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sh4nksslvt · 2 months ago

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Romance By Impact

A series of unfortunate training accidents, unexpected collisions, and very confused pirates—featuring awkward kisses, deadpan reactions, and maybe a few new feelings.

shanks x reader | zoro x reader | mihawk x reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, accidental kiss, light romance a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The tavern was rowdy in the way only a Red-Haired Pirates pit stop could be—laughter bursting at the seams, ale spilling like waterfalls, and someone’s boot hanging from the ceiling for no discernible reason.

You were seated at your usual corner table, safely tucked away from the wildest parts of the madness but still within arm’s reach of chaos if it happened to wander over. Which it always did. Because, of course, you were with them.

Tonight, chaos arrived in the form of Lucky Roux barrel-rolling across the floor, chasing after a chicken that had apparently stolen his sandwich.

You sipped your drink without blinking.

“Should we stop him?” you asked no one in particular.

“Nah,” came Shanks’s cheerful voice as he flopped down next to you, drink in one hand, and a smirk stretched wide across his sun-warmed face. “Roux’s gotta work through that betrayal himself.”

You tilted your head, watching the chase. “That chicken has excellent footwork.”

Shanks snorted. “It’s always the poultry you least expect.”

He nudged your shoulder with his, and the casual warmth of his presence settled around you like a blanket that smelled faintly of salt, rum, and trouble. You’d been with the crew long enough that this kind of night was practically a lullaby—boisterous, ridiculous, and, in a strange way, comforting.

“Bet you five hundred berries Benn falls asleep with his eyes open again,” you said.

“Double if he does it standing up,” Shanks countered immediately, raising his mug.

You clinked glasses in solemn agreement, like any two upstanding degenerates would.

The crew roared around you—music blaring, a couple of drunk pirates arguing over whether a narwhal could beat a sea king in an underwater arm-wrestling match—and for once, nothing too insane was happening.

Until it did.

It started innocently enough, as these things tend to.

Yasopp challenged Shanks to a drinking game. You were pulled in as the impartial referee, a decision that now, in hindsight, seemed… foolish.

Very foolish.

“I swear on my entire alcohol stash that I won’t cheat,” Shanks said solemnly, hand on his heart.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know the rules yet.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “So I can’t cheat if I don’t know how.”

“…You are so full of crap.”

“Don’t judge me with those eyes,” he said dramatically. “Your judgment is louder than Benn’s gun.”

The drinking game was a disaster within two minutes. Shanks was supposed to drink only when you called “go,” but he insisted he had “emotional premonitions” of when the right time was, which led to half the table being soaked in rum, and you nearly getting knocked off your seat laughing when Yasopp fake-passed out from "betrayal."

The grand finale happened during a particularly rowdy round, when Shanks, in the middle of turning to dodge a flying peanut (launched by a vengeful Lucky Roux, still chicken-less), whipped his head around—and smacked right into you.

Forehead, nose, lips.

An accidental kiss.

A very smack-worthy, full-on, blink-and-you-miss-it kiss.

There was a beat of silence as your heads bumped slightly, your faces still awkwardly close. He blinked at you. You blinked back.

“…Well,” you said, completely calm, “that’s one way to dodge a peanut.”

Shanks blinked again, then burst out laughing, tipping backward so hard he almost fell off the bench.

“You—” he wheezed between laughs. “You just got accidentally smooched, and your only comment is about a peanut?! DAHAHAHA”

You took another sip of your drink. “You missed the peanut. Poor reflexes.”

“I’m an emperor of the sea!”

“With poor reflexes.”

The table erupted in laughter. Yasopp fell off his chair. Benn, true to the bet, was already dozing with his eyes half-open in the corner.

Later that night, the party simmered down into lazy chuckles and off-key sea shanties. You and Shanks were still at the table, now sharing a plate of spicy skewers someone had abandoned (their mistake).

“So,” he said eventually, nudging you again. “About the kiss.”

You looked up from your skewer squinting at him. “You’re not gonna propose or anything, right?”

He almost choked. “What?!”

“Some people get very dramatic about first kisses,” you said matter-of-factly. “If you were about to declare undying love and offer me a life of sword-swinging romance, I was gonna need at least three more drinks.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then grinned, slow and wide.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Shanks stretched, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I was gonna make a cheesy joke about how that kiss stole my breath away, but now I feel like you’d hit me.”

“I might. Gently.”

“Deserved,” he admitted.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, settled deep into the bones of the night, the kind of silence that says we’re fine, we’re good, we’re idiots, and it’s okay.

Then Shanks leaned his elbow on the table and gave you a smirk that was half mischief, half curiosity.

“But seriously,” he said, “not even a little flustered?”

You thought for a second, then shook your head.

“You’re not my first accidental kiss, Shanks.”

He gawked. “What?”

“There was this thing with some guy once,” you said, picking up another skewer. “He fell asleep mid-training, woke up, swung his sword, tripped, face-planted into mine. Lips. Boom. Instant nap buddy.”

Shanks looked personally betrayed.

“I thought we had something special.”

You shrugged, chewing thoughtfully. “Sorry, I’m a walking magnet for chaos. If anything, this makes us even.”

He was quiet for a beat, then started chuckling again.

“You know,” he said, grinning, “I think I might like that about you.”

“Not the chaos part, right?”

“No, especially that part.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping shoulders with him again. “You’re lucky I’m immune to charm.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

You turned to him, deadpan. “Try aiming better next time. If you're going to kiss me, at least make it count.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

And then Shanks’s grin turned absolutely feral.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

You got up, stretched lazily, and patted his head like one might a particularly smug golden retriever.

“It’s a ‘you spilled sauce on your shirt’ distraction, actually.”

He looked down.

There was no sauce.

You were already halfway to the door.

“Hey!” he called after you, laughing. “That’s cheating!”

You raised your mug in a mock-toast without turning around. “So are emotional premonitions, Captain!”

ZORO

The sun was brutal. The kind of heat that could fry an egg on the deck of the Thousand Sunny if you weren’t careful—or cook your brain if you were dumb enough to train during it.

Which is why you, naturally, were dumb enough to train during it.

“Your stance is all over the place,” Zoro grunted from where he stood, shirtless and already glistening with sweat. His swords were tucked under one arm like an afterthought.

You adjusted your footing. “You said that five minutes ago.”

“And it’s still true five minutes later. Amazing, right?”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you muttered, shifting again.

Zoro snorted. “And you’re a terrible student. So we’re even.”

It was a typical afternoon—Zoro had been training solo on the upper deck until you wandered in with a practice sword and what you claimed was a completely reasonable curiosity about swordsmanship. He, of course, took this as a challenge to prove why he was the best swordsman on the ship.

You took it as a challenge to mildly annoy him while improving your footwork.

“You're using too much shoulder,” he said, stepping around you. “All power, no control.”

