#fingers crossed that this one makes me less miserable

[wheels-of-despair]

guys I scored an interview at the place that would probably be perfect for me, please send good vibes and ways to keep my weirdness under control until it's too late for them to send me packin'

[chahnniesroom]

cross my heart

pairing: bang chan & female reader, hwang hyunjin & female reader

summary: chan has quickly become one of your closest friends at university. too bad his girlfriend, hayoon, has him wrapped around her little finger and she's determined to make your life miserable. hyunjin is just enjoying watching the drama unfold.

word count: 4.0k

tags/warnings: angst!!! hurt and maybe some comfort?, infidelity (not between the reader or chan/hyunjin), arguing, the relationships with the reader are more like friendships than dating (please let me know if you think there should be more tags/warnings)

a/n: totally thought this was going to be a short fic (like less than 1k words) but it blossomed into something more. i wanted to try something different with this fic but not sure if i pulled it off lol please be kind if you comment! i also did not to bother with honourifics so... you can pretend that chan, hyunjin, and y/n are all the same age 😅

read it on ao3 | masterlist

It's almost funny how quickly you and Chan become friends. 

You hadn't really been looking forward to taking a technical writing class, but it's one of the requirements to get your degree and at least the lecture is large enough that you won't have to do any in-class participation. When the professor announces that one of the very first assignments is going to be completed in random pairs, you're instantly nervous. It’s only after meeting Chan, who is easygoing yet studious, that you feel better.

Although the group assignment only takes a couple weeks to finish, you find yourself hanging out more and more. Chan has a natural way of writing, he's intelligent and efficient with his wording without sacrificing clarity. While you can eventually write something that’s fairly clear and concise, it takes a lot of effort and a lot of time so you're grateful to be working with Chan who doesn't struggle with tight timelines like you do.

The two of you grow close together, especially once you realise that you have a similar sense of humour and taste in music. It doesn't take long before technical writing is your favourite class. Chan always saves you a seat beside him, even though he has quite a few friends that are also taking this course. You’re not used to it at first, but you grow comfortable with the way that he leans over to make quips about whatever the professor is saying or pointing out if someone in the lecture hall is falling asleep. You sometimes bring him snacks and in exchange he brings you a drink.

The more you learn about Chan, the more you're convinced that he's perfect.

Well, apart from one thing.

The worst thing about Chan is his girlfriend. Jung Hayoon absolutely hates you and, behind Chan's back, never fails to make sure you know it too. While the two of you have never shared any courses, she regularly meets Chan after class is over and you've been invited to join them and some other friends for a meal or to study so you've interacted with her more than you want to.

You’re not quite sure what you've done to earn Hayoon's ire, but you can only guess that it's your blossoming friendship with Chan as she’s never seemed to care about you before you met him. She takes every opportunity to make backhanded compliments, pointed comments about how much or what you're eating, or loudly exclaiming when you have something stuck in your teeth. You try not to let it get to you, but you're always been a bit too sensitive.

You start declining offers to hang out with Chan and the rest of his friends after class, trying to ignore Chan's disappointment and Hayoon's smug smile every time that you make excuses.

Of course, she's sickly sweet around Chan, constantly hanging off his arm, batting her eyes at him, and trying to hold his attention. You can't really stand her obviously fake behaviour, but she makes Chan happy so you don't say anything negative about her when Chan's around.

You aren’t the type to keep up with school gossip, but even you know that Hayoon's track record is far from pristine. In fact, you were surprised to hear that someone as genuine and kind as Chan was in a relationship with someone like Hayoon.

—

The library isn't your favourite place to study, but partway through midterm season you're desperate for a change in scenery. You spend the better part of the day completing practice exams for the course you're the most worried about until you finally feel more confident. Satisfied with your progress and excited at the prospect of eating a proper meal rather than the snacks that have kept you going so far, you quickly pack up.

There aren't too many people in the library since it’s so close to the weekend, a lot of students have either finished all of their exams for the week or just given up studying. Maybe that's why your attention seems so drawn to the couple that you pass on the way to the door.

You don't mean to do anything other than quickly glance at them, but the familiarity of the girl catches your eye. The carefully styled hair and slim figure is a common combination to see at your university, but after weeks of trying to avoid her, there’s no mistaking Jung Hayoon.

And it's not Chan that she’s currently kissing.

You stumble away from them, but not before Hayoon looks up and spots you. Instead of panicking or stopping, she continues making out with the boy, maintaining eye contact with you. She even has the audacity to wink. You stare at her for a second, stunned, then bolt out of the building.

You're so flustered that you don't know what to do or where to go. You end up walking to the nearest bench and sitting down heavily in it.

You knew that you didn't like Hayoon, that she was two-faced and had likely cheated on past partners, but you hadn't expected to ever catch her in the act, especially while she was dating Chan. You couldn't fathom why anybody would want anything else when they had him and you had never been able to understand cheating in the first place.

You have to tell Chan, you decide. As much as you hate difficult conversations and it kills you to be the bringer of bad news, you know that you'd never be able to sleep at night if you tried to hide this from him. If you were in his position, you would prefer to know as soon as possible.

You call him as you start heading in the direction of his dorm.

“Hey,” Chan picks up after only a few rings. “Is everything okay? You don't usually call.”

“Uhm-” You have no clue what to say, you didn't think this through enough before dialling. “Where are you? I- Can I come talk to you?”

“Y/n? What's wrong?” Chan's instantly concerned.

“Nothing, I just- I really need to talk to someone right now,” you say quickly. “I'm fine, I mean.”

“Okay. I'm at home right now, but I can come meet you if you need? Where are you?”

“Don't worry about it, I'll head over, if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Chan says, sounding extremely worried. “Be safe, Y/n. I'll see you soon.”

After you hang up, you don't quite run to Chan's place, but you're out of breath and sweaty by the time you make it. You take a moment to compose yourself before requesting access into the building, but you know you still look frazzled. Chan buzzes you in immediately and he’s waiting in the hallway when you step out of the elevator. He guides you into his room, but only after checking you over and making sure that you're physically okay.

“Y/n, you're scaring me,” he says after leading both of you to sit down at his tiny kitchen table. “Tell me what's got you so worked up.”

“Do you know where Hayoon is today?” you ask, probably sounding insane. Chan pauses for a moment, brow furrowed before he responds.

“I know that she has an exam tomorrow, so I assume that she's studying. Why, what's up?”

“She didn't say where or who she was going to be with today?”

“No, but it's not like I'm tracking her all the time. She's her own person, she's not obligated to constantly update me.”

“I saw her at the library.”

“Okay,” Chan says slowly.

“She was with someone else, a guy.”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/n?” Chan asks, starting to sound annoyed. His tone catches you off guard.  “This is why you called me, why you ran over to my place? If you think I'm that controlling-”

“They were kissing,” you interrupt. “She’s cheating on you, Chan.”

“Who was the guy?”

“I- I didn't see him well, his back was towards me so I couldn't recognize him,” you falter.

“Did you take a picture? Was there anyone else around?”

“No- but, I-”

“So I'm just supposed to believe you,” he says flatly.

“What? Why would I make this up?”

“I know that, for some reason, you don’t like Hayoon.” Chan's usually friendly voice is cold and his face is stony. “I can live with that. I mean, of course it would be nice if you were at least civil to her. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to, she’s my girlfriend and not yours.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “but how would lying about this benefit me at all?”

“She warned me about this, you know. She said you were jealous. Of her. Of us. That you would do something to try and break us up.” Chan laughs, but the sound is empty. “I always defended you, which she hated. I don't know how many times I told her that you weren't like that, that there was nothing going on between us.”

“Well I can assure you that I’m not jealous. That I’m not trying to break you two up.”

“I know that there’s… chemistry between us,” Chan acknowledges. “I don't have that many close female friends and I didn't before I started dating Hayoon either, but I know that I like your company and that you're easy to talk to. But that's all. It's fine if you're interested in me, you can’t help your feelings, but accusing my girlfriend of cheating? That’s sick, Y/n.”

“Are you kidding me? There is nothing going on between us.” you say incredulously. “Listen Chan, I’m saying this, I'm here as a friend. You think I'm lying? You think I want to hurt you?”

“I think that maybe Hayoon had a point when she said you wouldn't be satisfied with just being friends.”

“That's what you think of me?” you ask, feeling hurt. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn't do that. I respect you as a friend, I respect you as a person, and I respect your relationship whether I like your partner or not. But if that’s how you see me, I’m not sure that we were ever really friends. I would never try to sabotage you or anybody that's happily in a relationship.” Chan's face drops at your words.

“Y/n-” he starts to say, but you've had enough of this conversation.

“Look- I came here because I knew I would feel terrible and guilty if I didn't, but I can't convince you of something you don't want to believe.” You shake your head and walk towards the door.

Chan doesn't try to stop you as you leave.

 —

The next day you get to class 15 minutes before it’s supposed to start. You're exhausted, have your eyes swollen from crying when you got back home last night, and most of all, feel hurt. You had been a little worried about how Chan would react to what you had to tell him, but you never expected that he would dismiss you without a thought. It's hard to reconcile with the upbeat and kind seatmate that you're used to.

Instead of your usual seat near the middle of the classroom, you opt for one off to the side that’s often emptier, not wanting to have to talk to or even see Chan. You pull up an assignment that you’ve been procrastinating working on and manage to ignore the rest of your classmates as they filter into the lecture hall. It’s only when someone slides into the seat right next to you that you look up, surprised anybody would approach you when you’re clearly being unsociable and look awful.

“Hyunjin.” You’re too shocked to even say hello.

“That’s my name,” Hyunjin replies, looking unimpressed by your greeting as he pulls out his laptop. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry, good morning. You don’t usually sit with me.” You can’t help but point out the obvious. 

In fact, Hyunjin usually doesn't sit with anyone. He's popular, it'd be hard not to be when you look as good as he does, but it's in a different way than Chan. While Chan seems to know practically everybody on campus, Hyunjin is almost untouchable.

While there are hoards of girls and guys that would love to have even a sliver of his attention, Hyunjin has a small circle of friends and is more interested in escaping the lecture hall to paint or dance than socialise. The only reason that you know him is because one of your closest childhood friends, Minho, is on the same dance crew as him and the three of you sometimes hang out. You wouldn't say that Hyunjin is more than an acquaintance though, he still intimidates you enough that you never would have tried to approach him first.

“And you don’t usually sit over here.” Hyunjin pretends to stretch and turns to look at your usual spot. “Avoiding someone?”

“Maybe.” You blush, embarrassed to be so easily seen through. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, I just figured it was a matter of time before Hayoon got under your skin enough. I'm actually impressed you lasted this long, she really has it out for you.” While Hyunjin is surprisingly perceptive, you've also spent a fair bit of time ranting about Hayoon to Minho, and as a result, Hyunjin is kept up to speed on everything that Hayoon has done to antagonise you. You never realised that he actually paid enough attention to remember or that he agreed that Hayoon treated you like dirt.

“Actually, she’s not the one that I don’t want to talk to. Well, I never want to talk to her, but I’m not avoiding her.”

“No way,” Hyunjin crowds into your personal space, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Chan?”

You’ve had a pit in your stomach since last night’s argument and your mouth dries up at the thought of being so vulnerable, but something about the way that Hyunjin's eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth has formed a little shocked ‘o’ is so disarming. 

“We had a disagreement last night,” you admit.

“Hayoon cheated?” he guesses.

Now it's your turn for your mouth to drop open in shock.

“Don't say it so loud,” you hiss. “How did you know?”

“Well, as much as I usually like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially for something this serious…” Hyunjin grimaces slightly. “I’ve been kind of expecting it. Hasn't she done the same on her past three or four boyfriends?”

“Oof, that bad? I've heard some things, but never really knew for sure.”

“At least,” Hyunjin confirms. “Honestly, I'd be more shocked if she didn't cheat at this point. I'm guessing Chan didn't take it so well if you're upset with him.”

“He's loyal to a fault, literally!” you complain. “In his eyes, Hayoon can’t do anything wrong, he's able to explain away everything she does. He didn’t believe that it was her that I saw.”

“So what are you going to do?” Hyunjin asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say sullenly. “As much as I'd like to shake some sense into him, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions and if he wants to live in denial, that's up to him.”

“You're a good friend.” Hyunjin reaches out tentatively and after an awkward second, pats your shoulder. “Not everyone would be brave enough to have that kind of difficult conversation. Chan may be stubborn right now, but he'll appreciate it later.”

“Well based on yesterday, I don't think I'm his friend at all,” you huff. “Anyway, if it's okay with you, I don't think that I will make it through the rest of the term if I have to sit over there.”

“Be my guest.” Hyunjin grins and the sight of it makes the lecture a bit easier to sit through.

—

You don’t talk to Chan for the rest of the term. While you stopped outright avoiding him, you’re pretty sure that he’s purposely steering clear of you. Instead, you continue to sit with Hyunjin and pretend that Chan doesn’t exist.

It feels silly that you miss him or that you can’t seem to get over how things ended between the two of you. You had only been friends for two months, you shouldn’t be so hurt every time he purposely turns away from you or when his eyes seem to slide over you like you’re not there.

Hyunjin basically becomes your part-time therapist. Most of the time, it’s enough that he keeps you distracted. He shares all the latest campus gossip with you, allows you to work while he paints, and invites you to hang out with Minho and the rest of their dance crew more than a few times. On the rare occasion when you’re feeling more fragile than usual, he would be willing to spend an evening at your place and listen to you wallow.

“It’s fair that you’re still upset,” he had comforted you once. You had run into Hayoon in the bathroom that afternoon and she had gloated about how nothing and nobody would be able to break her and Chan apart. It had made you feel sick to the stomach. “There was never any resolution. Chan didn’t believe you, doesn’t believe you, even though you went to him with good intentions and it’s reasonable that you would feel hurt or frustrated.”

“I feel so stupid,” you had sniffled. “It’s not even like it was a break up. We were just friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, you’re still missing someone who used to be in your life. It’ll get easier next term when you don’t share a class, I promise.” Somehow, that actually had made you feel better.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you had said with a watery smile.

The two of you work out well together, not just because you enjoy each other’s presence, but also because there’s no expectations or pressure. Hyunjin has slowly started to share with you stories about his previous relationships, how he’s hesitant to start dating again after having his heart broken so many times. Even though there are rumours swirling about the two of you, you know that neither of you are ready for it yet and that’s partly why it's so easy to hang out with him.

Tonight, the two of you are just hanging out in his art studio. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you’ve just finished the exam that you've been dreading the most and don't have the brain capacity to even think about school. You know that Hyunjin is doing the same, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but he's trying to pretend that he's working since his painting is due the next day.

He drops all pretences when he gasps loudly at something that he sees on his phone.

“Y/n,” he says gravely.

“What?” you ask, only slightly curious. By now, you've gotten used to the fact that Hyunjin would react the same way to seeing a cute puppy video as he would finding out about some terrible news.

“A friend just texted me,” he says, still in shock.

“Okay? What did they say?”

Hyunjin looks up at you for a moment, down at his phone, then back up at you.

“ChanandHayoonbrokeup,” he says in a rush, before wincing, clearly afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“What?” You can't believe your ears.

“Chan and Hayoon, apparently they broke up this afternoon. Someone heard them shouting at each other.”

You put down your pencil slowly, not sure what to think.

“Do you know why?”

“Someone said that they heard that yesterday, Heeyeon and Yikyung broke up because Yikyung cheated on her. I think it must be related,” Hyunjin says quietly.

“Oh.”

“I think there's pictures or a video out there, I haven't seen anything yet though,” Hyunjin continues on, starting to get excited while typing away on his phone. 

“Oh,” you say again, at a loss for actual words.

“Right before the holidays too, that's so-” Hyunjin cuts himself off when he looks up and sees you frozen in place. “Y/n, are you okay? Sorry, I'm sure it's a lot to process-”

“No, it's fine.” You force a smile. “I just- I think I have to go home now.”

“Y/n-”

“Really, it's okay. I just forgot that I have something to do. At home. Sorry.”

Hyunjin stares at you with eyes filled with something akin to pity, but doesn't say anything else. You try to ignore it as you hurriedly grab your things and leave.

—

A few days later you're packing up your bags in preparation to go home for the winter break when you hear a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anybody, but there's a few friends that you have that like to show up unannounced. 

You're not prepared to open the door and find Chan standing behind it.

He looks terrible. He's wearing a huge hoodie and his hair is tucked away behind a beanie, but nothing can hide the way that his eyes are swollen and his skin is lacking its usual colour. You can only guess that he hasn't been able to eat or sleep much judging from the gauntness of his face and dark circles.

“Chan,” you say carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I was wrong.”

“Ah, Hayoon.”

“You heard?” he asks, face crumpling a little at the mention of his ex.

“It's-” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "Someone mentioned it to me.”

“You must hate me.” Chan laughs humourlessly. “I know that I do. I was such a fool for not trusting you. I just didn't want to believe that she would do that to me. Stupid, I know. I'm really sorry that I said all those things to you, that I avoided you as if that would change the truth.”

For months, you've been waiting, hoping that Chan would come back to you and apologise. But actually hearing it isn't as satisfying as you thought. In fact, you don't really feel anything at all.

“I want to make it up to you,” Chan says earnestly. “Are you free? We can go for a meal and catch up. I missed you.”

“Uhm,” you say, not quite sure how to respond. You don't want to say yes, but you're scared to lose this opportunity.

“Actually, she's busy,” Hyunjin says. He steps out from behind Chan and wraps an arm around your waist possessively, nudging you behind him in the process. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

Normally you hate it when other people talk for you, but right now you're grateful that Hyunjin appeared. You're not even sure why he's here, although you mentioned that this was your last day on campus, the two of you didn't have plans to hang out.

“Oh.” Chan falters. “Are you two… together?”

“And if we are?” Hyunjin asks challengingly. You've never seen him this defensive before. “Frankly, it's none of your business. I'm tired of listening to your half-hearted apologies that are months too late and I'm pretty sure that Y/n isn't interested in them either.”

“Y/n?” Chan pleads.

“Hyunjin's right, I think that you should go,” you say from where you're still hidden behind Hyunjin. You're glad that you don't have to look him in the eyes. “I can't- I'm heading home today. I have to pack before my train leaves this afternoon.”

“Right,” Chan says thickly. “Sorry. I- I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You lean into Hyunjin's back for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear Chan's footsteps trail away. You don't open them for a long time, even when you feel Hyunjin turn around and wrap his arms around you. Instead, you just focus on the steady thump of Hyunjin's heartbeat and try to remember how to breathe.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Sign Here… Wait, What?! | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader [Crack Fic]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Two strangers hit the courthouse for a ticket and a typo fix—next thing you know, they’re accidentally married. Chaos, a clerk who couldn’t care less, and a fiancée on the verge of a meltdown, convinced it’s all some evil plot. Spoiler: it’s not.

"For the last time, Brittany, it wasn’t on purpose!"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: Inspired by my writer's block for my other fic and that one video of Charles just randomly signing anything he's handed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆���⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

check out my other works: Masterlist

The courthouse was an absolute disaster. It was understaffed, overcrowded, and seemed to be held together by the fragile thread of everyone’s fraying sanity. You had been stuck there for hours, and all for a minor spelling error in your legal name. At this point, you were half convinced you’d be old and gray before they got to you. The whole place felt like a purgatory of paperwork.

The guy sitting next to you looked equally miserable. He had a baseball cap pulled down low and sunglasses on like he was trying to go incognito in the world’s least glamorous place. You hadn’t exchanged many words, but the mutual annoyance simmering between you two was almost palpable.

“This is hell,” you muttered, crossing your arms tightly. “Who knew fixing one typo would take all day?”

The guy let out a long, weary sigh. “Tell me about it. I’ve been here for hours. And all for a stupid speeding ticket.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “A speeding ticket? In this city? I didn’t think that was even possible.”

He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess I just had to be that guy.”

The shared complaint was enough to crack a small smile out of you. But that was the only bright spot in this nightmare of a day. Every time the overworked and increasingly agitated clerk called someone forward, she did it with the enthusiasm of someone trapped in the seventh circle of customer service hell. Her eyes screamed “don’t even think about making my day worse,” and the way she barked out “Next!” like she was calling people to their doom wasn’t helping anyone’s mood.

Finally, the fateful “Next!” came again, and both you and the guy next to you jumped up at the same time. You both stared at each other, disbelief and irritation flaring up.

“I think it’s my turn,” you said, arms crossed.

He raised his eyebrows under the brim of his cap. “Uh, no, I’ve been waiting way longer.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting forever for a typo correction!”

“And I’ve been here since this morning for a stupid speeding fine!” he shot back, his voice rising in frustration.

You both stormed toward the counter, practically shoving each other out of the way, bickering like children. The clerk didn’t even look up from her screen, clearly sick of everyone and everything. “Names,” she demanded with the enthusiasm of a broken vending machine.

“Charles Leclerc,” the guy said, jumping in before you could even open your mouth.

You blinked at him in surprise. Charles Leclerc? Who just throws out their full name like that? You barely had time to process before the clerk barked out her next order.

“Both of you, step forward.”

“Wait, what? Why me?” you blurted out, confused as hell.

The clerk didn’t respond. She just jabbed her finger at the space in front of her, signaling for you both to step up. You shot Charles a questioning look, but he seemed just as lost as you were, though he didn’t argue. Sighing in defeat, you stepped up beside him.

The clerk slapped two pieces of paper on the counter with the grace of a war general deploying a tactical nuke. “Sign here.”

Charles didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the pen and signed his paper with an alarming speed, as if this was something he did every day. You stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, still unsure why either of you were signing anything.

“I dunno,” he muttered back, not looking up. “People give me stuff to sign all the time. It’s muscle memory.”

Muscle memory? Who just signs things without reading them?! You were about to protest when the clerk shot you a look so sharp it could have pierced through solid steel.

“Sign,” she repeated, her voice low and dangerously calm.

Your stomach twisted in confusion, but the clerk’s death stare was enough to make you scribble your name down without another word. It didn’t feel right, but you were too exhausted to fight. The ink had barely dried on the paper when the clerk slammed a stamp down and said, with zero enthusiasm, “Congratulations, you’re married.”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then chaos erupted.

“WHAT?!” you and Charles screamed simultaneously, both of you staring at the clerk in absolute horror.

Charles dropped the pen like it had just burned his hand. “Wait—what do you mean married?!”

“I’m here for a speeding ticket!” he continued, his voice cracking in disbelief.

“And I’m just here to fix a typo!” you added, throwing your hands up. “How did we just get married?!”

The clerk just raises one eyebrow and looks at her computer screen “But it says here that a Charles is supposed to get married today”

“Well clearly it’s not me!” he screams.

The clerk, utterly unfazed by the chaos she had just unleashed, didn’t even bother to look up from her computer. “You signed the marriage certificate. You’re married.”

You blinked at her, feeling like the room was spinning. “How—no, there’s got to be some mistake. We can’t be married. Can’t you just, I don’t know, not register the paperwork or something?”

The clerk slowly raised her eyes to look at you, her expression blank and dead inside. “It’s against the rules,” she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Against the rules?!” you repeated, your voice reaching a higher pitch.

Charles let out a panicked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane. This can’t be happening. I’m not even supposed to be getting married!”

Suddenly, a man in the back of the room shot to his feet, waving his arms frantically. “WAIT! WAIT, NO! I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!”

The whole room turned to look at him as he came barreling toward the counter, his crumpled papers in hand.

“YOU CALLED FOR CHARLES!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at the clerk. “I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE MARRIED! I AM!”

You and Charles Leclerc whipped your heads toward each other, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. “Oh my God,” Charles muttered, shaking his head. “This is an actual nightmare.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of everything. “I don’t even know you!”

