worry about than dealing with me."

"You're my daughter. There's no dealing with you. I'll look after you as much as I can, but you've done a brilliant job so far." He replied honestly. "I'll be here when you need me."

"Really?"

"I’m not going to force myself into your life, it’s your life." Erik quietly said. "I’ll be wherever you need me."

★--~-~--★

You jolt awake, a sticky sheen of sweat covering your entire body. You could see your breath in front of you, the morning air cold stinging your skin.

Erik! He had just... he was dead. He couldn't be dead right? You had to know. You rounded the corner and quietly knocked on the door. Your heartbeat was like thunder on a silent night and you could barely hear anything over the thrumming. There was no answer to your knock, despite the gentle glow of light under the door.

Without thinking, you push the door open slowly, hoping to see something that told you Erik was alive, that you weren’t crazy and that your dream wasn't real. No Erik. Not even a tussled bedsheet or a crinkled pillow.

"Erik?" Your voice was uncertain as you quietly spoke his name. "Dad?"

A flurry of movement in your peripheral vision had you turning to the other side of the room. Erik was sat at his desk, working over documents of some kind by lamp-light. He frowned as he caught sight of your panicked state.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turned to him, a crazed look still in your eyes. You didn't want to think about what you looked like. Hair tangled, covered in sweat, still in your night clothes with a robe and your erratic breath still audible.

Erik took one look at you and stepped closer, his eyes softening. "Are you okay?" He asked again, his tone softer as he tried to calm you.

"You-" You heaved a breath. "I watched you di-'' You couldn't finish the word but you didn’t have to. Erik knew exactly what you meant.

He reached forward and pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I'm alive. I'm okay." He whispered. "It wasn't real."

"It felt so real."

"I know. But you're safe now. It's over. I'm here." He paused slightly, glancing down at the vulnerable girl in his arms. "Dad's here."

#erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr #xmen #x men movies #muxsh #muxshwriting #devil town

298 notes · View notes

merlucide · 7 months ago

Text

The matchmaker has found a match……

@thebestsetter your match is….

ISAGI YOICHI!

x kindhearted, fun, exciting, attentive, vb player, fem!reader

RAAAAAAAAGGHHH

OKAY, NOW HEAR ME OUT BOO.

Yes, he’s basic, yes he’s bland

but

BUT, he’s caring, responsible, competitive and a silly lil guy!!

Idk what trope but either Mutual Feelings or Childhood friends :3

tbh I think you’d like be like his ideal type too??

anywho-

You’d be like doing your own thing and he’d just stare at you a think ‘She’s so pretty..’

and then he realized ‘oh no, I like her!!’

He would find every excuse to be around you, oh you need someone to help you carry for science project? Well what do you know! Isagi is already picking it up!

Need some one to spike? Isagi is literally Hinata wym (his spikes are awful, but you teach him how to do it and then becomes decently good actually!)

He confesses on accident lmao

He had finally, FINALLY, mustered the courage to ask you out!!! After literal YEARS of pining after you. 💀

He was supposed to tell you to meet him at the fair, because he had something he wanted to tell you (confess) but instead of

’Hey- We are still good for the fair right? I have something I wanna tell you there :-)”

he said..

”I’m gonna ask you out at the fair- you’re coming still right?”

sigh, Isagi, Isagi, Isagi

and you are just like ‘??? Did I hear that right??”

and it takes him a second to realize what the flip he just said

he just turns all red and is stuttering out incoherent nonsense

he wanted to die so bad

and you’re also like terribly flustered and caught off guard by the sudden confession

You had a feeling he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he really did feel the same!!

you just awkwardly-nervously tell him you feel the same and answer his original question with a soft ‘yes’

and he’s just like ?!?!??

i’m sensing a theme here..

He actually, genuinely, CANNOT believe YOU like him

like WHAT. This pretty, smart, funny, amazing, perfect, girl- actually likes me?!?

