#i might just be an idiot but who knows for sure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wosospacegirl · 2 days ago

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Stuck with you - part 2

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Y/n is absolutely oblivious to everything, Kika is adorably awkward, Alexia is a complete idiot, Aitana is old, and Olga is mother. <3 Real warning now - angst!! Alexia and Y/n fight on this one, again.

Word count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

| PART 1 |

The week of training had been intense.

An Él clássico was approaching, and Romeu was making sure all the girls were physically and mentally prepared, even if it meant pushing them to the brink with his bizarre ideas about team dynamics.

Y/n wanted to win the game, of course, but she also wanted to keep all her limbs.

When Alexia and Y/n arrived at training–without any fighting, miraculously– they were quickly separated by the assistant coach into two teams: seniors and youngsters.

“What is he doing?” Vicky whispered to Y/n as they made their way to the left side of the pitch. “I bought new training boots, tio [bro], I wanted to use them for, you know…football, not this.”

“I have no idea,” Y/n replied. “He always comes up with the most absurd ideas ever known to mankind, or well, manager kind.”

“Guys, guys!”

Y/n and Vicky turned around at the sound of Jana’s voice. She was walking towards them, her ponytail swishing with each step she took on the grass.

However, it was the girl on Jana’s side that caught Y/n’s attention.

Kika.

She had the same sweet smile on her face as she always did. People might expect Kika to be tired by now; it was Friday and she had completed her first full week at Barcelona, but instead of tired, she seemed excited and full of energy.

The whole team had warmed up to her already, even Alexia. Y/n had noticed the other day how Kika and Alexia had a cordial and amicable conversation in the changing room.

It was something about Alexia wanting to learn Portuguese–Alexia had never mentioned this desire to learn another language to Y/n.

“I think we’re doing a tug of war,” Jana said, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

“What?!” Y/n and Vicky said in unison.

Romeu was known for creating…unique training methods. Most of them had weird rules and were very physically demanding, but tug of war? That was–peculiar– even for Romeu.

“How the hell would tug of war help us in anything?” Vicky asked exasperated.

“We’re just going to get burns on our hands,” Y/n muttered, facepalming. “Now it’s a good time to pretend to have cramps or what?”

Kika chuckled at Y/n’s remark, which brought Y/n’s attention back to the Portuguese girl.

She had a pretty smile, and a cute laugh as well.

“Kika said she saw the biggest rope in Romeu’s office, and that he was searching about how the tug of war could be beneficial to other sports,” Jana explained, placing her hand on Kika’s shoulder, who leaned into the touch.

Hmm, okay.

Y/n shifted the weight between her feet, trying to suppress the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. It looked like Kika was really settling in.

“What were you doing in Romeu's office?” Vicky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He called me to talk about how my first week went,” Kika replied.

The conversation was cut short when Romeu walked onto the pitch. And it looked like Kika was right after all.

Romeu had the largest rope Y/n had ever seen. All the other girls were staring at it weirdly, wide-eyed.

“Alright, girls! Today we’re doing tug of w–”

“Why?” Y/n interrupted, deadpan.

“Huh?” Romeu asked, raising an eyebrow while turning to Y/n. The large rope on his hand made the scene look…comical, to say the least.

“Why are we doing this? Does it have a real benefit?”

Romeu was silent for a moment, not used to the players questioning him.

“Hm, yes, Y/n.” He said. “It’ll make the team grow closer together, it’ll tighten the bond you all have with each other.”

“Why tug of war, though,” Jana asked, clearly confused. “Is this supposed to make us stronger or just humiliate us?”

“You guys will have to work together as a team,” Romeu explained. “And it’ll be fun, trust me, no humiliat–”

“I don’t think it’s fun,” Vicky said bluntly. “Does anyone think it’s fun? To pull a rope around and what? Laugh at the team that loses?”

“Yeah, it seems boring,” Pina chimed in.

“We could just play volleyball if we’re trying to build team spirit,” Vicky suggested.

“Or we could just play football,” Y/n added with a shrug before looking at her arms disappointed. “I’ve got the upper body strength of a noodle, this isn’t gonna end well.”

“I’m with Y/n on this one,” Pina agreed, leaning in on Patri, who also nodded in agreement.

Jana raised her hand like she had a better idea. “Oh, we could also–”

“Do you girls want to go back to La Masia?” Romeu interrupted, emotionless.

The four girls immediately shut their mouths and shook their heads.

“If you’ve got better ideas, you can coach next week,” he muttered. “Kids…”

Y/n rolled her eyes but stayed quiet, listening as he explained the dY/namics of the game.

She was zooming out when she felt a sharp tug on her ear.

“Stop talking back to Romeu,” Alexia whispered, a typical frown on her face.

The girls were too busy listening to the instructions to hear their conversation. Thank God, Y/n didn’t want everybody to hear her getting lectured by Alexia…again.

“Stop tugging my ear like I'm five!” y/n hissed back.

“Stop acting like you’re five,” Alexia replied. “I know it’s hard for you, but try, yeah?”

“Why don't you tug Vicky's ear too?” y/n asked annoyed. “She’s just as bad as me.”

“Because I didn’t practically raise Vicky like I did you,” Alexia said, smirking slightly. “Be on your good behaviour, please.”

Y/n turned to Romeu and the group, making sure they were all too absorbed in the tug-of-war thing before turning back around to face Alexia.

“Ale, come on,” Y/n said. “Don’t make a deal about it.”

“Managers are supposed to be respected,” Alexias said, ignoring Y/n, with a tone that made it clear she was serious.

Alexia was the perfect little player. She always trusted her manager, always listened to them, and always made sure to be the best captain and athlete for them, especially for Romeu.

It wasn’t that Y/n was impolite to Romeu or any other manager she had, it just was that she didn’t put them on the same pedestal that Alexia did.

Y/n didn’t see a problem in questioning Romeu, but Alexia felt like she was the only one allowed to do that, or else, it was disrespectful.

“I didn't disrespect him! Why are you bothering me about it, tio?” Y/n argued.

“You know he’ll bench you if he doesn’t like your attitude,” Alexia said quietly. “I want you on the pitch, not sitting on the sideline.”

Y/n’s heart softened at her words, but she still didn’t like how Alexia tugged at her ear like she was a kid.

But Alexia was right–only this time, though. She needed to be on Romeu's good side to play one of the most important games of the season.

Last month Patri said something to Romeu that he didn’t like and she was benched for two whole games. Y/n didn't want to end up like that, especially with El Clássico approaching.

“Okay,” Romeu said, clapping his hand. “Split yourself into those two teams I talked about, seniors take the right end of the rope, youngsters, the left.

“Aitana, you stay with the seniors,” Romeu said, pointing at Alexia, Marta and other players.

Aitana looked at him confused. “But Ona is with the youngest and we’re just months apart.”

“The classification is based on who has more back pain and who forgets where they put their keys,” Vicky teased.

Aitana gave her a blank stare while the whole team laughed.

“Right, so I’m basically a walking cane now,” Aitana said dryly, crossing her arms as she started to walk to the other side.

Alexia greeted her with open arms, a victorious smile on her face, even though the teams hadn’t even started the game.

“She’s really like a big sister to you,” Y/n heard Kika’s voice behind her. “Oh–sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your conversation,” Kika said laughing nervously. “I just– I overheard it.”

“Yeah, she’s…too much sometimes,” Y/n said with a small, amused smile before preparing for the tug of war.

Kika positioned herself directly in front of Y/n.

And then it began.

Both groups were pulling the rope with everything they had.

Y/n’s fingers were burning from the friction, but what was really burning was the spot on her thigh where Kika’s leg was pressing against her.

Kika was directly in front of her– bent low to keep her foot– so in consequence, her thigh was firmly pressed against Y/n’s.

Y/n shouldn’t have worn shorts to training, she should have stuck to her leggings, or sometimes that covered more skin.

Y/n tried to ignore it.

Y/n was going to think of puppies. Flowers. Anything but Kika.

“Pull the fucking rope!” Jana’s voice barked from behind her. “Why are you letting it slip?”

Crap. She was distracted.

Kika distracted her.

Y/n gritted her teeth and pulled the rope harder. Across from her, Alexia’s face was set in that determined, slightly terrifying expression that usually meant she was winning.

But this time, La Reina lost.

When Alexia’s team hit the ground in defeat, Alexia shot up unnaturally fast, her white training kit smeared with dirt and grass. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she pointed at the younger girls.

“They cheated, Romeo!” Alexia protested furiously.

Y/n had been too busy celebrating to care about Alexia’s reaction. She hugged Vicky, and then Jana, then Ona–and finally, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around the nearest body around her.

“We did it!” Y/n said, happily, still riding the high of winning over the seniors, and especially, Alexia.

That was until she realised it.