Charles Anderson was now pacing in front of the counter like a madman, his papers flailing in his hand. “My fiancée’s going to kill me! They took our spot!”

You turned to face him, throwing your hands in the air. “We didn’t ask for this, okay?!”

“Can we fix this?” Charles asked the clerk, his voice cracking slightly from panic. “Like, can we just undo it? Cancel the whole thing? Please?”

The clerk let out a slow, dramatic sigh as if they were asking her to climb Mount Everest. She clicked a few buttons on her computer, then looked up at you both with the same bored expression. “Closest annulment appointment is… this Tuesday.”

“TUESDAY?!” you both screamed, causing half the room to turn and stare at you.

Charles Anderson let out a high-pitched shriek. “But my wedding is supposed to be TODAY! WHAT ABOUT MY WEDDING?!”

You whirled on him. “NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR WEDDING, CHARLES ANDERSON!”

Charles Leclerc was pacing now, hands on his head like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. “I can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening. I came here to pay a stupid speeding ticket, and now I’m married?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling like you were going to hyperventilate. “I came here for a typo correction. This was supposed to be the easiest thing ever, and now I’m married to someone I don’t even know!”

Charles Anderson, still flapping his marriage certificate, looked like he was going to start sobbing any second. “My fiancée is going to leave me. She’s going to walk out of this courthouse and leave me. We’ve been planning this for months!”

You threw your hands in the air. “This is not about you, Charles Anderson! We just accidentally got married, and you’re worried about yourself?!”

Charles Leclerc spun around to face the clerk, practically begging. “Please, can’t you just… not file the paperwork? We didn’t mean to sign anything!”

She stared at him, eyes glazed over, before sighing deeply. “It’s against the rules.”

“AGAINST THE RULES?!” Charles repeated, his voice reaching a panicked squeak.

The clerk took another slow sip of her coffee. “You can get an annulment. On Tuesday.”

Charles threw his hands in the air, pacing faster. “This is insane. I can’t just—Wait.” He turned to you, blinking rapidly. “Who even are you?”

You blinked back, equally confused. “I don’t know! I mean—I’m me? Who are you?”

“I’m Charles Leclerc,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something.

You squinted. “…And?”

“And I drive in Formula 1.”

You stared at him blankly. “What’s that? A type of bus?”

Charles Anderson finally chimed in, “Oh my God, you don’t know who Charles Leclerc is?!”

You turned to glare at Anderson. “I don’t care! I just want to undo this whole mess!”

Charles Leclerc let out a frustrated groan. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Oh, you think?” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “This is not how I imagined my day going either!”

Charles Anderson was now pacing in circles, mumbling about his ruined wedding day. The clerk, unbothered by the chaos she had caused, sipped her coffee again, clearly wishing she were anywhere else.

“This is insane! Can’t you just shred the papers or something?” Charles Leclerc was practically pleading now, his hands gesturing wildly like he was on the verge of losing it. “We didn’t mean to get married! Just pretend it never happened!”

The clerk, still sipping her coffee like none of this was her problem, took an agonizingly slow sip and deadpanned, “As I’ve said already, it’s against the rules. The paperwork is in. It’s legal. You’re married.”

“WHAT RULES?!” you cried, throwing your hands in the air. “There’s no way we’re stuck because of a technicality! This isn’t an episode of Law & Order! No one’s going to arrest you for this!”

The clerk blinked at you, her expression as blank as ever. “The rules are the rules,” she said, like she had this line tattooed on her forehead. “Take it up with a judge.”

Just as you were about to lose your mind, there was a loud crash behind you. You turned in time to see a woman in a wedding gown who was most definitely Charles Anderson’s fiancée, kick a chair out of the way, marching up to him like a woman possessed.

“YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE AREN’T YOU?” she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Anderson, who shrank back in terror. “You just didn’t want to marry me, so now you’re pulling this stunt?”

“What?! No!” Anderson yelped, looking around the courthouse like he could find an escape hatch. “It’s not my fault Brittany! They—” he pointed at you and Charles Leclerc, “—they’re the ones who got married!”

Brittany wasn’t having it. “Yeah, right! You’ve been making excuses for months, and now you’re going to try and pin this on them?! What, did you pay them to mess up the paperwork?”

You waved your hands in a panic. “Lady, we don’t even know each other! I’m literally just here to fix a spelling mistake in my name!”

Charles Leclerc jumped in, looking equally panicked. “And I’m just here for a speeding ticket! I don’t even know what’s going on!”

Charles Leclerc looked like he was officially losing his mind. He was pacing in circles, gesturing wildly at the air, as if the universe might suddenly intervene. “I have a race next week! I can’t be married right now! This is insane!”

You stared at him, completely lost. “What are you even talking about? Why does a race have anything to do with this?”

Charles paused mid-panic, looking at you like you’d just said the sky was purple. “For the last time I’m a Formula 1 diver!.”

You blinked and scream out in frustration. “…YOU KEEP SAYING THAT LIKE IT SHOULD MEAN SOMETHING TO ME!?”

Charles looked at you like you’d just spoken in a different tongue. “Formula 1! It’s international. Fast cars, precision driving, circuits all over the world?”

You squinted. “So… like NASCAR?”

Charles’s eye twitched. “NO! It’s not like NASCAR! It’s—" He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself. “Formula 1 is completely different. It’s the pinnacle of motorsport. We race on tracks, not ovals, and the cars are way faster and more advanced.”

“Oh,” you said, not even pretending to be impressed. “So it’s like NASCAR with extra steps.”

Charles groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

Before you could respond, Brittany threw her hands up in the air, clearly fed up. “I CAN’T DO THIS EITHER!” She pointed at Charles Anderson, who was now trying to hide behind the counter. “I knew you were stalling this wedding on purpose, Charles! You’ve been dodging this day since we got engaged!”

“Brittany, no! I swear it wasn’t me! It’s just some kind of mix-up!” Anderson tried to reason with her, his voice cracking under the pressure. “It’s a misunderstanding! I didn’t plan this!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally handed over our wedding slot to complete strangers?!” Brittany’s voice was so loud now that other people in the courthouse were starting to stare. “And now we have to wait while you run around trying to fix your mess!”

You slapped your hands over your face, feeling the absolute ridiculousness of the situation weighing on you. “This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Charles Leclerc was now pacing frantically again. “I can’t be married! This is… this is a PR nightmare! my career is ruined! Fred's gonna kill me!”

“Oh my God, no one cares about your stupid racing career!” Brittany screeched, cutting him off. “My wedding’s been hijacked, and you’re worried about PR?!”

Leclerc turned back to the clerk, his voice rising in desperation. “Can’t you just void the paperwork? Pretend this didn’t happen? We didn’t actually want to get married!”

The clerk, completely unaffected by the chaos swirling around her, let out a slow, tired sigh. “It’s against the rules.”

“SCREW THE RULES!” you shouted, slapping your hand on the counter. “No one cares about your rules! Can’t you just— I don’t know— delete the file or something?”

“The government cares about the rules,” the clerk responded flatly, barely looking up from her computer screen.

Charles Leclerc, utterly exasperated, ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “This can’t be happening. This is the worst day of my life.”

“Your life?!” you shot back, eyes wide. “I just came here to fix a typo, and now I’m married to a stranger who yells about race cars!”

Leclerc threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not yelling about race cars!”

“Yes, you are!”

Brittany stormed back up to the counter, where Charles Anderson was practically cowering. “And you,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You think this is some big joke, don’t you? Delaying the wedding again just because you don’t want to marry me?!”

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like!” Anderson pleaded, trying to grab her hands. “I love you! This is just a mistake!”

“Mistake my ass!” Brittany shrieked. “We’ve been engaged for three years, and now, instead of us getting married, I have to watch these two idiots get hitched by accident!”

You threw your hands up, eyes darting between Brittany and the hysterical Anderson. “We don’t even want to be married! This isn’t some elaborate plan! I’ve literally known this guy for less than five minutes!”

Leclerc, looking like he was about to snap, turned back to the clerk. “There’s nothing you can do? Nothing at all? Can’t we get, like, an emergency annulment or something?”

The clerk glanced up lazily from her coffee. “Like I said next available appointment for an annulment is this Tuesday. Wait no, it’s actually next Tuesday”

“NEXT TUESDAY?!” you and Leclerc both screamed in unison, your voices echoing off the courthouse walls.

“Can’t we just get another slot today please?!” Anderson wails

“Sorry but the fastest I can squeeze in a wedding is on Saturday 25th” the clerk says sipping her coffee nonchalantly.

“The 25th?” Anderson whimpered. “But… my wedding is today! The 25th is like 2 weeks away!”

“Oh, shut up, Charles!” Brittany yelled, practically shoving him. “There is no wedding today! You’ve ruined it! And you know what? Maybe that’s for the best!”

Charles Anderson looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. “But Brittany—”

“Save it!” she snapped, before turning to you and Leclerc. “And you two? Good luck with your stupid accidental marriage. I hope you’re very happy together.”

Leclerc, who had clearly had enough, shot back, “Oh, we’ll have a blast. Trust me. This is exactly what I wanted out of today. To marry a complete stranger in the middle of a bureaucratic nightmare.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke.”

From behind, Anderson was still shrieking about his doomed marriage, while Brittany yelled about commitment issues and a wedding that would “never happen at this rate!”

Charles Leclerc leaned over the counter, looking like he was about two seconds away from losing it entirely. “Is there nothing you can do?”

The clerk just looks at him. “Next tuesday.”

He threw his hands up and muttered under his breath, “I should’ve just paid the speeding ticket online.”

The clerk, unfazed by the circus happening in front of her, sipped her coffee and calmly called out, “Next in line, please.”

And that ladies and gentlemen is how you ended up accidentally married to Charles Leclerc in the most ridiculous courthouse mix-up of all time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[skalfy]

Misunderstandings pt 2 (aka understandings)

alexia putellas x reader, ~4.9k words, part 2/2

The very long-awaited (by me and maybe no one else) second part to this one!

Ingrid had been shocked, then eventually amused when you finally managed to explain Alexia’s presence in your apartment. You couldn’t help but to share her amusement at the situation, albeit tempered with the frustration at how avoidable the whole situation was. It seemed especially ironic that the crueler Alexia had gotten in defense of her friend, the more it had driven you to rely on Ingrid. Jenni had, of course, found the whole thing hilarious. The dark-haired Spaniard had spared a thought for you in acknowledging that it didn’t make your Barcelona career so far any less hellish, but then immediately dissolved into laughter as she made you recount every detail of the captain’s misguided trip to your apartment. By the time you got off the phone with her, Jenni had brought herself to tears with laughter at least three times, the last as she tried to do her best impression of how awkward Alexia would be as she tried to make up for her behavior.

Jenni had not been wrong. 

Alexia had started by apologizing. It was sincere, and she looked so miserable that you had no doubts that she had been thinking about her behavior. You had wanted to be tough, to make her work for it, but when she came up to you the next morning with bloodshot eyes and an apology that took full responsibility for her actions and acknowledged how hurtful she’d been, with the promise of more to come, you had accepted and told her you just wanted to move on.

For Alexia, “just moving on” apparently meant cautiously hovering at all times. On the field, she had turned from your greatest critic to your (mostly) silent guardian angel. She was the first to check on you at any sign of discomfort, and showered you with an assortment of items. Water bottle? Alexia was already handing it to you. Chance of rain? Alexia saw you didn’t bring your jacket and just grabbed an extra one, it’s here if you need it. It would have been a bit annoying if she hadn’t been so perceptive and thoughtful. As she paid closer and closer attention, she got quite good at predicting your needs.

—

A few weeks after the apology, Alexia’s hovering had died down to a less alarming level. She still seemed to be extra concerned with your wellbeing, but there was a lot less of the awkward lingering that Jenni had anticipated. 

Without Alexia’s poor treatment to contend with, you had also gotten more into the rhythm of the team as well, and you were enjoying time with the team, especially the regular team events. 

At the moment, though, you had been feeling the threat of a cold coming on for the past few days, and that plus a cool, rainy game, had left you feeling even more achy and tired than you expected. It was a bit disappointing to miss out on team bonding, but you hardly hesitated to send a message to Lucy and let her know that you wouldn’t make it to the movie night she and Ona were hosting. You loved the team, but you were certain your head wouldn’t be able to take the laughter and loud chatter, not to mention your shoulders and neck were knotted so tight that anything more active than lounging around on your couch sounded miserable.

A gentle knock on your apartment door roused you from the half-sleep you had fallen into. You were disoriented for a moment, head throbbing angrily as you raised it from the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Pirates of the Caribbean was still playing quietly on the tv, and at first you thought that was what had woken you, then another knock at the door sounded and cut through your confusion.

Dragging one of the blankets along, you crossed over to the door and opened it, revealing Alexia.

Unlike the last time she had appeared at your door, the midfielder didn’t push her way past you. Instead, she stood in place, fingers twisting nervously as she waited for you to acknowledge her. For your part, you just stared as your fuzzy head caught up to the situation.

“Hi,” your voice cracked, so you cleared your throat and tried again with marginally more success, “Hola, Alexia.”

“Hola,” she replied. “You weren’t at the movie.” It didn’t sound like a reprimand, but you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes anyway. You felt so uncomfortable and unwell and the thought that Alexia might be here to tell you off for skipping team bonding was overwhelming.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, tugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders and dropping your gaze to the floor.

“No, not sorry! I mean-- dios mio!” The captain sighed in frustration and your stomach dropped. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for her to continue. Instead, you were startled by a cool, dry hand gently cupping the side of your head. You couldn’t resist leaning into the soft pressure, and after a second it shifted from your cheekbone to your forehead. “Lo siento, I just came to make sure you are okay. I did not mean to upset you.”

You opened your eyes as Alexia slid her hand from your forehead back into the loose strands of hair escaping your bun, guiding them gently away from your face. The light touch felt good on your aching head, and you fought a shiver at the sensation.

“You feel warm. Let me help, vale?” 

You weren’t expecting the offer, but you also weren’t in a state of mind to ponder it further. Plus, while you weren’t sure how you felt about the captain, you did trust that she meant well this time.

“Vale.” You answered, then turned to walk back to your couch. Behind you, the blonde hesitated for a moment before following you in and shutting the door. 

After removing her shoes, she entered the living room and hovered awkwardly above where you had laid back down. You scrunched your feet up to make room for her at the end of the couch, but she made no move to sit.

“Have you had paracetamol?” 

You shook your head no, then winced at the shot of pain the motion sent from your neck to the base of your skull.

“Is it your head or your neck that hurts?” 

“Both, and my shoulders. Just tight from yesterday.” She nodded slowly.

“Where is the paracetamol?”

“Bathroom. Above the sink.” That was apparently her last question and you listened with closed eyes as she walked away.

You half-drifted off for a few minutes as Alexia made her way around your apartment, eventually setting a few things on the coffee table near you. You heard her knees crack as she crouched down, then felt her fingertips trail along your shoulder softly. 

“Can you sit up, cari?” Her tone was kind and you complied with the request, moving gingerly. “Gracias. Have this first.” She passed you a mostly peeled banana. You shot her a look, but obediently took a small bite. The midfielder waited patiently as you ate the whole thing, then traded the peel for two tablets and a glass of water. You took the pills with a sip of water, then reached out to return the glass to the table. Alexia intercepted you and pushed the water back, a smile tugging at her lips as you gave her another look before drinking the rest.

“Buen trabajo.” The praise might have made you blush if you were feeling better, but as it was you just handed the glass back.

Before you could lie back down, Alexia grabbed the pillow you had been using and sat where it had been. Setting the pillow on her lap, she gestured for you to lay there, guiding you until you were comfortable on your stomach with the pillow under your head. Surprisingly, the position felt much better than when you had arranged yourself on one side before.

“Okay if I rub your shoulders? To help with the pain?” She asked, voice a little uncertain.

“Yes, please,” you breathed out, desperate for anything to ease how tightly the muscles were knotted.

“Vale.” Her fingertips sunk gently into the muscles of your upper back, thumbs working carefully against the tops of your shoulders. The pressure was light, but you could feel her warm, steady hands start to soften the tension. 

You had nearly started to drift off again when the Spaniard moved to slide one hand up to grip the back of your neck. Caught off guard, you surprised yourself with a muffled groan as she dug her fingers in. Her hand stilled, but didn’t move from where it rested.

“Hurts?” Alexia asked in a low voice.

You kept your face tucked in the pillow, but responded, “Only a little. Feels good.

“Good.” You could hear the edge of a smile in her voice.

It didn’t take long after she resumed the massage for you to slip back into sleep.

—

This time when you awoke it wasn’t to the sound of someone at your door. You blinked yourself slowly into full consciousness, realizing as you did so that you weren’t alone. There was a hand cupped protectively against the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, and the warm glow of morning light throughout your apartment.

You were surprised to feel only a mild twinge of pain as you tilted your head to look up at the midfielder who was still sitting under you on the couch. You were amazed to see she was fast asleep, tucked into the corner of the couch, but still mostly upright. It couldn’t have been a very comfortable position, but she looked remarkably peaceful. 

After another moment of studying the sleeping blonde, you mentally shook your head and began to slowly extricate yourself from her lap. You felt well rested and far better than the night before, but now your body was reminding you that your dinner last night had only been a banana. Just as you carefully started to sit up, Alexia’s hand moved, stroking softly through your hair as she mumbled sleepily.

“Estás bien, dormirse”

Your heart squeezed at the way she instinctively tried to provide comfort. 

“Gracias, Alexia. I’m okay.” You replied quietly, gently completing your move to sit up out of her grasp. “I’m just going to make some breakfast, you can lie down and sleep.”

The blonde didn’t acknowledge your words, but when you stood up and draped your blanket over her form she did lean deeper into the couch and burrow into it rather adorably.

—-

As you moved through the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and heating up a pan for eggs, you thought about your visitor. It had been clear already from Alexia’s actions that she was trying to make up for the way she had treated you at the beginning, but the concern and care she had shown last night was more than you had expected. It hadn’t felt like an act either, the midfielder had simply seen you feeling poorly and stepped in to help. If this was the Alexia the rest of the team had all along, then you understood why everyone else held her in such high regard.

You were pretty certain, deep down, you had already forgiven the captain, but last night had certainly washed away any last temptation to hold a grudge. Alexia may have been in the wrong, but she had shown that her opinion of you had changed, and that she felt guilty about how cruel she had been. And, not that it excused anything, but you did understand her motivation in a sense– if nothing else she was trying to be a good friend, you’d grant her that.

The midfielder had been one of the players you were most excited to play with and learn from, so finally realizing that you both might be able to put the rocky start behind you was a relief. You felt almost like a weight had been physically lifted from your chest, though maybe that was just another ache that such a good night of sleep apparently fixed.

“Bon dia.” You looked up from the stovetop at the sound of Alexia’s voice. She was standing in the entryway looking somewhere between sleep-mussed and frustratingly model-like.

“Bon dia, Capi” you replied. “Thank you. For checking on me and for staying to help, I feel much better now.”

She ducked her head, but you caught a flash of pink across her cheeks as she did so. “No hay de qué, I’m glad you are better. Thank you for letting me sleep on your sofa.”

Now it was your turn to feel your cheeks heat. Did Alexia not realize you’d spent the whole night half on top of her, or was she just trying to give you a chance to pretend otherwise in case you were embarrassed. You chose your next words intentionally. “You are welcome to it anytime you would like, though I don’t think I gave you much of a choice when I fell asleep on you.”

The blonde’s bright smile told you that you chose correctly.

“Do you want any coffee? Eggs?” You asked, finally remembering the breakfast you were in the middle of making.

“I would, but my sister has already texted me four times to demand I meet her. I just wanted to check to see if you need anything before I go.”

“No, you’ve done more than enough for me already, don’t make your sister text you a fifth time.” You said, sliding the pan off the heat and stepping over toward Alexia. She stood completely still as you approached, but when you reached up to pull her into a hug, she softened into it immediately, wrapping her arms around your back to hold you tight. It reminded you instantly of the comfort of Jenni’s hugs, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d missed out all these months of not hugging Alexia.

—

In the weeks since she had spent the night, you felt like you had turned a corner with your relationship with Alexia. You weren’t holding onto the memories of her unkindness, and there was no longer any part of you that feared her attitude might change again. The only problem was that it didn’t seem like she had the same confidence you did. You couldn’t help but feel like the captain was still going out of her way to make it up to you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the special attention she was paying you, but what you really wanted was to move on and put the whole thing behind you. Alexia’s guilt over something you’d already let go wasn’t necessary, and there was a not-so-small part of you that feared if you waited too much longer you were going to end up hurt when she inevitably pulled away on her own. Once the Spaniard realized that everything was fine between the two of you, she would go back to being a professional, a teammate and captain and nothing else, and you understood that. It was just that it made your heart sink a little to think about it. You had gotten used to her attention, nothing more than that– but you know that it would be better to cut things off before you got too used to it.

All these thoughts were not far from the front of your mind when you arrived at the last full practice before your first Champions League game. Alexia met you as you stepped out of your car (or, rather, Alexia materialized a foot away from you when you looked up after closing your car door, which startled you the first few times, but now was a normal part of your morning). The midfielder passed you one of the two coffee cups she held, giving you a quick smile in response to your enthusiastic “¡Gracias!”

The coffee thing was a relatively new part of the captain’s arsenal of apology gestures. She had appeared one morning and nearly forced the cup into your hand before walking away quickly. Once you had recovered your wits, you had taken a sip and discovered that it was a dirty chai– your favorite. It had only taken a little wrangling to get the story from Ingrid; Alexia had FaceTimed Mapi from the coffee shop and demanded to be handed over to her girlfriend so that Ingrid could give your order to a highly amused barista. Since then, the morning coffee had become a regular occurrence, and you had managed to get the midfielder to stick around and walk in with you.

You were intent on practicing your Spanish, so the two of you chatted the whole way, Alexia patiently letting you work your way through what you wanted to say without interrupting. She was one of your favorite people to practice with for that reason– so many of your other teammates were quick to finish your thought for you, or just wanted to practice their English instead.

It was exactly this kind of interaction, though, that was troubling you, and you resolved to fix the situation once and for all by the end of the day.

—

Practice had gone well, and you were feeling both nerves and excitement as you walked off the pitch knowing that there was just recovery and a light training session between now and your UWCL debut. The familiar sounds of Patri and Pina’s banter filled your ears as you followed the pair into the changing room, but when they suddenly went silent, you looked up to see both pairs of eyes looking right at you. 

“Someone has an admirer,” Pina said, giving you a pointed smirk. You were confused for a moment, then saw past the two of them to your locker. There was clearly a vase of flowers inside, along with a ribbon-tied white box. You felt your cheeks flush. Unable to come up with a witty response to knock the curiosity out of your nosy teammates, you just shook your head and slid between the two to reach your locker and the gifts inside. 

The flowers were beautiful, and you moved them carefully off of the box and deeper into your locker. Normally, you might have had the good sense to spirit the gift away from the prying eyes of your teammates, but you were certain you recognized it, and you couldn’t wait a moment longer to confirm. You pulled the red ribbon to release the knot, and as it fell loose, you raised the lid to reveal exactly what you suspected. 

Inside were four mouthwatering breads that you knew immediately were from the little bakery near your apartment in Nuevo Leon. It had become a tradition, almost a superstition, for you to stop there on the morning of an important game when you had played for Tigres, and it was a tradition you sorely missed. You felt a sting behind your eyes as you realized what someone had done for you.

You closed the box up carefully, protecting the perfect breads once again before you made your way to shower. As you crossed the locker room, you caught the gaze of your captain already on you. Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t look away immediately, offering you a bashful smile that confirmed what you already knew about the source of your gifts.