‘..so like …. Um … are we like… dating .. now ?’ is all he says

Real smooth Isagi, real smooth 😐

You then ask if this fair is a date now

which he’s like ‘I guess it is’

You both do the awkward goodbye and he goes straight to the boys bathroom and splash’s water on his face

He was genuinely tweaking

And that’s how you two became a couple! :3

The fair date was really fun, but super awkward bc, Isagi 🙂‍↕️

He tried winning you those big stuffed animals, and failed miserably 💀

He really wanted to get it for you too— then you ask if you can try it

You win on the first try.

hes just like ‘🧍‍♀️’

super embarrassed lmaooooo- but super impressed

Also he like… wants to hold you hand… but is like overthinking it so bad

‘Is it too soon??’ ‘Yeah it’s too soon’ ‘Would she even like holding my hand??’ ‘No she wouldn’t’ —-

Doesnt end up holding your hand 😔

You both end your first date on the ferris wheel

You both just chat about wtv, and that you didn’t think he’d like you

and he’s like ‘WHAT’

After he walks you home he immediately changes your contact name ��Y/N-san” to “my girlfriend y/n💙”

Now! General HCs! :3

Isagi is such a good hype man ong, like you’re not feeling your best? Well Isagi is gonna make you feel like a thousand bucks!!

He thinks you’re the most perfect person to exist and cannot fathom you thinking you’re anything else but that

super sweet when comforting too, he’ll either hold your hand, hold your shoulders, or actually hold you when he comforts you.

Btw he gets super pumped up at your vb games, he’s like wearing your school/jersey colors and cheering for you in the bleachers

At first he didn’t really understand how the game worked, since the only sport that exists to him is soccer 💀

Really likes playing volleyball with you! He’s really good at digging and passing and so-so at spiking. He’s STUNNING at setting, because of yours truly 😚 like yes, I taught him that 🥹

hes got a mean serve though 😋

Now!

for the affectionate scale! Id say he’s about a 8/10 tbh

Hes like a clingy cat who always wants to lay on your lap lmao

always holding your hand, ALWAYS.

is a sucker for cheek kisses omg ><

He gets all blushy-n-gushy when you kiss his cheeks (anywhere really, but cheek kisses are his fav!!)

He gets soooo flustered when you give him affection or he gives you affection

eventually he gets used to it but he still blushes when you give him some love <33

He loves the simple hugs :) He loves squishing his cheek against you shoulder/neck and rub circles around you waist, while you massage his neck and blue locks (haha pun intended ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °) )

Loves laying on your thighs obviously 😌 loves anything with your thighs tbh

His ideal date is probably going to see a movie or just walking around wherever and getting dinner 🙃

He will literally do whatever you want — so just tell him whatchu wanna do and he’ll be on board!!

Really appreciates it when you come to his games <33 it makes him feel so loved and valued <33

also feeds his ego 💀 in his mind he’s like ‘haha yeah, my gf came to my game, these losers don’t even have a gf 😌’

super cheesy btw- but it’s like the best kind of cheesy

Brings you pretty roses :) and likes to buy you keychains whenever he finds one he thinks you’ll like

love any gift you wanna give him, but really melts at the heartfelt ones

help I really yapped on this one 😭

anywho I think you guys would be real cute :)

I ship fr fr😽

hope you like it! 😭💗

(also did see your inbox question but by the time I got it I was literally done with the HCs 😭😭 …. HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT??)

runner ups!

Kuroo Tetsuro

Karasu Tabito

Bokuto Kotaro (HEAR ME OUT..)

#merlucide #merlucide’s matchups!#1k event #Isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi x y/n #isagi yoichi x reader #Isagi fluff #isagi matchup #bllk #blue lock #bllk matchups #Sobbing

114 notes · View notes

empressdede · 7 days ago

Text

Tangled Heart - part two

•••

The hum of chatter filled the locker room, an easy backdrop to the clatter of gear bags and the occasional spray of body mist. Samaya sat cross-legged on the bench, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she gossiped with the other girls. Her laughter—light, effortless—rippled through the space, drawing a few glances from across the room. She didn’t notice. She never noticed.

Not like Naomi did.

Naomi was still out there, finishing her match, but Samaya kept glancing at the clock on the wall like she couldn’t wait for her to come back. She twirled the string of her hoodie between her fingers, eyes dancing with a secret she was dying to spill.

“She’s gonna flip when I tell her,” Samaya said, her excitement bubbling over as she turned to Jade beside her.

Jade smirked. “You really think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Samaya grinned. “Naomi’s always talking about settling down, right? Finally thinking about someone outside the ring. This could be exactly what she’s been waiting for.”

The other girls giggled, teasing Samaya about playing matchmaker, but Samaya only laughed along, completely oblivious to the dark clouds that were already brewing.

The door creaked open.

There she was.

Naomi.

Sweat slicked her brow, strands of hair clinging to her temples, her chest still heaving from the effort of her match. But none of that dulled the fire in her eyes—not when they landed on Samaya.