Kika. She was hugging Kika.

Y/m froze when she realized, pulling back immediately as if she had touched something on fire.

“Oh– I'm sorry,” Y/n stammered.

“No, it's…alright,” Kika said, her voice nervous, but softer at the same time.

Kika’s ace was flushed, the redness creeping down her neck, her hands shifted at her sides, not knowing exactly what to do.

Y/n gave her an awkward smile before heading to the changing room.

That should’ve been the end of it — except when Y/n glanced back, she saw Kika laughing with Vicky and Patri, an arm draped around each of them.

Kika didn’t seem to get nervous when the other girls were around her, only when Y/n was. She didn’t seem to tense up around them.

Maybe it was something personal? Maybe Y/n made Kika feel uncomfortable somehow?

Y/n wasn’t the most charismatic person around. That’d be Vicky and Jana, but she didn't like to think her personality was prone to make others uncomfortable.

Y/n thought she was rather distant already. She didn’t fuss over anyone like Alexia did–so she thought she and Kika were okay, but seeing how Kika just looked way more at ease with the other girls left a bitter taste in Y/n’s mouth.

Yeah… Y/n needed to back off.

It wasn't the first time Kika acted nervous around Y/n.

Just yesterday Y/n asked if it was okay if she used the treadmill next to Kika at the gym and Kika began stammering.

Was Y/n that unbearable to be around?

It wasn’t like she wanted Kika to be nervous and uncomfortable around the other girls. She just wished Kika could.

Maybe be more at ease with her, too?

That doubt lingered in Y/n’s mind as she poked at food later in Barcelona’s restaurant. Marta and Aitana were chatting away, but Y/n couldn’t focus.

The stranger feeling in her chest–one that she couldn’t put a name in–was too loud.

Y/n was pulled out of her thoughts when Alexia sat down by her side, putting her plate–filled with greens– on the table and grumbling under her breath.

“What?” Aitana asked.

“Just… the tug of war was so unfair and–”

“Déu meu,” [Oh my god] Y/n muttered as she pushed her chair back, grabbing her plate.

“Estrellita, where are you going?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at the nickname. How many times will she have to ask Alexa not to call her that?

“Eat in peace.”

“What do you mean?” Alexia challenged. “Do I disturb your peace?”

“Every day,” Y/n shot back.

She heard Alexia mumble something about how Y/n still hadn't lost the teenager's moodiness but ignored her. She just wanted to find a new table.

Unfortunately, every spot was taken–except one.

Kika's.

She was sitting alone, though she didn't seem to mind.

Y/n hesitate. She wasn’t about to pull an ‘Alexia’ and invade Kika’s space.

But then–

Kika waved.

Y/n blinked confused, Maybe it was for somebody else. She looked at her left, then at her right.

Kika continued to wave.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and looked behind her.

“You are hopeless,” Alexia muttered, pointing at Kika. “Don't you see Kika waving at you? Go sit down!”

Before Y/n could process it, Alexia gave her a light shove in Kika’s direction.

Y/n found herself standing awkwardly in front of Kika’s table, unsure what to do with her hands.

“Hi?” She tried.

“Hi,” Kika smiled.

They were in silence.

“Do…do you wanna sit?” Kika asked nervously.

There it was again– that nervousness. Yep, Y/n was definitely making her uncomfortable, no doubts about that now.

Maybe Kika was just being polite and offering a seat because she felt bad watching Y/n standing in the middle of the restaurant.

“No, it's okay,” Y/n said quickly.

“Oh, are you sure?” Kika asked, looking around. “All the other tables are full.”

Okay. So it was just pity.

“Hmm,” Y/n looked at the free chair in front of her, not really sure about what to do…eating while standing up seemed pathetic, even for her.

“I can eat standing up with you, if you want” Kika offered, saying, already moving her plate.

“Oh no! I’ll– I’ll just sit,” Y/n blurted, hurriedly sliding into the seat before Kika could follow through. “Here. I’ll sit here.

Kika's expression faltered a bit.

Yep, she definitely did not want Y/n there.

It was like one of those moments when you offer someone food–to be polite–and they actually say yes.

It wasn’t like Y/n didn’t understand it. She wasn’t the easiest person to be around. She was–in addition to other things– quiet, grumpy, maybe a little rude when she absolutely didn't mean to and when she did mean to.

And now she was sitting here, and probably bothering Kika.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was going to eat fast, keep her head down, and leave before Kika could notice.

But when Y/n looked up, Kika was eating normally, seemingly unfazed, almost as if Y/n wasn’t there.

Y/n decided to follow Kika’s lead and appreciate the amazing fish Barcelona’s cook had prepared.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and awkward.

Y/n was good at silence, the best ever. She could be quiet for hours without a problem.

But in some way, being in silence in Kika’s presence felt…wrong.

“So…how’s your day been?” Y/n asked, trying to steer some conversation. Asking about Kika’s day was good, casual, safe territory.

Although she pretty much spent the whole day with Kika, she knew almost everything that had happened. Next time she should try asking about the weather.

Kika smiled shyly, taking a bite of her food before answering. “Good and busy! I’m getting used to everything here.”

Y/n nodded, offering a small smile pressed in a tight line on the lips.

Before she could respond, Kika reached for her glass of water, but her hand slipped, and the glass tipped over, spilling water all over the table and onto Y/n’s lap.

Kika’s face flushed red immediately. "Oh no! I’m so sorry, I–”

Kika quickly grabbed a napkin and started dabbing furiously at the mess on the table. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to–It just–” The girl kept rambling, her words tumbling over each other as she panicked. “Do you have a change of shorts?! Merda, you can grab one of mine, no problem.” [shit]

Y/n just… stared at the whole thing for a moment. Not in a mean way, just in a–blanky way, like her brain needed a minute to process whatever had just happened…because of course, this would happen today.

Right at the moment that she was having some–very minor–success in trying to socialise with other people the universe decided to pour cold water on her, literally.

“It’s okay,” Y/n muttered after a few seconds, barely loud enough for Kika to hear. Y/n wasn’t sure what she could say, she never spilt her drinks or anyone or had anyone do it to her…and it really was okay. It was only water.

Should Y/n…take more napkins? They were all in Kika’s hand already. Should she get up now? Maybe grab a towel in the kitchen to dry the table? Oh that would be a good idea, maybe Y/n could grab more napkins while she was in the kitchen and–

“I’m such an idiot,” Kika mumbled under her breath.

“No you’re not,” Y/n said quickly, too quickly.

Y/n bit her lip, feeling like she already said too much. She wasn’t the best at comforting people, and knowing her luck, she shouldn’t even try to comfort Kika, she would probably make her feel worse.

She always seemed uneasy around y/n, especially now.

Kika turned away her attention from the table to Y/n’s legs. She started at Y/n’s tights, and then at the napkins on her hands, and then at Y/n’s leg again. She took a step closer and nervously began drying Y/n’s shorts–and bits of her skin.

Y/n’s breath got caught up in her mouth. She just…froze, again. Kika rubbed the rough material of the cheap napkin against shorts, but the fabric had already absorbed most of the water, so it felt like Kika was drying–y/n’s skin?

“Hey, it’s okay,” Y/n said firmly, reaching out to grab Kika’s wrists before she could rub another napkin into her skin. They kinda burned.

Kika froze instantly, her hand still hovering just above Y/n’s leg. Her fingers twitched while holding the napkins, almost as if she wasn’t sure whether to pull away or insist on drying Y/n off.

Then Kika looked up, her brown eyes wide and startled, and for a moment she just…stared.

Y/n, as a great connoisseur of social interaction, stared back, slightly pressing her hands against Kika’s wrists.

Her skin was soft and warm, and Y/n liked it. It feels comforting to touch it.

“I should, hm–” Kika stammered, yanking her wrists away from Y/n and moving too fast and nearly knocking Y/n’s glass off the table in the process. “I-I will..grab more napkins.”

“Yeah, right,” Y/n nodded, stiffly, watching as Kika hurried off like she was running from her. Again.

Y/n stabbed the piece of fish with her fork bitterly, not caring about how wet her tights were. She only cared about how Kika hurried off like she couldn't get fast enough.

In the end, Y/n didn’t see Kika for the rest of the day. She wasn’t training at the pitch in the afternoon, but Y/n didn’t know why.

So she asked around, very casually, about the missing girl.

At first, she tried Vicky and Jana.

“Hi,” Y/n said, leaning in one of the lockers while Jana changed her shirt and Vick did her hair. “How was lunch? Didn’t see you guys at the restaurant.”

“We went to that Italian place I told you about,” Jana said while bending down to fix her boots. “The one you said was way overpriced and that you’d never go?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at Jana’s comment. Y/n didn't like to go out much, not even with her friends — she just liked to play football and go home. Vicky understood that better than Jana. Jana’s love language was quality time or something like that.