—

By the time you finished your shower, everyone but Alexia had filtered out of the changing room. She was quiet as you toweled your hair dry and dressed, eyes glued to a boot that she was holding and… inspecting carefully? You broke the silence as you .

“Someone left beautiful flowers and a very thoughtful gift for me. Maybe someone who did their research and found out one of my old traditions.” At your words, Alexia finally looked up.

“Hmm. A lo mejor.” Her tone was neutral, but the same bashful smile you saw before crept across her face. “They are right? I had to trust Jenni and she likes to… joke.”

“Yes, they’re perfect. Thank you, Alexia.” You crossed the room to pull her into a tight hug, whispering an extra “gracias, capi” as you pulled back.

“You are welcome,” she whispered back, sounding almost breathless. “I just want you to feel happy here like you did there. And I want you to score goals for us in Champions like you scored for Tigres.”

You laughed at her final comment, but even to your own ears your huff of amusement held a dangerous edge of affection for the woman in front of you. A woman who, you reminded yourself, was just trying to be a good captain to you and make up for the weeks of misguided ire.

“Maybe I’ll even score a golazo for you.” You said, cringing inwardly at how much it sounded like a line one of the men’s team players would try on you back in college. You tacked on “As a thank you, of course.” somewhat awkwardly. Alexia’s smile in response was so bright that you couldn’t tell whether she was laughing at you or genuinely pleased by the prospect. Either way, you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Trato hecho. I will see you tomorrow.” The midfielder gave you one last quick smile as she turned to leave. As you watched her cross the room toward the door, you remembered your resolution from the start of practice. As much as you appreciated Alexia’s kindness, you had to rip off the proverbial band-aid. You called out to the blonde making her way out of the locker room.

“Alexia!” 

She stopped and turned immediately at the sound of your voice, walking back over to where you had both stood a moment ago.

“¿Sí? You are okay?” Her eyes scanned across you quickly as if checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow been injured in the last 30 seconds.

“Yeah, I just needed to tell you, um…” you trailed off, wishing now that you hadn’t called her back quite so impulsively. Her eyes had now settled intently on your face and it caught you off guard when you saw the intense, almost hopeful look in them. “You should know that I already forgave you, Ale. A long time ago. I appreciate how nice and thoughtful you have been, and the gifts and everything you’ve done, but I can’t let you keep doing it out of guilt. You can treat me like everyone else now, I just want to have you as my teammate and captain.”

“You.. que?” She furrowed her brows elegantly, face puzzled for a moment before it smoothed over into neutrality as she seemed to comprehend your words. When she spoke, her voice matched the blankness of her face. “Ah. Vale. Okey. Solo tu capitana.”

Her tone and words surprised you, but before you could react, Alexia mumbled a quiet “adeu,” and made a break for the door.

—

You had puzzled over Alexia’s reaction as you gathered up your belongings, flowers and box of panes included, and headed home. You had expected her to be, maybe not pleased, but at least glad to hear that you had moved past the earlier bad blood. She had clearly cared about fixing things, given the amount of effort she had put in to make it up to you, so why wouldn’t it be good news to her that you wanted to move past it?

The moment her face dropped into impassivity still hung in your mind as you set the beautiful vase of flowers on your kitchen table. As you rotated them slightly to appreciate the bouquet, a folded piece of paper caught your attention. It was nestled unobtrusively between soft petals, tucked away discreetly, probably so that prying eyes like Pina’s wouldn’t notice at a glance. You slipped it out carefully, unfolding and smoothing the creases so you could read the words inside.

Hola Y/N,

I hope you like the flowers. The florist said they mean luck and strength. You are already strong, and I know you don’t need luck, but they are very beautiful and extra luck is always good.

There was a crooked smiley face at the end of the sentence, and the thought of Alexia drawing it made you smile.

I am so happy that you are playing for Barca, and I am excited to watch you play in Champions League for the first time. You will be incredible, like you always are. No matter what happens in the game I am already proud of you, and I want to thank you for letting me earn your trust after how I acted.

If you have forgiven me, would you let me take you out to dinner after the game?

Con cariño,

Ale

The unfiltered kindness made your chest burn warm with affection, and you felt a swell of excitement at the invitation. It sounded almost like the captain was asking you on a date, and the idea filled your stomach with butterflies. Suddenly, your heart dropped. If it was an invitation to go on a date, then your words in the changing room must have sounded like an attempt to let Alexia down easy. You had clearly told her that you only wanted her to be your teammate. Thinking that you were freeing her from the burden of winning your forgiveness, saving your own heart from accidentally being strung along by the well-meaning captain, had you ruined the chance of more? 

Without thinking, you picked up the phone and called Ingrid.

“Hei du! What’s happening?” The norwegian answered after a ring.

“Ingrid. I think I fucked up.”

You explained the situation to her, speaking so quickly she had to ask you to slow down and repeat more than once. You finally finished with a wavery voice. “Do you think there’s a chance she might… have feelings for me?’

“Y/N…” Ingrid drew your name out slowly, then paused. “I think Alexia has been pretty well in love with you since about two days after she found out you weren’t stealing me from Maria. Herregud, you’ve been the only thing she talks or thinks about besides football. Maria’s been complaining for weeks that Alexia is too busy watching you to notice all the pranks she’s pulled on all children.”

You didn’t know what to say, and for a long minute Ingrid didn’t push you. Then, finally, she spoke again.

“Do you have feelings for Alexia?”

Your instinct was to defer, and “I don’t know” was right on the tip of your tongue, but before you said it, it felt wrong in your mouth. You thought about the way being around Alexia felt, the way you felt warm all over when she praised you, and how incredible it felt to be the center of her attention. You also thought about how good she looked on and off the pitch, the way her whole face lit up with a smile, and how she had looked standing in your kitchen, sleep-mussed from a night asleep on your couch. You bit your lip, cheeks rising in a grin.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“I think you better give our capitana a call.” You could just about hear the twinkle in Ingrid’s eye.

“Thank you, Ingrid.” 

You exchanged your goodbyes and ended the call, then after a deep breath, before you could lose your nerve, you called Alexia.

“Y/N?” She answered immediately.

“Alexia, hi. Hola.” You immediately stumbled over your words. “I read your note. I hadn’t read it yet when we talked before.”

“Sí, vale…” She said, imploringly.

“I thought everything you have been doing was to apologize, so that’s why I told you that I had already forgiven you. Because I have, and I like being your friend, and I like when you are sweet to me, and pay attention to me, and ask Jenni and Ingrid what my favorite things are. I was afraid that if you were doing those things because you felt guilty, that one day you would realize you didn’t have to feel guilty anymore, and you would start treating me just like every other teammate. Which would be okay, but it would also break my heart a little. So I wanted to make sure it happened soon, because I thought the later it happened, the more it would hurt.” 

You paused, and the midfielder made no move to interrupt your explanation.

“But after reading your note, it made me think that maybe I misunderstood. And it gave me hope that you might have feelings for me. Like the feelings that I have for you. So when I said I just wanted you to be my teammate and captain, I didn’t know that there could be an option for you to be more. So let me try to give you a better answer to the question you wrote in the note: I have forgiven you, and me gustaría mucho ir a cenar contigo.”

“Really?” Alexia breathed out.

“Really.” You replied. “I like you a lot, Alexia.”

“I like you a lot, too.” The smile in her voice was unmistakable, and you felt the last vestiges of worry drop away. You might have gotten started on the wrong foot, but things were looking pretty good after all.

Not planning for a part 3, but if anyone is really interested, let me know and I could be persuaded :)

tag: @marvelwomen-simp

[sadplaguedoctor]

snowed in

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: a simple mishap during a meeting with a piltover client almost cost you not only your life, but your dignity. luckily, silco was able to find you and guide you to take refuge in a nearby cabin to wait out the storm.

tags: cliche snowed in trope, silco’s a little mean at first, smut in final chapter, kinda angsty, hurt w/ comfort

one, two, three

The snowstorm came fast, an icy hand snatching the sky and smothering the land in white. The wind howled through jagged mountains, a sound that clawed at the edges of your mind and the small cabin you’d stumbled across creaked as though the storm might rip it apart.

Inside, the air was scarcely warmer than outside, but it was shelter. A merciful reprieve from the snow. You huddled closer to the meager fire you’d managed to coax to life in the dusty hearth, frozen fingers trembling as they extended toward the flickering warmth.

The sound of the cabin door slamming shut came from behind you and sent a jolt up your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was— the measured steps that followed, the click of polished boots on wooden floorboards— they were unmistakable.

Silco.

The man in question shook the frost from his coat, his bad eye burning brighter in the dim light than the fire itself. For a moment, his gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, as though assessing every weak point of the fragile structure. Then his attention landed on you.

“Well,” he said, his tone razor sharp and coated in disdain, “I didn’t take you for the sort to thrive in adverse conditions.”

You bit back a retort, forcing yourself to focus on the fire. The snowstorm might have stranded you both in this miserable excuse for a shelter, but you weren’t about to play his game.

He crossed the room with deliberate slowness that made your skin crawl, removing his gloves finger by finger before crouching at the edge of the hearth. Silco’s presence loomed even as he knelt, his mismatched gaze flicking to the fire and then back to you.

“It’s weak,” he muttered, nodding to the flames, “if the storm doesn’t kill you, that poor excuse for heat will.”

“I don’t see you helping,” you shot back, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silco’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk— or a sneer. “Because I was busy ensuring this hovel would remain standing, “he remarked, motioning toward the door he’d semi barricaded with snow dampened boards.

“But by all means, continue blaming me for your failings. It seems to be a habit.”

Your stomach churned at the reminder. This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Silco had entrusted you with a simple task: deliver a message to a Piltover contact and return to the safe house before nightfall. But somewhere along the way, you’d taken a wrong turn. The storm had hit before you realized your mistake, furious winds obscuring landmarks and swallowing every sound except the relentless scream of the gale.

By the time Silco had found you wandering through the snow, it was too late to make it back to the safe house or to the Piltover contact. You hadn’t even had the nerve to look him in the eye when he silently took the lead, guiding you to this miserable excuse for a shelter.

“I didn’t—” you started, then stopped. What was the point? There was no excuse that would satisfy him, no explanation that would make you seem less foolish.

Silco’s expression didn’t shift, but his gaze pinned you in place. “What?” He asked, voice low and sharp, “you didn’t think? You didn’t realize that a single misstep could jeopardize everything?”

You pressed your lips together, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. Silco’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, cutting into you like the icy wind outside, before he scoffed softly and leaned back on his heels.

“Typical,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, “you’ll find your excuses when it’s continent. Meanwhile, I’ll ensure we survive the night.”

The disinterest in his words burned, but before you could respond, Silco was already moving. He stood, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair, muttering something about how it didn’t do any good soaked. Beneath it, he wore his usual vest and dress shirt, his hands undoing the rolls so they covered his arms, definitely doing less than enough to keep him truly warm.

You shivered and glanced at the fire. it wasn’t enough to ward off the cold seeping through the gaps in the cabin’s walls.

“I’ll look for more firewood,” you muttered, more as an excuse to escape the suffocating tension than out of necessity.

“Don’t bother,” Silco’s voice stopped you before you could even stand. He leaned against the wall near the fire, arms crossed as his good eye pinned you in place, “you’d only get yourself lost or worse. The wind would bury you alive before you could find so much as a twig.”

You clenched your fists, heat rising in your chest for the first time all night. “So what, then?” you snapped, “we just sit here and freeze while you glare at me like this is all my fault?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering you in that unnerving, calculating way of his. “No,” he sighed, after a pause that felt far too long, “we ration the heat and wait out the storm. If you’re not entirely useless, you might even make it through the night.”

Your nails dug into your palms, but you forced yourself to look away. He wasn’t wrong about the storm— or the danger— but his words still stung. You shifted closer to the fire instead, pulling your knees up to your chest in an attempt to preserve what little warmth you had.

The silence stretched out, broken only by the groan of the wind and the crackle of the fire. It wasn’t long before Silco moved again, retrieving a small flask from his discarded coat. He took a measured sip, his eye watching you.

“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice as neutral as the icy air.

Bristling at his observation you muttered a quiet, and slow “I’m fine,” as to not give your teeth an opening to chatter.

“Fine doesn’t survive a storm like this,” he stepped closer, extending the flask toward you. His movements were calm, deliberate, but there was no mistaking the edge of impatience in his expression.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the flask, “what is it?”

“Something to keep you alive,” he responded with a tone that hinted to the answer being obvious, “now stop dithering and drink.”

With a sigh, you took the flask, your fingers brushing his briefly as you brought it up to your lips. The liquid inside was sharp, burning a path down your throat, but it send a wave of warmth through your frozen limbs. You handed it back quickly, unwilling to meet his gaze for too long.

“Better,” he said, though there was no trace of real praise in his tone. He capped the flask and tucked it away, returning to his place near the fire.

Silence fell again, heavy and awkward. For the first time, you noticed the faint tremor in Silco’s hand as he adjusted his cuffs— a sign, perhaps, that even he wasn’t immune to the cold.

“Why did you come after me?” you blurted out, the question escaping before you could stop it.

He didn’t look at you, but the pause in his movements was telling. “I don’t leave loose ends,” he said simply, “especially not ones that can be traced back to me.”

You all but flinched at the coldness of his response, but something about it didn’t ring entirely true. Silco was practical, yes, but you doubted he would have risked his life for practicality alone.

“Right,” you uttered quietly, leaning your head back to take a deep breath before ushering it all out, “loose ends.”

As the fire crackled, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was all you were to him despite all the, all be it, rare, laughs you shared in his office— or if there was something more lurking beneath the surface of his calculated words and demeanor.

You stared into the flames, wiling the quiet to stretch on, even as you felt the weight of Silco’s eye still boring into you. It was a question scrutiny, but it was there, like he was turning over every word you hadn’t yet spoken.

“I didn’t mean to get lost,” your tone hushed, breaking the silence. Your voice sounded small in the vast quiet, almost swallowed whole by the wind.

Silco shifted, the creak of wood and leather drawing your attention. He didn’t scoff this time or offer some cutting remark. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his good eye narrowing as he considered you.

“I know,” he said at last, the words low and almost begrudging, “but intentions don’t matter when you jeopardize something larger than yourself.”

You kept your eyes on him, determined not to look away just yet, “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“No,” he replied, his voice colder now, sharper, “ you didn’t think at all.”

The accusation hung between you, heavy and unyielding, but then something softened. He looked back to the fire, lines on his face easing ever so slightly.

“But you’re still here,” he murmured, almost to himself, “ that counts for something.”

You blinked at him, surprised. It wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it was condemnation either. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Barely,” you remarked, half under your breath.

Silco huffed a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so dry, “barely is still enough.”

The silence returned, but it felt different now— less suffocating and more tolerable. You shifted your position near the fire, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t seem like the type to come out all this way for someone else,” you spoke up, testing the waters of his patience.

Turning his head slightly, his expression unreadable in the light, “what type may that be?”

“The type to care.”

It was a bold thing to say, but you were too tied and cold to care. To your surprise, Silco didn’t lash out or dismiss you. Instead, he leaned forward, settling himself down on the ground by the fire, resting his elbows on his knees while his fingers laced together as he stared into the fire.

“Caring,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharpness dulled, “is a liability. A distraction.”

You frowned, caught off guard by the raw edge in his tone that you thought you worked hard enough to get past, “then why did you?”

His mismatched gaze flicked to you, holding yours just long enough to make your stomach twist. Then, he looked away, jaw tightening.

“I told you,” he said, his voice measured, “I don’t leave loose ends.”

It was an answer, but not the one you were looking for. Still, you let it lie, sensing that to press further would be to overstep some invisible line he wasn’t ready to cross.

The fire continued to crackle between you both, its warmth a fragile bridge over the unspoken tension. You shifted closer to Silco, your movements slow and a bit strained from the cold— not too close, but close enough to feel less alone in the emptiness of the cabin.

“You know,” you said quietly, the words escaping before you could stop them, “you’re not as untouchable as you like to think.”

His head turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he studied you. You thought, for a moment, you’d gone too far, but then his lips curved into something faintly resembling a smirk.

“And you’re more reckless than I thought,” he countered, his voice for once, free of venom.

Laughing, you shook your head, “fair enough.”

The tension between you dissipated again, this time settling into something that felt almost like mutual understanding. Silco leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing ever so slightly, though the sharp edge of his presence remained.

For the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

The fire was fighting a losing battle against the cold, and it began to dwindle. The walls weren’t enough to keep the frost at bay and the storm showed no signs of relenting. Despite the safety and even comfort Silco offered opposite of the crushing loneliness, the sharp chill in the air reminded you that survival was far from guaranteed.

You moved closer to the fire, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Every breath was a cloud of vapor and your fingers were stiff, body trembling despite your best efforts to stay still.

“Stop that,” Silco said abruptly, his attention snapping towards you.

“Stop what?” you asked, tone a little sharper than intended.

“Shivering so obnoxiously,” he replied as if it was a casual complaint, “it’s distracting.”

Glancing away from him with a huff, you stared into the fire instead, doing your best to stop the shivering that did not want to ease up on you.

Even then, Silco didn’t let it go. Instead, he sighed and pushed himself closer to you. He sat beside you now, his shadow stretching long in the firelight, his mismatched eyes locking with yours.

“You’ll freeze like that,” he pointed.

“I’m fine.”

While your words were shrouded with intent, your body trembled, betraying you.

Silco reached for the coat he’d draped over the chair and shook his head, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out. Then, before you could protest, he wrapped it around your shoulders, the worn fabric heavy and faintly warm from his body heat.

“How’s that?” he asked, though the edge of impatience in his tone made it clear he wasn’t looking for an argument.

You nodded, pulling the coat tighter around yourself. The scent of leather and something faintly smokey clung to it, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying to control your chattering teeth once more.

He didn’t respond, instead settling beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. The proximity was startling at first, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, you found yourself leaning just slightly toward him, drawn to the faint warmth radiating from his body.

“You don’t have to stay there,” you said tentatively after a long moment, “I mean… we could share the coat. It’d keep us both warm.”

His gaze slid to you, expression unreadable in the flickering light. You thought he might refuse, that he’d scoff and tell you he would deal with the cold on his own. But then he sighed, reaching for the edge of the coat and lifting it up so he could wrap it around himself, your sides now flush together.

“You’re bolder than you look,” he remarked, there was no bite in his words.

“And you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be,” you countered, glancing at him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “don’t mistake pragmatism for compassion.”

You hummed in response, unsure what to say to that. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the storm raging outside and the fire crackling weakly before you. Slowly, your shivering began to subside, replaced by a strange kind of comfort you hadn’t expected to find in such close quarters with someone like Silco.

Your head dipped forward a bit, the exhaustion from the cold and the day’s events catching up to you. Without thinking, you let yourself lean into Silco’s shoulder, the warmth of his body a welcome reprieve from the icy air.

He stiffened at first, muscles tensing beneath you, but he didn’t push you away. After a long pause, you felt him relax— his sharp edges softening just enough to comfort you.

“You’re not really what I expected,” you whispered, half asleep.

Silco didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was not only quieter than you had ever head it, but it was comforting.

“Neither are you.”

Smiling, you let your eyes shut as the weight of the day pulled you under. For the first time since the storm began, the cold didn’t seem quite so unforgiving.

i initially wrote this for a friend with the intent of being a short cute fic, but it accidentally turned into a planned out multi chapter fic. whoops,, anyway i’ll have the next two chapters out soon i hope <3

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Showed Me (How I Fell In Love With You)

masterlist

summary: dean helps you up your flirting game, but there’s really only one set of eyes you want on you.

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.7k

warnings: language, implied sex/nudity, strands of hair falls on reader’s face

author’s note: you probably already know this but sideblogs (like this one) can now answer comments!! super excited about this update and fingers crossed the next one is for sending asks lol 🤞💞

music: showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer — i was listening to this song and kept imagining dean, idk

Dean always had incredible luck with women. He could go into a bar crowded with guys and walk out with the only woman—the bartender who’d been dodging men all night.

You, on the other hand, could go into that same bar and end up going back to the motel alone. It bothered you; what in the hell were you doing wrong?

So, you did the unthinkable—you asked Dean to help you get better at flirting.

That’s how you ended up here at the bar with Dean; he was showing you how to play pool. You had protested the idea of him “teaching you” something you already knew, but he claimed it was important.

“You’re standing wrong,” he told you when you were about to break.

“Uh, no I’m not?”

“If you’re trying to win the game, you’re doing great. If you’re trying to get your opponent to fuck you, you’re failing miserably.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“Hey, you were the one who asked me for help!” He shrugged. “If you want to back out now-”

“No, I don’t want to back out,” you sighed. “I’m fucking desperate at this point.”

“So, are you gonna do what I say, then?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “How am I supposed to stand?”

He walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips.

“Stick your butt out a little,” he instructed and you did as he asked. “Alright, now when you bend over,” he moved his hands up and forward, resting them on your lower chest, “you’ll want to point your breasts in the direction of the person you want to attract.”

“What if he’s standing behind me?” you asked.

“Then his eyes are gonna be glued to your ass,” he replied, not getting the message. “If he’s standing behind you then focus more on the actual game, and less on where you’re pointing your boobs. Trust me, though, if he’s standing in front of you, he’s gonna be trying to see down your shirt, now…” he walked back around to the other side of the table. “Bend over, and before you hit the ball, make eye contact with him.”

“Okay…” You bent down and lined up your shot before looking up and into Dean’s eyes.

“Perfect! If you look at him kinda like through your eyelashes, there’s exactly one thing that’s suddenly stuck front and center in his mind.”

“And this works on…all guys?” you asked, still looking at him through your lashes.

“If he was standing where I am and didn’t want to fuck you, he’s either related to you or just not into chicks.”

“Good to know,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. You were about to start the game but a few strands of hair fell on your face.

“Don’t move,” Dean said before he hurried back to where he had been before and tucked the hair behind your ear for you. “Now, since he’s already thinking about that one thing, is that something you want him to think about even more?”

“Um, yeah,” you said quietly.

“Alright, pout your lips,” he instructed. He moved his hand down from your ear and tugged your lip out a bit. “Perfect, that’s gonna draw his attention to your lips.”

“So, now I start actually playing the game?” you asked, not sure if he had any more pointers for you.

“If you want. Or we can go over to the bar where there are three different guys that have been eyeing you the past ten minutes.”

“Really?” you stood up straight, whipping your head around. You saw the guys he was talking about and they all quickly looked down at the drinks in front of them. “Let’s go to the bar, then.”

“So, now that you know all those guys are interested,” Dean said as you both took your seats at the bar, several stools away from the other people already there, “you need to pick one.”

“Isn’t that the easy part?” you laughed a little.

“Oh no, most guys are monsters.” Dean shook his head, motioning the bartender over with his hand. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, looking at you.

“Just a beer’s fine,” you said, a little confused. Usually when you, Sam, and Dean went out drinking you each ordered your own drinks. Dean took initiative and ordered two beers. “And I know before taking someone back to my room I have to do the usual tests; holy water, iron, and silver.”

“Not those kinda monsters, sweetheart,” Dean said. “The guy on the far right has a little motor home keychain attached to his keys. Given the fact there’s a dilapidated RV parked outside that looks like a serial killer’s lair, I’d say he’s a creep.”

“Well, what about the guy in the middle?” you asked.

“I heard him talking with someone on the phone in the bathroom earlier about the fact his ex-girlfriend doesn’t know she got the clap from him.”

“Dear lord,” you groaned, making a disgusted face. “What’s wrong with the guy on the left?”