For a moment, the room faded away. Naomi’s gaze locked onto her, hungry, possessive, like Samaya belonged to her even now, sitting among the other girls like she was just anyone. Like she wasn’t Naomi’s.

Samaya’s face lit up. “Naomi! Come here, I have to tell you something!”

Her enthusiasm was innocent. Warm. Friendly. But to Naomi, it felt like sunlight after days of cold. She crossed the room quickly, ignoring the nods of acknowledgment from the other wrestlers. They didn’t matter. Only Samaya did.

Samaya scooted over, making room beside her, and Naomi sat, close enough that their knees brushed.

Naomi’s heart pounded in anticipation. This is it, she thought. She’s finally going to say it.

Samaya leaned in conspiratorially, her voice a teasing whisper. “You’re not gonna believe this,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “But guess who has a crush on you?”

Naomi’s breath caught. Her throat tightened.

This was it. Finally.

Her lips parted, already curling into a slow, knowing smile. She felt it in her chest, in her bones. Samaya had finally stopped fighting it. She had seen it, felt it—just like Naomi always had.

Naomi’s gaze softened, her voice dropping low as if to meet Samaya in the intimacy of the moment. “Tell me,” she purred.

Samaya giggled, unaware of the tension threading Naomi’s words like wire. “Jimmy Uso.”

The name hit Naomi like a slap.

Her smile froze, lips stiffening at the corners. A heavy pause filled the space between them as Naomi’s expression darkened, the flicker of anticipation extinguished as quickly as it had ignited.

Her eyes, once alight with expectation, now dulled to a flat, unimpressed stare.

“Jimmy?” Naomi echoed, her voice clipped, almost disgusted. She let out a short, humorless laugh and rolled her eyes, pushing herself back slightly on the bench like she needed space just to process the absurdity.

“Come on, Naomi,” Samaya nudged her playfully, clearly thinking Naomi was being modest. “Don’t act like that! He’s been asking about you nonstop. Said you looked good tonight, too.”

Naomi’s jaw tightened.

If it had nothing to do with Samaya, she wasn’t interested. Period.

Jimmy Uso? Please. He could set himself on fire for all she cared. None of them mattered. None of them would ever matter—not when Samaya was right here, so close Naomi could practically feel her pulse through the air between them.

Samaya tilted her head, frowning at Naomi’s sharp disinterest. “Don’t you remember the other night?” she asked, a bit confused. “You were talking about settling down. Doesn’t this seem like the perfect opportunity?”

Naomi’s eyes snapped to Samaya’s, dark and stormy.

“No,” Naomi replied flatly, without hesitation. Her voice was low, steady, and dangerous. “It doesn’t.”

Samaya’s brows knitted, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She hadn’t expected the sharpness in Naomi’s tone.

“But, Naomi, it’s Jimmy,” Samaya pressed, still not seeing the trap she was stepping into. She was so sweet in her cluelessness, so innocent in her attempts to play matchmaker. “He’s good-looking, he’s funny, and he’s already into you. You could have something real.”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a tight, forced smile.

“Real?” Naomi scoffed, her gaze cold as glass. “No, Samaya. What’s real is sitting right in front of me.”

Samaya blinked, confused. “What?”

Naomi leaned in, her voice a silken thread of threat and promise all tangled together. “I’m not interested in Jimmy,” she said slowly, savoring every syllable like it was a vow. “I don’t care who he is or what he wants.”

Samaya’s lighthearted smile faded, replaced by a shadow of unease. She’d never heard Naomi speak like this—so sharp, so final. It made something in her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Naomi didn’t look away. She let her gaze roam over Samaya’s face, drinking her in like she was the only thing worth seeing in the world.

Because to Naomi, she was.

Samaya tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. “Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I get it, you’re not into him. No big deal.”

But Naomi wasn’t finished.

She leaned closer still, close enough that Samaya could see the fire simmering behind her eyes. Her next words were low, dangerous.

“I’m not into anyone,” Naomi said. “Unless it’s you.”

The words landed heavy in the space between them, and Samaya’s breath hitched.

Her smile faltered.

“Naomi…” she began, her voice uncertain.

Naomi tilted her head, studying her like prey that didn’t yet realize it had already been caught. “What, Samaya?” Naomi’s voice was deceptively soft, but there was something sharp beneath it. “You were so excited to tell me someone wanted me. Why? Hoping I’d finally let someone in?”