“But it was good,” Jana added, “I ordered caprese salad and Vicky had some fettuccine alfredo.”

“Hmm,” Y/n said, trying to sound disinterested.

“Why do I think you only asked about our lunch because you want something?” Vicky asked. “What is it? Just say it.”

“Have you–like–seen Kika?” Y/n asked, playing with her hair and not making eye contact, “I’m just curious, haven’t seen her around for some time.”

Vicky and Jana shared a look Y/n couldn’t quite decode.

“We haven’t seen her since the tug of war earlier,” Jana said, smiling at her. “But maybe she’s at physio?”

“Yeah, I don’t know either.”

Y/n mumbled something that sounded like a thank you and left the room.

She needed someone nosy, someone who was always in other people’s business.

And that’s when she saw Aitana and Alexia at the pitch, both stretching their legs while having a conversation.

Without thinking too much, Y/n casually walked over, positioned herself next to them and started to stretch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while awkwardly pulling her thigh up against her body.

“Estrellita, hi!” Aitana said smiling. “What do you want?” Aitana was always straightforward.

“What? Can’t I just hang out with my lovely teammates?” Y/n said, voice just a little too casual.

Aitana raised an eyebrow while Alexia looked amused.

“Well–” Y/n said, looking at the two girls. She couldn’t be as honest as Aiatana, so she had to…play around a little bit. “I was wondering about our schedule for the day.”

“Schedule?” Alexia asked, confused. “What schedule? We do the same thing every day: gym, training, lunch, training, go home.”

“Hm, right,” Y/n said. “But it's not always the same for every player.”

“Yeah, that’s why they send us our own weekly calendar,” Aitana pointed out, her tone suspicious.

“Are you looking for someone?” Alexia asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

“What?! No of course not,” Y/n said way too fast. “Why would you think that? I’m just trying to have a conversation here…”

“Right,” Aitana said suspiciously, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe her for a second.

“Well, if you happen to be looking for someone–” Alexia said, “And that someone happens to be the new Portuguese girl, just know that she’s doing some media training for the rest of the day.”

Alexia winked at her.

Y/n felt her face heat up instantly. Great. Just great. Without saying a word, she turned on her heel and stormed off, nearly tripping over her own shoelace in the process. ‘Perfect’, she thought, scowling. ‘Now I look like an idiot on top of everything else.’

“Fix your face,” Y/n muttered while sitting on the passenger seat, Alexia by her side, hands on the wheel as she started the car.

“I’ll fix mine when you fix yours,” Alexia grumbled back, in the same tone as Y/n.

They were in silence.

Y/n hummed through the songs playing on the radio while Alexia had a frown on her face, her lips in a tight line.

“I just think it’s unfair, Estrelitta,” Alexia stated after 14 minutes of no talking–Y/n counted, it was the closest she got to heaven.

“What?” Y/n asked as they drove through the park Alexia used to take her to train a few years ago when she still was a teen.

It was a good memory.

“That you guys cheated!” Alexia snapped.

“Déu meu, Alexia,” y/n said as she considered throwing herself out of the moving vehicle. “How can you cheat at fucking tug of war, Alexia?!”

“Okay, first: language,” Alexia said sternly, “Second, you can cheat by using magnesium to get a better grip on the rope.”

Alexia said magnesium in the same tone someone would disclose a big, juicy, secret.

“And where do you think we would find magnesium,” Y/n asked exasperated, she tried to be a chill person but Alexia really brought out the worst in her. “We’re footballers not fucking Rebeca Andrade e Simone Biles.”

Y/n made sure Alexia saw her rolling her eyes, to get her point across.

“I saw something white on Jana’s hand,” Alexia continued. “Maybe she got it from someone else…do you happen to know any gymnast?”

“Do I look like I know a lot of people to you?” Y/n asked impatiently. “Better yet a gymnast…? You sound like you would prefer Jana to have cocaine on her hands rather than magnesium. Chill, Ale.”

Alexia never dropped an argument, never.

Y/n learned to deal with this by simply walking away. She wasn’t one of those people who always needed to be right, but Alexia was.

Unfortunately, Y/n couldn’t walk away from a moving car.

Alexia did not stop complaining though.

Alexia moaned for 9 minutes straight–y/n counted, again – about the tug-of-war thing. Y/n was going to burn the fucking rope next time she was at the training centre so Romeu would never bring it up.

When Alexia brought up her hallucination about Jana using magnesium for the eleventh time, Y/n decided it was enough.

Y/n had a bad day.

Kika had been acting weird around her while acting normal and friendly with the other girls. She got all wet at the restaurant because Kika spilt water on her–not that she was mad at the girl. And to top it all off, Y/n made a lot of mistakes during the afternoon sessions.

The only–small–victory of her day was the stupid tug of war, and Alexia was taking that away from that by being a whiner.

“Alexia! Please, shut up,” Y/n snapped, turning her torso to stare at Alexia, who seemed to cough off guard by Y/n’s sudden shift in attitude.

Moments ago she was just listening to it. Her usual grumpy face. But now? Now she was mad.

“I really don’t know how Olga can deal with you,” Y/n continued. “You’re impossible to put up with! It was a game, Ale! A game! Get over it.”

They had finally arrived home and Alexia turned off the car before she turned to Y/n, anger on her face.

“At least, I have someone to put up with me,” Alexia said as she got out of the car, slamming the door shut.

Y/n mouth was agape. “And I bet Olga has to really try because you’re annoying as fuck!”

Y/n followed Alexia inside the house, making sure to slam the car door even harder. When Alexia opened the door, they continued their yelling.

Olga who was lying on the sofa in her pyjamas couldn’t understand a thing of what was happening and why the two women were yelling at each other.

Alexia threw her training bag on the floor. “I’m annoying but at least somebody loves me!” Alexia said angrily. “I'm not angry and cranky all the time like you are.”

Alexia’s words felt like a slap to her face.

Y/n froze, staring at Alexia, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. Especially because, deep down, and given her history, it was true.

Y/n’s parents had sent Y/n off to live with someone they didn't know when she was only fourteen. Laura, her ex-girlfriend, had only been with her for the money.

“Alexia!” Olga sternly said, getting up from the sofa quickly.

If Y/n wasn’t so upset by what Alexia had just said, she would have laughed at the way Olga tugged at Alexia’s ear–the same way Alexia did to her–while giving her a full lecture about empathy.

Unfortunately, the damage was done.

She quickly took her training bag and made her way to her room, ignoring the way Alexia and Olga were calling for her.

Hours had passed, maybe two, maybe more.

Y/n had already taken a shower and changed into comfy clothes. She decided she was going to take the sadness away.

She was lying on her bed, her face buried in her pillow when she heard a soft knock on her door. Y/n didn’t answer, hoping whoever it was would just leave her alone.

“Y/n,” Olga’s voice called softly before she opened the door anyway. Typical.

“I brought you some water,” Olga said, setting the glass on Y/n’s nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Also thought about bringing some chocolate, but I was scared you would…throw it at my head”

Despite herself, Y/n let out a chuckle against the pillow.

“There she is,” Olga said with a smile. “Look, I know Alexia’s a complete idiot sometimes and what she said earlier…”

Y/n tensed, her smile disappearing as she pressed her face closer to the pillow. It was like if she couldn’t see Olga, then Olga wouldn't see her as well.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Olga said quietly. “I know it sounded bad — like really bad — but she was angry, and you know how her mouth runs faster than her brain sometimes, well, most of the time.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tightening.

“She’s not wrong, though,” Y/n muttered, her voice muffled. “At least she has people who care about her– her parents, her sisters…you.”

“You really believe that? That you don’t have people who love you?” Olga asked, her voice softer now. “Because if you do… then you’re more oblivious than I thought.”

Y/n turned her head slightly, just enough to see Olga sitting beside her on the mattress, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You think Alexia doesn’t care about you?” Olga continued, looking at Man's face, her wide eyes reminding her of when Y/n was just a kid. “That I don’t? That the girls don’t? Even Alexia’s family treat you as their own, Cariño.”

“That’s different,” Y/n said quietly.

“It’s not,” Olga insisted. “I know things haven’t been easy for you… with your parents, with…” she hesitated, “…with Laura. But you’re not alone, Y/n. Maybe your family doesn’t look the way you thought it would, but you have one. And Alexia? She’s part of it — whether you like it or not.”

“She’s just... bad at showing it sometimes,” Olga added. “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re family to her and that she loved you very much and–”

Olga smiled sweetly. “ And I know that I love you very, very, much.”

Y/n finally turned her head completely to Olga, no longer hiding half of it on the pillow.

“She has a funny way of showing it,” Y/n muttered. “We just…fight all the time.”