“You sound like Sanji when he critiques my chopping skills.”

Zoro scoffed. “Don’t lump me in with the eyebrow.”

You grinned. “Hit a nerve, mosshead?”

“Try again, and I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“Oh no, sensei, I’m quaking.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, stepping in to correct your posture, hands rough but surprisingly careful as he nudged your wrist and shoulder into position. He stood too close for it to be entirely comfortable—not for you, at least—and his breath was warm against your ear when he muttered, “Now, swing.”

You did.

Too fast. Too hard. Too ambitious.

Zoro moved to block—too late.

There was a flurry of movement. Your feet caught on each other. His elbow knocked into yours. Balance gone. Two bodies tumbling—

And then—

Wham.

His weight half on top of you. The practice sword somewhere nearby, long forgotten. His lips smashed awkwardly against yours—messy, breathless, more collision than kiss.

Silence.

Hot, stifling, vaguely sandy silence.

Zoro lifted his head, eyes wide like someone had just hit him with a frying pan. His nose bumped yours again.

You blinked at him.

“Well,” you said, voice dry, “that’s one way to teach me about impact.”

Zoro scrambled back like he’d been electrocuted, nearly tripping over his own sword in the process.

“I—I didn’t—That wasn’t—” he pointed at you, flushed, eyes wild. “You fell!”

“Correct,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I was there.”

“We collided!”

“Yep.”

“Your face was just—right there!”

“I imagine it still is.”

Zoro stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You sat up fully, dusting off your shirt, and glanced around.

“Honestly,” you said casually, “I’ve had worse landings.”

“That was your mouth!”

“Well, it wasn’t your foot, so I’m counting my blessings.”

He stood there, mouth slightly agape, looking like his brain had entered maintenance mode. You picked up your fallen practice sword and twirled it idly.

“Anyway,” you added, giving him a once-over. “You okay? You didn’t, like, sprain your pride or anything?”

Zoro blinked. “I—I kissed you!”

You looked at your wrist like you were checking an invisible watch.

“And I’m still breathing,” you said. “So no emergency.”

“You’re weirdly calm about this.”

“Zo, you once mistook a cactus for a training dummy and challenged it to a duel. Our standards for ‘weird’ are skewed.”

Zoro turned scarlet.

“That was one time.”

“I still have the sketch Usopp made of it.”

“I will burn it.”

You shrugged, walking past him toward the rail to stretch your sore legs. “Go for it. I have backups.”

He followed after a second, still visibly flustered, arms folded tightly across his chest.

“So,” he said slowly, suspiciously, “you’re not… mad?”

You looked at him. “Mad? You tripped and accidentally kissed me. I’m not gonna sue you for emotional damages.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t, like, a move or anything—”

“I know.” You smiled, folding your arms. “Though if it was, I gotta say—clumsy technique. Room for improvement.”

That shut him up.

For about three seconds.

“You’re infuriating.”

“You kissed me.”

“That doesn’t mean I like you!”

You raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say you did.”

More silence.

Then Zoro turned abruptly toward the rail and muttered, “Well, maybe I do.”

You stared.

He stared harder at the horizon.

“…Did you just confess to the ocean?”

“It’s neutral ground.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“And you’re annoying.”

You stepped closer, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Do you always fall on top of people when you’re into them?”

“Only the ones who can take it.”

You smiled, surprised and not surprised at the same time.

“I’m flattered.”

He side-eyed you, still red in the ears. “So… you don’t mind?”

“The accidental kiss? Or the part where you basically admitted you like me?”

“Both.”

You gave it a moment. Then shrugged. “I don’t mind either.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

You looked him up and down. “You’re hot, skilled with three swords, and somehow managed to trip and kiss me without impaling either of us. That's impressive.”

“You have low standards.”

“I have realistic standards. And I’ve seen you snore in a tree upside-down. I’m not exactly expecting poetry and roses.”

“…Good. I don’t do that stuff.”

“Obviously.”

You leaned on the railing beside him.

“You know,” you said casually, “if you want to properly kiss me sometime, you could just ask.”

Zoro stiffened.

Then, very slowly, he said: “…You mean, like... on purpose?”

You nodded. “Yeah. With mouth coordination and everything.”

He looked like he was solving a physics equation in his head.

“That’s… bold of you.”

“I am bold.”

He glanced at you, then at your mouth, then away again, scowling like it personally offended him.

“Maybe later.”

You grinned. “You say that like I’m on a schedule.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like “annoying brat,” but didn’t walk away.

Later that night, you found a small bundle of snacks on your bunk—your favorite, carefully tied with a red string.

There was no note.

But Zoro was mysteriously missing from post-dinner drinks.

And when you found him again, fast asleep on the training deck with a slight smile and a very obvious blush…

You didn’t say a word.

But you did steal his bandana and left a note in its place:

“Next time, I’m aiming for your mouth. On purpose.”

MIHAWK

The first thing you learned after arriving on Kuraigana Island was that everything was too quiet.

The second thing you learned was that Mihawk didn't do "chit-chat."

He spoke in silences and glances, moved like a blade through shadow, and regarded most human emotion with the polite detachment of someone observing a minor weather event.

You weren’t sure why he agreed to let you stay, but you weren’t complaining. Something about “discipline” and “training potential.” Or maybe he just liked the sound of your sword clashing against his—it was hard to tell.

Currently, the clash in question was taking place in the overgrown courtyard behind his castle. Vines curled along shattered pillars, moss blanketed stone steps, and two crows cawed disapprovingly as Mihawk parried your strike with less effort than someone brushing lint from a coat.

“Tighter grip,” he said, flicking your blade aside.

“I have a tight grip,” you huffed, adjusting your footing. “My bones are humming.”

“Your technique is humming,” he replied, stepping around you. “Your bones are just trying to keep up.”

You gave him a look. He returned it with a subtle, unimpressed tilt of his head.

“I’m going to hit you eventually,” you muttered.

“Unlikely.”

“Says the man with a bird for a butler.”

“Perona talks more than you. And she’s a ghost.”

You lunged again—he sidestepped effortlessly. Your momentum carried you forward, and before you could recover, Mihawk moved. A blur. His hand on your arm, redirecting. Your balance tipped.

One misstep.

You fell.

So did he.

Right on top of you.

His hat flew off.

Your mouths met in a brief, surprised, and completely accidental kiss.

It was soft. Barely a second. Warm. Smelled faintly of red wine and leather.

Then—

He blinked.

You blinked.

The crows blinked, probably.

“…Well,” you said, still flat on your back. “That’s one way to parry.”

Mihawk didn’t move immediately. His face was inches from yours. He was clearly calculating something—trajectory, blame, moral ramifications, possible prison time.

Then he leaned back, brushed nonexistent dust from his coat, and offered a gloved hand.