Samaya’s mouth opened, but no words came. She didn’t understand why her heart was beating so fast all of a sudden. Naomi was her best friend. Her best friend. They joked like this all the time. But this didn’t feel like a joke.

Naomi’s gaze darkened further, possessive and hungry. “I already let someone in,” she whispered. “You just don’t see it.”

Samaya’s throat went dry. She managed a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension knotting in her chest. “Come on, Naomi,” she said, brushing it off like she always did. “You’re being silly.”

But Naomi’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t laugh, didn’t smirk.

There was no teasing here.

Only cold certainty.

“I’m not being silly, Samaya,” Naomi replied, her tone icy. “I’m being honest.”

Samaya swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the other girls in the locker room, who were thankfully distracted with their own conversations. None of them had noticed the sudden shift in the air, the way the temperature seemed to plummet between them.

“Maybe we should talk about this later,” Samaya said carefully, rising to her feet as if to create space between them.

But Naomi’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make Samaya freeze.

Naomi stood too, closing the distance between them until they were eye to eye, her grip unyielding. “No,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving Samaya’s. “We’ll talk about it now.”

Samaya’s breath quickened, her pulse racing beneath Naomi’s fingers.

“You don’t see it yet,” Naomi continued, her voice low and hypnotic. “But you will. I know you will.”

Samaya tried to pull away, but Naomi’s hold didn’t budge.

“I don’t understand,” Samaya whispered.

Naomi’s smile was dark, knowing. “You will.”

With that, Naomi finally released her, and Samaya stumbled back a step, rubbing her wrist where Naomi’s fingers had lingered. She forced a tight smile, trying to act like nothing was wrong, but the look in Naomi’s eyes lingered in her mind like smoke.

The words landed heavy in the space between them, and for the first time, Samaya couldn’t laugh it off.

Her breath caught. She searched Naomi’s face, expecting to find the trace of a joke, some flicker of humor to ease the weight of the moment. But there was none. Naomi’s expression was carved from stone, her gaze unwavering, locked onto Samaya like she was prey cornered at last.

“Naomi…” Samaya began, her voice quieter now, cautious.

Naomi’s eyes didn’t blink. “I meant every word.”

A chill traced Samaya’s spine. She tried to shift away, to create a sliver of distance between them, but Naomi’s hand shot out, catching her wrist again. Not hard—yet. But firm enough to make it clear that Naomi wasn’t ready to let her go.

Samaya froze.

The playful teasing that had filled the air minutes ago was gone, suffocated under Naomi’s heavy, consuming stare.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Naomi’s voice was softer now, but no less dangerous. There was a hunger in it, sharpened to a blade’s edge. “I watch everything you do, Samaya. Every time you laugh, every time you brush your hair behind your ear like that.”

Naomi’s free hand lifted slowly, and she brushed her knuckles along Samaya’s cheek, feather-light but possessive.

“I know you better than anyone,” she whispered. “Better than you know yourself.”

Samaya swallowed hard, her pulse stuttering beneath Naomi’s fingers. Her mind scrambled for words, for something to defuse the moment, to bring Naomi back from wherever dark place she’d slipped into—but Naomi wasn’t coming back.

Naomi tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle she was moments from solving. “You thought I wanted Jimmy?” she asked, her tone almost mocking now. She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. Only venom. “Sweetheart… you’ve never understood me at all.”

Samaya opened her mouth to protest, but Naomi’s grip on her wrist tightened, silencing her.

“No,” Naomi said, her eyes flashing with warning. “Let me finish.”

The room had gone quiet around them. The other girls had filtered out, leaving them alone in the hollow echo of the locker room. Or maybe Naomi had willed them away—Samaya couldn’t be sure anymore.

“I’ve been patient with you,” Naomi continued, her voice low and rough with restraint. “I let you play your little games, let you dance around me like you didn’t know what this was.”

Her gaze raked over Samaya, heat simmering beneath her anger. “But I’m done waiting.”

“Naomi…” Samaya tried again, her voice trembling. “You’re my friend.”

The words tasted hollow as she spoke them.

Naomi’s expression darkened, her jaw clenching tight. “No,” she bit out. “I am not your friend. Don’t insult me like that.”

Her hand released Samaya’s wrist only to trail down her arm, fingers gliding with a terrifying tenderness until they rested at Samaya’s hip.