“She just... she says stupid things when she’s pissed off,” Olga said, a sad smile on her face. “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she’d do anything for you.

Y/n blinked quickly, trying to fight the stinging in her eyes. “She's annoying, though.”

“Yeah,” Olga chuckled lightly. “She’s Alexia. Being annoying is part of the package–it’s her charm.”

Y/n let out a small, tired smile.

“I’ve already talked to her,” Olga said more seriously. “But if you want, I can give her the same lecture again in front of you.”

Olga sat close to Y/n, her hands caressing her scalp. Y/n let her do it. It felt good. Comforting.

“I would love that more than anything,” Y/n said teasingly, but Olga knew her and could tell Y/n still wasn’t okay.

Alexia’s words had stung her– badly.

“Do you want me to go?” Olga asked softly, her finger still running gently through Y/n’s hair. “Or to stay? It’s up to you. Alexia’s sleeping on the couch either way.”

Y/n smiled at Olga.

She thought about saying no, about curling back into her own thoughts and just…trying to get back on track on her own. But decided against it.

“You can stay…if you want to,” Y/n mumbled, changing her gaze from Olga to the mattress. “Only if you don't mind tough.”

“I would love to stay here with you, cariño.” Olga shifted her position so she could get more comfortable, her back against the headboard while Y/n lay by her side, her hands never leaving Y/n’s hair.

It was quiet. Y/n liked quiet–except if it was with a certain Portuguese girl–but here with Olga, it felt comfortable, almost motherly.

Y/N's breathing slowed, and she felt her eyes heavier and a slight pain behind them. Y/n let herself fall asleep.

She heard Olga saying something, but she couldn’t remember it when she woke up the next day.

Notes: taglist on the comments. Let me know if you want to be added and if you don't want to be part of it anymore!

Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

MASTERLIST

PART 1

#woso fanfic #woso x reader #kika nazareth x yn #kika nazareth x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona x reader

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redflagshipwriter · 2 days ago

Text

Snatching Snitches 5

masterpost

Raven contemplated the hole she was digging and decided that the only way out was further down. Things had escalated rapidly. Helping Robin get his ugly cat back had seemed like a nice deed, and then when she learned it was actually a ghost, it had seemed funny to register it as Dick’s cat. It was a harmless prank to saddle him with the cat he didn’t seem to like much.

And then it turned out to be the ghost of a human child who, so far as she could tell online, appeared to actually still be going to school. What the fuck was going on with that? Was the carboy dead or not?

‘I’m a terrible person for thinking that’s even funnier. This is literally a Schrödinger bit’

Raven smirked to herself as she waited for Robin to get back with the super-secret adoption paperwork that Bruce kept in his study to cry over whenever he and Dick had a fight. He was definitely going to notice that it was missing, but she was willing to bet that Bruce would think that Dick had done it himself. Those idiots couldn’t communicate about feelings if their lives depended on it. She was going to get away with this, no sweat. She just had to keep going until the end. Sure, the consequences would get worse the more she did, but that wouldn’t matter if she pulled it off.

“I might be going down, but Dick is going to be planted,” she muttered to herself, stretching out her hands and then rotating her wrists. She cracked her neck. That had been a lot of paperwork.

The air buzzed to let her know that Robin wanted to come back. Raven opened up a portal and he slipped through, much like a cat himself. Granted, it would be hard to convince a cat into one of those preppy blazers. It was a real flashback to Dick’s mathlete days. Raven choked down a laugh as Robin lifted his face to confront her directly with a crisp envelope in hand.

“Here.” He looked like a combat accountant and he only came up to her collarbone. God, she loved working with the trainees. It was a perpetual joke that no one else was in on.

Raven took the envelope with a smirk and a flick of the wrist. “Thank you.” She hadn’t been willing to steal from Batman personally. “I’ll take this to get filed.” She held the paper up a little higher and marveled at how light it was. This little paper was going to be so goddamn funny.

The little boy looked like a half-scale doll of a businessman with his hair slicked back. It was difficult not to laugh when Robin nodded gravely. “You are an admirable colleague.” Beneath the tightly-leashed exterior, Robin was awash with sincere gratitude and warmth, with a hint of admiration. It was a significant improvement on the resigned scorn he had for the other kids in the tower.

‘His diction is just like Dick’s. I’m gonna have a war flashback to infiltrating that museum internship program to find magical forgeries.’

His crisp little businessman tone aside, that was… sort of touching feedback. She nodded back at him. “Your professionalism is also appreciated. I’ll file a personnel request in a few minutes..” Raven had been thinking it over while she waited. “We need to move quickly. I’m going to have a field trip to train one or two of the new kids. You’ll be my assistant.”

Robin’s nose flared, but he otherwise did not react to the, as he would see it, unfortunate need to have tagalongs. “That will suffice,” he agreed, the pompous little pussycat. The air around him soured with regret.

She sent him back in another portal and then sat at her laptop to file a request for him on a mission. Someone in the Batcave approved and filed the request within minutes. Pretty typical for them. The next request was for Suzie, and then the last member of the group… Robin’s little Superboy friend, actually. If there were a lot of ghost fights, it would be a good chance for him to see more aerial combat. Supers were a little overly confident if you didn’t deliberately let them get their asses handed to them by someone else who could fly.

When she was done with administration work Raven spun around on her chair and stretched out her shoulders before she got up to do a little magical research into Amity Park. The human world wasn’t generally very safe for non-life, so there might be some relevant background information. She wanted to know the magical landscape before she brought Secret there. Sure, she was already dead, but she was still basically an elementary schooler. She was learning a lot and maturing, but she would never actually hit 10 years old. Raven had a significant duty of care.

Unfortunately, she hit a dead end with that line way too early and had to look into the online resources. It looked like nothing of note had really happened in Amity Park history, so it had to be a modern era problem.

“Who the…” Raven furrowed her brows and scowled at the screen. “Who are these losers?” She sneered at the government website. They had an inventory of their weaponry on their private server that seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. “Good thing I asked for a Super, we might need a shield,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t know if this would harm Suzie if it hit her…”

The tiny girl herself drifted through the wall not an hour later, blonde hair floating in an invisible breeze. “Hi, Raven.” Her blue eyes were bright with interest. “You have a mission for me?”

Raven tried not to sneeze on the smoke. “Secret,” she said evenly. It always sort of fucked her up to see dead kids, even if they were still wandering around and having a better afterlife than their life had been. “Yes, I do. We are looking into a custody situation for another ghost. There’s something really strange in this place�� it is full of ghosts. There’s nothing in the history to justify this level of spiritual saturation.”

It was really bothering her, actually. This type of thing usually took a long time to accumulate.

Suzie’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “So you need me to act as a warder?” She beamed. “Guide someone to the afterlife?” Her smoky sleeves floated around her body in a mock embrace and then billowed out like wings. She was adorable.

…She should probably not suggest that around Robin. He might make her cry and undo all of Raven’s work to engender confidence.

Raven kept her tone even. “I don’t think that’s what we want to do, but it would be foolish not to bring you along to get your expert opinion.”

As expected, the child puffed up with pleasure at being trusted. Nurturing that confidence had been a trial, and Raven wasn’t going to let a chance pass by.

“This is Danny,” she said, and beckoned Suzie over to look at her screen. “He died a few months ago, but on the official record? He’s alive and well and attending school, although his grades have dropped.”

Damian was going to have to dig into his allowance to get tutoring for his new kid.

Suzie hummed, fascinated. “He’s a big kid,” she said, cocking her head. “Like fourteen?”

Raven hid a wince. “That’s right, he died at 14,” she agreed. “He was caught up in a summoning and taken to Gotham two months ago in a secondary form.” She kept a subtle eye on Suzie, watching her emotional state. This was probably a sensitive topic. “If possible, we are going to transfer custody to one of the Gotham vigilantes. I’ve already contacted an afterlife young ghost protective center.”

‘Had no idea that existed until this morning, but whatever.’

The little ghost went silent for a long moment and considered that, bobbing faintly in the air. “I suppose if they think the placement is fine,” Suzie said slowly. “I would feel better seeing the ghost. Danny. What was the secondary form?”

She didn’t smile, because she was a hardass bitch. “A housecat.”

Suzie giggled. “That’s cute,” she said, and then hummed as she tipped her face up to think. “It sounds like he was vulnerable. Becoming something cute and small is a way to be safe. I’m glad that we are looking into it.”

“Yes,” Raven said, and switched her tabs. “There are two factions of ghost hunters in this city, one of which is actually Danny’s parents. So I will be doing a home check with Robin while you and Superboy do recon of the general area. Depending on how good they are, you may or may not catch their attention.”

Suzie stared. “His parents.”

“His parents.”

Suzie’s eyes darkened. “I wonder how he died.”