“I believe that qualifies as a technical error,” he said flatly.

You took his hand and stood. “Are you talking about my stance or the kiss?”

“The latter,” he said. Then, after a pause, “The former was already unsalvageable.”

You snorted. “Charming as always.”

“Mm.”

He turned to retrieve his sword, as if he hadn’t just accidentally kissed someone in the middle of sword training on an abandoned island.

You rubbed your jaw. “You kissed me.”

“I landed on you.”

“Lips-first.”

“That was not intentional.”

“Shame. You’re weirdly good at it.”

Mihawk paused mid-step. His eye flicked to you like a dagger. You could’ve sworn one of the crows wheezed.

“I am proficient in many skills,” he said at last.

You nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll add ‘spontaneous kissing’ to the list.”

“Remove ‘self-preservation,’ while you’re at it.”

You grinned. “I’ll take my chances.”

He turned back toward the castle with his usual smooth grace, pausing just long enough to say over his shoulder:

“You’re due for footwork drills. Ten laps.”

“For kissing you?”

“For falling.”

“Again, you fell too.”

“And yet here I am. Standing. Composed.”

“Smug.”

He didn’t deny it.

You did your laps. Begrudgingly. Grumbling.

By sunset, Mihawk was seated on the stone steps, wine in hand, his sword resting beside him like an extension of his arm. You joined him, flopping down with a huff and sweat-damp hair.

“You planning to avoid talking about it forever?” you asked.

He sipped his wine. “Define ‘it.’”

“The part where you kissed me.”

He glanced sideways. “Do you truly require verbal confirmation of what your mouth already knows?”

You blinked. “Is that your version of flirting?”

“It’s my version of clarity.”

You stared at him. “So you’re not denying it?”

“I am denying the accident. Not the effect.”

You tried not to visibly short-circuit. “That was almost romantic.”

“I could try again,” he said calmly, still watching the horizon.

“Oh yeah?”

“Properly this time.”

You hesitated.

Then turned to face him. “Alright.”

He looked at you fully now, gold eye sharp, steady. There was no dramatic lean-in. No swelling music or cinematic pause.

He just placed his wine down, leaned in slowly, and kissed you.

Softly.

Deliberately.

His lips were cool from the wine, but his hand warm as it rested lightly on your jaw. No rush. No fumble.

Just precision. Control.

Steel and silk.

When he pulled back, you were pretty sure the crows had tactfully flown off.

“Well,” you said faintly. “I see why people fear you.”

“Because I kiss well?”

“Because you do everything like it’s a duel.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a complaint?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You leaned back, satisfied. “So... are we dating now?”

“That depends,” he said. “Will it interfere with training?”

“Only if you kiss me mid-swing.”

He gave the faintest smile. “Then we’ll manage.”

Later, you found a red wine left near your sword. Wrapped with black ribbon. No note.

Very Mihawk.

You kissed his cheek in the morning.

He didn’t protest.

But your next sparring session? Brutal.

You limped for three days.

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mariasont · 3 months ago

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public swimwear to private entertainment

bimbo!reader models swimwear for aaron before the trip

pairing: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader warnings: fem!reader, aaron having dirty ish thoughts, suggestive ish ending prompt: here wc: 0.8k

Hotch eyes the open suitcase sprawling across the bed and feels something considerably close to existential dread. Surely, that must be every bikini ever manufactured. They multiply before him, each skimpier and more vividly patterned than the last, nestled carelessly among skirts and shorts so minuscule he’s fairly certain they qualify as handkerchiefs.

He watches as you flutter from drawer to drawer, obliviously humming some sugary pop song, adding yet another bundle of fabric to the towering heap.

He briefly considers stepping in, diplomatically suggesting that perhaps your packing approach is slightly disproportionate to a seven-day beach vacation, but really, who is he kidding? He’s better off staying silent.

Hotch gingerly lifts one of the offending garments from its glitter-speckled nest, eyeing it skeptically. He holds it carefully between thumb and forefinger — God forbid he accidentally damage whatever microscopic integrity it possesses.

“Sweetheart,” he begins slowly, fidgeting with the beginning of a smile, “you can’t be serious.”

“Um, yes, I can be. That’s literally the cutest one I have.”

“It’s barely there.”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “It’s a bikini, Aaron. It’s supposed to be barely there. That’s, like, the whole point.”

Inside his head, Hotch feels like he’s refereeing a particularly violent boxing match. In one corner, the possessive side of him — territorial, irrational, and obnoxiously overprotective — clamors for immediate confiscation of the scrap of fabric, envisioning scenarios involving oversized sweatshirts, ski jackets, or perhaps a nun’s habit.

The other side, sensible and mature, argues sternly that policing your outfits is hardly appropriate boyfriend behavior, regardless of how many panic attacks they induce.

He sighs inwardly, concluding that he’ll simply have to weather his skyrocketing blood pressure silently, like the self-sacrificing martyr he apparently aspires to become.

“You’ll love it, promise,” you chirp, leaning in close to press a lipstick-coated kiss directly onto his cheek, a kiss his suspects might be visible from space. “Should I model it first? You know, for reassurance.”

“I doubt seeing it in advance will help my mental health.”

A bubbly giggle escapes your lips, and you pat his chest affectionately. “You’re so funny sometimes. Have you considered stand-up?”

Hotch stares after you for a moment as the bathroom door closes, mildly bewildered at how his dry sarcasm always manages to delight you so thoroughly.

He sighs, shaking his head as he reluctantly turns back to his own suitcase, a carefully curated assortment of practical clothing and essentials.

Or at least it was, until he noticed that his neatly folded stack of muted shirts and shorts had apparently become prime real estate for your sandals and pastel tops.

The bathroom door swings back open after a couple minutes, and Hotch glances up, immediately rendered speechless.

Perhaps permanently.

You stand framed in the doorway, a glittering vision wrapped tightly around curves he privately believes far more protection, or possibly none at all, depending on which impulsive side of him gains the upper hand.

He briefly entertains the idea of canceling the trip altogether in favor of alternative plans involving far fewer garments — though that threshold has already been spectacularly lowered — and significantly less public visibility.

But practicality crashes rudely into his consciousness, reminding him with grim certainty that he was unquestionably correct about the fragility of this ensemble. One touch, one unfortunate gust of wind, and you’d be entirely uncovered, dressed only in sunbeams themselves.

Hotch feels a preemptive headache forming, not at you, but at Rossi’s predictable, blatant ogling, which is practically guaranteed the moment his friend spots you.

Dave has never been one for discretion, especially when confronted by someone with beauty of your magnitude. He mentally rehearses contingency plans, debating how best to block Rossi’s line of sight without appearing caveman-like.

You twirl dramatically, shimmering as you collapse into his waiting arms, smile radiant enough to rival the sun.

“See?” You beam, fingertips brushing along his jaw. “It’s perfect.”