“Well, uh…” Dean started, looking at the man you were talking about and trying to find something wrong with him. “Nothing. If he comes over here, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“Shouldn’t I go and talk to him?” you asked.

“Oh no! No, no, no! Bar like this, pretty girl like you; he’ll think you’re a hooker.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, unless you wanna make a couple hundred bucks tonight?” he teased, earning a smack to his upper arm. “I’ll take that as a no,” he laughed.

“I’d make at least four-hundred,” you scoffed.

“Look, you’re cute and sweet and guys tend to turn their heads when you walk by them. Now, for your next lesson, take a look around the bar and tell me how many women you see.”

You looked around, counting in your head. “Five, including me and the bartender,” you said.

“And how many guys?”

“I’d say like twenty at least?” you estimated.

“Exactly,” he said. “See, at least half of those guys have their eyes on you. When we were playing pool earlier I guarantee you they’d have done anything to be where I was.”

“So…what’s your point?”

“You’re way above any of these guys’ leagues.” He shrugged. “Which is okay, but you need to know that you’re too good for them, just a fact. They’re spending their Wednesday night in a bar looking for a hookup, you came here to get a drink with your friend. So, like I said, you are in fact way out of their leagues.”

“You really think so?”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he laughed a little then looked at you and realized you were serious. “Oh dear god, yes! Not only are you fucking gorgeous, you’re smart, funny and a total badass! I mean you killed two vampires this morning!”

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled.

“Of course,” he replied. “Now, before we head back to the motel is there anything else? You know how to kiss someone, right?”

“Ha, ha!” You smiled sarcastically. “I know how to kiss, Dean. But, I actually do have a question.”

“Shoot!”

“What about…the friend zone?”

“You wanna know how to friend zone a guy?” He furrowed his brows.

“No, how do I get out of the friend zone?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “That’s, um, I’m actually not sure. And I didn’t think you had friends?”

“Again, very funny Dean,” you laughed somewhat sarcastically. “What if I’m good friends with a guy and I really like him, but I’m scared to tell him because I don’t want to lose the friendship?”

“Look, Sam loves you but he doesn’t see you…that way,” he said.

“It’s not Sam, dumbass,” you said. “I have plenty of friends! And there’s this one friend, who’s a guy that I really like. I don’t think he feels the same way, but it’s driving me absolutely crazy that I can’t just tell him.”

“I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, I always think the guy has more to lose if that situation goes south, cause he’ll always be attracted to the girl but she might…get bored with him.”

“But what if the guy doesn’t like me back? What if I tell him and he says ‘gross, you’re like a sister to me’?”

“If he does see you as a sister, he’s not gonna say ‘gross’ when you tell him how you feel?”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know Sam and he’d be lucky to have a girl like you.”

“It’s not Sam, you moron!” you exclaimed, a little louder than intended.

“…Garth?”

“What if the guy I really like is also really dumb?” you asked.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say Garth is dumb…”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Yeah, never mind.” You put your face in your hands for a moment before starting to drink the beer Dean had ordered for you. He watched you with furrowed brows and it felt like an eternity (really it was about sixty seconds) before he suddenly broke the silence.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Is it…me?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking over at him. “I didn’t plan on letting that slip tonight, I swear.”

“But, it is me? You like me?” Dean asked, you nodded. “Oh my fucking god!”

You couldn’t tell if he was happy and you were beginning to really worry.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. You turned on your chair to leave but he gripped your upper arm and kept you in place.

“No, don’t—fuck! I feel like I just won the fucking lottery and I just need a second to catch up.”

“Wait, you’re happy? You…You like me too?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot.”

“Well…” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling; “Just let me kiss you, already,” Dean muttered. He put his hands on your cheeks, stood up off his chair, leaned toward you, and kissed you deeply. His hands moved to your shoulders then down to your lower back as you put your hands on his cheeks.

“Wait,” you mumbled, pulling back slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re incredible! I’m just now realizing how many creepy guys are staring at me.”

“Told ya,” he said, taking a look around the bar.

“Could we, maybe…head to your motel room?” you asked somewhat nervously.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Hundred percent.” You nodded vigorously, looking at his lips then up and into his bright green eyes. “Unless…you don’t want to?”

“Oh I definitely want to, I’ve wanted to since Sam and I picked you up after he left Stanford,” he said.

“And you didn’t say anything? Dean, it’s been like ten years?” You furrowed your brows then noticed he actually seemed a little embarrassed. “For the record, I’ve wanted to kiss you for about twelve.” His eyes widened.

“What? Wow, I guess we’re both a little stupid,” he laughed a little before leaning in for another kiss.

“Excuse me, Winchester?” You quirked a brow, looking at him.

“I mean, you’re smart, so smart,” he rambled a little. “And sexy, so fucking sexy.” He kissed you and you kissed him back, smiling against his mouth. “Let’s get the hell outta here, sweetheart.”

“Mmh, just another minute,” you mumbled, not wanting to stop kissing him.

He pulled away after a moment, both of you smiling.

“My god you’re beautiful.” He smiled, putting a hand on your cheek.

You hopped off the stool but stayed looking into his eyes; “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Dean Winchester,” you mumbled and kissed him again, pulling him down by the collar of his jacket.

He pulled out his wallet and was about to pay for both drinks but you stopped him.

“What’s wrong?”

“If you pay for my drink then this would count as our first date,” you said.

“Huh, I didn’t think of it like that,” he replied. “Alright, we each pay for our own drinks.”

“Exactly.” You nodded and took out your own wallet, each of you leaving a ten on the counter. “Now, shall we go to your motel room?”

“I’m sharing a room with Sammy,” he said.

“My motel room it is.” You pulled him down again and kissed him.

“Lead the way.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring lightly behind you and a smile formed on your lips as you recalled what had happened only a few hours ago. You felt Dean’s arm snake around your waist and he pulled you closer to him.

You assumed he was awake now and you turned to kiss him but he was actually still snoring. The thought that he wanted you closer to him even when he was sleeping made your smile deepen.

A wave of calmness washed over you, followed by an unnerving idea; how serious was Dean when he said he liked you?

Did he think this was a one-and-done situation? Were he and Sam just gonna drive off in that beautiful Impala and leave you to start hunting alone?

You hadn’t hunted alone since re-connecting with the Winchesters back in ‘05. Before that you’d been hunting alone or with Dean while Sam was in college. Before that you’d hunted with your dad, who occasionally worked with John.

You honestly didn’t really remember the first time you met Dean. You were both just kids and you blocked out a lot of your childhood due to the fact you’d been hunting your whole life. (It was actually a similar story to Dean’s—after a monster killed your mom, your dad became obsessed with hunting and seemed to forget he was a father with a four-year-old in the back seat of his pickup truck.)

What you did remember was the first time hunting alone with Dean. You were twenty-two and (finally) not hunting with your dad when you ran into Dean who was also hunting alone. He had recently had some kind of falling out with Sam, who had been at Stanford a couple years already. You remembered how Dean reacted to the fact you were hunting alone.

He was genuinely worried for your safety and insisted he hunt with you for a while. You took him up on the offer and spent a couple months together before parting ways but still staying in touch.

You were drawn back to the present when Dean let out a breath of air as he stirred awake.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, a smile on his full lips when he opened his eyes. He sat up on his elbow and tilted your chin up with his finger. “My god, how are you so beautiful?” You giggled a little before he bent down and kissed you.

He sat up further and slipped an arm under you, bringing you to the center of the bed. He caged you beneath him by putting his hands on either side of you as your hands went into his already ruffled hair. You brought him back down and kissed him again, his left hand moving again and trailing down your side, bringing your bare thigh up to graze his own.

You could tell where things were going so you stopped him, “Dean.”

“Y/n,” he mumbled back.

“Dean, wait,” you said quietly.

“What is it?” he asked, looking down at you.

“How, um, how serious is this?” you asked.

“What?” He furrowed his brows a little.

“Is this a one-night thing?”

“Oh,” he realized. “Um, it can be, if that’s what you want.”

“Is that…what you want?” you asked.

He looked into your eyes and slowly shook his head negatively, your smile returning to your flushed face.

“I was kinda thinking this would be at least a two-night thing,” he said, showing off his adorable smirk and making you roll your eyes a little. He bent down and kissed you. “Maybe a three-night thing.”

“A four-night thing?” you teased.

“I think you’re gonna be stuck with me for a lot longer than that, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“You really think?” you asked, smiling.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m kinda in love with you.” He stopped kissing you, realizing what he said. “I, uh, I mean, not—fuck, I really am. I’m sorry.”

“Dean,” you interrupted his spiraling, “I’m kinda in love with you too.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he whispered and kissed you again.

[syoddeye]

consequence / hyacinth

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory tags: exes, angst, references to depression. a/n: an ex boyfriend. a story. a kiss. ☕

a surprise trap door. an errant self-driving car. a jet engine falling from the sky. anything to get you out of this.

hyperbolic? maybe. necessary? absolutely. forty-five minutes, and you haven’t gotten a word in edgewise. ben drones on about his studio and his upcoming exhibition. you brought this on yourself by doing the polite thing and asking him how are you?—lesson learned. 

it hurts. it blisters to hear how happy and successful he is and how he’s moved on from the breakup. as if he didn’t leave you hanging with a dinner you couldn’t afford after admitting that he cheated. he hasn’t asked about your wrist, your old flat, or your art career.

eventually, he stands. sets you free.

“i should go, long trip home,” he says, eyes glued to an incoming text. “it was lovely to catch up. thanks for holding onto this junk for me.” he hoists the box off the seat beside him and tucks it under an arm.

you let him kiss your cheek. “yeah. of course.”

he doesn’t look back. you wish you could do the same. 