Given that she had been murdered by her adoptive brother, the odds were good she was thinking the same thing that Raven was.

It was an effort to keep her voice neutral. “That’s my first question,” Raven agreed. “I don’t like it. It’s very convenient that these ghost hunters suddenly have ghosts in their vicinity after years of failure.” She pulled up their neon website. “They have to be complicit in hiding the death, at the very least.”

“Or seriously negligent.” Suzie crossed her legs in the air and hugged her ankles, bent over into a tiny shape to peer at the screen.

Raven inclined her head, but she couldn’t quite buy that anyone would fail to notice their child had died in the house a few months back. “I want you to look at these images of suspected ghosts off the GIW servers and tell me if you know anything about any of them.”

“Right!” Suzie nodded in determination. Her emotions spilled out in the air, wholesome and sincere. “I’ll do what I can.”

Raven’s answering smile was real. “I know you will.” She hit print.

Not an hour later, Raven gave up on her books for the day and rolled her neck out. “I’m going to run an errand,” she announced. “What do you want to do?”

Suzie looked up from the folder she had made to mark up entity photos with her questions and comments. “I’m fine here, I’ll leave when I‘m done,” she said vaguely, and then immediately went back to what she was doing.

Raven nodded and went to her closet to pull out a suit. She styled herself to be as boring as possible and then took herself to Gotham city hall.

The receptionist looked up at the clack of Raven’s heels approaching. “Good evening,” she greeted, radiating the overwhelming impression of normality and reasonability. “I need to file a certificate of adoption on behalf of a client.”

“I can take that.” The clerk indicated the sign in sheet. “Would you put your name and time of visitation down?”

“It’s better if I don’t.” Raven leaned her elbow on the counter and flourished the envelope, smiling faintly. “Here you go.”

The clerk paused, but Raven’s general aura was too powerful for her to protest that it was irregular. “Thank you.” She opened it and pulled out the paperwork. Her eyes widened and brows went up when she read the names. “That’s…”

“Overdue?” Raven asked dryly.

“All in order,” came the correction. A stamp came out and was pressed firmly on the bottom of the paper. “I’ll have this filed before the end of the day. Will there be an announcement in the newspaper?”

“No, it’s better not to,” Raven said, really coaxing.

The clerk took a deep breath. The exhalation where she would have told anyone else “It is a requirement” came out silent. “I can see why,” she said instead. “Thank you. Will that be all?”

It really felt like there should be more fanfare. But Raven shook her head. “No, that’s all– Actually, can I get more of those papers, blank forms?”

Maybe she wouldn’t need them! But something was very odd with little Danny Fenton. If he was somehow passing for living… She might have to have him adopted via the human court system as well to avoid compromising his education.

…How the fuck was she going to pull that off?

Raven worried over the problem on her way back to the tower, scowling up a storm cloud of negativity that sparked rain. She slammed her way back into her room and was faintly grateful that Suzie had already cleared out. Raven pulled up her stub of a file on Danny Fenton and started adding more biographical information. She’d seen there was a sister in the same school, but Raven found the first photo.

“...Hm.” She added the photo and went looking for photos of the parents. Danny had blue eyes and black hair, which really wasn’t a common combination. It was weird that his sister had red hair. She didn’t get it from their dad, it turned out, who was a black-haired brickhouse of a man. Raven’s heart rate picked up with excitement as she searched up images of Madeline Fenton. Her university affiliation photo showed a beaming middle aged woman with subtle white in her red hair who apparently lectured on occasion. Bit premature, those white hairs, since she was only 39. Not much older than Raven’s Teen Titan’s cohort, as a matter of fact. Oh, fuck. A delicious timeline came together.

“And 14 years ago…” Raven mumbled to herself, feeling a wicked idea come together. Oh, fuck yes. She full-on villain cackled at the throwback photo of Madeline Fenton at age 25, when Dick had been 22 and in love with any redhead with a pulse. “She’s hot,” Raven said with relish, and slapped her hands on the desk in delight. It was the first full body photo she had found online, and Madeline Fenton was a goddamn fox. “Oh, Dick would have. He would have.” She cracked her knuckles and set in to do something truly heinous as a backup plan. “Now I just need someone to help me falsify DNA results.”

It was a late night, but it was going to be so worth it.

The adoption hit squad landed in Amity Park at 9 am local time on Sunday, ready to investigate Danny Fenton's unliving situation.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #snitches the cat au

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 22 hours ago

Text

Date Night

Summary: When Tim didn't pick you up for a date night he planned, you knew that you would find him back at his office. Intending to make him beg for your forgiveness you take yourself in your slutty outfit to the station to find out what Tim will do to make up for forgetting about you.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (oral f receiving; unprotected sex), a whole lot of making out, semi public sex, food, surprise at the end

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You knew he would have a good reason, he always has.

The passion he has for his job is one of the reason you love him so much.

That did not mean that it didn’t hurt when 7 pm turned to 8 and to 9 pm without a single text or call.

You had been looking forward to today.

Pretending to work from home while you took an everything shower and shaved every inch of your body. You scrubbed and moisturised your skin with the lotion you knew Tim loved the smell of.

You put the slutty black mesh body on, needing almost ten minutes to have all the straps in place, rolling the silky stockings up your equally silky thighs, connecting them to the suspenders of the flimsy body you were wearing.

You looked fucking hot, thighs pressing together at the thought of what Tim would do to you once he finally got you home and naked.

You reached for the deep green velvet dress you loved, running your fingers over the soft fabric that reached just above your knees before you searched for some heels.

You didn’t wear them often, but you loved the way your ass looked when you wore them, so you would suffer the couple steps to and from the car.

Tim had made reservations for dinner at the restaurant you had your first date at.

This date night was actually his idea and you, silly little you thought that maybe, maybe he’d pop the big question tonight.

You had been dating for four years, living together for three.

Marriage was not something you really discussed, but you both wanted to get married eventually. And with the effort he had put into tonight you got enough signals to actually gotten your nails done yesterday after work.

But now, at 9:05 pm without Tim having picked you up or having reacted to any message or call you placed on his work and mobile phone you were mad.

Because you knew, as one of his colleagues who actually picked up his phone told you, that he was in the station. In his office.

You weren’t someone who made a big deal of when he stayed too long at work. You knew he was a workaholic, though it had gotten a lot better since you moved in.

But tonight you had the fuck me heels on, and fuck you wanted to spend the night with your hunk of a boyfriend.

So, after another twenty more minutes of waiting and brooding over feelings like a stupid neglected girlfriend, you got up and grabbed your keys.

You made sure the red lipstick you had put on was still perfect on your lips before you went to your car to pay a visit to Tim.

There were only a few cars left in the parking lot as you parked your car next to Tim’s. You made sure your boobs looked good before you exited the car and made your way towards the police station.

You knew the people who worked here, having spend countless barbecues and birthdays with them, so when you opened the door to walked in you made sure to say Hello to everyone.

„Damn, you look hot,“ one of Tim’s female colleagues whistled and you grinned.

„I know,“ you said with a wink, „He in?“ You gestured in the direction of Tim’s office. She nodded.

„Yeah. He’s been in there since lunch. Got some new evidence in,“ she explained.

„That might explain why he forgot he was taking me out to dinner tonight,“ you said and she made a face.

„Idiot,“ she rolled her eyes and you shrugged with pursed lips.

„Any of the other detectives still in?“

„Nah. They went home. Got the end of the floor all to yourselves,“ she winked and you gave her a bashful smile before you made your way towards his office.

You could see the light on behind one single door at the end of the floor and you opened it without knocking, finding Tim sitting behind his desk, dress shirt halfway unbuttoned, tied loosened, still wearing his shoulder holsters.

Various emotions flickered over his face as he looked up to find you standing in his door.

Surprise, clearly.

Hunger, as his eyes wandered over your form.

Love, always.

And then there it was, his eyes widening as regret set in.

He looked away from you for a second, his eyes finding the clock on the wall.

„Oh fuck,“ he shook his head, looking at you, getting up from behind his desk.

„I totally forgot the time, I’m so fucking sorry,“ he said, walking towards you but you just crossed your arms in front of your chest which pushed your tits up and you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered towards your cleavage before he came to stand in front of you, hands on your elbows.

„We got new evidence in and I forgot the time and I’m a shitty fucking boyfriend,“ he said, his big brown eyes big as he looked at you, hands now on your upper arms.

„You look beautiful baby,“ his fingers slipped over the soft fabric of your dress.

„I know,“ you said, now pouting and his lips twitched into a small smile as he stepped forward.

„Let me make it up to you,“ he said with pleading eyes, before he pulled you against his body, your hand coming to rest on his chest as you looked up at him.