“Yes,” Hotch replies, attempting, but mostly failing, to keep his tone neutral as the pad of his thumb traces along your shoulder. “Perfect if you’re looking to give me gray hair.”

“Jealous already?”

His hand finds its way gently to your neck, idly tracing the fragile knot tied there.

“Maybe I'm more concerned about accidental exposure.”

“You're being dramatic,” you giggle, tilting your chin defiantly. “It’s totally secure.”

“Secure?” He raises an eyebrow skeptically, fingertips tightening just slightly around the strings. “Let's test that theory.”

The bow slips free effortlessly, leaving you scrambling to secure the suddenly loose fabric against your chest with a startled squeak.

“Aaron!”

Hotch leans in, voice dropping dangerously low. “Just proving a point. Maybe we should try something a little sturdier before we leave.”

As it turns out, Hotch was entirely correct—not only about the questionable reliability of your swimwear, but also the inevitable delay it caused in their departure.

By the time they finally left, the bikini was neatly tucked away in his suitcase, officially reclassified from public swimwear to private entertainment. Secretly, he suspects you knew exactly what you were doing — and he can't find a single reason to complain.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 1 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

#mariasspringbreakgetaway #mariaversegetaway #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo assistant reader

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tojisun · 1 year ago

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hockey player simon pt 02 // pt 01

simon topples to the ground, his padded knees hitting the ice. he feels bodies pile on top of him, gear and feet pressing into his sides, not with ill intentions—well, not completely with ill intentions—but simon does not care.

he saw that winning shot land, heard the cries of their fans—they're playing in home rink too—and feels the thrill of victory wash over him.

the referees pull them off each other and simon finally gets to stand. his chest is heaving, the cool air and the heat of his exhausted body causing miasmic reactions into his being. add that pretty doll of a fan he’s been eyeing into the mix, and the feeling of elation bloats.

peaking.

they rush off court, their coach trying to contain their buzzed energy just enough to be able to properly burn it off in the weight room. simon lags at the very back, eyes still flicking to that section in the audience as though by doing so, he’d get a quick glance of you.

of course he doesn’t, not when everyone’s turned into blurred specks—compact seas of their jersey colours.

“riley!” their coach hollers. “let’s go, let’s go!”

simon shoots towards him, his sheathed skates thudding against the padded floor as he makes his way into the weight room. johnny claps him on his back, their team cheering for him as he passes them on his way to the bench press, but he couldn’t really focus, not with his mind running; trying to make excuses that’d allow him to slip away just for a moment to scour the arena for, well, you, but nothing ever sticks.

every single one sounds pathetic and impractical. say, he was given the go-signal to roam around, what exactly are the chances he’d come across you again?

apparently, one-fuckin’-hundred percent.

“oh!” you gasp upon seeing him, your palm falling flat atop your chest in your surprise.

simon stumbles to his feet himself, his previous finesse on ice apparently having gotten zapped out the moment he’s back on land. garrick and mactavish turn, not expecting simon to stop, and even your friends, it seem, did not expect this run-in, as well.

simon watches as your lips part open, like you are gearing yourself up for a word, only to shut them close in your hesitation. you flit your eyes to him and away again, shyness rippling from your very movements.

he takes pity on you, and greets, “hey.”

it’s late when he realizes that he’s raised his hand up for a weak, little wave. he hears the distinct muffled laughter from mactavish already. garrick, at least, has the decency to actually smother it.

muppets, the two of them.

“hi!” you reply, giddy, your face beaming as you smile up at him.

lord, he thinks, you’re even more beautiful up close.

simon can’t help the way his lips tug up too, his own heart churning at the elation that is still singing in his veins. he pretends to not notice the way your friends shimmy out of his eyesight, pointing to their phones as though to say just give them a ring when you are done with your business with simon, before they run away, giggling to each other.

he twists to make discreet eye contact with his teammates. he tilts his head to the side, hoping to christ almighty that they take the hint.

go away.

he almost rejoices when they actually do, the two of them sending you polite smiles before walking away too. with your back turned to them, they make smooching actions, mactavish has even turned his back to simon, crossed his arms over himself, and ran his hands over his sides in mimicry of a hot make-out session.

garrick barks out a laugh, the sound ricocheting, and it takes your startled glance back at them for the two to truly scurry away.

you turn around to see him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“sorry about them,” he murmurs, hand leaving his face to rub at the back of his neck. he feels his ears burning, surely flushed in his secondhand embarrassment.

“that’s okay,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. a jersey—his number. “congratulations, by the way.”

then, your smile grows bigger. brighter. “you were so cool! you went zoomin’ to our side and next thing we know you were–”

your words peter into a quiet stutter, like the events are unfolding in your memories the way his are too.

he remembers the high of having pointed at you; dedicating the winning shot to the fan whose awed look lit the fire in him. he remembers the certainty in him that he was going to land that shot; so sure he was of his victory.

it was exhilarating. dizzying.

“was it– did you mean it?”

“of course,” he croaks out, sweltering from within.

“oh,” you murmur, breathless, before whispering to him your name.

simon repeats it out loud, and it drips from his tongue like he was meant to always sound it out. like your name was meant for him to call.

you stare up at him with those beautiful, dazzling eyes, and he knows that he’s addicted. hooked.

“do you want to grab somethin’?” he asks, desperate to be with you for as long as you’ll let him.

“yes,” you reply, eyes crinkling in your delighted smile. “that’d be wonderful.”

you two walk side-by-side, mere inches between your shoulder and his, but simon wants you closer. he wants to bask in your warmth, in your scent. what do you smell like? something sweet and floral? or something clean?

he wants so much more.

as you warm up to him, smiling and laughing, and exchanging shy banters that has him feeling parched, simon realizes that there’s something beyond winning the playoffs and the cup that he is so desperate to fulfill.

fuck me.

this is still very much delusions of the heart but let me have it pls 😭 more than anything, i enjoyed writing hockey au sm and honestly i think u guys might have to pry this out of my clasped hands hhdhsh

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #hockey au #suns #the delusions are through the roof pls dont @ me bc id actually cry 😭

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enderlovez · 7 months ago

Text

Trivia Night

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 791

Summary: Garcia should've known it was a bad idea to put you and Spencer on opposing teams at trivia night, and now she's stuck with two very competitive people who will stop at nothing to win.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Garcia should have known better. Really, she should have.

The idea of a BAU trivia night seemed innocent enough—a fun team-bonding activity after a particularly grueling case. Drinks and snacks and a little friendly competition, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently everything, when she made the critical error of placing you and Spencer on opposing teams.

"Alright, everybody!" Garcia chirps, standing at the front of the room with her clipboard. "Trivia night rules are simple: answer correctly, earn points; answer incorrectly, face public humiliation—kidding, sort of. Now, let's keep it light and friendly, okay?"