you order another cider and resolve to not remain looking like the miserable slump you are.

~~~~

>> are you in town?

>> if you are, i could use a drinking buddy

john’s hair is still damp when he spots her at a two-top in the garden, nursing a cider. he waves, then ducks inside for his own drink. his head buzzes with whatever this invite means.

he checked with the florist twice to ensure the flowers arrived intact at her place. made the woman on the phone read back his apologetic note and bit his tongue when she reminded him it wasn’t her ‘place to say whether it sounded good enough or not’. he never heard if she liked them.

there’s a stiffness to her smile but relief in her voice. “you came.”

“‘course.”

“how’re you?”

in six words or less, he knows something’s off. he eases onto the seat, trying to exude a sense of humor and not telegraph his one hundred questions. “undercaffeinated, but i’m more interested in how you’re doing.”

“i noticed you hadn’t stopped in.”

“didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“about that. it was rude of me to kick you out without warning.”

guilt isn’t what he wants. he adjusts course to shoulder the blame. “i crossed a line.”

she isn’t having it. “please, it was rude. i know you weren’t trying to…”

“cross a line? overstep?”

her mouth wavers undecided between a frown and a smile. “you didn’t know. i could’ve explained. spare you £45.”

you. little.

“so you did get them. the note, too?” she nods. “then why the radio silence? hyacinths a bad choice?”

“no, they’re perfect. i just. i sort of froze. i had a rough couple of days.”

the hangdog expression she hides with the glass makes his chest hurt. “i’ve been told i’m a decent listener.”

“it’s a long story.”

“i got time.” he offers quietly. “just got back. caught me in the shower, actually.”

her eyes narrow, curious. “did you dress and come straight here?”

“well, it’s generally frowned upon to walk around naked.”

he beams at her laugh, her shaking shoulders. for a moment, her whole face lights up. it relaxes her posture as it peters off, leaving her looking less like a cornered mouse than when he initially sat down. 

“so.” john pushes carefully. “the paintings.”

her smile lapses into something unreadable, a pause to find the right place to begin. her fingers trace the table’s grate.

when she finally speaks, she refocuses. meets his eye. good. he doesn’t want to twist her arm to get the story. the tale starts innocently enough.

the woman is hannah, her best friend and a ceramicist. they met on the first day of her mfa and were paired for the terms project shortly thereafter. they quickly became inseparable, until his girl met ben.

~~

“i can’t talk about hannah without talking about ben. to talk about ben, you need context.”

john leans in. his thick eyebrows lift in a silent go on. 

“they say it happens when you’re not looking, right?” you nervously laugh, smiling at the table sheepishly, unable to meet his eye. “well, i met ben at a networking event. last place i thought i’d find a date, rubbing elbows with alumni. but he introduced himself, said he liked my portfolio book. told me about his work and all these shows he’d done. he took me to lunch the next day.” 

you wince at the memory, crystal clear and acutely embarrassing. how starry-eyed you’d been. your throat dries, sandpaper scraping down your esophagus at the thought of ben scribbling his number on your wrist. you clear your throat.

“then he asked me to dinner. during lunch.”

if john’s disgusted or disappointed, he doesn’t show it. his self-control is infuriating yet reliable. steady where you’re shaky.

why can’t i be like that?

you push on.

“without diving into minutiae, i eventually had to introduce hannah and ben. they hounded me, because if i wasn’t with one, i was with the other.” 

“jealous of each other.”

“i think so. i agonized. they’re big personalities, i thought they’d clash.” you replay their first meeting in your head. you have a thousand times. “and they did.”

~~

‘differing artistic opinions’ and ‘absurd expectations’ are the root causes of the squabbling she describes. her words, not his.

(he thinks of less charitable ways to characterize interpersonal conflict.)

barrages of text messages competing for her attention. underhanded attempts to get her to cancel plans with the other. emergencies that turned out to be trivial. guilt trips. one particularly ugly screaming match at a mutual friend’s birthday.

(if it were him, he thinks, they’d’ve lost privileges long ago.)

“it took weeks for them to come around to the idea of each other.”

“what was the catalyst?

“me again.”

john hums. he watches her rest against the back of her seat, her arms crossing and tightening over her chest. compressing herself as much as she can. embarrassment rolls off her in waves. he doesn’t say a word, afraid he’ll cut what courage she’s mustered off at the knees.

she has her own idea.

“can we—are you finished?” 

his glass is two-thirds empty, and he polishes off the rest. a fist squeezes his heart when her lip twitches at his abruptness. she makes it difficult to be collected with his interest.

“where to?”

“where else.”

it’s a challenge, defending oneself from an insistent, bullying cat. cece shows no mercy.

“she likes beards.”

“does she see many beards?”

“just a theory.” she leans against the cushions, watching him and the cat, a glass of water held in both hands. “yours is the only one she’s tried.”

in the end, after negotiations, cece loafs between them. her purr a white noise.

“where were we?” her tone suggests she knows precisely where.

“the truce and you.”

her eyes find a spot past his head to rest. he’s tempted to tilt his head into her line of sight, assuming that nudging her on home turf’s a safer bet than in public. but the hesitant, almost imperceptible exhale that leaves her keeps him still.

“alright. so. me.” her chest expands with another sigh. “i was already struggling two terms into school. really struggling. when i applied, i had this clear vision, but then classes started, i met my peers, and suddenly it felt like everything i thought i knew just disappeared. nothing looked right, nothing felt right. i pulled constant all-nighters. sat through brutal critiques. i’m lucky i had thick skin from my job, otherwise, i might have dropped out to join a convent or the circus.”

immediately, his mind conjures the image of a tattooed nun, swiftly followed by a tattooed strongwoman. his lip quirks. he hastily buries what those do for him. later. 

their gazes meet briefly to share a smile.

she licks her lips after a drink and sets the glass aside.

“they realized their bickering wasn’t helping, so they put their heads together. kind of forced us to become the three musketeers. they helped me where they could, and things smoothed out between them in the process. he found her ceramics shows to exhibit. let her move her wheel into our joint space. we were in close quarters, and i needed it. i needed them.”

a couch width is suddenly too far a distance with how she crumples. something difficult passes over her face, and she excuses it with a shrug.

“despite their joint efforts, i barely scraped by that first year. i was burnt out, miserable, and i spent two weeks holed up alone, trying to not go off the rails.”

oh, sweetheart.

“where were they?”

“hannah was visiting family stateside, and ben was traveling for work.”

not that his schedule allows flexibility, not that he’s behaved the perfect partner in the past—but john knows instantly that he would not have left her. he’d’ve been there. the more he hears about ben, the more he wants to meet him. come to a violent understanding. impart a lesson or two on loyalty.

“when ben returned, he told me he decided to move here to ‘reconnect with the country’. something about ‘capturing and celebrating the bucolic’. he wanted long-distance, but i, uh, i said i’d rather quit and move with him. we fought and he called in reinforcements. at hannah and ben’s…encouragement, i finished out the term. and it nearly killed me. as you know, i withdrew.”

john often reads between the lines. a vital skill, interpreting indirect and unintended communication. what’s unsaid. shame pulls her inward again, a moment where she seems smaller. swallowed by the enormity of whatever she doesn’t say. can’t say.

“i know they were disappointed. they didn’t need to say anything. hannah felt abandoned, and ben burdened by my tagging along. i got this awful feeling the morning we left and i ignored it. i was convinced leaving school behind and taking a break from art would fix me.” 

cece stretches, stands, and allows herself to be scooped up. 

she holds the cat under its front legs, bringing their faces closer together. “but it’s like that saying or whatever. ‘wherever you go, there you are’. i got here. settled in. and i was still a loser.”

it’s instinct.

“you’re not–”

she bulldozes.

“i started working at the café. ben booked murals. he painted the big one a few streets over.”

he’s familiar. “the one with–?”

“yep.” she releases cece. “he tried to get me to paint. he begged me. but i couldn’t do it. things took a turn last summer when ben won a huge job in the city, which snowballed into an invitation to exhibit. hannah got busy with the final stretch of the program, and couldn’t visit much.”

“so you were alone again.”

“yeah.” her voice thins, then breaks. “alone again.” she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes before a single tear drops off her lashes. 

john’s beside her before doubt seeds itself in his mind. one arm gathers her to his side, his chin lifting then settling atop her head when she tucks closer. his other arm winds around her, and the slight tremors of her distress ripple through him. she’s quiet, not quite sobbing, but sucking in deep breaths. he rubs her back in a slow circle, murmuring nothings.

“what do you need?” he asks as she gradually stills.

she sniffs. 

“sleep.”

without thinking, he kisses the crown of her head. “okay.”

john only catches a glimpse as she hands him a quilt. but he sees them. blue hyacinths, pinned and drying above her bed.

“sorry. this is all i got. you set?”

he smiles at her sweet, tear swollen eyes. 

“yeah. i’ve got all i need.”

[outsideratheart]

Not while I’m around (Alessia Russo x reader)

Not While I’m Around (Alessia Russo x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little fic inspired by last nights game.

Through the fake smiles and lies of excitement you could see the nerves slowly consuming Alessia. 

The first sign of nerves came when you had stayed over as her new house and woke up to find her looking at some of her old United gear. She played it off by saying she woke up feeling nostalgic and that the upcoming fixture hadn’t even come to mind. It was a lie, you and her knew it. 

Then each training session came with questions about her former team. How to stop them? What are there weak spots? It almost felt treacherous for the blonde to share her thoughts. 

“We’re almost there” Alessia says as she looks out the window. 

The two of you were sat next to each other on the coach and up until now very little had been said since your departure from St Albans. 

“Alessia” you say her name but her gaze remains on the view outside the window “Less, look at me” 

She does as you ask and those blue eyes stare back at you. As beautiful as they may be you can just about see the anxiousness behind them. 

“I can’t. I need to stay focused” 

There’s no disagreement. You grab her hand, intertwine her fingers with your own and place them on your lap. Words wasn’t the only way to reassure someone. 

You wished that Alessia had been wrong with her worry about returning to Leigh Sports Village but she wasn’t. It seemed the fans were hellbent on making her feel miserable. Every time she touched the ball they booed and every time she missed a shot or got tackled they cheered.

“It’s so disrespectful” you say at a drinks break. 

“I know. Look at her” Lia points to Alessia who, whilst listening to Jonas’ instructions, was scanning the crowd hoping to see any form of hope that not every fan hated her. 

There wasn’t a lot you could to do about the fans. You hated how loud they were and you could see how much it was affecting Alessia even though she was playing a brilliant game. 

It was just before half time when a line is well and truly crossed. Hayley Ladd goes in for a tackle on Alessia. It wasn’t necessary and it was a tough one. 

“Do you need the medics?” You crouch down next to your girlfriend. Once she shakes your head you are straight in Ladd’s face shouting and pushing her. Kim is the one that drags you away before you do something you’ll regret. 

At half time strategies are discussed but you can’t take your eyes of Alessia who sits on the opposite side of the room. She walks back out to the pitch with Stina, unaware that Jonas keeps you behind. 

“I can’t have you losing your head out there. I know you want to protect her but they will target her now to get to you. I can’t have one of my best players getting sent off” 

“I will be on by best behaviour” Jonas walks just in front of you but stops when he hears you talking again “Unless they hurt her then good luck trying to stop me” 

“Hey blondie” you shout as you take your position. 

Alessia turns around. 

“How about we get you a goal so they have something to complain about?” 

You look to Kim then to Lia who both nod their head. The team wanted a win but having Alessia score against her former team would be icing on the cake.

“I’ll try” 

And try she did. Alessia made the next 15 minutes hell for the defenders in red. It was fun to watch but not as much as getting involved in it yourself. You decide to push forward a bit more and before you know it you are one on one with Mary. The goal is almost guaranteed to happen given your track record with these situations but then you see Alessia making a run to the left of you and you know you won’t be the one on the scoresheet. It was an easy goal, a tap in but Alessia make it look graceful. 

She didn’t celebrate her goal, of course she didn’t. You did though and so did the rest of the team. Alessia ran towards the away fans but you made the extra effort to turn to the home fans and hold you hand up to your ear. It was the quietest they had been all game and you loved it. 

After the goal things got a lot more physical with the United players clearly frustrated. Katie and Caitlin come on and within minutes they both get booked. You look towards Jonas as if asking why they can do it and you can’t. 

Alessia goes down a couple of times and after helping her up each time you look towards your coach. 

The next tackle is the one that makes you snap. 

It’s Ella. Of all people to take Alessia out it is her best friend that does so. United had a corner that doesn’t work. Amanda is able to clear the ball to Alessia who is charging towards Mary. 

“What the hell was that!” You get in her face but don’t touch her. 

“C’mon Y/N you know how I get sometimes” Ella jokingly says referring to her games with England. 

“You think this is funny. Look at her” you point to where Alessia is still on the ground “I don’t care if you’re her best friend. She is my girlfriend and I will protect her. Tell your team to back off or I will take matters into my own hands” 

When Ella doesn’t get carded Jonas gets involved and ends up getting carded himself. 

“Now?” You say as you run to the sideline. Two of your team mates had been carded, now him and your coach wasn’t a hypocrite.

“Fine but only one” 

That’s all you needed to hear. You hated that you needed it but you now had permission to protect her in whichever way you seemed fit. Much to your surprise you were able to be a little bit aggressive with a few United players before a powerful body check against Malard gets you the carded. It was worth it though because she went after your girl. From that moment they seemed to back off. The players who hadn’t yet had a run in with you wanted to be spared your wrath. 

When the full time whistle is blown, the game ends with Arsenal securing all three points. You refused to shake hands with anyone who wronged your girlfriend. 

“Ella wants to come and apologise. Be nice” Alessia’s arms snake around your waist from behind. 

“Did she apologise to you?” You turn and kiss her cheek discreetly. 

“She did but she thinks you’re mad at her. I told her she’s been ridiculous” 

“I am mad at her. Strike that, I’m furious. She hurt you Alessia”

“I’m ok. It’s ok” she loved how protective you were of her but she also didn’t want any tension between you and her best friend. 

“No, it’s not. Not while I’m around. While I’m here, while you are my girlfriend, I won’t stand by and let anyone hurt you. Now I’m going to shower before I get pulled for media” 

You leave the pitch but before you do so you see Ella watching you nervously so you go over to her and tell her that the two of you are fine and that you were only protecting your girl. 

Once showered and changed the team leave the stadium to head to the coach that will take them home. Of course there are fans waiting outside the stadium, most of which you meet before getting on the coach. Ever the gentlewoman you let Alessia on the coach first but she stops on the steps as she hears the fans chanting. 

“TRAITOR. TRAITOR. TRAITOR” 

The blonde turns around to look at the fans, the people she once called family, standing outside the stadium she once called home. You see the look of devastation on her face and it makes your own expression turn cold. 

“Y/N don’t” she grabs your hand but not tight enough. 

You stood up for her on the field and now you plan on doing the same in front on the fans. 

“How can you say that!” You approach the crowd who grows silence. So much so that you could hear a pin drop. 

“She left us” one girl says. 

“All lot of players did. Tell me, if some miracle happens and you face Barcelona would you welcome Ona back this way. Would you boo her every time she touched the ball?” 

You took the silence as your answer. 

“That’s what I thought. That girl, who you are hellbent on making miserable, has been dreading this game. Her leaving you was one of the hardest decisions she has ever made and I know this because she would call me in tears and all she kept saying was she didn’t was to turn her back the fans. She gave her all for this club and is one of the main reasons why you had the success you did last season. Show her some respect!” 

Phones were recording you but you couldn’t care less. You were a protector, everyone knew this. 

“Let’s go home” you say once you reach Alessia who is still standing on the bottom step of the coach when you return to her. 

It’s about an hour into the journey and Alessia is fast asleep in your arms. It was a draining day both mentally and physically for her and you couldn’t wait to take her home. Whether that would be yours or hers was yet to be determined. 

“I’ve never seen you like that before” Lia says from across the table. 

“I can’t let anyone hurt her Lia” 

“You love her don’t you?” She asks and even though you hesitate to respond, you do know the answer and have done for a while now. 

You and Alessia would be celebrating your 1 year anniversary in a couple of months but you knew you loved her the night of the euros or more so the morning after when the blonde woke up in your bed. 

“I do. I love her more than I thought possible” 

“I love you too Tesoro” Alessia mumbles. She looks up at you still half asleep but with a smile on her face. 

[shewrites444]

over [xavier thorpe x reader smut]

[written by me and only me. i have been super busy so it's a little shorter than usual, but i hope you still enjoy lovies ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)]

PART 2 LINKED HERE

word count - 1.4k

[summary: the reader, a normie, works with xavier during his shift at their local coffeeshop, where she learns about his crush on his classmate, wednesday, and intends to help him forget about it.]

[warnings: risky, public, dirty talk, oral, fingering]

-

"yeah, he never shuts up about her. it's kind of cute, honestly. tyler likes her a lot."

"what, no way! i don't know how she can like such an asshole!" xavier shouts in frustration, rubbing his forehead and leaning his elbows against the counter while i watch with a giggle, setting down one of the mobile orders on the endpiece.

i shake my head and walk past him to grab the next ticket, playfully nudging at his side. the lovesick boy was fairly attractive, i'd admit, but he was head over heels for this girl, considering he was already drooling over her to me, his coworker during his pilgrim world volunteer hours.

"don't get so fed up about it, dude. if she wanted you, she'd make it clear. tyler said she can be confusing, so i'm sure she is probably messing with the both of you." i explain, grabbing the cold brew from the fridge. "you may have to play the long game and wait. i'd suggest not doing that though, to save your mental health, you know."

xavier sighed, handing me a lid for the plastic cup after i poured the ice in. "i don't understand how you're so casual, and brutally honest, about all of this. haven't you had a crush before, just one you can't forget about?"

"obviously, we all do." i say, placing the new drink next to the other. i turn to face him, crossing my arms and shrugging. "but i just forget about guys. they're either too emotional, or have no emotions at all. it's better to just be single, and alone. you should try it - you look miserable."

"gee, thanks, [y/n]. best coworker ever. can't wait to spend two more hours with such a nice, lovely girl." xavier rolls his eyes, pressing the back of his body against the counter and looking down.

i smirk, walking over to the boy and lean against the counter aside him. i glance down, laughing softly. "you'd be a pretty cool dude to talk to for the next two hours if you weren't so down bad for a girl who just uses you for that sherlock homes shit she's trying to do."

"she doesn't use me."

i quirk my brow, tilting my head and crosses my arms at his statement.

"okay, at times. but that doesn't make her a bad girl!"

i sigh, throwing my arms into the air playfully. "here we go again! xavier picking the worst girl to like."

"shut up." xavier grins, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back up. "let me live in my fantasy to help me feel better. like you said, long game."

"mhm. have fun with that." i tease, as i watch another paper print for a mobile order and walk past xavier, grazing my side against him as i lean up to reach for the sheet. i can feel a heat in my body from what i just did, biting my bottom lip as i grab the sheet and press it against the cup, feeling a presence behind me and seeing a shadow formulating aside me.

i turn around to see him standing infront of me, his hands both pinned against the counter on each side of me. i scoff, rolling my eyes with a grin. "so you'll try to use me, like wednesday does to you, as a distraction for your overall goal, because you're bored. funny."

"and you'll try to use me, like every other guy, so that you're a little less lonely every now and then. funny." xavier tilts his head, looking down at me with a smirk. "and i bet you find it kinky or some shit that i'm an outcast, too."

i set the cup down, moving one hand down to press against his pants. "if that's what you think my definition of kinky is, then i'm honestly a bit offended."

"then what's your definition?" he says as he leans himself down, pressing his lips against the top of my ear. "why don't you show me."

"why don't you get on your knees then." i snap back, moving one of my hands to hold the back of his head and nudge him down, watching as he followed what i asked.

i watch his khaki pants hit the tile floor as he tucks his hair behind his ears before reaching over to my shorts, unzipping them and sliding them down to my ankles, before he sticks one of his fingers into his mouth and into my entrance. i gasp, moving one hand to his head to guide him more towards me.

his tongue attaches to my clit as he begins to suck on it, one finger pumping itself in and out of me while he looks up to me, our eyes locking before i look up to the ceiling, closing my own while he stimulates me. one of my hands holds his hair as the other rests on the counter, which reminds me of where i actually am.

my eyes widen and i look around, noting that no one is in the coffee shop but in a way, it turned me on to know xavier was willing to do this regardless of where we were. i feel him slide another finger inside, snapping me out of thoughts and back to the knot that was forming in my stomach.

"you like that, [y/n]?" xavier pulls away from my clit, leaning himself back up to face me, now towering over me, while he pushes my body against the counter, helping me get on top of it, my ass pressed against the cold counter while he pumps his fingers into my warmth.

i lean my head against the cabinet and nod, a grin on my lips. "maybe, but that doesn't matter. it's not enough for me."

he smirks, looking down to push a third finger inside without hesitation, taking his free hand to hold the side of my face while he begins to rapidly pick up his pace, glancing down at me with the same stupid smile printed across his face from cheek to cheek.

i grip the counter with both of my hands, leaning up to press my lips against his for the first time during this entire encounter. i open my mouth to allow his tongue in, feeling my own juices touch my tongue while we continue to make out.

he persists, obviously trying to get me to reach my climax, as he aggressively finger fucks me against the counter. i bite his bottom lip, letting a small moan slip between our lips, which causes xavier to grin immediately upon my slip up. i earn one back from xavier as i reach over to his pants, unbuckling the buckle with one hand and sliding my hand into to rub against his hard length through his black boxers. i feel the boy sink against me, weak from any form of my touch.

"you don't know what i'd do for you to fuck me, [y/n].. you're so fucking hot.. fucking hell..." he moans against my lips as he slows down his pace, pulling his fingers out of my slowly, and attaching his thumb to my clit as he begins to rub, pulling his lips away from mine and looking down to lock out eyes. "do you want me to fuck you? hm? i'd fuck you right here, i don't care who sees. you're so fucking hot."

i tilt my head, slowly closing my legs enough to where his thumb was still able to remain attached to my clit. if there was anything that turned me on, it was playing games. if he really wanted me, he wouldn't give up.

"i think we both have work to get to, xavier. don't you think?"

he pulls his hand away a few seconds after my words, his eyes wide as he watches me shut my legs and slide off the counter, leaning down to pull my pants back up.

"no way." he buckles his belt back, leaning against the opposite side of the counter as he crosses one leg over to hide the erection straining from his pants.

i grin, walking back over to grab a cup for the order that i was supposed to make who knows how long ago. as i scoop the ice, i glance to xavier. "you like teases, clearly. but if it makes you feel any better, your girl is definitely missing out. so act the way you acted with me, with her."

xavier stands up, walking towards me and handing me the milk for the drink, watching me pour it as he wraps one arm around my waist, leaning down to peck the side of my forehead.

"i think my interests lie somewhere else at the moment." he grins, his other hand snaking behind me to grab me by the jaw, moving my head towards him to meet our eyes. "so this isn't over."

[lovelaetter]

hello! any impure thoughts about chaery recently?😋😋 welcome back~

STEPCEST, MILDLY DUBCON

oh god, this is not exactly new but there isn’t a moment in my life where stepsis!chaery isn’t in my mind. if you aren’t new here you already know the lore but for those who don’t, basically, chaery and her toxic, mean stepsister!reader who lives away bc of uni but comes home every few weeks and fucks of her and it’s definitely not sane nor 100% consensual.

can’t take my mind away from the thought of chaery taking one weekend or so to visit you on campus, it’s on another city with lots of things for her to see and you always said she can come visit you, so why not? and obviously your parents are okay with it because she will be with you, you will make sure she’s safe. showing her around, introducing her to your friends as your little sister and yet not shying away from the pda, arms around her, so many kisses, she doesn’t even know why she’s more weirded out— your friends not giving a shit about it or you being so nice, you’re usually so mean to her.

saying you’re going to a party one night and her being so against it at first. she was never that much into parties and she doesn’t know anyone! poor girl regretting her words the instant they leave her mouth as she sees your face contort into this scowl, asking “yes, chaeryeong, but you know me, that should be enough for you, shouldn’t it?” and there’s the you she’s used to. ends up dressing up for it, puts into a lot of effort to make the best as she can with what she brought so you forget what she said and it works because everything flies out the window the moment you see her finishing her makeup in her little skirt and top. smiles and goes to ask you if she looks pretty but can’t because you’re already on her, hands sliding underneath her skirt to grab her ass, no shame at all, rubbing her from behind and chuckling at the way she curls up, tries to move away, the whiny “noo, you’re ruining everything”. her face burning red watching you pull her underwear all the way down her legs, shaking her head so hard as you motion for her to step out of it but ends up doing it anyway, the slap that lands on her exposed thigh is too harsh for her to even consider going against you one more time.

like you said, there’s no need for her to know someone else besides you, so she does nothing but very small talk with a few friends of yours. the whole time perched on your lap, legs crossed uncomfortably, paranoid, her skirt is so short, if someone looks the wrong way…! drinks from your cup, sip by sip, and by the time she is relaxed in your arms and feeling a bit better, you ruin her peace again, a hand creeping up her thigh while the other keeps her close, no barriers to keep your fingertips away from her slit. tries so hard to not get anyone’s attention and to get your hand away from her and fails miserably to even faze you, all you do is pull her for a kiss and force her legs slightly open. poor baby is terrified, your friends all around, everyone, they would see, they would know, and you couldn’t care less!!!

but the thing is: the moment your fingers find her pussy she couldn’t care either.

panting, the warmth of her cheeks radiating against you while you whisper for her “look around, chaery, they’re all drunk, no one really cares, they won’t remember anything tomorrow” and “no one knows you, you stupid baby, no one is gonna tell mommy and daddy about her sweet daughter being a slut at a party” while your fingers are where they belong— inside her— and your thumb tortures her little clit in the way just you know but never enough to make her cum, leaving her almost bouncing on your lap looking for more. all she wants is to go back to your dorm and spread her holes the way you taught her you like and suddenly you decide it’s a good time for more drinking while she leaks on your leg.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 66)

“You made it! Good, I was beginning to worry you two wouldn't show.” Khan smiled and let them both through, Lizzy looking up and around at the decorations and grimacing while V rolled her eyes. As they came through the door, Lizzy quickly pulled away from V, as if trying to hide the fact she was doing it at all.

“Oh that option was tempting, but free food is free food.” V replied, eyes drifting first over to Thad and Tera, then to N and Uzi.

“Is this everyone?” She asked, an eyebrow raised as if she was unimpressed, Lizzy leaned on the counter by the food, smirking lightly.

“Probably, the tiny grape doesn't have many friends.”

“Bite me Lizzy.” Uzi immediately replied, though she noticed that she'd used the word grape instead of freak. It was still an insult, but one far less potent or personal.

“What, I'm here aren't I?” Lizzy pointed out, looking over at Uzi, who was looking up at her with the world's most unamused expression, arms crossed and eyes in the formation of the classic Doorman glare.

“Only to make my life miserable.”

“Hm, never insulted your intelligence, Doorman.” Lizzy snapped back sarcastically, causing Uzi to growl and step forward only for N to subtlety grab her hand and squeeze.

“Whatever…” Uzi grumbled, trying to ignore Lizzy and instead focus on what her daughter was doing, which was nibbling on Thads fingers while he talked to Khan, thankfully, it didn't seem to be enough to hurt him, or even have him notice.

“Happy Birthday, purple toaster.” V came up to her, an aluminum chip already in her mouth that she was chewing on, her tone was sarcastic, but somehow genuine at the same time.

“You know my name V. I've heard you say it.” Uzi replied, deadpan. Even so a small smirk began to play on her face, her favorite person to rile up was here…

“You have no proof.” V hummed, clawed hand on her hip and she leaned down to Uzi's level, Uzi's smirk, if anything, grew wider.

“You're the one who carried me aalllll the way home when I was injured. Face it murder girl, you found a nanospark in your cold dead core to care about me~” She teased, making V pull back with a slight dusting of a gold blush of embarrassment.

“Ew, never in a million years.” She grumbled, but it held no malice behind it, V huffed, then her eyes went hollow and she turned towards Uzi again, the smaller worker could hear her olfactory sensors activate several times, before V pulled back.

“You smell weird.”

“Oh well thanks, that's not rude at all.” Uzi replied, feeling slightly insulted but mostly freaked out, could V smell that there was something different about her? That was concerning…

“I didn't say bad, I said weird. You sick or something?” V replied, looking up at N and finding he had a very guilty look on his face that he was trying hard to mask.

“Nope, maybe your nose is broken from smelling yourself all day.” Uzi bit sarcasticly, she wasn't sure why V was suddenly acting so weird, but it was probably best she tried to throw her off.

“Ugh, fine, drop dead from some weird virus for all I care.” V grumbled before sauntering off towards Lizzy and immediately locking her into a conversation.

“Alright, now that everyone's here, I have something to say.” Khan cleared his throat and straighted his posture, standing behind the counter while everyone looked at him.

“Thank you all for being here, I know that my daughter struggles making friends… so it means a lot that you're all here.”

Lizzy and V snickered, Uzi ignored them.

“Today my daughter, my little girl, turns 19. It seems like only yesterday that she was running around the house with my wrench, hitting everything in sight.”

Ugh… Uzi wasn't sure how much she wanted anyone in this room to hear about how she was when she was little, er - littler. She definitely didn't want Lizzy to have any more blackmail material… though at this point she wasn't even confident Lizzy would say anything about it.

“But now I have a lovely granddaughter, and someone that I hope, and anticipate, I can call ‘son’ soon enough.” He side eyed N, who turned a bright golden and looked away, feeling eyes all over him.

“Seriously, just propose already.” Khan smirked, making N cough and stare down at the floor while the rest of the room chuckled at him. Uzi looked up at him with a half-embarassed smile, which he returned.

“Happy Birthday Uzi, and I'm so happy I get to be here… to see this part of your life.” He finished, clapping for her, which only half the room returned, with V only doing it half-heartedly and Lizzy doing nothing but nodding slightly.

“Speaking of… parts of our lives.” N began after everyone settled down, making Uzi's breath immediately catch in the back of her throat, oh, oh robo-god they were doing this now? She wasn't sure if she was ready!

“We have an announcement to make.” Everyone's eyes were on them now, N rested one of his large hands on her shoulder, doing his best to ground her, she took a deep breath, okay, okay, she could do this, it was just saying a few words.

“Uzi?” He looked down at her, smiling gently. She looked out at all her freinds (or y’know, close enough) and family and steeled herself, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I'm-I'm pregnant.” She blurted out, feeling that if she waited any longer then she'd loose her nerve. She looked at Khan first, his jaw was on the floor, his eyelights hollow and his fists balled onto the counter.

V was the first to say something.

“That's why you smell so damn weird! I knew something was off!” She growled, before the actual situation caught up with her, and then she looked a mixture of shocked and pissed; “Do you two ever think things through?!”

Uzi winced, that was a reaction she had expected… but didn't want. And it only added to the pit of uncomfortable emotions swirling in her stomach.

“V! It wasn't a decision, It just… happened!” N was there, backing her up. It was just a rehash of their argument of Tera's adoption, only now V seemed more upset, and N more defensive.

“Oh! Like an unplanned pregnancy is so much better!” V was spitting venom, and Uzi felt the ball of discomfort tighten, this was… not going well.

She looked back at her Dad, who looked back at her with his mouth trying to move but nothing coming out, she hugged herself, this was a nightmare.

“Okay! Everyone stop!” Everyone was surprised when it was Lizzy of all people to break up the chaos in the room, making V shut up instantly and N real back slightly.

Lizzy walked up to Uzi, at first, she thought she was about to get laughed at, or even some insult that would hit a little too hard in her vulnerable state.

Instead, she was wrapped in a tentative hug from the pink worker, shocking her so much that her mouth fell open.

“U-uh.”

Lizzy pulled back, not saying a word. She looked embarrassed mostly, mixed with some sort of irritated and empathetic.

“Look you don't like me, I haven't given you a reason to. And I don't really like you, for like… way shittier reasons. I'm working on it.”

“But no one should be yelling at you or giving you shit.” She turned to V, who looked like she'd just got her tail caught in a door, because she instantly looked away and crossed her arms.

“Thanks… I guess.” Uzi was still wondering if she had passed into an alternate dimension somewhere in the last few minutes.

“Yeah.” The pink worker responded, looking down at the floor for a moment, before smiling ever so slightly. Clearly not meant to be seen.

“Don't get used to it, just don't want a pregnant woman to be yelled at.” She flipped her hair and walked away, leaning back onto the counter where she made eye contact with V, who looked guilty for the first time in her life.

“Congrats Dudes!” Thad immediately cut through the somber reactions with his own extremely positive one, Tera laughing as the drone holding her got excited. Uzi let out a breath, and so did N.

“Thank you, kinda figured your reaction would be positive.” Uzi laughed lightly, still feeling a little down from how nightmarish this had gone, she hadn't even gotten to the weird part yet…

“Well duh! More kids to teach sports too! Right little football?”

He lifted Tera up while she squealed in delight, raising her little arms as if they were wings and she could fly away with them.

Uzi turned back to her Dad, who was slowly closing the distance between them nervously, he gave her a wary smile before opening his arms to invite her in for a hug.

She sighed in relief and accepted it, her dad petting down her head while she felt him take a steadying breath.

“I can't say I'm not surprised. You're 19, that's so young dronelette.” He said quietly as he pulled away, looking at her with worried eyes.

“But… if you're happy with your choices, then so am I. Heh, you're only a year younger then your mom when she got pregnant with you.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

Huh… she did not know that.

“So… when can we expect them to be printed? I assume you've known for awhile.” Khan asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, as sweat appeared on Uzi's visor, right… the weird part.

“Yeah… uh, thats the thing, they're already being printed, uh… in here.” She pointed at her midsection, and everyone seemed to look at her like she'd spontaneously grown a second head.

“What?” Everyone said at once, but this they had prepared for, N handed Khan the scanner first, showing what the inside of Uzi's midsection looked like, and the now larger mass within, it looked a bit like a potato, and was about half the size of one too.

“Oh my- how is this possible?” He asked as he handed it off to V, who also looked at it like she was about to pass out.

“We think the solver has something to do with it… I'm very organic now… so…” Uzi replied, not exactly sure how she felt about people looking at a picture of her insides.

“Your mother also had… the solver, you call it? Her pregnancy was normal, we transferred you to a shell after you were done in her core.”

Well… that made her feel even weirder, but N was still pressed up against her back, doing his best to calm her down.

“Well… I'm partly organic too. And I'm pretty sure I'm connected to it too in some way, maybe that's why?” N suggested, gesturing to himself, mainly, his organic core.

“I wouldn't know, is the baby-?”

“Healthy, and still in the core.” Uzi interrupted, feeling anxiety eat at her.

“It says here it's made out of normal drone material, so it's not like it's going to be some… mass of flesh or whatever.” Lizzy interrupted, handing of the scanner to Thad.

“Gnarly” Was all he said. Which Lizzy rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder for.

At that, V seemed to visibly relax, sighing while looking Uzi up and down.

“Are you eating enough?” She asked, startling the both of them it seemed, but Uzi just answered the question without calling her out on it, for once.

“Yeah I am now… there was an incident where I almost ate somebody I was so hungry… but I didn't!”

V snickered, nodding her head almost in pride while Lizzy looked horrified. “Who?!”

“Chloe”

Then Lizzy looked decidedly less horrified. “Almost wish you did, she's a bitch, even compared to me.”

“Yeah…” Thad agreed, and V laughed out loud at the groups mutual agreement.

“Oh damn, now I have to meet her if even Mr. Chill thinks she's bad.”

Uzi felt herself relax, despite not going so well at the start, they were actually taking the weird part exceptionally well.

It looked like things were turning out okay.

[azullumi]

“are we…” ; kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, & tartaglia

details — here on another agenda of listening to songs, reading the lyrics, realizes how it would sound so good on a fic, and boom! slapping it on a character i think would suit it; basically, songs and tropes as some genshin men

characters — alhaitham, ayato, kazuha, tartaglia (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — a sprinkle of angst, some of them are out of character, nothing happy is going on (my life relates to it) ; headcanons/scenario

words — 1558

note — getting back to writing so sorry if this fic seems shitty, i’m trying to get my style back by reading the fics i wrote. also i’ll be mostly writing in lowercase now bcs i’m typing on my phone

waiting ; unrequited love — kazuha (bags by clairo)

“can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

kazuha settles on a boundary between you two, standing close behind it, afraid to take a step and cross. and though he was a man who had no fears and wouldn’t let anything hold him back from attaining what he wants, he was scared of going past the boundary as if he would be treading the path of misery once he chooses to do so.

there is always the urge to touch you, the desire to feel your skin underneath his fingertips and unbeknownst to him, his hand would act on its own—he would reach out, his fingers stopping close to your skin before immediately taking his hand back once the realization of his actions had sunk inside his head: “what is it?” you have asked him upon noticing his actions and he could only shake his head before saying, “there’s something on your hair.”

he has this strong sense of denial whenever he does something for you or says something to you, reasoning the flowers that he gives from time to time as an act of friendship and appreciation or the poetry that he creates with you in mindbut he keeps hidden was just because you were too beautiful to not have your being expressed in words and written in poems—

—and every single day, in each morning that he wakes up, he strongly believes that his feelings for you had already dissipated into thin air as if it never existed in the place but only to see your stupid smile and mesmerizing eyes and having himself fall in love again. oh, the amount of times he convinces and tells himself that he’ll avoid you from then on only to have himself basking in your presence later on: “this is the last time,” he tells himself.

there are only two states he would end up in if he decides to go further the line, without you and with you, and he wasn’t stupid to not know that he’ll only have the former happen to him.

he would rather have you close to him and yearn for you despite being so near than the heartbreak and admiring you afar.

“it’s not like you’re in love with me or anything, right?”

toxic ; unhealthy relationships — alhaitham (cry by cigarettes after sex)

“saying you’d wait for me to stay, i know it hurts you.”

you don’t have a toxic relationship with alhaitham nor did you have a healthy one but instead it was miserable, simply one-sided. however, it wasn’t like that at first, he wasn’t like this at first when you two would decide to start over again and create a fresh new page of your love story only for it to end in the same way.

he was good, was great, was wonderful—was. you don’t even know how it got to this point. how did the gentle and sweet murmurs of love and compliments turn to endless shouting and fights at every chance you two get? alhaitham, despite already having raised his voice at you on several occasions, had never raised his hand at you but nevertheless, it doesn’t make anything less hurtful.

“let’s just stop this, i’m tired,” it was clear, it was obvious that the only solution for this wretchedness was to simply just stop and end everything, to cut yourself off him but it doesn’t seem to happen. alhaitham, who possesses such great knowledge and intelligence to know the answer to nearly every problem, never seems to understand that. moments of begging, of asking for forgiveness, for a chance that you always give him, that you always provide him outright, seemingly served and topped with the syrup of your tears and blood.

he only loves you when he’s about to lose you, you know that. you weren’t blind but perhaps you were dumb with that but he loves you then, right? if he really does love you at those moments, then perhaps he did love you right from the start and he just never realized it—it was an endless cycle of gaslighting and making a fool of yourself, finding the reason and making logic out of his actions and words.

it was hard to lose him, you were too used to his presence always guiding you, helping you, and encouraging you that the moment you lost him, you just never seemed to know anything—like a child that was just taken out of the womb, you knew nothing, even yourself. it was a clear fact that you were nothing without him and without you, he was nothing.

“what happened to us, alhaitham?”

convenience ; arranged marriage w/ one-sided feelings — ayato (you’re losing me by taylor swift)

“i wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser.”

it was a marriage of convenience—oh, how you hated the word itself. it feels like a painful slap on your face whenever you hear it being used along with the word marriage, one that would leave a burning mark on your skin.

ayato tried to be a good husband, he tried, really. even when he would come home late, he would always have something to give you. despite not having that many conversations and seldomly seeing each other outside the dining room and bedroom, he would still treat you rather kindly and gently, even when you spend most of your nights alone in a bed that was too large for one, you never felt lonely (perhaps you do, you just don’t want to face it because then you’ll realize that your good husband wasn’t good at all); “i apologize, my dear. here, i bought you something on the way back.”

perhaps all of those acts of kindness and sweetness are his way of saying sorry but what’s there to say sorry for even? was it because he failed to arrive for dinner every time or was it just the whole marriage experience overall?

everything was built on convenience, the only time you two would talk to each other is when it’s needed and the conversation you two will have would end rather shortly and the only time he would touch you in a way that makes you feel loved and cherish—making love—is when it’s convenient for him; you were just never a priority, not anything of importance in his life.

what hurts even more is that ayato isn’t even doing any of this because of a boundary that you two had made but rather there was really nothing in between you two, nothing, not even a speck of dust could be found in the distance you two had.

ayato wasn’t even in a state of turmoil, he wasn’t in a position wherein he had to choose something, to sacrifice, to risk something, it’s just that you were there—you were convenient and not because he chose to choose you over anything else. you were easy to woo, easy to hold, easy to fool.

did he really lose you when he never even wanted you to be his in the first place?

“isn’t this convenient for the both of us?”

pleasure ; one-night stand turned to friends w/ benefits— childe/tartaglia (k. by cigarettes after sex)

“we had made love earlier that day with no strings attached, but i could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then.”

it was simply a relationship that was born out of pleasure; created with the foundation of desire, lust, and need. formed in a single night to escape the reality of the misery of your own lives and consistently being nurtured like a seed that was dropped into the soil and naturally taken care of by the rain and sun—it all seemed natural, him inviting you out for dinner, enjoying your time with his stupid jokes and flirty remarks that is luring you to another night of passion just to wake up with a note and a cold bed the next morning.

and there are times you wish to disappear from his life, to stop whatever you two have, and simply just release yourself from his grasp and though he also wishes for the same, childe always holds onto you so tightly as if he never wants you to leave, as if he always want you to stay even if he knows that he’s hurting you, even if you’re just hurting each other; somewhere deep inside his bones, in the crevices of his mind, he doesn’t wish to see you with someone else other than him despite the fact that he wants you to be happy; “stay with me,” he had told you as he kissed and held you.

but childe was a romantic, he always shower you praised in and out of the bed, he was sweet to you; a gentleman with his words and actions. he was lovely, so breathtaking, so poisonous and it wasn’t hard to love him. and he was well-aware of how your gaze seems to linger at him, how there’s something swirling and drowning in the depths of your eyes, and he was well-aware of what it was. and yet, he chooses to ignore it—was it for the good of himself? for you? either way, he can’t have himself falling.

had you known that night with him would end up in this way, you wouldn’t have taken his rough yet gentle hand on that night.

“what’s there for me to stay for?”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[cocteaucherry]

this idea just popped into my head

but what if the reader was a first year, and they liked to call nanami their best friend (like gojo, but less menacing and more understanding and soft ig?) because they enjoyed nanami's reaction and reader was basically a happy little furball until they see a second year, gojo, declare that nanami is his best friend and it basically ends up in small little competitions between gojo and reader on who is nanami's best and better friend, and during those mini competitions and months, they start to realise something about each other and in the end, it ends up turning into gojo tyring to secretly impress reader and reader secretly trying to impress gojo, and nanami is just stuck being in the middle of all that.

this is the cutest concept so here’s what I have! For now I’ll probably make a pt.2

“Come on Kentoo! Why can’t we check out the new crepe shop?” A frown appeared on your face crossing your arms, “I already told you I have a long mission tomorrow.. and knowing you we’ll be out until morning.” He sat against the stone step, his head resting in his hands.

“Uhm.. nu uh..” you said in a teasing tone, you sat on the step next to him poking his cheek with your finger, you had met nanami on your first day attending Jujutsu High. You sat miserably outside having forgotten your lunch in your dorm, this didn't go unnoticed by Nananmi and he very kindly offered to share his. Ever since that day you and Nanami are usually always together.

“Please please please? Just do it for your best friend!” You pleaded clasping your hands together to give him a feigned pitiful look, Nanami knew what kind of game you were playing but his body betrayed him. Anytime you called him your best friend butterflies would erupt in his stomach and his skin would burn causing a blush to spread across his body.

He rolled his eyes trying his best to contain his composure, “F-fine-“ he was interrupted by you hugging him tightly, “Yayyy! Well let’s get inside, it’s chilly,” you exclaimed standing up, Nanami sighed standing up, he walked a bit up the steps opening the door as you stepped through. “So what flavor do you think-“ Your question was interrupted as you were bumped out of the way by a tall figure, “Nanamii! What’s happening?”

A lanky arm was wrapped around his shoulder as Nanami stared annoyingly at the figure, “Seriously Gojo?” He groaned out a very apparent vein popping above his right brow, ah Gojo you’ve heard of him around campus but you didn’t see him.

All of a sudden you felt a glare hit you and it caused chills to radiate down your spine, “Nanamii! Don’t tell me you’re cheating on me?” He pushed his shades down to stare at you, his bright blue eyes glaring marks into you. “Oh no no! He’s just my best friend.” This statement wouldn’t help your argument as a strange grin appeared on his face.

“Ohh? Well I’m sure Nanami could attest when I say I’m his best friend.” The senior snickered as Nanami peeled himself away from Gojo’s grasp, “I can assure you’re not-“ a finger was placed on his lips as the snow white haired boy kept his gaze on you, “As much as I’d like to entertain me and Suguru are going to that new crepe spot,” he bought his finger away to play with the bridge of his glasses. “I’ll see ya later nanamiii and y/n '' he said, opening the door and walking out into ending summer breeze.

He knew your name? But more importantly was the competition bestowed in front of you, nanami saw your face and offered a weak smile. “Don’t mind Gojo.. he’s a little too cocky for his own good.” You turned out his voice, already debating your next move, little did Nanami know a bounty was placed on his head

“Anything he could do I can do better”

Challenge one- Gift Giving

A week later the challenge had begun, you weren’t sure if Gojo had reciprocated the glares you exchanged with him in the halls but you sure had. You decided you needed to go all out, on Nanami’s desk that very morning a bento box wrapped nicely along with some little candies. Coincidentally Gojo had been walking with Nanami to his class, when both their eyes locked on the cutely wrapped lunch various reactions appeared, Kento had confusion and Gojo had confused anger.

“It’s very nice of her don’t you think?” Kento smirked to himself holding up one of the candies, Satoru’s jaw ticked a delayed nod following after. “Yup.. well I gotta get going.” The white haired boy said walking with quickness to get out of that classroom, he stood outside the door pondering his move as he sensed a specific energy pass through the halls.

A pep in your step and a sick smile on your face as you passed by, you glanced up at Satoru giving him a shit eating grin as you turned the corner. A vein popped in his neck as a grin passed on his face, “So that’s how it is..”

“Anything she can do I can do better”

Satoru passed around his dorm In a fitted rage, his anger being experienced by his tired eyed best friend sitting on his bed. “Can you believe she did that? I mean! I didn’t even get to make the first move!” He was upset he didn’t make the first impression. “Satoru.. is it that serious?” Suguru stretched his hands staring at the mini pieces of paper Satoru had him cut and write on, ‘100 reasons why you’re my best friend’. “How many years have we been friends, I’ve never even gotten a hundred reasons.”

“Anytime I try to express any emotion to you I get shunned.” Satoru rolled his eyes, staring at the gift basket he had arranged for Nanami, “I need more ideas.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Can’t believe you’re letting a first year work you up like this, I mean.. shouldn’t you be trying to impress some of our superiors?” Suguru smirked, tapping his fingers on his upper thigh, “well, personally I don’t give two shits about them.. they’re weak.” Gojo mumbled kicking at the wood floor.

“Oh? Is the Satoru Gojo sweating over two first grade sorcerers, never thought I’d see it.” Suguru huffed with a grin.

Satoru’s jaw dropped as he quickly tried to correct himself, “No! No! I’m not!” he exclaimed, sliding his glasses off to thump his head with his own finger. Then a metaphorically lightbulb appeared above his head, “What time does the bakery open tomorrow morning?”

Oh you were pissed, that afternoon you walked with Nanami to the training field carrying his large gifts from this morning, you weren’t able to see the set up but apparently. A blue gift basket was there stuffed with scraps of paper, flowers, candy and about seven different varieties of bread. Kento walked, taking small bites of bread as he walked, the expensive blue name tag hung from the basket and mocked you. “Y/N, I’m telling you it’s not that serious”

But now it was serious Satoru check matted you on the first round, you’ll have to bring your A game to the next challenge Acts Of Service

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

A first (very insecure) Valentine's

It's Natasha's first Valentine's Day with her girlfriend, and she struggles more with the concept of love and romance than she feared.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!OC (Katya Petrova) (the ''Forgotten Ghost'' series) Wordcount: 3.9k No warnings (except maybe Natasha being adorably helpless at love)

A/N: here to make your Valentine's Day a bit less miserable: our two favorite murder wives :)

The door of Clint's room had never looked more intimidating than on this Monday night, in the empty, dark hallways of SHIELD HQ. Everyone who lived on base had gone to find their beds, exhausted from the busy workday. But Natasha knew her best friend was still awake by the faint light coming from under his door.

Had she known that love was this embarrassing, she would have thought twice before letting Katya back into her life. Simply the thought of what she came down here to ask made her want to scratch her skin off. It was a completely new feeling that she struggled to get a grip on. This whole 'in love' thing really messed with her mind and body.

Every time she heard or read her girlfriend's name, saw her in the hallways or the cafeteria, or simply thought about her in the middle of a boring briefing, her head got fuzzy and the world faded away. All her thoughts would get consumed by Katya until she was mentally on cloud nine and felt warm all over. 

It was a very odd development for a woman who never lost focus. Last week, Maria chucked a file at her head when she'd zoned out once again in the middle of their conversation.

It was embarrassing. People teased her about it—especially Fury. If he made one more joke about her keeping her head on her neck and not in the clouds, she was going to cut his off his body. The last thing she needed was other agents taking after him and realizing she had a heart. She still struggled to accept her soft side.

"Are you gonna come in, or do I have to bring a pillow and a blanket out while you think about it?"

Once more, Natasha pulled her thoughts back to the here and now, her cheeks flushing red. She had no other choice but to push the door handle down and sheepishly step into Clint's room, closing the door behind her. What was happening to her? She used to be so confident and unbothered all the time.

Clint didn't look up from his spot on the couch, buried in manilla-colored files and papers, an empty pizza box on the floor. His apartment represented his mind. Cluttered, unorganized, yet somehow cozy. If Laura saw him like this, she'd scold him for his unhealthy lifestyle.

"What relationship question do you have for me today?" He asked casually, scribbling something in a notebook. When Natasha stayed silent, he looked up, chuckling at her expression. "Come on. If this was about work, you would have barged in like you own the place."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, looking at the horrible handwriting in his notebook instead of his face. It was difficult enough to get the words out of her throat. "The fourteenth, how serious do people take it?" 

Clint was too taken aback by the question to form an immediate answer, leaving her to cringe in the short silence that followed. The nail of her thumb painfully scratched at the nail bed of her pointer finger.

"You mean Valentine's Day?" Amusement flashed briefly across his eyes, but he was too considerate of her struggle with herself to tease her about the way she worded her question. He closed the folder in his lap, straightening his hunched back. "It really depends. Some people think it's just capitalism bullshit, but most people like showing their loved ones some extra love anyway."

Natasha definitely considered herself a hater of Valentine's Day, of capitalism and money-hungry companies in general. But it wasn't about her, was it? "Do you give Laura something?"

"Flowers. Every year." Clint's face lit up at the mention of his partner. "She says she doesn't want anything, but that's the least I can do. And I try to be home if I can." He tilted his head. "Do you plan on giving Katya something?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know if she cares about stupid holidays," she mumbled, prodding the linoleum underneath her feet with the heel of her boot. Why was a relationship so hard?

"I can feel her out for you?" Clint offered kindly, but she immediately shook her head. 

"She'll know." And Katya knowing that she asked Clint for advice was even more embarrassing.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, if she says something, I'll let you know." Natasha sent him a thankful nod, reaching for the door handle behind her, but Clint wasn't done yet. "But between you and me, I think she'll really love any gesture from you."

"Thanks."

She left his room feeling only a tad bit better. Clint's advice wasn't really useful and gave her no insight on what Katya would prefer, but it helped to know that even he participated in the holiday. And that said something, given he wasn't the most romantic person she knew.

As she walked back to her own room, Natasha once again wrecked her brain for everything she knew about Valentine's Day, but she didn't get much further than it being a red and pink color vomit with hearts everywhere. Flowers, cards, chocolates, that she also knew. But her knowledge stopped there.

Every year when the day came around, and the stores started to fill up with the nauseatingly sweet colors, she went out of her way to avoid it. Hating it was easier than digging into her soul to figure out why she hated it so much. 

Anyone talked about Valentine's Day? She pulled a grossed-out face. A love song came on the radio? She turned it off.

Now, for the first time in her life, she was forced to face it head on, and she was at an absolute loss.

What did people do on Valentine's Day? What was considered a good gift? What would Katya like to receive? 

She really loved the roses Natasha brought her for their first date, but the redhead hadn't given her anything beyond that that could indicate her preferences.

Natasha's face paled, a nauseating feeling of failure rising in her throat as she stopped in her tracks. Should she have gotten her girlfriend more gifts in the past months? Her heart started to race. Had Katya been waiting on something to follow the roses?

Oh god, Natasha knew she wasn't up for this. She was doing this all wrong. Her romantic instincts took much longer to resurface than she thought they would. And even worse, what if they were gone, forced out of her at a young age? What if she would never get that natural feel for romantic things? 

She didn't even know if it was customary to get your partner gifts often. Every week, every two weeks, every month? She thought that gifts were only for milestones, and birthdays, and the occasional holiday. Never did she stop to think that she could give Katya presents on random moments, just to be sweet. What dumb, inexperienced idiot didn't know that?

Her thoughts were spiraling. 

Twice as fast now, Natasha legged it back to her room, stopping herself from frustratingly slamming the door behind her. 

She needed to calm herself down, taking deep breaths to ease the anxiety as she paced back and forth in her room, the one next to the woman ruining her nights. Valentine's Day was supposed to be fun, exciting, an opportunity to spoil her girlfriend as she deserved.

Shaking out her arms, Natasha pondered what she could get Katya, what she should do, determined to make up for her lack of romance. Flowers were nice, but that was too simple and repetitive. Chocolates were too cliché, and Natasha would rather throw up than write something romantic in a card only to have Katya read it in front of her. Maybe someday.

As her feet wore out a path in the floor, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't stop. The fear of doing something wrong, of losing this fragile thing they'd built over the last few months was strong. It was the best thing in her life, and if she lost it, Natasha already knew she wouldn't be able to go on. 

So lost in thought—once again—she almost missed the sound of her phone. Absent-mindedly, her hand fumbled for the device in her pocket, expecting a SHIELD message or an email. Instead, her heart skipped a beat at the name displayed on screen.

Katya: Go to sleep.

Katya: I can hear you pacing.

Katya: Do you want to get something off your chest?

Yes. Natasha had several things to get off her chest, in fact. A million. But Katya was also the reason those things were there. 

She wanted to crawl into her girlfriend's arms and put it all out there. She wanted to be reassured until all those worries floated out of her head, leaving only silence behind, the kind of peaceful silence only Katya could give her. She wanted to just exist in her embrace for a while.

The yearning caught her so off-guard that it took her a second to answer the texts. It was only lately that she'd started to crave physical affection, and it seemed her body was trying to catch up on all the years she didn't have it.

Natasha: I'm alright. Thank you.

Natasha: Go to sleep yourself.

Katya: Can't. Some idiot is pacing next door and it's keeping me awake.

A genuine smile broke through her frown. She'd been doing that so much more often. Smiling, laughing. Natasha didn't even remember the last time she genuinely laughed at something before Katya came around.

She deserved something on Valentine's Day, Natasha decided. But what?

Grabbing her laptop, she sat down on her bed, opening her internet browser to the search bar. She contemplated the right way to go about this, chewing on her bottom lip in thought as her fingertips hovered over the keyboard. 

First, Natasha typed things like, "Valentine's Day gifts woman", and "Original Valentine's Day gifts", but she quickly realized this was not at all what she wanted. The gifts were far from original, and she was pretty sure Katya didn't want a pillow with her face printed on it. 

Aggressively deleting it, she tried other keywords, more specific ones tailored to Katya, but the internet didn't seem to understand her. All it showed her was mass-produced and cheaply made junk. The same things a thousand other New Yorkers would be getting from their loved ones. 

No, it had to be something more personal. But Natasha wasn't crafty enough to make anything the lists suggested, and getting Katya a knife for Valentine's Day didn't give off the right message. 

She got more frustrated by the minute, slamming the keys harder than the agents down at IT would like. Nothing that passed her screen felt right, and she didn't have much time left to find something. She'd already avoided dealing with this for as long as she could.

The taste of iron flooded her tongue, and Natasha realized she'd bitten through her lip in her desperation. She licked the blood off as she aggressively closed all the tabs in her browser. The internet had turned out to be entirely unhelpful once again.

With a quiet groan, she fell back on her bed, staring at the blank ceiling. What did she know about Katya? What did she like? They were still learning each other, getting to know each other again. A few months was nowhere near long enough to know everything about her, especially with all the guards they had up. They were definitely moving twice, if not three times, as slow as the average couple.

But there had to be something. Something Katya mentioned—

Natasha shot up at once, her fingers flying over the keys this time. 

On New Year's Day, the cafeteria had chocolate bonbons for the agents that stayed on base. They'd done that the years before, nothing special. But she remembered bumping into Katya in the hallway just outside, the blonde munching on one of them and having a couple more in the palm of her hand. When she had asked if they were any good, Katya had nodded but said they would never compare to her favorite Russian bonbons, filled with vodka liquor. 

Natasha had never been so happy with her good memory, thanking the gods for saving Valentine's Day for her. Typing the brand in the search bar, she managed to find a store in the city that had the chocolates. From there on out, it was simple to order a box and have it delivered.

Beyond relieved, Natasha shut her laptop, grinning to herself. It was the perfect gift. Thoughtful, personal, it showed that she paid attention, and it fit the Valentine's Day theme. She couldn't have picked anything better. The only thing left was for her to run to the local florist and pick up some roses.