„And how do you plan on doing that Detective?“ You asked and he hummed, his head tilting to the side as if in deep thought while both of his hands slowly slid down your back before grabbing a handful of your ass.

„I can think of a few ways,“ he hummed before he kissed you. You sighed against his lips, your arms wrapping around him, one of your hands running through his soft hair as he deepened the kiss. He walked you back, caging you against his door and you heard the soft click of him locking his door and you smiled against his lips.

His hands slowly slipped the soft fabric of your dress up, his fingers leaving goosebumps as they moved over your skin, all while his tongue played with yours.

He groaned when he felt the lace of your stocking.

„Fuck baby. Can I see you?“ He mumbled, one of his fingers hooking through the straps of the garter belt you were wearing and you hummed thoughtfully.

„I don’t know Detective, you think you already earned that?“ You looked at him, challenging him.

Instead of answering you he slowly sank down on his knees, while now both of his hands held up the fabric of your dress. He groaned a low fuck me when he saw what you were wearing, his face leaning in, nuzzling against your lace covered panties as he inhaled deeply.

„She already wet for me?“ He asked, his breath warm against your skin. Not giving you a chance to answer his tongue slipped over your flimsy panties and you gasped as he hummed.

One of his hands grabbed one of your legs, hooking it over one of his shoulders and you let your back fall against the door, one of your hand reaching down, fingers gliding through his hair.

„I’m sorry,“ he whispered before he pushed your panties to the side.

„I’m sorry I forgot about our date,“ he kissed you just above your clit.

„Again,“ he murmured before his fingers parted your folds and he moaned when he saw just how wet you already were.

„You’re so wet for me baby,“ he licked through your folds and you sighed, head falling against the door with a soft thump.

„I’m sorry I’m such a shitty boyfriend,“ he murmured as his tongue played with you, the way his facial hair scratched over your sensitive skin as he ate you out leaving you shuddering.

One of his arms was wrapped around your thigh, holding you in place as his other hand held you open for him.

„I’m close,“ you moaned, fingers gripping his hair and he groaned, his tongue fucking you as deeply as he was able to, humming as he tasted you.

„Already?“ He teased and you pulled his hair, making him moan.

He chuckled to himself before his tongue focused all its attention on your clit. Flicking it at first before he sucked it between his lips, knowing exactly what to do to make you cum.

And within seconds you did, flooding his mouth with your slick as you moaned his name quietly. He continued to lick into you until you pushed him away and he slowly let your leg down before he sat back on his heels, looking very smug as he looked up at you.

„Am I forgiven yet?“ He asked and you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his hands away as you walked over to his desk. Your eyes softened when you saw the photo the two of you took on your last vacation on his desk as you leaned with both palms down over his desk, wiggling your ass.

„I think I need some more grovelling,“ you smirked over your shoulder and Tim got back up on his feet. He pressed into you from behind and you could feel how hard he was. His hands were on your hip as he leaned down, finding your lips in a soft kiss.

„Can’t do that kind of grovelling on my knees though,“ he grinned and you chuckled.

„Just fuck me, Tim,“ you pushed against him and he huffed a laugh. You turned your head back forward as you heard his belt buckle, followed from a zipper.

He pushed your dress up, before he reached for your panties, slowly slipping them down your legs until you could step out of them. You didn’t know he put them into the pocket of the shirt he was wearing, intending to keep them.

You jumped in surprise when he licked through your folds again, humming in satisfaction.

„Could taste you all day,“ he said, before he slapped your ass, making you jump again.

„You should do that some time,“ you teased and felt his hands squeeze your hips.

„Oh I will,“ he said, feeling the tip of his cock slowly enter you.

„Gonna spend all day with you in bed, fucking you in every way possible,“ he groaned, sinking into you fully.

„Promises, promises,“ you teased looking over your shoulder just when his hand came down on your ass in a sharp slap.

„Brat,“ he shook his head in amusement.

„I thought you were grovelling?“ You asked and he bottomed out before snapping his hips back against your ass, his cock filling you completely, air rushing out of your lungs in a low moan as he began to fuck you.

One of his hands was massaging one of your ass cheeks as he kept a steady pace.

„Always so warm and wet for me,“ he hummed, hips snapping against yours. Your lips were parted as you panted, low moans escaping you as you tried to keep quiet.

„Wanna cum in this little pussy,“ he moaned and you began to meet his thrusts.

„You gonna let me?“ He hummed and you pushed yourself up, feeling his arm wrap around your middle as he pulled you against his chest, fucking up into you as he held you.

„Only if you gonna clean me up once we’re home,“ you whispered and he groaned as his lips found yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slipped down your body, under your dress, finding your clit, playing with it.

„Cum for me,“ he mumbled against your lips, his cock filling you in the perfect angle and it wasn’t long before you came, squeezing his cock while he fucked your through your orgasm, his lips still on yours before he followed you shortly after, painting your walls with his cum.

You stayed like that for a moment, him holding you against his chest as you kissed.

„I am really really fucking sorry I forgot about dinner,“ he whispered against your lips and your eyes softened.

„It’s okay. I know how important your work is for you,“ you murmured, before you kissed him again.

He slowly pulled out of you, grabbing some tissues from his desk to clean you up before he tucked his cock back into his pants. You jumped on his desk and he smiled as he came to stand between your legs, one of his hands tilting your face up towards him.

„You will always be more important baby. It’s why I planned his fucking dinner,“ he sighed, clearly still disappointed in himself.

You wrapped both of your arms around his back and he stepped closer as you rested your head against his.

„You can still take me out to dinner. The Taco Truck down our street is still open,“ you smiled and felt his shoulder relax.

And that’s how you ended up completely overdressed at almost 11pm a the Taco Truck down your street. Soft music was paying on the radio as you ate.

„You know there was a reason I wanted to take you out tonight,“ he said and you hummed, happily biting into your Taco. You were sitting on a bench, leaning against Tim’s chest as he watched you eat.

„Yeah?“ You asked, feeling him nod.

He waited until you were finished eating before you felt him move behind you. Sitting yourself up you reached for a napkin to clean your fingers when you saw him set something down on the table next to you.

A small turquoise box.

You frowned for a moment before you looked at him with wide eyes.

„I wanted this night to be perfect, and I can’t believe I let my job get in the way of that again,“ he shook his head before he got up only to get down on one knee in front of you, taking your hand while his other reached for the small box, flipping it open to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

„But maybe asking you to marry me in front of a Taco Truck instead of a fancy dinner should have been my plan along.“

#my fic #tim rockford #tim rockford x fem. reader #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters

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rottenherbs · 3 days ago

Text

Frequent Flyer (pt.3)

Pairing: G.W x Healer! Reader Summary: A request, a healed shoulder, and teasing lead to George disappearing, leaving only a note behind." W/C: 1.6k A/N: thank you for the requests to continue this! Ill write the next part where the magic happens hehe [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

George has been quieter than usual tonight.

It’s strange, really. He’s still here, still lounging in that hospital cot with his usual air of casual arrogance, but something about him is different. His usual complaints about being trapped in the infirmary have died down, and his playful jabs at your professionalism have dwindled into thoughtful hums and the occasional prolonged stare.

You pretend not to notice.

Instead, you busy yourself with restocking the potions cabinet, arranging the vials in perfect rows, and checking them twice for good measure. It’s an easy enough task, and yet, you can still feel George watching you.

Not in the usual, over-the-top way, either. Not like earlier, when he dramatically sighed about his tragic fate, draped across the bed as though he were on his deathbed. This is different. Quieter. More… thoughtful.

And that’s what makes you glance over your shoulder.

Sure enough, George is leaning back against the pillows, good arm tucked behind his head, eyes trained on the ceiling as if it holds the answers to life’s great mysteries.

You raise an eyebrow. "Alright, what’s wrong with you?"

He startles slightly, turning his gaze to you.

"What d’you mean?"

"You’re quiet." You turn fully, crossing your arms over your chest. "That’s not normal."

"Wow," he scoffs, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Maybe I just enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of the hospital wing."

You snort. "Sure, because that’s *definitely* something George Weasley enjoys."

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe I’ve just got a lot on my mind."

You tilt your head. "That’s dangerous."

"You’re telling me."

There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the soft flicker of candlelight and the distant ticking of the infirmary’s clock.

And then, before you can question him further, George shifts, wincing slightly as he props himself up on his good arm. You take an instinctive step forward, but he waves you off with a small smirk, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Relax, love. I’m not going to drop dead on you."

You roll your eyes, but something about the way his voice lingers on love makes your stomach flip.

"Alright, spill it," you say, leaning against the edge of the cot. "What’s got you thinking so hard you’ve gone all silent?"

George lets out a breath, his fingers drumming anxiously against his knee.

"I was just wondering…" He trails off, staring at the candle beside his bed, watching the flame flicker and dance. You’ve never seen him hesitate before—not like this.