Spencer casts you a sly look from across the room, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Light and friendly," he echoes. "Got it."

You meet his gaze with an arched brow. "Sure, as long as you don't cry when you lose, Doctor Reid."

A ripple of laughter goes through the team, but Garcia sighs, already regretting her decision. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" she mutters to herself, scribbling a quick note to never pair you two against each other again.

The first few rounds go smoothly enough. Questions about geography and pop culture and history fly by, each team racking up points. You nd Spencer trade victories, but the air between you grows increasingly charged with every answer.

"You didn't even buzz in for that one!" you accuse after Spencer correctly answers a particularly obscure literature question.

"Because the answer was obvious," he replies smugly, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, it's on," you mutter, cracking your knuckles dramatically, much to the amusement of the rest of them.

By the time the final round rolls around, the room is split between two factions: Team Spencer and Team You. Everyone else has resigned themselves to the sidelines, content to watch the show. Even Garcia has given up trying to referee, instead leaning against the bar with a drink in hand.

"This question," she announces, "is for the win."

You sit up straighter, your focus narrowing. Across the table, Spencer mirrors your intensity. His sleeves are rolled up, his tie loosened—classic signs of a man in deep competition mode.

"What is the capital of Bhutan?" Garcia asks, her eyes flicking between the two of you.

Your hand slams down on the buzzer half a second before Spencer's. "Thimphu!" you shout triumphantly.

Garcia checks her clipboard, nodding slowly. "Correct."

You throw your hands up in victory, earning cheers from your teammates. Spencer, however, is already leaning forward, his expression incredulous.

"That was a reflex," he argues. "She didn't even think about it."

You smirk, holding your hand up for a high-five from Morgan. "Or maybe I'm just faster and smarter than you, genius."

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Faster, maybe. Smarter? That's debatable."

The room erupts into laughter as you two go back and forth, your playful banter quickly escalating into a full-blown debate over split-second reaction times and the nuances of trivia strategy.

"Alright, alright!" Garcia finally intervenes, clapping her hands to get your attention. "We're calling it there before this turns into a break up. Trivia night is supposed to be fun, remember?"

You glance at Spencer, who's still staring at you like you've personally insulted his entire academic career. Despite his faux-annoyance, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Truce?" you offer, extending your hand towards him.

He considers it for a moment before shaking it. "Truce. But don't think this means I'm letting you win next time."

"Next time, you'll have to try harder," you reply with a wink.

As the room starts to clear now, you linger by the bar, waiting for Spencer to join you. When he does, he's holding two drinks—one for each of you.

"Good game," he says, handing you the glass.

"You're not mad I beat you?" you tease, taking a sip.

"Mad? No," he replies, leaning against the counter. "Impressed? Maybe. I didn't think you'd know the capital of Bhutan."

You grin, nudging him playfully. "I'm full of surprises."

Spencer chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "You know, Garcia's probably ever going to let us be on opposing teams again."

"Probably not," you agree. "But it was fun while it lasted."

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the earlier competitiveness melting away. Despite the antics, it's moments like these—when you're teasing each other, laughing, and completely at ease—that make everything worth it.

"By the way," Spencer says after a moment, his tone casual but laced with mischief, "you buzzed in half a second early. Technically, you cheated."

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't fade. "Technically, I still won."

"Technically," he echoes, his lips quirking into a small smile.

And just like that, the competition starts all over again.

#spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #enderlovez

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ceesimz · 7 months ago

Text

Good News

Alexia gets injured, and you're left dealing with two upset children.

tw: hospital, concussion, loss of consciousness, though nothing too serious. smidge of angst, then just fluff.

One piece of advice you were given about raising two young children together was that having a tight routine for every week would make everybody’s lives so much easier. And god was it true.

There was a whiteboard calendar on the kitchen wall, tagged by drawings from both your children that were not to be removed, otherwise there would be tears, which set out how each day would go – from meals, to appointments, training sessions for both Alexia and Anaís, work meetings, Oriol’s nursery days and Anaís’ homework due dates. It was the simplest thing, yet it brought so much efficiency and, rather unexpectedly, joy to your family’s lives.

The marked occasion that brought the most happiness was when there was a home game set to be played for Alexia, with it being written on the board in big, squiggly letters by Anaís in red and blue pen. Going to watch her captain Barcelona whenever there was a weekend game at home was easily the most anticipated event of the week when one was on, and though you had been attending your wife’s games for many years now, nothing compared to going with your children in their matching shirts sat beside you as you watched Alexia do the thing she did best.

Against all expectations, it wasn’t that difficult to keep Anaís and Oriol entertained throughout the whole game, the six-year-old and three-year-old both infatuated with the sight of their Mami running up and down the pitch, leading her team towards win after win. Even if Oriol didn’t have the same strong interest in football as his sister did, though he was still a toddler so there was plenty of time for that to possibly develop, he still kept a close watch on the game. Deep down, you and Alexia both recognised that it may be because of his separation anxiety and how he loved to be able to watch her through the whole thing, even when she didn’t have the ball. It didn’t matter though, because Alexia had her family all in one place as she represented the other most important thing in her life – Barça – and you were able to relax in a familiar, comfortable, and safe setting.

However, the shouting from your football-crazy daughter wasn’t always so relaxing, as it seemed her skills weren’t the only thing she picked up from her Mami when it came to a football pitch. For your liking, there had been way too many times that she had to have a… gentle talking to from the referee during her own matches. Apparently that habit had transferred to watching Alexia’s games too, except you couldn’t help but smile at it.

A league game against Real Betis fell in the middle of November, and the Saturday evening it was played was an especially cold one. Anaís, as always, was barely even bothered by it, her attention solely on the game in front of her. Oriol, however, wasn’t such a fan, even with a blanket around him and wrapped up in your arms on your lap. At an unfortunate moment, your attention was on him, oblivious to the events that occurred on the field.

“That is a foul! No! Vete a la mierda, árbitro!” Anaís shouted, standing from her seat and slamming her hands down on the railing in front of her. Of course, her less than appropriate language for a six-year-old instantly caught your attention.

“Excuse me! Do not say things like that, Anaís! You are far too young to be speaking like that, if I catch you saying anything along the lines, you will not h-”

“No, Mama, look! Mami g-got hit in the head b-by the goalkeeper!” All the fighting talk had left Anaís, instead completely and utterly wracked with anxiety at the scene she had just watched.

“What?” You stood beside her, clutching a disgruntled Oriol against you rested on your hip as you casted your eyes over to the commotion Anaís gestured to.

And she was right; Alexia was lay on her back, the referee and players of both teams desperately waving the medical team over as Irene held her head steady in place and spoke reassuringly to her. In short, it was a horrifying sight for you, nevermind for two young children.