“I am the only one who sees you,” Naomi whispered, as though confessing a prayer. “The only one who knows what you need.”

Samaya’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Her heart pounded against her ribs, wild and frantic, but Naomi seemed to revel in it, like she could feel every panicked beat beneath her palm.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Naomi murmured, leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touched. “No more games, no more hiding.”

Her lips brushed the corner of Samaya’s mouth, not quite a kiss—but enough to steal her breath.

“I want you,” Naomi breathed, her voice velvet and steel all at once. “And I always get what I want.”

Samaya’s mind screamed at her to push away, to run—but her body betrayed her, frozen under Naomi’s smoldering intensity. She barely managed to shake her head, a feeble protest.

“Naomi, this isn’t right,” she whispered.

Naomi’s eyes flared. “It’s the only thing that is right,” she shot back, her hand tightening at Samaya’s hip, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush.

The heat between them was suffocating. Overwhelming. Samaya’s pulse thudded in her ears, drowning out every rational thought.

“You belong to me,” Naomi said, her voice thick with certainty. “You always have.”

Samaya’s breath trembled in her throat. She wanted to deny it, to fight against the pull of Naomi’s gravity—but deep down, a small, dangerous part of her wondered what it would be like to surrender. Just once.

Naomi saw it. She saw the flicker of doubt, the crack in Samaya’s resolve, and she smiled—slow and triumphant.

“That’s it,” Naomi coaxed, her lips brushing the shell of Samaya’s ear. “Don’t fight it. You feel it too. I know you do.”

Samaya shuddered, torn between fear and something far more treacherous. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Naomi pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, her gaze burning with possession.

“I’ll wait for you to admit it,” Naomi promised darkly. “But not forever.”

With that, she finally released Samaya, her touch lingering like a brand on her skin. Naomi rose from the bench, standing over her like a shadow, a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her every step heavy with purpose.

Samaya sat frozen, her heart racing, her mind spinning with a storm of emotions she couldn’t name.

She thought she’d known Naomi. She thought she understood the boundaries of their friendship, the limits of their closeness.

But tonight, Naomi had shattered all of that.

And deep in the pit of her stomach, beneath the fear and confusion, something dark and forbidden stirred.

Something that scared her more than anything else.

Because part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to stop Naomi at all.

Living for this version of Naomi btw. I love this version of her. I hope you guys enjoyed Part two🫶🏾 part 3 out tmrw🤭

VIP TAGLIST : @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00 @isabella-2025 @jstarr86 @chrisevanswife0405 @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @whowrotethenote @potatosackk @ajaxcleaningsupplies @sayyestoheav3nn @chasssssworld @christinabae @glittergirl7 @itskii01 @fame-ass-ers @li-da-savage @ashykneee @kianaleani @holisticcoach @pittieprincess22 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandairene88 @luvrsluxe @venusesworld @norababora @callmekayd @chrissyxcxox @keyera-jackson @wabi-sabi1090 @psiloveyOu @baybehkay @nybearsworld @surdelcielo @ctinadiva @nadadork @transparentphantomface @sassginaswanmills

If you want to be added to my taglist for all my stories, please say so here!

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #naomi wwe #trinity fatu x black reader #trinity x reader #black women x black women #tangled heart

46 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

Text

pay for your crimes

part 4! Ona and R get Alexia and Mapi back for trying to play Cupid. Or they try to.

no warnings!

You and Ona spent the morning... busy. You spent the afternoon busy too, but in a different, less sexy way: figuring out how to trick two of the most observant people on the team was a challenge. The two of you decided that Ona would call Alexia and tell her that you didn't reciprocate her feelings. You would continue your radio silence to Mapi, as if nothing had happened. At practice tomorrow, you and Ona wouldn't speak to each other, and you figured Mapi would corner you and try to get you to talk, if she didn't call you immedietly after hearing from Alexia. You'd tell her nothing happened, and even though she'd presumably know the truth from Alexia, she wouldn't be able to admit it.

The biggest problem here was Ona; she was a horrible liar. Growing up, she didn't hide much from her parents, so she didn't get practice then like most teenagers do. You really didn't know how her call to Alexia was going to go.

Predictably, Alexia answered on the first ring, her voice ringing out into the room over the speaker, clearly expecting to be told how good she was at matchmaking.

"Hola Capi" Ona let her voice quiver slightly. You turned away from her, worried eye contact would cause both of you to break into giggles.