"Wondering what?" you prompt gently.

He glances at you, then away again, as if gathering courage. His knee bounces under the blanket. His fingers tighten into the sheets.

"Would you—" He exhales sharply, shaking his head at himself before trying again. "When I get out of here, and, you know, I’m fully capable of sweeping you off your feet without dislocating something—"

You arch a brow.

"—would you fancy going out sometime?"

Your breath catches.

Of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them.

You stare at him, and George, for the first time in what might be his entire life, looks nervous. His cocky mask is still there, but beneath it, there’s something real. Something vulnerable.

He must mistake your silence for hesitation because suddenly, words start tumbling out of him, rapid and rambling.

"I mean, I get it, you’re busy, always patching up idiots like me, and maybe you don’t fancy blokes who spend half their time being concussed, but I—"

"George."

He stops.

You smile.

"Ask me again when you’re not bedridden."

His eyes widen slightly, lips parting as if he hadn’t considered that answer. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face—one of genuine, boyish excitement.

"So you’re saying there’s a chance?" he asks, tilting his head.

"I’m saying I’ll consider it," you tease.

His ears turn red, but he only grins wider.

"Well then," he muses, leaning back into his pillows with a satisfied sigh. "Guess I’ll have to make a full recovery as quickly as possible."

"You’d better," you say, pushing off the cot. "Or Madam Pomfrey might just keep you here forever."

"That’d be cruel and unusual punishment," he laments, "keeping me away from my true love."

You snort. "Oh? And who might that be?"

He places a dramatic hand over his chest. "You wound me,. As if you don’t know."

Shaking your head, you take a step back. "Get some sleep, George."

"Only if you promise to dream of me."

"Goodnight, Weasley."

You turn away before he can see the way your cheeks flush, but you feel his grin even as you disappear into your bedchambers.

And as George settles into the sheets, staring up at the ceiling, he thinks to himself—*Merlin help me, I really am falling for her.*

—————

You wake up expecting things to be the same as the night before—quiet candlelight, the steady sound of George’s exaggerated snoring, and the occasional rustle of him shifting restlessly in his cot.

But instead, when you step into the infirmary, your stomach drops.

His bed is empty.

The sheets are haphazardly pulled back, his pillow indented where his head once rested. The candle on his nightstand has melted into a short, stubby remnant of its former self. The only sign that he had been there at all was the slight scent of something warm and familiar—his shampoo, maybe, or the faint traces of the Weasley family’s homemade soaps.

He’s gone.

You blink, trying to process it. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t mentioned discharging him so soon. You would have heard something—surely, she would have at least woken you before he left. But there’s no note, no sign of where he might have gone.

Just… emptiness.

And for some reason, it unsettles you.

Where did he go?

Your feet carry you toward the cot before you even think about it. The sheets are still warm. You run your fingers over the fabric absentmindedly, frowning at the lack of farewell, the lack of even a cheeky remark scribbled on parchment.

You try to ignore the strange feeling creeping into your chest. It shouldn’t bother you this much.

It shouldn’t.

With a sigh, you pull the blankets up, smoothing them over the mattress as you gather yourself. Maybe he just left in a hurry. Maybe he didn’t think it was a big deal. Maybe he—

A soft thump catches your attention.

Your eyes flick downward.

A folded piece of parchment has fallen from the sheets, landing just beside the bed frame. Your breath catches as you lean down, heart suddenly racing for a reason you can’t explain.

You unfold it carefully, smoothing out the creases.

In messy, slanted handwriting, it reads

*Didn’t want to wake you. Figured you might need the sleep since you’ll miss me so terribly. Meet me by the lake tonight? I’ll make it worth your while.*

—*G.*

You stare at the words, your lips pressing together to keep from smiling.

That insufferable idiot.

But still, you fold the note neatly, tucking it into the pocket of your robes.

And for the rest of the day, no matter how busy you are, you can’t help but glance toward the clock, counting the hours until the sun finally sets.

————-

You had been in control before.

When George Weasley was at your mercy—injured, vulnerable, looking up at you with a mix of pain and trust—you had been the one in charge. You were the healer, the one with steady hands and a composed demeanor, the one calling the shots while he had no choice but to listen.

Now, the power had shifted.

You weren’t his healer tonight. You weren’t standing beside his cot, dictating his recovery or holding his hand through the pain. No, tonight, you were just you. A girl who had been asked out by George Weasley.

And that thought alone had you gripping the edge of your dresser, staring at your reflection with wide, uncertain eyes.

Your robes were fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, you had changed them twice already, fussing over details you never would have cared about before. Was the neckline too formal? Too stiff? Would he think you had put in too much effort? Or worse—would he think you hadn’t put in enough?

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temples.

What is wrong with you?

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d spent time with George. Merlin, you had probably seen more of him than most of his professors had. Between the Quidditch injuries, the detentions that led to burns, bruises, and Merlin-knows-what else, he was in the hospital wing so often that it was almost routine.

But this wasn’t the hospital wing. This wasn’t routine.

This was him choosing to spend time with you. Not because he needed healing, not because he had been forced to sit still for once in his life, but because he wanted to.

That thought alone sent a shiver down your spine.

You rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to loosen up. You were acting ridiculous. It wasn’t like George was going to analyze your every move, waiting for you to slip up. If anything, he was probably hoping you wouldn’t notice his nerves.

That was a comforting thought.

You took one final glance in the mirror before stepping back, shaking out your hands as if that would rid them of the tension tightening in your fingers.

You weren’t the one in control anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, you were okay with that.

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wifetomanyfictionalmen · 22 hours ago

Note

Maybe how would Zoro and Sanji react that they like the same person?

Feom 🎨

OOOO ehehehhe this is going to be a mini fic

"I was first idiot!" .

Warning: swearing, love triangle kinda, A/N: I might make two separate endings so people can choose who they go with. Or maybe three for Poly ppl :)

It wasn't super obvious at first. Sanji is a ladies man, and Zoro seems more passive toward women in general. Well women on the crew anyway. But as you spent more time with the strawhats, and got to know them all better, you started noticing Sanji showing you that little bit more attention above Nami and Robin, Zoro would find any excuse to spend time with you. He had agreed to teach you the basics of wielding just one sword, and anytime that damn love cook was getting to close he would practically drag you away.

It was a beautiful day on The Thousand Sunny when you and Nami were laid on the sunbeds. You were talking about your next move, and which island sounded nicest when Sanji brought you both drinks. Zoro was nearby napping, opening one eye when he heard Sanjis usual gushing. You had a small smile on your face, one you usually did just to be polite.

Zoro sensed something was off and followed Sanji back to the kitchen. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the way Sanji treated you seemed way over the top even for the love cook. "I'm assuming you dont want booze with how hard your glaring at me" Sanjis voice snapped Zoro out of his thoughts, and the greenhaired swordsman crossed his arms.

"Whats your deal? You're practically fawning for her. What do you have a crush on her?" Zoro asked, his voice full of venom. Sanjis eyes widened and he took his cigarette from his mouth "And what if i do?" Silence. Pure silence filled the kitchen and Zoros eyebrow twitched. The blonde cook took another drag before he choked on the smoke in realization "NO YOU CAN'T LIKE [NAME]-SWAN!"

The kitchen door opened and you were holding yours and Namis' glasses, your facial expression dumbfounded. Sanji bit down on his cigarette and Zoro looked away awkwardly. Guess the cat was out of the bag. Literally. "I was first idiot!"

#sanji x reader #zoro x reader #rononoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #op sanji #op zoro #lemme know if yall want three lead on fics

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insomniumstella · 22 hours ago

Text

coffee, Tuesdays, and f*** you | ceo!bucky x reader

summary: James Buchanan Barnes might just be the worst man on earth—too bad he's the only one who can help you out of a sticky, sticky situation.

warnings: enemies to lovers, fake dating, forced proximity + contact, sarcastic!bucky, explicit language, alcohol consumption

word count: 1,970

author's note: this is a possible teaser for a series i kinda want to write after over a year or so long hiatus😭 anyway, would anybody even read this??

“Huh,” his voice is like nails on a chalkboard on the gloomy Tuesday morning after your non-boyfriend boyfriend dumped you with an ‘I’m bored, sorry’ text the night prior. “It’s actually happening. The world is healing again.”

You shove yet another journal that is as unnecessary as it is cute into the cardboard box perched atop your desk and glare at the looming man. James is wearing his usual middle-of-the-week sallow grey shirt, which somehow manages to dull his sharp features more than Thursday’s yellow, and Prada trousers. Always with the Prada trousers. He loves Prada more than Rebecca Bloomwood and that is saying something.

He’s a… fashionista like that.