“Mami, no…” Anaís sighed anxiously, crossing her arms on the railing and resting her forehead atop them. You immediately recognised the tremble to her voice which indicated she was getting upset, understandably, so brought a hand down to rest comfortingly on her back whilst you got your bearings.

As it turned out, as the ball was crossed into the box from the corner, Alexia jumped up to header it at the same time the goalkeeper reached out with both fists to punch it out. Unfortunately, those two things didn't combine to work out well. The goalkeeper mistimed her jump and instead ended up hitting Alexia in the side of the head with a worrying amount of force.

“Qué, Mama?” Oriol pulled back from your hold a little to get a glance at your face, somehow sensing the concern about whatever had happened.

Of course your kids would turn to you in a time of need, especially at a moment like this, but in truth you had no idea what to do. What could you do? You didn't know if Alexia was okay, if she was in pain, if she was talking, or even if she was conscious. You wanted to watch to make sure she was okay, whilst also wanting to protect your children from any unwanted memories if it all went south.

In the end, your own stomach-churning anxiety won out.

“Mami might have just hurt herself, she'll be okay but she needs to get looked at by the medics. Let's, um… stay here a little longer and see what happens, alright?” You spoke in a soft tone, desperately trying to keep the panic out of your voice for the sake of the two pairs of brown doe eyes, just like Alexia's, that stared up at you. “She'll be okay, she will.”

It was more of a sentiment for yourself rather than your kids, a plea to whoever was listening that they'd hear your words and make them true. All you could see was a crowd around the woman you loved, and very little of her apart from her still body. There was nothing you could do but watch.

“Mami, get up!” Anaís shouted at the top of her voice, ringing out into the stadium as a couple hundred heads turned in her direction.

“Shh, it’s okay, nena, it’s okay.” You soothed her gently, guiding her to sit back down beside you as Oriol began to fuss.

“Qué pasa?” Oriol whined, rubbing his eyes before straining up to get a look at the commotion on the grass.

“Venga, Ale, por favor.” You whispered under your breath, then turned to your son and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Oreo, she just needs a few minutes and she’ll be alright. We’re all okay.”

Unfortunately, for this matchday, it was only the three of you out of Alexia’s circle that could make it to the game. That left you on your own to deal with this situation, one you never could have anticipated, even if that was naive considering how rough football could be sometimes. It took everything within you to keep composure; if you were on your own, you surely would have broken down by now. Having your children with you throughout this was as much a blessing as it was a curse.

On the other side of the pitchside barrier, lay on the cool damp grass, Alexia blinked a couple times, coming back to herself after a brief period of unconsciousness. Immediately, as her vision began to unblur slightly, she groaned at the intensity of the stadium’s floodlights, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, no hagas eso, Ale. Quédate quieto, trata de no moverte.” Irene told her, though the words hardly registered in her ringing ears. Her head was throbbing, she felt the pain deep in her temple, and the careful chaos around her of her teammates and opposition players and physios didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mi cabeza.” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing the lump in her throat. Whether it was one of emotion or due to the nausea she had, she wasn’t sure, she couldn’t exactly think straight. “Me duele.”

“Lo sé, pero no te muevas.”

Not a second later, the medical team began their head injury protocol. They checked that she still had feeling in her legs, that there was no pain in her neck or spine, they did the horrible task of checking her pupil dilation which almost made her sick there and then, and a few more tests.

The only thing you saw was the stretcher that was brought over.

“She’s not getting up!” Anaís cried into her hands, turning to hide her face in your shoulder. To make matters worse, the sounds of his sister soon had Oriol reacting in much the same way.

“Mami.” He sobbed loudly, and before you knew it, there were tears of your own burning your eyes. You willed them away though and held both of them closely, bouncing your son on your knee and quietly shushing him, whilst rubbing a hand up and down Anaís’ arm.

“We will be able to see her soon, don’t worry. She’s okay, you’re both okay.” You were a little speechless, lost with what to say in such a moment. And with each cry that they both let out, you got more and more anxious. There was literally nothing you could do. At that realisation, your first tear fell. “We’ll… we will see her soon. We will.”

Alexia’s mind felt inexplicably foggy. But in one of the worse moments of her football career, there could only be one thing on her mind.

“No, no stretcher. Por favor, para mi familia.” It took almost all her remaining energy to get her words out, though the thought of you and her children was enough incentive for her to push through the exhaustion she felt. “Por favor.”

“Crees que podrías caminar?” One of the physios asked rather disapprovingly. Another of them was already on the radio, asking for a bed to be ready waiting for them on the sideline to wheel her down the tunnel to the exam room.

“Sí, sí.” The only reason they allowed it was because she passed the initial assessments, deciding she only had a concussion, though the severity hadn’t been decided yet. However, they knew they couldn’t persuade her to get the stretcher just in case, especially with her reasoning being her family.

Never, in your whole life, had you felt more relieved than you did when Irene stood up from her spot by Alexia’s head, turned to scan the stands, before raising her hands to give a thumbs-up over to you. Alexia was okay.

“Look! Tía Irene says she’s okay, Mami is alright. She’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, hugging them both tighter to you as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to calm down. “Mami is safe, she’s okay.”

“I don’t like it.” Oriol sniffled, nuzzling his face into your neck as Anaís went quiet and kept her eyes on Alexia.

“I know, I know. It’s over now though, mi hijo, everything is alright. We will go and see her as soon as we can.” You weren’t too sure about that, when you could go and see her, since it was only thirty minutes into the first half. Whether you could go down at half-time or you had to wait until the end of the game, you weren’t sure.

“Football is scary.” Anaís muttered under her breath. You couldn’t help but smile at that, unsurprised at the statement leaving your daughter’s lips.

“It is. I’ve been watching Mami’s games since before you were born, chiqui, and I still get very scared. I get scared watching your games too.” Your best bet right now was to try and keep the pair distracted, take their minds off the whole situation.

“I don’t want to play football right now.” Anaís grimaced, shaking her head.

As you went to reply, something along the lines of supporting her no matter what she does, her gasp cut you off. Again, you turned your attention back to the pitch and saw Alexia was now sitting up, her head still being supported with hands on either side of her face. Though it wasn’t the best thing you’d seen, in this moment it was all you needed for the larger parts of your anxiety to dissipate. You saw her lips moving as she spoke, obviously too far away to know what she was saying, but you knew that being able to hold conversation after a head injury was a sign that there was nothing bad underneath the surface.

She had a concussion, at worst. You could deal with that. Sure, it would be a challenge, having to manage that whilst navigating how to explain such an injury to two young children, but you were just thankful she was okay.

The overwhelming relief you felt only doubled when, rather lacklusterly, Alexia was helped to her feet. She swayed as her head span, hit hard with some dizziness, the arms wrapped around her waist whilst hers were lifted over the physios’ shoulders either side of her keeping her steady. Slowly, with the applause of the stadium, she made her way off of the pitch, much to the delight of Anaís and Oriol, the latter with a small smile on his face at the sight. His adorably shy expression further eased your concern, lightening the heaviness that had settled over the three of you throughout it all.