~~~~

On February 14, Natasha was awoken at 5:30 by the nervous churning of her stomach. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that for a moment, she thought she'd caught an illness. Restless stomach, feeling jittery, cold tremors; all signs of the flu. But then she remembered the date. 

Slowly, she got out of bed, trying to ignore her bubbling stomach as she showered and got dressed. It wasn't easy. She would have liked to drag the process out forever, hide in the safe shower, but she needed to catch Katya before she left. No way was she waiting all day to give everything. 

Only when she was satisfied with the way she looked did she open her closet again, crouching to pick up the vase she'd hidden there the day before. Last night, she brought it in, the bouquet hidden in a big cardboard box that she carried through HQ. No agent had spared her a glance.

At 6, Natasha no longer allowed herself to hesitate. She gave herself a mental kick under the butt, grabbed the chocolates and flowers, and headed for the door. With one last deep breath, she slowly opened it, sticking her head through the gap to check left and right. The hallway was empty. 

She felt like a coward, sneaking around like she was dropping off drugs instead of flowers, but her reputation here within SHIELD is what saved her when she first started out, and what kept people respecting her as someone not to mess with.

Her reputation was precious to her. One day, she'd happily sacrifice it for Katya, but before that could happen, she needed to do a lot of work on herself. Growing and evolving took time.

Swift like a cat, Natasha slipped into the hallway, silently closing her door behind her. Again, she listened for footsteps, but the only thing in her ears was her own heartbeat. Her hands were clammy around the box of chocolates.

The thing she was nervous about wasn't seeing Katya. In fact, she looked forward to seeing her again. That smile that greeted her every morning when she pulled her door open was the thing keeping her alive right now. 

No, what she was nervous about was the gesture itself. Her head was filled with only doubts. Had she chosen the right things? Was it too much? Was it too little? Did Katya think Valentine's Day was stupid? Natasha thought she'd like it, because Katya liked New Year's too, and that was also a dumb holiday in her eyes. 

Much like last week, Natasha found herself staring at a wooden door. It had a small dent in it, she realized, right at eye-height. Maybe a previous resident had accidentally knocked their forehead into it.

Her heart pounded in her chest when her fist raised to knock, but she did it. Four, quick knocks, her hand retracting like it had touched fire. She shuffled in her spot, adjusting the things in her hands as she listened to Katya's shuffling on the other side. Even if she wanted to flee, it was too late now. Footsteps were swelling on.

The door swung open, a pair of blue eyes and a kind smile replacing the brown wood. Natasha's heart skipped a beat for other reasons now. Her girlfriend looked so beautiful, her hair loose and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep.

"Good mo—" Katya's voice cut off, her gaze shooting to the things in Natasha's hands.

Natasha couldn't find her voice. How could she have forgotten to think about what to say?! Her clothes, her hair, the gifts, when to give it; it had all been given thorough consideration. But not once had she thought about what she would say. Not once!