“I’m not quitting.” Why James has yet to successfully fire you is a miracle. The pair of you are like Tom and Jerry. Dracula and Van Helsing. Pandora and her box. Surely he must have tried to sweet talk his daddy into terminating you for good. “This,“ you motion to the empty (besides the wine opener, stress balls, and an emergency tube of red lipstick—obvious essentials) drawer, "is called organising. Learn it, live it, love it. It’s after organise and before o-fuck you in the dictionary.”

“Real big talk for someone who keeps a diary.”

“That was…” you take in a deep breath in hopes to maintain at least an ounce of sanity. It doesn’t work. Why would it work? It never works. James and peaceful work hours is only a concept in a hypothetical world full of other ridiculous things such as your neighbour quitting drums and affordable Manolo Blahniks. “That was not… this is not a diary. It’s a journal. A journal I use for very important business meetings. And calls. And conferences.”

“Right,” he quips with a hint of a smirk and sits down on the edge of your desk, the wood creaking underneath his weight. Journal my ass, he ponders but stays surprisingly quiet about it.

“Not a diary. A journal is different from a diary. Maybe there’s no shame in keeping a diary, but I do not have a burning desire to write down every reason why the Wicked Witch of the West would make a better boss than you.” The words keep spilling out of your mouth before you can realise his painfully infuriating sneer is only growing. You hate that stupid smile of his. James knows you hate that stupid smile of his. That makes it all the more alluring for him to torture you with it. “I talk about it with my therapist like an adult.”

“Not a diary. Got it.” James nods as his eyes flicker to the open (and totally unfinished) Word document on your work laptop before slowly raking across the wrinkled cotton of your shirt until they find yours again. “I was wrong to assume this box of trash on your desk,” he vaguely gestures to the cardboard and smirks just a fraction more, “is for diaries. Though you definitely have the look of a girl who keeps one. But anyway. Why are you organising when the entire PR department is having a meeting?”

A… silence settles between you. It’s neither awkward nor peaceful, like it often is with James—he asks a somewhat reasonable question and you can only stare at him like he’s the biggest idiot on planet earth. Because sure, there is an important meeting happening on the forty fifth floor of Dioro right this moment. After all, you are a goodie two shoes of an employee with a busy Google calendar and a functional corporate email. You would know. But it is so like James to assume you would organise over attending, as the freaking head of public relations nonetheless, that you can only stare at him with those blank, are-you-serious eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Yes?” James cocks his head to the side as if expecting you to say something, anything, else in addition, and when you don’t, his eyebrows furrow, too.

Yes. Yes. Yes is not remotely an answer to my question, you infuriating woman, he thinks, and though he knows he should not expect anything less than for you to be as annoying as his shoelaces coming undone on a bright and early morning run, “yes” still takes him off guard a little.

“Yes,” you shrug, promptly closing the laptop because James has no place to see the opened Word document that is half a plan for next year’s PR strategy and half a series of good lunch places around the office, and straighten up. He’s not the only person that’s confident in their words around here.

“I sincerely hope you know the company does not pay you to look cute and gossip in the break room. If that was the case, you would’ve been let go a long time back.” It’s his turn to flash you the blank, dead, are-you-serious eyes.

Exasperated stares are one of the many love languages between you.

“I don’t just look cute and gossip. I also take precious time to share all of those memes in the company’s group chat. Good for morale.” You quip and James pinches the bridge of his nose.

He should have managed to fire you a long time back. But to his credit—he has tried. Once. Twice. Thrice, if somebody was to count the time he got drunk at the annual Christmas party and pettily tried to end your employment over a disagreement about Creedence Clearwater Revival. Surprisingly, it stuck. For a whopping total of twelve hours. Before you stepped through the elevator doors once more, his father exasperated, and right beside you. To this day, James finds it a mystery you’ve managed to charm the man because you’re as charming as a wet towel. But his father is also a fan of Raisin Bran, so there must be something wrong with his judgment. At least when it comes to choice of breakfast cereal and the annoyingly annoying girl’s personality. You are great at PR, much to James’ frustration, and Dioro is habitual with scandals. The very last name Barnes is habitual with scandals that you make go poof! So don’t get it twisted—James is gra… gra… grateful for your talents in PR. At least until the glorious day when he takes over the company completely and can finally make you go poof! A flute of Dom Pérignon in hand as he stares at your empty desk out of his glass office is a nice dream, one to keep him from full blown insanity.

James just might need a hobby.

“Team-building activities are good for morale. Recognition programs are good for morale. Social events are good for—“ he starts listing on his hand, his features dark with disappointment, aggravation, and a hint of resignation. Good. Maybe you could break him before autumn.

“Stop. Nobody cares about a lecture on morale from Dolores Umbridge.” You wave a dismissive hand and place last year’s Dean Winchester themed calendar atop the abyss of journals and trinkets. He’s fine and all, but Sam’s much more tempting to go back to. There’s just something about a strong man with longer hair and a kind heart. “I know about the meeting, Sophie’s leading it because I’m taking the rest of the week off. Plus maybe Monday. Probably Monday. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, do NOT expect me back on Monday.”

“I expect you to find another job, but y’know. Tuesday’s fine.” He deadpans, not that you pay much attention to his tone. You’re much more interested in the fact his ass leaves the anguished, abused edge of your desk. “Why are you taking time off? It’s like the middle of July. And who the hell approved it?”

“So there’s this Linda us lowly employees visit when we need time away from work,” you drawl out and cover Dean’s smouldering face with an old February issue of Vogue. “And it’s July second, which is not even remotely the middle. I hope you know that. It’s important to me that you know that.”

His eyes drop to the magazine and the calendar that peaks out from beneath it, but he’s suspiciously silent about it. Instead when he speaks, his voice is a deep, almost frustrated rumble on—surprise, surprise—the HR department. “I’m aware of what a Linda is.”

“Good, boss. Glad to know you’re following, boss. And before you say anything, Linda approved my request for time off months ago, so there is nothing you can do about it, boss.” A lazy smile curls your lips as you stack more publications of Vogue until Lady Gaga’s staring back at you from the top of the pile.

“Linda loves you, employee. She would give you a raise without hesitation if she could, employee. I specifically instructed you to come to me for these things.” James pinches the bridge of his nose before his arms fold over his chest. “Employee.”

Pet names are another one of your love languages.

“We have been at each other’s necks for the past three miserable years.” You shove the flaps of the box closed and when they pop back up, you wrestle with the cardboard as elegantly as a girl on merely three hours of sleep can manage. “And it’s like you don’t even know me.”

James rolls his eyes, but not because you always find loopholes and roundabouts when it comes to his demands—you just… bring out his unprofessional side. You are a lunatic in business casual clothes.

“My apologies.” He leans forward, abusing your poor desk again as his hands grip the edges. “I should have recognised you would go on a vacation when your department is in the midst of a crisis.”

“Thank you,” you flash him a smile as sweet as sugar, a mighty contender to his infuriating smirk, and lean over the acrylic divider to steal a tape dispenser from some underpaid intern’s desk that’s been abandoned all morning, not that you blame him. You consistently avoid President Business, too. “You had me scared for our marriage there.”

“It may be for the best you start looking into divorce lawyers,” James comments dryly, watching as you tape the box shut. Mostly. Lady Gaga’s still peaking through the crack a little.

“Whoa. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t fight for us.” The reply is almost absentminded as you cover Gaga with a bright pink Post-it—she’s remarkably eerie in the blue, whatever-it’s-made-of coat on past September’s issue of Vogue. “Besides. It’s possible my heart will yearn for you after the long, long six days Linda oh-so-graciously approved, despite July shaping out to be busy.”

His baby blues flicker from your face to the bright Post-it, fingers curling around the oak of your desk as he ponders different ways to snap you out of whatever realm of professional defiance you seem to exist in without forcibly shaking you by the shoulders. Though the latter is an appetising thought.

“Earth to James. Somebody’s spacing out again.”

James pushes the wooden ruler you use to nudge him out of his face before his stare slowly returns to your features, hard and narrowed, and most likely unimposing given that he’s talking to a whack-a-doodle. “Sorry, honey. Got lost in curating the perfect celebratory afternoon for your inevitable demise.”

“Oh.” A slight raise of your eyebrows accompanies the soft reply. The perfect celebratory afternoon for my inevitable demise? In his world, it could mean a gazillion possibilities. After a healthy beat, you settle on the most likely based on nothing, but vibes and the fact the man’s an asshole. “Bourbon, cigars, and a flock of hookers?”

A sardonic smile curls his lips as James straightens up and shoves his hands into the pockets of those damn Prada trousers. “Golf, caviar, and setting your desk on fire.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky series #bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky x female reader #insomniumstella #insomniumstella masterlist #the wicked games we play #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky story #bucky barnes story

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