It didn’t feel so burdening when she clambered onto the bed waiting for her, since you knew she was well enough and it was most likely precaution. In fact, you had a feeling they had told her to get on the stretcher, but she denied it. You knew her too well, but you didn’t have it in you to be mad at her for it. Not in this case, where for a few minutes you were worried if she was even awake or not.

Once she had been wheeled down the tunnel and out of view, however, you didn’t really know what to do. Your attention on the game now was miniscule, as were your children’s. You had your family pass with you, as always, though whether the rules allowed you to go down to Alexia before the match was over or not, you had no idea. With the state that Anaís and Oriol were in, it was only a matter of time before they got antsy and stressed about their Mami again. The relief that she was somewhat okay would only last so long.

Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to figure out a plan of what to do. Hardly any time passed between Alexia being taken off the pitch and your phone ringing, her number at the other end.

“Hello? Ale?” You answered desperately, noticing the way Anaís and Oriol’s faces lit up with hope at the mention of the brunette’s nickname.

You should have expected it, but it wasn’t Alexia who answered, it was one of the Barcelona staff. Obviously Alexia wouldn’t be able to use her phone, especially so soon after, though your disappointment barely had any time to sit and fester when you were told you could go down and see her. You barely got two words out to your children before the eldest was up and out of her seat, looking around frantically as she tried to figure out where to go to get to her Mami.

Thankfully there was someone there to take you, guiding you through the eerily quiet stadium corridors as the game carried on, two tiny hands holding tightly onto your own. It was during this brief respite, as you let the member of staff lead you to your wife, where the reality sunk in of just how tight-knit your little family was. The smile that grew on your face at thought, a silent but overwhelming feeling of love settling in your chest, and it only intensified when you looked down at the children, your children, beside you and realised how caring and thoughtful they were growing to be. Not only that, but those aforementioned traits were a testament to what an incredible parent Alexia was. They idolised her, and it was more than you could have dreamed of when it came to being a mother. Alexia was more than you could have dreamed of as a co-parent. There was no one else in the world you could do it with.

“She is just in there.” The staff member said, gesturing to the door just ahead of you.

Anaís and Oriol went to rush towards it, but you stopped them gently.

“Mírame y escucha.” You said quietly, crouching down before them. They nodded and gave you their full attention, Anaís even wrapping an arm around Oriol’s shoulders, a sweet gesture that made you smile. “When we go in, we have to be very, very quiet. Mami hurt her head, any loud noises will make it hurt even more. You can hug her but you must be gentle, she will probably be in a lot of pain and we really don’t want to make it worse, alright?”

Again, they nodded, Oriol growing a little timid as his bottom lip jutted out. You smiled sadly at him and scooped him up, before nodding at Anaís for her to open the door. The young girl knocked on lightly, just as you instructed, then opened it and stepped inside.

To no one’s surprise, the room was mostly dark, save for one lamp by the desk in the corner of the room. There was just enough light to be able to see, whilst keeping it dim enough to prevent any extra harm for the midfielder that lay on the bed, her hands linked together over her eyes. At the sound of the door, she lifted one up so that she could peek out with one eye, and she gave a quiet sigh of relief at the sight of her family entering the room.

“Hola, Mami.” Anaís whispered, and Alexia responded with a small wave. Oriol was more reserved, instead sticking by your side and hiding behind your leg slightly when you put him down. Not because he was scared of Alexia or anything like that, it was simply because he was worried. And it warmed your heart.

“Come on, Oreo, you can go give her a hug.” You told him. He hesitated slightly, but once he saw Anaís head over, he followed suit.

“Tas bien?” Anaís asked, standing beside her bed and looking at Alexia with wide eyes. Even in her depleted state, Alexia could see clearly then just how much of a mirror image her daughter was of herself. It made her smile, despite it all.

“Sí, bien. Head hurts a tiny bit.” The midfielder pinched her finger and her thumb together, and she felt the weight of the day lessen at the sound of the young girl laughing at the gesture.

“That was scary.” Anaís mumbled afterwards, a frown on her face. Alexia’s chest tightened, knowing how terrifying the scene must have been for the three of you, and she couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“Lo sé, princesa. Lo siento.”

You heard the apology from her and went over then. Her voice was tainted with guilt and you couldn’t bear to hear it, she was involved in a horrible injury and had the audacity to apologise.

“No, Ale, don’t apologise.” You said, resting a hand on her knee and stroking the goose-pimpled skin there. “We’re really glad you’re okay. Please don’t apologise. Just rest.”

Alexia had experienced first hand what happened when she didn’t listen to your advice… receiving a lecture from you was the last thing she wanted then. Plus, she was so completely exhausted, she could barely string a thought together. So she lay back, flashing you a small smile as that was all she had the energy to muster, and let out a deep breath.

“Mami?” The sound of Oriol’s quiet, slightly trembling tone near enough broke Alexia’s heart.

“Sí, chiquito, ven aquí.” You saw her grimace and gulp as she shifted up the bed a little and waved her son over. She was pushing her limits just so she could comfort her children.

“Take it easy, you.” You warned her warmly, watching as she tentatively cupped Oriol’s cheek and smiled down at him.

“I’m okay, Oriol, I promise. I promise.” She stated. He nodded after a moment and smiled back. “I love you. All of you, so much.”

“We love you so much too, Mami.” Anaís replied in an instant. Alexia looked up at you after she said it, the emotion in her eyes conveying just how much this moment meant to her.

That you were all there for her, straight away, when she needed it the most, it made everything that bit easier.

And despite it not being the most convenient thing in the world, you and your children went with Alexia to the hospital for further checks, as the team had decided just to be sure. A head injury was obviously something not to be taken lightly, hence the visit. Before you left though, you made sure she was comfortable; swapping her boots for some sliders, removing her shin pads, and helping her put on the hoodie she wore to the stadium. She was still in her kit, which wasn’t ideal, but the main focus was getting her to the hospital. You would take care of her when she got home.

As expected, all of Alexia’s movements were slow and lethargic, and the car ride was nothing short of torture for her. Each bump, every press of the brakes, felt like someone was knocking directly on her skull, heightening all the aches and pains she already harboured. Thankfully, there was a nurse waiting at the entrance thanks to the club calling ahead, a wheelchair for Alexia so she didn’t exert herself any harder.

She had a head scan and the four of you waited in the waiting room for the results. With the hood of her jumper up and sunglasses seated on her nose, she had an arm wrapped around Anaís’ shoulders where the young girl sat to her left, and a hand rubbed up and down Oriol’s back as he sat on her lap. Her eyes were closed, you could see from her right side, and she had her head resting back against the wall behind her. The picture in front of you was one of love, one that perfectly summed up your family. Alexia was your rock, Anaís’ rock, Oriol’s rock, it was so clear to see.