"For you," she threw out, her voice sounding ten times more calm and collected than her brain was. The smile on her face was supposed to be gentle, but it felt insecure and nervous on her lips.

Katya's beautiful eyes widened in disbelief. "Nat…" She gasped softly, carefully taking the flowers from her hand. Her nose disappeared between the rose petals, taking a whiff of the fresh scent. Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at her girlfriend again. "That's so sweet of you. Thank you so much." Another gasp flew off her lips once she clocked the bonbons. "Oh, my god. Are those the chocolates? I can't believe you remembered."

Natasha could tell how red her cheeks were based on how warm they felt. Receiving compliments had never been her strong suit. But she felt so relieved, too, realizing all her worries were for nothing because Katya would have probably been happy with a simple kiss. She'd made this way too big in her head.

Her head, that seemed to be the main problem in her life.

"Maybe don't eat them all at once. Don't think Fury would appreciate it if you're drunk on the job," she joked, feeling her usual confidence come back to her.

Katya shrugged, carefully opening the packaging. "Don't care. I'm having one right now."

Natasha chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy her gift was received so well. "It's six in the morning."

"I know." Katya grinned. "Come in, I'll make coffee." She pulled Natasha into her apartment by her sleeve, closing the door behind her. 

They didn't have time to chat or drink coffee, but for once, Natasha didn't protest. She felt light, like she could handle whatever the world was going to throw at her today. She was proud of herself, too. Taking a romantic leap was terrifying, but it clearly paid off. Her eyes followed Katya closely as she placed the roses on the coffee table, adjusting them so they looked nice.

"I didn't know you'd get me anything. I would have gotten you something too." Katya smiled as she turned around. "I thought you hated Valentine's Day."

"I do." Natasha paused. Did she still? "Kinda."

"Yet you got me something." Katya's eyes took in her appearance. A brown leather jacket that she saved for special occasions, her hair neatly styled. "And you look really put-together too. Put in extra effort to look nice?" She teased lovingly.

Natasha scoffed, looking away to hide the blush on her face. "No." Were her efforts really that obvious? If so, that was so embarrassing.

Katya hummed skeptically, closing the distance until she stood right in front of her. It was impossible to stay stubborn and not look. The pull of her bright blue irises was too strong. Natasha tentatively glanced their way, relaxing at the gentleness in them. 

"Well, either way, thank you. I really appreciate it," Katya said honestly, smiling softly. Natasha offered her a smile back, the closeness making it feel like she had to whisper.

"You're welcome."

The redhead's breath hitched in her throat when a pair of warm, rough hands cupped her cheeks. She barely had time to process before Katya stepped even closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. More than a couple dozen times they'd kissed, but it never failed to make her body react like the first time.

Before she could move her hands to hold Katya's waist, the woman had stepped back, her cheeks a light pink as well. "Consider that my gift." She teased.

"It'll do," Natasha chuckled breathily. 

It was already a better Valentine's Day than all her previous ones combined.

"Did you really expect nothing?" She asked after a moment, watching Katya make coffee in the small kitchen. It was only then that she realized her girlfriend wasn't fully dressed yet. Her cozy, fluffy cardigan wasn't work-appropriate and hung loosely over her tank top.

"I suspected something when Clint suddenly asked me about Valentine's Day last week," Katya said, looking over her shoulder as she poured some milk in her coffee cup. "You know that look in his eyes that he gets when he's trying to be nonchalant?" She chuckled.

Anger flashed through Natasha's body. "I told him not to ask," she grumbled through clenched teeth, turning her head away. Clint was an incredibly kind, selfless guy, but he was also so annoyingly stupid sometimes. 

One thing. She asked him one thing, and he couldn't keep his trap shut.

A smug grin overtook Katya's features. "So you did go to him for advice? I was just fishing."

Natasha's head snapped back to her girlfriend. Her glare did nothing but make her smirk wider, and Natasha couldn't even be mad, because she walked right into that one herself, didn't she? "Don't ever mention it again," she threatened.

Katya laughed softly, handing her her cup of black coffee. "Do you want to go out for breakfast? If you're not busy."

Natasha was, in fact, busy. But her meeting at seven also included Maria, and she could give her the details later. It wasn't any more important than spending Valentine's Day morning with her partner. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to."

Katya's smile widened. "Give me a minute to finish getting dressed." 

Pressing her coffee cup into Natasha's empty hand, she grabbed something from her dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. As the water in the sink ran, Natasha had the urge to drink Katya's coffee just to get her back for teasing her so much, but before she could actually put the cup to her lips, the blonde was back. 

Natasha nearly choked on her drink. "What are you wearing?"

Black clothing was the way to go in SHIELD. Black, dark blue, navy, the occasional dark red or green if anyone felt adventurous, but it always stayed near the darkest side of color shades. What Katya wore right now, a cherry red turtleneck, was very outside of the clothing norms. Natasha had never seen her wear anything other than black.

"What? You don't like it?" Katya asked, looking down at herself unsurely. 

"It's… red." Natasha blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the sight in front of her. "Very red."

"Yeah. But do you like it?"

To her own surprise, the answer was yes. Katya had never looked so… soft. "It's alright." So alright, in fact, that she felt slightly disappointed when she put her go-to leather jacket over it. 

"Thought I'd go with the theme." Katya smiled, chugging her coffee before grabbing her wallet and keys. 

They filed out of her room, the hallway still empty and quiet as most agents were only now starting to wake up, snoozing their alarms for five minutes more sleep. Natasha should be heading right to prepare for her meeting, but instead she followed Katya to the left, to the elevator heading for the underground garage.

It didn't make her any less of a good employee. It made her more human. 

And as she pressed the elevator button and felt Katya's hand slip into her own, she knew she was going to allow her to hold it a little bit longer today.

[doodle-pops]

Insufferable Beginnings

Turgon x reader

Request: Turgon x reader, enemy’s to lover in Valinor, angst?… (help I live the enemy’s to livers trope to much 😭😭) - Anon

A/N: I originally wanted to keep this short, like under 3k, however, dialogues became my weakness and I fell in love with the hating each other a little too much. However, I do hope that this was good enough to your liking. Apologies if it’s too long. Enjoy!

Warnings: female reader, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au, angst/comfort, arguments, insulting one another, a knife gets drawn (a butter knife), kissing, confessions, since it’s set in Valinor I used Quenya names

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: Arranged marriages when you and your millionth reason why were at each other’s throats was always the best way to introduce a new emotion on the battlefield and seek victory.

“Must you look so disparaging? It is our wedding, after all, cheer up and have a drink!” Turukáno sat beside you, or rather two feet away and towards the end of the table, leaving you to wallow in your bitterness. He managed to find your expressions throughout the entire day more entertaining than ever, it made the wedding interesting.

Casting a dreadful and bone-chilling side eye at your newlywed husband, your fingers twitched in your lap with unbridled rage to wrap them around his obnoxiously long neck and choke. However, he remained aloof under your threatening gaze and took another gulp for his sixth cup of wine for the night. Anything to avoid going home, sane, to a shared house.

“I’ll only smile if you disappear and leave me alone.”

He paused with the chalice against his lips, pondering before scoffing and taking a violent chug. Emptying the cup with an enthusiastic exhale and slamming it on the table, he reached for the vat of wine to refill. “So you can find yourself in the arms of one of your pathetic suitors or my cousins since you enjoy kissing their asses so much.”

“Anyone else would be a better company.”

“What’s stopping you then? I thought you loathed me with an unbridled passion to the point that you would do anything to make your life less miserable,” he half-heartedly muttered while gazing at the ruby liquid in his cup. “Or maybe you didn’t want to humiliate yourself knowing that no one else would accept you and your terrible personality.”

“What makes you think that one of your cousins would not accept me?”

“So it’s my cousins you’re interested in. Well, I think you and Tyelkormo or Atarinkë would suit each other well, especially with the similar personalities you all share.”

You growled through bared teeth, “Do not ill-speak of the House of Fëanáro. They are far nobler, skilled and of better status than you can ever be.”

“Ah, so you admit that your personality is dreadful then?” Awed by the revelation of your words, he flashed a blinding grin at you.  

“You act as though your personality is perfect, and do not make this about me when it is not!”

“My personality isn’t perfect, but it’s better than yours,” he snickered and sat upright. “Besides, it is your wedding day, you are the centre of attention, so everything is about you.”

“You’re simply bitter and jealous that I would never choose you in a world of standards because you are as poor as your insults.” Flipping him off with a triumphant smirk, you crossed your arms and performed a mental victory dance at your comeback.

“Of course I am,” he muttered half-heartily as he slammed his chalice on the table once more and slumped deeply into his chair. As much as he wanted to leave the table, his grandfather and father were eyeing you down like hawks. “No power and no high status. Yet I was still chosen to be your future husband by the King.”

Not caring that he was being stared at, Turukáno exited the hall and rushed out of the palace to find a secluded spot for a bit of fresh air. He didn’t care about what became of you during the rest of the night. You could have returned to your parent’s house and left him alone in your supposed shared home or run off with his half-cousins, he would surely find something worthwhile to fill his time with.

Making his way through the half-empty streets of Tirion, he slid his body through a few alleyways before breaking into the hills and entering the outskirts of a small forest. A familiar path he took which led to a small pool—a place where he and Findekáno formerly commuted before his successful marriage—now became his fortress of refuge to his unbearable hater.

Being petty, bitter, and judgemental were common traits of the second son of Ñolofinwë, however, you brought the worst out in him. It was only the day you entered the picture with your desirous hatred towards him, his boring life became infuriating. There wasn’t a day you didn’t make his life a living hell.

Wanting nothing more than to refrain from continuing his thoughts on you before his head exploded, he undressed and took a midnight swim, spending the rest of his wedding with peace of mind. He would deal with you another day with the guarantee to make you regret hating him.

**

The first year of marriage was always described as challenging and for God’s sake how fucking true it was. You weren’t even past the first three months without wanting to launch objects at him, which you had already done numerous times before. But the point was that you wanted to launch the entire dining table at him for interrupting your peace of mind. Why did he have to show up at the same hour? Did he not have something more important to do like die?

“Can you not eat so loudly? It is breaking my concentration?” you retorted sharply.

“Then cover your ears. To eat I must; to hear, you can choose,” he lazily replied in a bored tone.

Your left eye twitched as did the cutlery in your hands as you pressed the knife and fork into the porcelain plate to evidently create a hairline fracture. Casting a look at the servants lined up on each side of the room with a monotonous expression, you felt a wave of embarrassment.

“What, no counter to my response? Finally realised how foolish you appear hating me unnecessarily?” he mocked.

Deeply inhaling, you managed, “I merely asked you to cease chewing so loudly. Is that not a possible task, something a Prince of your lowly status can adhere to?”

Countering without waiting for a second, he stated with plainness, “I must chew if I am to eat, don’t you know that or have you forgotten the fundamentals of eating?”

“Then don’t eat, starve and die.”

Turukáno’s lips twitched as he fought a sarcastic grin, instead, scoffing as his breathing fumbled before he lifted his head to gaze at you across the table. Your seated presence at the opposite end, surrounded by an array of candles left a glowing aura casting a glow on your figure to appear as some omnipotent being…a demon in sheep’s clothing.

“My dear, have you not paid attention to the tranquillity of the room? A pin drop can be heard; thus you will hear my chewing, same can be said for yours.”

“I do not chew loudly!” you snarled, visibly vibrating in your seat.

“Of course not, how rude of me. Where are my manners?” he satirically replied, casting a mocking smile at you; his turquoise eyes shining brightly under the glow of the candles. “Allow me to clarify, you yap like a goat.”

Springing from your chair, your palms came crashing down on the table, prompting the ornaments to tremble, even the servants shifted on their feet at the intemperate tension. “You should have care how you speak; it might be your last.”

“What are you planning on doing? Launching another poor object at my head and missing like you did in the last fifty attempts? Best of wishes, may your aim be true, or would you prefer I stand within three feet, so you don’t miss?” he snickered with a shake of his head.

Darkly whispered, you picked up your butter knife and stabbed it into the napkin. “I could end you right here and now,”

“How terrifying?!” he dully muttered and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Somebody save me!”

“Would you stop that!”

“Ah, so it would appear that I have struck a nerve?” Turukáno grinned delightedly and took a sip of his wine while appreciating the sight of you pointing your knife at him.

“You have been a pain in my ass since the day I met you!” you rumbled, jabbing the knife through the air towards his figure peacefully sitting unbothered.

Wanting nothing more than to bask in the glory this unnecessary argument brought, he rose from his chair and strolled around the table. Fingers gliding along the tabletop as he took his time to approach you, he appeared smug. “What you are telling me, is that I’ve always been on your mind? I’m touched. No one has ever thought of me so much as you did, my number one supporter and hater. Makes this union worthwhile because you can continue to think of me even more while allowing it to consume your every thought.”

At this point, Turukáno was standing before you as your body had turned to meet him head-on, the knife in your hand still focusing on him. Despite his towering figure, you were able to match his height with the passion in your eyes that made you grow. Those turquoise eyes of his darkened and narrowed into slits as the gazed down at you. No one dared to whisper a word, only the sound of heavy breathing which was still too soft for the other’s ears.

Suddenly, his left hand gingerly reached out to grab the wrist of your right, which held the knife and brought it to his throat. He knew you couldn’t cut him with a butter knife, yet he wanted you to realise your folly. The action urged the servants in the room to break their formation and panic as they looked on. He felt the trembling of your hand as he held onto it, steadfast, while the expression on your face spoke the reason for him. All bark and no bite.

“Do it,” he taunted with s whisper, gazing his playful eyes at your paralysed ones and pushing the knife harder against his skin.

You wanted to reply. Counter as equally as petty as his insults or even take actions, but the wheels in your body weren’t rotating. You didn’t know why, but the longer you stared into his slithered eyes; you noticed the ring of green around his iris, the small mole under his left eye and his neatly shaped wine-stained lips. His change in demeanour made him appear ridiculously attractive and you fought to deny it, but comparisons between him and the sons of Fëanáro’s beauty had already crossed your mind.

It outmatched a few of them.

You struggled to catch yourself the longer you focused on his face, grip on your knife slipping, yet the grip around your wrist tightened and tugged. Your lips parted and your head inched closer, grateful for your height, you were able to lean into his personal space, breathing in his air. Wine and spearmint. The alarms were blaring in your head that it was a precarious move you were making, but his standstill stature encouraged you to persist and bridge the gap.

Turukáno didn’t know who moved first, he or you; all he knew was that his hand gripping your wrist had tossed it over his shoulder, with the knife still intact, as his lips moulded against yours. It was full of anger, confusion and hidden truths as your bodies were entangled in an unceremonious form of solving the argument. Lips breaking apart to gasp for air, catching your breaths before returning to the task, his hands were busy cupping your cheeks to tilt your head to increase the vigour. He forgot—or rather, didn’t care—about the knife in your hands behind his neck as he pressed his body closer, wanting you to experience his heat, raging from the passion you sparked tonight.

Yet nothing was ever long-lived as you caught your biting his luscious lip and pulled away, gasping. Casting your eyes downwards, a questionable frown appeared. Unable to take the confusion and possible humiliation of the suddenness of the scene, you muttered a curt, “Excuse me,” and slipped out of his embrace, vacating the room while leaving him hoping.

**

You began to avoid him even more; more than what you normally would, yet failure was the start of something different. Your mornings were clashing, him showing up at the same time for breakfast, exiting and entering the house, and needing to share the same space. It was as if fate was playing a sick joke on you to remember your kiss. He appeared the same, refusing to bring it up and make any eye contact, however, his persistence to irritate and aggravate you never ended. The night of the dinner was just the beginning of him goading you to commit your desire.

Standing at the entrance of the drawing-room, you fixed your body behind the pillar that rested a vase and observed him. He appeared relaxed and a level of comfort you wished to achieve in the shared household. How was he able to be unbothered? Didn’t your presence usually provoke him? Was he not thinking about you the way you always thought about him?

“Cease your staring from behind the pillar, please. I know that I’m not the best-looking elf compared to your idolised house, so spare me your soft gaze as though you considered me,” he huffed and turned the page of his book without lifting his head to make contact.

Soft gaze?

“I was not gazing at you, I was glaring…” He was right, whether you were gazing at him or not, you were silently observing him. Clearing your throat to avoid making a fool of yourself, you stepped into the spotlight and clasped your hands together. “I was coming to call you, There’s an invitation addressed to you…and I.”

“My grandfather?”

“Hmm, a dinner party.”

The room fell into silence as you both took in the silent meaning behind the invitation. This was the first event after the wedding that would display the depth of your relationship with his family and others.

Turukáno’s eyes lifted off the pages to fall on your nervous figure standing in the doorway. No animosity or disdain was held in his eyes as they softened on your appearance; he almost felt sorry for the discomfort you were about to be placed in, similar to himself. Gatherings involving the entire family usually made him cautious and uninterested due to the typical outcomes.

“You can stay at home if you are uncomfortable attending. I’ll make up an excuse that you’re unwell and request tranquillity,” he suggested while shutting his book and placing it on the table.

Puzzled at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, you wrinkled your forehead. “What about your grandfather when he questions why you’re not at home looking after me?”

“I’ll make up some lie, whatever comes to mind,” he monotonously muttered, drifting his eyes to meet your astonished ones.

“Why?” Your question lingered heavily in the air like it weighed a ton. A sudden increase of pressure showered over you, leaving him wondering if he had made a mistake in his response to warrant your opposition.

“Why not? You’re not interested in meeting my family for known reasons, and if you want to stay at home, you are welcome to.”

“But don’t you hate me?” you delicately uttered. “You shouldn’t be concerned about how I feel or whether I desire to stay at home; you should ignore me like you have always been doing.”

Opening his mouth to counter, he closed it and dropped his gaze to your feet. The look of puzzlement decorated his face the longer he contemplated a response while reasoning with himself for the corner he was backed into. There was never a discussion he wasn’t able to counteract, but here you were causing him to fumble. A sharp look at your face, the squinting of his eyes and a nervous chuckle he conjured a response rattled off the tip of his tongue. “I don’t hate you; I don’t particularly like you, but ignoring you is incredibly difficult when you have an unmistakable aura that causes me to consider you in whatever way I can.”

His eyes widened at the acknowledgement of his words. Unable to feign his mistake, he rose immediately off the sofa and marched to the opposite exit of the drawing room.

“You…You don’t hate—”

“Forget what I said. Simply do whatever you want for the dinner, it doesn’t matter to me.” With that, he departed the room and rushed to his chamber, slamming the door.

In the following days, Turukáno had done his best to avoid you after his slip-up while you became fixated on decoding his grand speech and his nonchalance towards his actions. It wasn’t like him to use words which didn’t coordinate with his enmity-like personality. All the screaming, shouting, slamming the doors and throwing objects at each other died down, and all you received were his typical smart-ass comments which started carrying a two-meaning message. You were positively sure that he was not aware of his choice of words; he never mixed his vocabulary.

For the prim and proper Prince he was, he was enunciated.

Hence why you were gawking at him all night from behind a pillar, avoiding interactions with his siblings and cousins to observe his mannerisms. His face seemed to be a lot more relaxed, visibly pleased, lips stretched into a grin, and laughing. You had never seen him like this around you, it was a side he withheld during your arrangement, and it stung that you would never be fortunate to experience it due to his hate towards you. No sweet moments exchanged, smiles and words reserved only for you, or another kiss like that night.

Licking your lips and biting it, your fingers touched your lower lip as you held eye contact with his figure. The events of that night were still unexplainable.

“Staring at my brother.” The teasing voice of Princess Irissë came from your left before you felt her arm linking with yours and pulling you closer to her. “Well, you should be, especially after how great your relationship with him is going. Look at how much my brother is smiling; he’s talking about you.”

“Y-Your Highness?!”

“Relax. You can drop the formalities for now. It’s a family dinner and we’re all family, so call me nésa,” she laughed which resembled crystal bells tinkering.

Feeling overwhelmed by the plethora of information you consumed, your chest felt tighter all of a sudden, as though the dress shrunk. “I uh, do not understand what you mean by your brother. He is talking about me?”

Surely not good things, no wonder why he was smiling. Prattling his cousins’ heads about how terrible you were to live with. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, not realising how much you hoped for good things to be spoken about you.

“Of course he is! You’re his wife!” she exclaimed and gave you a small shake before guiding you away from the pillar. “He was asked to produce grandfather with a report at the start of the dinner in private, we were all there, and we heard him speak about how things are looking brighter, and that he’s pleased. So that means you two no longer hate each other and grandfather’s idea worked.”

Holding eye contact with her before looking at the wine in your hands, you felt uneasy at the explanation. “I guess it did,” you uttered in disbelief.

It didn’t take long for interrupting footsteps to break your concentration. Knowing the echo and presence before the voice rippled into your ear, your head snapped up to gaze at him already looking upon you with softer eyes and a tender smile. Your lips quivered as you bit back the urge to cry the longer you held his gaze, unable to focus on the sound emitting from his lips.

He was cruel and unkind to make you feel such a way.

“Is everything alright? You haven’t responded to a word I said,” he inquired worriedly, inching his head closer to yours. At this time, Irissë had slipped free and sauntered away to annoy her cousins, leaving you two to embark on your hateful-love relationship.

“I um, I.” Why was speaking so trivial? Just spit out your words for they were at the tip of your tongue. “I must speak with you, immediately.”

You had no time to witness the painful frown on his face as you swivelled and marched out of the ballroom with him following a few metres behind, confused. Exiting the room and meandering through the corridors, an earful away from eavesdroppers, you fumed in your mind at how careless you were to allow things to escalate to immeasurable heights. You couldn’t undo what had been done, not even the sea could wash it away. Though Turukáno hoped he had not said anything during the day to disrupt your tranquillity, he was most mindful of his words and behaviour due to his joviality.

“Have I said or done something to displease you, Y/N?”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” you shouted and spun on your heels to stand in the middle of the corridor and face him. “You, You, ugh, you infuriate me on levels beyond comprehension! How can you say those things so openly without disgust?”

“What things?! What have I said about you?!” he cried and took steps closer, still maintaining his distance.

“You–…I hate you! I hate how you…how you were talking about us and the house and how things are getting better! Or how you were smiling and happy and laughing and making everything seem like it is perfect and great when it’s not because I hate you!” Your temper flared as millions of reasons raced across your mind, and yet you were able to stutter out jumbled words, making a smile stretch across his face. “I hate the way you look at me with those eyes and I hate the way you look at others because you’ll never genuinely look at me like that. I want your eyes on me, but you’ll never because of how I hate you!”

“You hate me?” he questioned in an affectionate teasing voice.

“Yes, I do! Because ever since this arrangement began, you made me feel crazy and I found myself unable to think of anything else! I am utterly consumed by you, and I hate it! I’m supposed to hate you!”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe and glared at him through the crystal droplets. You knew he was looking at you the same way you wanted and hated. Your emotions were truly a bitch who couldn’t make up its mind.

Turukáno grinned and took more steps to bridge the distance between you both. Standing three feet apart, he looked down at his boots as his voice rumbled in his chest. “I know and I accept this,” he softly whispered. “I’m not the best at emotions, but I also hated you till it was aggravating. You were constantly on my mind every second of the day, consuming and leaving me thinking about you more than I breathed. I thought of everything about you, even your insults. You were able to contest me, a feat no one else could muster and still stand facing me; I enjoyed the pleasure it brought, drinking and desiring more. Then I started seeing you as my equal and no longer my source of hate, but my reason to look forward to each day. I considered you and thought about you too much, I bent the knee before you…”

Standing there baffled, you wanted to know who this individual was.

“I know, I know,” he shrugged. “I’m not great with emotions so it was impossible for you to notice my changes. I thought I was subtle, and neither are you.”