"Ona! How did it go?" Alexia's words were said with so much excitement, you almost felt bad. Almost.

"Not great."

"What?" The confusion in Alexia's tone had you biting your lip to keep from laughing.

"We talked. You were wrong, Ale. She doesn't have feelings for me. And I didn't tell her I had any for her. I think it's better we just keep some space until we can be friends again." Ona's voice was filled with emotion, and you knew it was the stress of lying, but it sounded like she was genuinely upset.

"No, Ona that can't be right. I'm... i'm sure she has feelings for you."

"What because of the way she looks at me? I don't think that is more convincing than her telling me to my face that she doesn't have feelings for me."

"No, Ona it's not just that. Its..." Alexia was clearly struggling to not admit that she had firsthand testimony that you had admitted to being in love with Ona. "It's more than that. You just have to trust me, go talk to her again," she practically begged.

"Ale, I already trusted you. It didn't work out that well. She doesn't feel the same way, it's time to move on."

"Ona if you just-" Alexia sounded almost frantic at this point.

"No, Capi. I just need some time okay? I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, Ona hung up, just in time for both of you to collapse into laughter. She'd impressed you, keeping it together well. It turns out that the shakiness in her voice from being dishonest seemed similar to how she sounds when she's emotional.

The two of you had just stopped laughing, and regained your breath, when your phone rang. Seeing Mapi's caller ID flash on your phone literally only minutes after hanging up with Alexia was enough to push you both into another fit of hysterical laughter. You had to let the phone ring out before you could pull yourself together, wiping a few stray tears from your eyes.

"Alright, keep it together, I'm gonna call Mapi back. And Ona, don't you dare look at me or I'll lose it again." Ona took a deep breath, wiping the smile off her face, and turned around so her back was facing you on the couch. You took a deep breath too, before pressing the call button. Mapi answered before the first ring had even finished.

"Hey Mapi. What's up?" You made sure to sound a little dejected, but as though you were trying to hide it.

"Y/n! Um..." Mapi trailed off; it seemed she hadn't really thought calling you through all the way, and she didn't know what to say. Digging your nails into your palms to stop yourself from laughing again, you waited for her to decide what to say.

After a minute she finally spoke. "Patri told me you left the bar with Ona last night. What happened?" She tried to sound casual, but you could hear the serious tone in her voice. Ona turned to look at you, mouthing the words, Sure, Patri told you, before you pushed her shoulder to turn her back around.

"Oh yeah. I was just kind of drunk and freaked out over those weird guys. She just took me home. Nothing happened." You, as opposed to Ona, were a great liar. You knew how to lie, and how to layer a lie; allowing someone to see through what you wanted them to, but not alerting them to what was really going on. You let your voice shake slightly, trying to sound as though you were putting on a brave face.

You were met with silence from the other end of the phone. You don't think you'd ever lied to Mapi before, and she clearly didn't know what to do with it. She would know from Alexia that you and Ona slept together, and had a conversation, but she had no way of telling you that. She was stuck.

"Are you sure, nena? If something happened, you can tell me." Her voice sounded so genuine, so reassuring, that you had to really fight to keep yourself from telling her the truth.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Nothing happened." You cleared your throat, hoping to make it seem like you were fighting back tears. "I'm hungover though, and I don't really feel that good, so I'll see you tomorrow."

You hung the phone up before she could respond, groaning as you sat back heavily on the couch. Ona turned around, pulling your body to lay your head in her lap. She smiled down at you, and you grinned back up at her, admiring the freckles that adorned her face. You were beginning to think they were one of your favorite of her features. She absentmindedly ran her hands through your hair, and you melted a little at the sweet gesture.

"Should I be worried at how good of a liar you are?" She made it sound like she was joking, but you could sense a hint of insecurity in her voice. Instead of responding right away, you pulled her head down, pressing a deep kiss to her lips. When you broke apart, she was gasping for air, her eyes looking slightly dazed.

"As long as I keep kissing you like that, you don't have anything to worry about. I'll never lie to you, Oni. Promise." She returned your smile, before it fell from her face. Concerned, you asked her what was wrong.

"I'm gonna have to lie to Alexia tomorrow. In person. All day." She looked genuinely terrified at the prospect.

You laughed, "You're just gonna have to try your best to seem like an emotional mess and not a lying one." She sighed, clearly thinking deeply about how she was going to approach the next day.