“Excuse me?! You’re telling me about how I feel?” you sniffled.

“You claim to hate me, but you don’t,” he breathed as he finally bridged the gap, standing in the same proximity as the kiss. His fingers twitched with urgency to hold you again as they remembered the last time they held you closely. “You don’t tell someone you hate them; you show them, make them feel it. And how you feel for me is what I feel for you, it was only masked by hatred.”

Scoffing with a teary eye roll, allowing a few drops to roll down your cheek, you countered with a teaspoon of attitude, “What do you know about how I feel? You’re just a foolish Prince who thinks he knows people better than themselves.”

Lifting his hands, he was allowed to cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears. Smiling along with his thoughts, he felt relieved that your flame had not been diminished. “Of course I am, but you’re no different. Foolish for hating me till it makes you look ridiculously in love.”

“You should stop talking because you’re not making any sense like you always do.”

“Then silence me if you dare.”

The silence that followed rang sharply in your ears as your eyes locked and dropped to each other’s lips.

This time, you were aware of who had made the first move when your lips moulding against one another. Grinning into the kiss, this time you were able to bite his lower lip without feeling disgusted as it only deepened the kiss, causing him to groan from your actions. Turukáno’s hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your head higher to allow him to take over the kiss while your arms contently encircled his slender waist. There were a few blissful sighs and breaks to take in air as you lazily kissed in the open corridor, unconcerned by the possibility of being trespassed upon. Regardless, Turukáno had the decency to break away first with his soft turquoise eyes roaming your face, landing on your lips one last time before exhaling.

“Tell me,” he muttered affectionately. “Do you still hate me?”

“Irrevocably.”

“And do you hate me for getting us into this arrangement?” he asked again.

“No,” you gently murmured. “I can live with it.”

“Then that is enough for me.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist link to join.

[lovelynim]

That Time of The Year

Genshin Impact - Cyno x Tighnari (N$FW)

Also on AO3!

A/N: This ended up being different from what I first planned, but I still the final result. This all started with silly (but not so innocent) conversation between friends so... yeah.

Also, shoutout to Mia (@/ticklygiggles) for listening to my rant about these two and encouraging this fic. It's her fault, btw.

Summary: It's January, that time of the year... do you know what it means? ~

Word count: 4283 words

Warnings: This is a N$FW fic, with clear depictions of nudity and sex. Minors DNI!!!

 Tighnari’s curled his tail around his leg, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

“Nari, are you s-”

“Y-yes- ahem, yes, I’m fine.” Tighnari repeated himself for the tenth time that night. He pressed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath as he tried to stop himself from having any weird ideas over Cyno’s… voice. Tighnari looked down to the pot in front of him, trying to distract himself by watching the water boil.

…

What a miserable state, he thought. He could hear Cyno sighing with concern and his fingers tapping on the table. His fingers? 

Now that he thought about it, it reminded him of Cyno’s hands and how they were always gentle and- No! Tighnari shook his head, taking one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Letting Cyno in was a terrible idea, Tighnari told himself inside his mind, biting his thumb in a fruitless attempt to ease the “stress”. No, no, no… it’s fine, yes, totally. He just needed to drink some tea and get some sleep. Yes. just a nice and warm cup of Cyno and- Agh, no!

“Tighnari!”

The fennec opened his eyes wide and perked up his ears as Cyno’s voice finally reached him. Tighnari wasn’t sure for how long he had been daydreaming, but it should’ve been a while based on how troubled Cyno looked. “Sorry, I… ahm, dozed off for a second. You were saying?”

“The… pot, Nari. I think it’s-”

“Oh, right. Ahah…” Tighnari chuckled nervously, picking up the pot and pouring the water to finally brew his so-needed tea. As soon as the boiling water bathed the leaves, Tighnari took a deep breath, inhaling all the sweet scent. Yes, this was definitely going to help him. “If I knew you were coming over, I’d have prepared something else,” Tighnari said, back to his regular tone as he served Cyno a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“You know there is no need,” the general replied to him, gently taking the cup in his hands before blowing some air to cool it off. “I just decided to check up on you because… you know, we are in that time of the year and you could…”

What was he saying, Tighnari asked himself, unable to keep paying attention to any other word. All he could focus on was how soft Cyno’s lips looked at that moment and how much he wanted to kiss him. With the steaming cup resting in front of him, Tighnari rested his head on his hand with a lost gaze on his eyes. Cyno’s voice was so distant that he could barely hear it, much less make some meaning out of whatever he was saying.

“You are doing it again,” Cyno muttered coldly, shaking his head in disapproval as he sipped from the cup.

When the scolding reached him, Tighnari nearly jumped out of his seat. “W-what? Doing what again? I’m not doing anything!” He protested, sounding as offended as possible.

Cyno blinked a few times with a puzzled look on his face. Tighnari sank his teeth into his lips, he knew he messed up his act this time. 

“You’re… staring at me. A way more than a normal amount, if I may add.”

“So? Can’t I look at my partner?” Tighnari hissed, feeling the heat spreading across his face - which he tried to hide behind the cup as he pretended to drink the tea. Cyno chuckled and, archons, how Tighnari liked the sound of that. He could feel a shiver running up his spine, bad enough to make him flinch.

Tighnari watched with great care as Cyno placed his cup down and leaned forward, gazing back at him with half closed eyes. “Nari, you don’t have to… go through it alone. I can help you,” Cyno mumbled softly, reaching for Tighnari’s hands and holding them into his own.

Ugh… this was going to be a lot harder than he first expected it to be. “You don’t need to talk about it as if it is something important.” Tighnari looked down, embarrassed by the way Cyno addressed the matter.

During the beginning of the year, more specifically throughout January and February, the fennec foxes had their mating season: a time to find their partner, have kits and start a family. In Tighnari’s case, as he wasn’t an actual fennec fox, this time of the year just made him more… desperate.

He didn’t remember having trouble dealing with previous mating seasons, it was always something simple and that Tighnari could take care of by himself. But ever since Cyno came into his life, it became harder and harder to get rid of that needy feeling - nothing seemed to be… enough.

“It’s you I’m talking about and you are definitely important to me,” Cyno said, tightening the grip around Tighnari’s hands. Cyno knew very well what he was suggesting, all the pros and cons (was there any?) of his offer.

Tighnari averted his gaze, feeling the back of his throat going dry. To accept that was to admit that he was no better than a wild animal, that he couldn’t even fight some raw desires. He was better than that - he had taken care of it before and he knew he could do it again. He just… needed to find something else - of course, other than Cyno - to get himself going. 

“I…” Tighnari started, wanting to play it cool and deny Cyno’s offer, but a part of him desperately wanted - craved - that offer. Tighnari could feel his tail wagging slightly at the idea of having sex with Cyno and he hated it.

He hated it because they already had sex before. Normal sex, sex that people that are not in heat have with their partners. Normal, regular sex and surely not what Tighnari’s body was craving right now.

To think about it, when was the last time they had it? There should be no harm in getting laid right now. Collei wasn’t home, Cyno seemed to be in the mood and-

Tighnari, no!

The forest guardian pulled his hands away from Cyno’s, covering his eyes and shaking his head. What kind of thoughts were those? That wasn’t like him at all! “S-sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cyno.”

Tighnari hurriedly picked up the cups - not even worrying to check if Cyno finished his tea or not - and took the sink with the rest of the dishes. If he had an act going on, it was surely a goner now.

“I-it’s different, Cyno, I will-”

“What will you do, my desert flower?” Cyno whispered, gently pressing his lips on the back of Tighnari’s ear as he hugged the forest watcher from behind. The sound that left Tighnari’s mouth could only be described as a shriek - a really loud one. Tighnari was so absorbed into his horny ideas that he didn’t notice when Cyno got so close to him. Tighnari pressed his fingers into the furniture in front of him, hard enough that would make those wooden pieces scream in pain if they could talk. 

“I expected you to know me better,” Cyno continued, making Tighnari bit his inner lip as he tried to hold himself back from letting out any other embarrassing noise. One of Cyno’s hands traveled up to Tighnari’s chest, while the other gently rubbed circles of his stomach. “If I’m troubling you… just say the word and I will be miles away. Do you want me to go away, Nari?”

“N-no, I… I don’t…” Tighnari’s breath hitched, his hands trembling and butterflies swirling inside his stomach. His tail shyly wrapped itself around Cyno’s leg - almost as if to ask him to not go away. “But it’s different, Cyno. I would just use and-”

“Pfft…”

Tighnari stopped at the sound of Cyno’s chuckles - those low, composed and deep noises that made a shiver run up his spine. Tighnari gritted his teeth, slightly lowering his head in embarrassment as he felt himself getting hard at that sound. “D-don’t laugh, you don’t know how hard it is!”

“My desert flower, if you wanted to scare me…” Cyno mused, reaching for Tighnari’s waist before turning him around to, finally, be able to look him in the eyes. “You shouldn’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You- ugh…” Tighnari scrunched up his shoulders, placing both his hands at Cyno’s chest, ready to push the general away, to shove him out of his way.

But he didn’t.

His body refused to do so.

“Let me aid you, Nari. Please,” Cyno said, holding one of Tighnari’s wrists and lifting his hand high enough for him to be able to plant a kiss against Tighnari’s palm, “just this once, use me.”

“Use me.” Those words made Tighnari’s heart beat as fast as if it was about to explode out of his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words wouldn’t come out. It was like his mind went blank, completely wiped of any coherent thought. 

“I will take as a yes, Nari,” Cyno grinned against the skin of Tighnari’s palm, pulling out his tongue to lick it from the middle to the spot between Tighnari’s middle and ring finger - a feeling that made Tighnari’s dick throb inside his pants, not to mention the lewd sight and the double meaning behind the act.

Tighnari leaned back slightly against the counter behind him, allowing Cyno to shorten the already small distance between their bodies. The forest watcher sighed - pleased, really pleased - when he felt Cyno’s lips against his neck. The fur of his tail stood on its ends as chills ran down straight to his loins, even making his knees shake slightly.

“C-Cyno, that- hmph… t-that tickles…” Tighnari pressed his eyes shut, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. Despite his protests, Cyno continued to play and tease Tighnari, taking small portions of that sensitive skin between his lips and marking it with his teeth or just sucking it to leave hiccups that had a deep, dark shade of red. “A-ah!”

“You dislike it when it tickles, Nari?” Cyno grinned, wrapping one arm around TIghnari’s back and making him press his body against his. His other hand, in the meanwhile, continued to travel down, meeting the base of Tighnari’s tail. “Should I stop?”

“Agh-ah… no, d-don’t stop it…”

“Even if it tickles?” Cyno smiled sweetly, using his fingers to gently massage that sweet spot, rubbing circles over the base of TIghnari’s spine, just above his tail.

“Eheven if… if it t-tickles,” Tighnari stuttered over his own words, a mess of moans, giggles and sighs coming out of his mouth. He dropped his head back while his arms rested around Cyno’s shoulders. Archons, that felt good.

Tighnari didn’t know what he should focus on: the kissing on his neck, the arm wrapped around his back or the fingers fiddling with his tail. Cyno definitely knew what he was doing and all Tighnari was able to do was to open his mouth and moan.

“You’re so pretty, Nari,” Cyno said, caressing Tighnari’s tail one last time before moving his hand down, sneaking it inside the back of Tighnari’s pants and firmly gripping his ass. “Let’s go to the room and- hmph! Hnngh…”

Before Cyno could finish, Tighnari grabbed him by the little clothing he had on top of his chest and pulled him closer, pressing one kiss after the other. Tighnari’s tongue invaded Cyno’s mouth, almost as if to forbid him from moving his head away. His mind was in a haze, the only thing occupying the room that once belonged to his thoughts was Cyno. His voice, his taste, his scent, his body, his everything.

After seconds that felt like eternity, Cyno managed to break their kiss. A strand of saliva still connected their mouths as both men wheezed, gasping for air. Cyno felt like he would’ve passed out from the lack of oxygen if that kissing any longer, but the hunger in Tighnari’s eyes showed him that just those seconds weren’t enough for him.

“No…” Tighnari gasped, still clinging onto Cyno’s clothes, “I want it now… let’s do it here.” He looked up, studying Cyno’s reactions to his commands and was pleasantly surprised when the man in front of him smiled, simply nodding to his request.

“Whatever you say, Nari,” Cyno continued to use one hand to keep fondling Tighnari's asscheek, squeezing it and even teasing the rim of his asshole by caressing it with two of his fingers. His other hand - with a bit of Tighnari’s help - worked to strip the forest watcher, railing up Tighnari’s shirt all the way up to his neck, from where the fennec fox himself pulled it out and tossed it aside. 

Tighnari’s skin was smooth - even more than usual. His whole body felt like it was on fire and a beautiful faint shade of pink adorned his skin. Cyno couldn’t help but to notice that Tighnari’s smell was also a little sweeter - were all those effects of the mating season?

“W-what are you waiting for?” Tighnari’s desperate, needy voice broke into Cyno’s things. By the way he huffed, Cyno could tell he was growing impatient. How cute.

“Apologies, my desert flower, I just took a moment to admire how mesmerizing you are tonight…” Cyno mumbled softly, slowly pushing two fingers inside Tighnari’s ass, making his partner moan sweetly as he gently rubbed the fleshy walls that promptly squeezed his fingers. 

Tighnari tightened the grip on Cyno’s clothes, his nails nearly piercing the cloth as pleasure started to run across his body. Cyno moved his hands, pulling his fingers a couple of inches back before pushing them inside again, going all the way until he could press and stimulate Tighnari’s prostate in a way that made him sob in pleasure. “A-ahh, more… C-Cyno, t-that’s not enough…”

“I know, Nari, but I’ll hurt you if we go too fast… Try to relax…” Cyno instructed, whispering those words straight into Tighnari’s ear, his lips gently blowing the air against the sensitive skin. However, despite his partner’s worries, all Tighnari could feel was the burning sensation on his lower body, desperately craving for more. “I told you, use me, Nari.”

Cyno chuckled sweetly as he placed his leg between Tighnari’s, pressing his thigh against his partner’s crotch and making a sharp gasp escape his lips. Tighnari promptly moved his hips, grinding against Cyno’s leg. That, combined with the fingers pressing on his behind, made Tighnari’s dick leak even more. He would hump his hips forward to get more of that sweet friction and on the moment he moved them back, Cyno would press his fingers inside TIghnari’s ass, stimulating the forest watcher from all sides.

“H-hng… but I-I want you…” Tighnari cried, feeling drool sliding from the corner of his lips as he savored that raw pleasure. Still, it was not enough. Even if it drew him closer to an orgasm, he knew it wouldn’t do the work to ease his needs.

“Of course, of course…” Cyno hummed, pulling his fingers out and reaching for the waistband of Tighnari’s pants, lowering them along with his underwear. “Then allow me, Nari…”

“Just… h-hurry, you big lummox…” Tighnari hissed, using all the last bits of self-control left in his body to stop moving, allowing Cyno to remove the rest of his clothes.

Taking a step back, the general Mahamatra dared to ‘waste’ a few seconds admiring this side of his partner he didn’t have the chance to meet before. Tighnari was a mess, but a hot one. Disheveled hair, skin covered in a beautiful shade of pink and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat and precum dripping for the tip of length. Archons, what a man, Cyno thought.

“I’m the luckiest man in Teyvat, my desert flower,” Cyno teased, starting to strip himself as well, making sure to put up a show to his partner. Tighnari, already too horny to just stand idly and wait, reached for his own cock, slowly stroking himself as he watched Cyno’s clothes come out one by one, using his palm to caress his tip and spread the drops of his seed over the rest of his dick, making it easier for him to stroke faster. “Am I really being this slow… or are you just really impatient?” Cyno grinned, holding Tighnari’s waist with both his hands as he approached his partner again.

“C-come do it yourself and find out, general,” Tighnari mumbled, his voice already a little hoarse. 

“Was that a request or one of your smart answers, my desert flower?”

Tighnari sighed, lifting his right leg and wrapping it against Cyno’s now bare waist. The forest watcher placed his palms on the pecks of Cyno’s chest and rubbed his gently, moving his hands up to his shoulders and then intertwining his fingers behind Cyno’s neck. “I don’t know… maybe both.”

For a couple of seconds, silence engulfed them both. Cyno and Tighnari stared each other into their eyes, knowing very well they didn’t need words to understand each other at that moment. 

With his hard cock already resting between Tighnari’s asscheeks, Cyno leaned forward and kissed the other man. The wet, sloppy sounds of the lips beginning to fill the room that was once quiet.

They kissed again, again and again, both men gasping deeply for air in the short moments of break, trying to not let their lungs run out of air. Tighnari wasn’t sure if it was the levels of oxygen on his brain going low or if it was another one of those stupid mating season’s effects, but the forest watcher found himself caught in a daze. 

Tighnari’s dick continued to leak, his seed dirting Cyno’s body as they continued to make out. And, at last, Cyno skifully moved his hips, finally thrusting his dick inside Tighnari’s ass, making both men moan loudly into their kiss. Cyno pressed his eyes shut, not able to hold himself in place anymore and lowered his head, hurriedly trying to fill his lungs with air. Tighnari’s insides squeezed his length like they never did, catching the general by surprise.

“A-agh, N-Nari..! R-relax a bit… I can’t move l-like this…” Cyno whimpered, burying his face in the crook of Tighnari’s neck, licking over his collarbone before pressing his teeth into the soft, smooth skin.

But as Tighnari didn’t get the stimulation he so desperately craved for in the following seconds - which Cyno tried to use to grow accustomed - the forest watcher decided to take the matter into his own hands. Using his leg around Cyno’s waist to keep the general close to him, Tighnari began to swing his hips, pulling his body slightly up before letting it go down, allowing Cyno to push his hard dick all the way inside.

Finally, after days of daydreaming, Tighnari felt Cyno’s dick thrusting his ass, pressing his prostate as it moved in and out of his eyes. And, for the first time, Tighnari didn’t dislike being in heat: having give in to his raw desires made sex few better than it ever did. “A-ahh! Cyno, h-harder, hnngh!” TIghnari moaned, moving one of his hands to hug Cyno’s hang, pressing it against his neck while the other held on Cyno’s shoulder for Tighnari’s dear life.

Despite being a hot, moaning mess himself, Cyno still smiled. After covering Tighnari’s collarbone with hickeys, Cyno kissed his lover’s jaw. “Keep… calling my name, it’s so hot when you moan it like that, Nari…”

Cyno let go of TIghnari’s waist to move one of his hands before the leg wrapped around his body, hooking Tighnari’s leg to make it easier to fuck his ass. His other hand, in the meanwhile, continued to rest over Tighnari’s hips, helping the forest watcher to move and teasing him with squeezes and pinches that send a delicious ticklish feeling to Tighnari’s brain.

Tighnari threw his head to the side, feeling small droplets of water clinging to the corner of his eyes. Just like he was instructed, Tighnari moaned Cyno’s name one too many times. The combined feeling of lips pressing and playing with neck, fingers tickling and digging into his waist and a dick pounding into his ass was, indeed, an effective method to fight the mating season’s effects.

“A-Archons, ahhh!! ~ I-I’ll kill you if you st- ahn!!” Tighnari choked on his own sounds, unable to finish his words as Cyno seemed determined to actually fuck him senseless.

Yet, knowing Tighnari like no other did, Cyno knew very well what Tighnari was trying to say. The general smiled, kissing the other men’s lips. “You get even hotter when you threaten me, my desert flower.” Letting go off Tighnari’s hip, Cyno used his free hand and tightly wrapped his fingers around Tighnari’s dick, starting to stroke it in sync with his own thrusts.

Using Tighnari’s seed as some sort of lube, Cyno began to move his hand faster and faster, going all the way from the base to tip. As the pumping went on, Tighnari felt his leg going weak, his knee threatening to give in while a burning sensation swirled inside his loins and he knew he was getting close.

“Are you liking it, Nari?” Cyno gasped, his face barely inches away from Tighnari’s. Cyno moved his hand up a bit, giving the tip of Tighnari’s dick a special attention as he rubbed it with his palm, making the forest watcher let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Cyno chuckled, again. “I’ll take it as a yes.”

“H-hnng- just d-don’t- ahh! D-don’t stop!” 

“I wasn’t planning to,” Cyno would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this needier and hornier side of Tighnari. He would also be lying if he said he wasn’t getting close himself, after all, Tighnari hadn’t stopped moving his hips for a single moment ever since Cyno first thrusted his dick inside his ass.

With thrust after thrust, Cyno continued to work for both men’s orgasm, with his partner clearly being the one that craved it the most. Exchanging looks for merely a couple of seconds - and with it being enough for them to understand each other - Tighnari leaned his head in, pressing his lips against Cyno’s and using both arms to support his body, wrapping them around his partner’s shoulders.

With Tighnari’s body weighing on him, Cyno pressed the forest watcher against the counter and pulled Tighnari’s other leg up from the ground. Groping at Tighnari’s thighs, Cyno now could handle his body as much as he wanted, pounding harder and thrusting deeper into Tighnari’s ass.

“T-this- angh!! C-Cyno!” Tighnari managed to utter in a short moment between his moans, feeling like his body was going to melt into a puddle at any given moment. Archons, he was so, so close! “H-hmph..! M-more, plehease!”

If the general was able to say something, he would be sure to whisper something sweet like ‘as you wish, Nari’ or ‘I’ll give you as much as you want, my desert flower,” but Cyno was too busy groaning and grunting, digging his fingers into Tighnari’s legs and pushing his length all the way inside him. 

The oh-so-desired climax was right next to them, they just needed a tiny little push to reach it. Tighnari gritted his teeth, trying his best to not make the claw marks that he left at Cyno’s shoulders any worse. 

And, finally, with a loud cry, it happened.

Tighnari tightened his legs around Cyno’s waist, pressing his ass against his partner’s lap as hard as he could as if to make that moment of bliss last as long as possible. A white, creamy and hot stream of seed shot up from his still-hard length, his cum splattering his and Cyno’s midriff while his eyes rolled back. Tighnari felt his whole body tensing, from the tip of his ears all the way down to his curled toes. Cyno had to dedicate some extra strength to hold the fennec in place, unable to help but to notice how the air barely made its way through Tighnari’s throat - a sight that rubbed his ego just right, almost as if patting him in the shoulder and saying ‘good job, Cyno, you did it’.

A strangled moan managed to break through Tighnari’s lips as the forest watcher came down from his high, wrapping his hands around Cyno’s neck as he tried to pull his upper body up. “S-sorry, hngh… I-I couldn’t hold it…” Tighnari whined softly in his embarrassment, feeling the ‘emptiness’ on his insides and quickly figuring out the meaning behind it.

“Hey,” Cyno smiled, resting his forehead against Tighnari’s once the man looked up to him, “I told you I was going to help you, so don’t feel bad for anything, Nari,” he muttered sweetly, gently kissing the tip of Tighnari’s nose.

“But do we… have to stop now?” Tighnari muttered, using the tip of his fingers to draw shapes on Cyno’s nape while his tail wagged mischievously behind his back. “I still…” Tighnari started, holding his lips next to Cyno’s ear as he whispered something.

Cyno gulped, a faint heat spreading across his face while his eyes widened. “Uh… s-sure, I- ahm, I can do that for you, Nari.”

The fennec grinned, slightly bearing his teeth as he tilted his head. “I can’t tell if you are scared or excited, general,” Tighnari teased, leaning in for a kiss.

“A mix of both, my desert flower,” Cyno whispered back with a nervous chuckle and followed the lead, pressing another deep kiss into those lips he loved and cherished with his whole heart.

There was still a long way until the end of February, after all.