-----

Ona returned to her apartment that night, and you decided you would arrive early to practice, to see if anyone asked you any questions, and Ona would arrive late, to avoid being asked questions right away.

You walked down the hall towards the locker room, thinking you would be the first person there. You stopped when you heard voices, leaning against the wall to shamelessly eavesdrop.

"-don't understand, why would she lie to me? She's never lied to me before, this is not normal." You felt a pang of guilt at the sound of Mapi's voice. She sounded really concerned, and kind of hurt. You reminded yourself that her and Alexia needed to be taught a lesson about their matchmaking, as they were getting too confident in their skills.

"I don't understand why they won't just admit whats going on to each other. I mean y/n straight up told Ona she didn't have feelings for her. They are making this so complicated, and now we have to get even more involved," Alexia sounded frustrated.

"I hate to point this out," Ingrid broke in, although she didn't sound that regretful, "but if you guys hadn't meddled in their relationship, they might have been able to take their time and figure things out themselves."

You didn't have to see Mapi and Alexia's faces to know they were both glaring at Ingrid.

"Helpful, Ingrid. Thank you. Ale's right though, we have to fix it, maybe we can-"

You walked in then, airpods in, pretending you hadn't been eavesdropping. You made sure to keep your gaze down, and your face neutral as you headed to your locker and set your stuff down. You could feel the three girls staring at you, and you pulled your airpods out before looking over at them.

"Hi?" You acted confused, catching them staring at you.

"Hola, y/n. How are you?" It was Alexia who responded, her eyes looking over you searchingly.

"Fine. How are you?" you turned back to your stuff, still listening, but began to pull your training kit out of your bag.

"I'm... fine." Alexia responded slowly, and you hummed in response, pretending to be distracted. The rest of the team started to trickle into the locker room, and you let yourself fall into conversation with Pina and Patri, who, unlike some other people, would never have mentioned to anyone that she saw you and Ona making out against the wall.

You watched Ona walk in out of the corner of your eye, and she sent you a small smile, back turned to Ingrid, Mapi, and Alexia, who were still huddled together in front of Mapi's locker, looking as though they were trying to construct a solution to end world hunger. They weren't paying attention to you, so you sent Ona a small smile back, before turning back to your conversation.

You didn't notice Ingrid clock the looks you and Ona exchanged, or the way her eyes followed the two of you the rest of practice. You and Ona made a game of it, seeing who could make the fake tension between the two of you the most obvious.

You thought you had won when you pretended to hear someone calling your name on the other side of the field when Ona neared the water cooler you were standing by. However, Ona took the cake when she took you out with a particularly nasty tackle that left you sprawled out on the grass, not bothering to apologize, going so far as to step over you before you could get up. The whole team exchanged looks at that one, and even though your body ached from the impact, you really weren't mad; Ona was competitive, you knew this.

Mapi helped you up, shooting a glare at Ona, and you had to hide your smirk in your shirt, wiping off your face with it. You still hadn't noticed Ingrid watching the two of you carefully, whereas Mapi and Alexia were individually focused on each of you.

When practice ended, you headed into the locker room, leaving a couple players out on the pitch to work on penalties, including Mapi and Alexia. As you neared the door to the locker room, you felt a sharp pain on your ear and yelped, feeling yourself be dragged down the hall. You heard a similar yelp coming from the other side of you, but at the risk of losing your ear, you didn't turn around to look for the source. Instead, you let yourself be pulled into the medical supplies closet, turning to face Ingrid, who let go of your and Ona's ears once the door shut behind her.

She looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow, before she reached out a hand and pulled the neck of Ona's training top down slightly, revealing the many, many hickeys littered across her upper chest. It's possible you had gotten carried away yesterday morning, and Ona had to be careful about which top she wore, as the marks were barely covered by her shirt. Ingrid must have spotted one peaking out. You both blushed, and Ingrid sighed.

"You know that you're driving both of them crazy right? They think they've ruined your relationship, and both of you are going to die alone unless they do something to fix it." You fought back a laugh, and could tell Ona was doing the same.

"This is what they get for trying to play cupid. It could have ended like this, and they need to be taught a lesson. Who knows who their next victim could be," you joked, looking for a laugh from Ingrid, but only finding a serious face. "Oh come on, Ingrid, I heard you telling them the same thing this morning in the locker room." Ingrid opened her mouth to respond, but Ona interrupted her.

"Wait, how did you know?" she questioned, and Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"It's painfully obvious to everyone except those two! The little looks, little smirks at each other when you think no on is watching. That absurd tackle. The only people who don't know are Alexia and Mapi, because they're too upset to notice." Ingrid was shamelessly scolding you both, and you started to feel guilty. She turned her attention to you before speaking again. "You know Mapi cried yesterday when she got off the phone with you? She knew you were lying to her and she couldn't understand what she did to make you not trust her."

It made sense why Ingrid was so upset. She was fiercely protective of Mapi, and even though you knew she agreed with you, making her girlfriend cry was clearly a step too far.

You sighed, "We weren't trying to upset them, it was just supposed to be a little joke." Ona murmured her agreement with your statement.

"Well you did upset them. They both really care about the two of you, and thought they had really messed up. So now you're gonna go march into that room and tell them the truth, before you make my girlfriend cry again. Got it?" Her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at both of you as you hung your heads in shame, and agreed. Ingrid had a reputation for being a big softie, but she could really turn on the stern when she wanted to.

She led you out of the closet, bringing you to an empty conference room, leaving with a warning to stay put. You and Ona looked at each other, exchanging wide eyed glances, not finding the situation so funny anymore.

"Damn, I really didn't expect them to be that upset," you stated.

"You know, I always assumed Mapi was in charge in that relationship, but clearly I've underestimated Ingrid" Ona mused, shutting her mouth tightly as the door opened again.

Ingrid walked in, with an incredibly confused Alexia and Mapi trailing in after her. You met Mapi's eyes, and she looked so worried that the guilt you felt tripled. Ingrid gestured for everyone to take seats at the table, looking like the least professional business meeting anyone had ever had.

"Tell them what you two did," Ingrid said, when it became clear neither you nor Ona were going to start the conversation. Mapi and Alexia turned to the two of you, confused.

"Well. We did talk yesterday. And we realized that the two of you were both telling each other things, and trying to get us together, and we were kind of annoyed, so we decided to tell you guys that we weren't together. But, we are. We figured it out," you started.

Ona continued, "and we didn't mean to make you guys upset, we thought it would just be funny."

Alexia and Mapi looked back and forth between the two of you for a minute, before saying at the same time, "so you ARE together?"

You and Ona nodded, and the two girls opposite you let out huge sighs of relief. Mapi ran her hands over her face, and you hadn't realized how tense she had looked until you watched it leave her body. Alexia looked like she was fighting back tears, which was incredibly alarming; you'd seen Alexia cry maybe 3 times. You and Ona started spouting out more apologies, but Mapi held up a hand, and you both grew quiet.

"We were upset because we though we'd pushed too hard and ruined your relationship. Can you imagine how guilty we felt? Lying to us was really mean. That being said, we shouldn't have started conspiring together in the first place, and for that, I'm sorry." Mapi was so rarely serious, it was really a sight to behold.

"What happened to the little Ona I knew that used to cry every time she lied?" Alexia was glaring at Ona, and you laughed quietly.

"She used it to her advantage. She had to sound upset to be convincing," you responded, and Ona slapped your arm, shooting you a glare.

"Alright, we've all apologized, everyone knows the truth, are we free to go now," Ona asked, directing her question towards Ingrid.

Ingrid looked between the two of you for a moment, before sighing, and standing up, heading towards the door.

"Fine. But you should probably make sure to cover up those hickeys all over your chest before you change in front of everyone tomorrow Oni." She smirked back at you, heading back into the locker room, as Alexia and Mapi looked at the two of you in horror. Ona made to bolt out of the room, and Alexia chased after her, demanding to see what ungodly things Ona had allowed you to do to her.

Mapi still looked grossed out at the thought, but you crossed the room, wrapping yourself around her in a hug.

"I'm sorry I lied. I never meant to make you feel like I didn't trust you," you mumbled into her shirt. She wrapped her arms around you, squeezing tight.

"All forgiven, nena. I can't stay mad at you. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." You pulled back, smiling at her. You heard a shriek come from the locker room, followed by Alexia's voice.

"My god! One wasn't enough, y/n, you needed to leave 15?" You winced, and Mapi looked down at you, her face once again one of disgust. You shrugged at her, and she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking you back to the locker room, hopefully to help you save your girlfriend from Alexia, but more likely to join in on the teasing. You found that you didn't really mind it.

-----

this was.. way more fun to write than I was expecting. hope you enjoyed :)

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ona batlle x reader #mapi leon #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #ona batlle

462 notes · View notes