As cliche as it was, you fell harder and harder for Alexia everyday. Especially at times like this, where the beauty of her character shone through the darkest moments.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long and soon she received the all-clear from the doctors, telling her there was definitely nothing concerning under the surface and that she did indeed have a concussion. With the instruction to rest for the foreseeable future, no screen time, and as much peace, quiet, and darkness as possible, you were all sent back home.

Two emotionally exhausted children trudged their way upstairs, it now being past the time they should be asleep, as they went to brush their teeth together and change whilst you led Alexia to the kitchen. You kept the lights off, only switching on smaller, less intense ones like lamps or the under-cupboard LEDs in the kitchen, and the brunette leaned back against the counter as you searched for some painkillers she could have. The doctor gave you a list of the ones she was safe to have within the first twenty-four hours of the injury, and when you found some that were suitable, you popped two out of the packet and got her a glass of water.

You watched as she took the tablets with ease and finished off the drink before placing it down beside her with a sigh. She looked at you afterwards, noting the sad smile on your face, and tugged your shirt to pull you closer into a hug.

“You okay?” She asked, at which you scoffed and shook your head when you leaned back in her arms.

“Forget about me. I’m not the one that just went to hospital for a head scan.” You teased lightly, glad to see the slither of a smile that appeared. “It was scary, but all that is forgotten now we’re here. Anaís and Oriol are probably still a bit shook up. All they need is to see you’re okay, which they have, and for you to get better, then they’ll forget about it. Don’t worry about us, I’ll take care of everything. All we need you to do is focus on getting better.”

“Thank you.” You pressed a soft kiss to her cheek then and hugged her once more, glad to have her back in your arms and in one piece. Whilst embracing her, you slipped your hands under her hoodie and shirt, where you felt just how ice cold her skin was.

“Ale, you’re freezing.” You frowned.

“Lo sé. I will have a shower.” She muttered, every word coming from her mouth ladened with tiredness.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want you falling if you get dizzy.” You said, and she made a reluctant noise of agreement. “How about you have a bath? It might help you to relax.”

There was a minute nod against your shoulder which was all the confirmation you needed.

Alexia led you both up the stairs, mainly because you were worried she would lose her balance, and headed in the direction of Anaís’ room whilst you went to your ensuite to run her a bath. The Barcelona captain walked into her daughter’s room and found her in bed, under the covers, with her brother beside her. They were flicking through one of their favourite books, only looking at the photos since they couldn't read on their own yet, and really it was an adorable sight. However, upon Alexia entering the room, they swiftly lost interest in the story in front of them.

“Dulces sueños, mis amores.” Alexia said to them softly, sitting on the edge of the small bed and holding her arms out.

Carefully, the pair scrambled to hug their Mami, each one sitting either side of her and wrapping their little arms around her torso. They were gentle in their movements, ensuring they didn't cause Alexia anymore pain, and it was the perfect remedy for their concern.

Their Mami was at home, not quite happy but definitely content and healthy, and sandwiched in a hug that was more than just a wish goodnight. It put the earth back on its tilt and sent it spinning again, it hung the stars and the moon back in the sky with the silver light from the latter creeping in through the gap in the curtains and providing an extra layer of serenity to an already priceless moment. All was right in the world again, the only thing missing was the bright, joyful energy of a certain blonde midfielder. It had been dimmed temporarily with this new injury, but her kids were wise enough, even at their young ages, to know it'd be back soon.

That's the joy of parenthood: the result of two tiny humans spending so much time with you and Alexia was that your personality traits unknowingly passed down to them. What they saw, they could be. The love, care, and admiration they witnessed between their parents and the happiness that consequently spread through their home was more than enough motivation for them to try it out for themselves. And in their every action, they mirror the love and the lessons you’ve given them, a reflection so pure and beautiful that it winded you sometimes. You were both so proud of the people they were becoming, and Alexia frequently reminded you that it was all down to the way you parented them. Each day you saw their sleepy faces in the morning and tucked them into bed at night, there was always a sense of disbelief present. You felt so much pride towards them, you couldn’t believe they were your children. You promised yourself to never take your time with them for granted.

You came in not long after, guilty that you had to split the three of them up but insistent to keep a stable routine, especially given the difficult day that had been had. Anaís and Oriol held onto Alexia for a minute or two longer and you let them, knowing that each of them needed it more than they could ever describe. The woman you loved turned to kiss their foreheads and squeezed them tighter briefly, before Anaís pulled away and got back under her duvet, her favourite teddy in her hand. You took your turn in wishing her goodnight, telling her you’d come back to check on her in a little while, and then scooped Oriol up into your arms. He rested his chin on your shoulder, snuggled comfortably into you, whilst Alexia murmured quietly to her daughter and ensured there was a smile on the six-year-old’s face before she left the room.

Alexia trailed behind you as you walked out, admiring the view of her son in your arms with his eyelids already drooping as she closed the door quietly. He had dressed himself into a pair of Barcelona pyjamas, except his shirt was on back to front, and Alexia smiled at that. His independence was fastly building, especially with the help of his sister who taught him everything he knew, the pair of them forever glued to each other’s side, but it was the tiny details like putting on his shirt wrong that was an adorable representation of his age. He was still so young, and Alexia worked so hard to keep herself in the present rather than dreading the future where they’re grown up, so no matter how odd it seemed that she treasured these miniscule things, she really didn’t care. To her, it didn’t matter if Oriol or Anaís decided to wear their clothes inside out, socks on their hands, and shoes on the wrong feet, they would still be perfect in her eyes.

So with that in mind, she placed another kiss on her son’s cheek and ran a gentle hand through his brown hair, her heart doubling in size at the dozy smile he responded with. Understandably, the day had tired him out more so than anyone else, and near enough the second you lay him down on his bed, he drifted off to sleep. Without disturbing him, you covered him with his blanket and whispered that you loved him, smiling at the quiet noises he let out. For a moment or two, you lingered, gazing as he slept and admiring how peaceful he finally looked. His lips were parted slightly, small breaths sounding through the otherwise silent room. Alexia slipped her hand into yours and squeezed it once; it was then, now that your kids were calm and safe in bed, that you let the weight of the day settle over you.

It was a delayed response of course, but your parental instincts took over earlier, something you were grateful for because you knew how your reaction earlier would impact them depending on if you kept your cool or not. All you could do now was try not to dwell on how awful it had been to see Alexia in that state earlier, and instead concentrate on the feel of her hand in yours and her steady presence unwavering beside you.

“Venga, mi amor.” She hummed, almost silently. You nodded and let her lead the way out of your son’s room, walking you both back to your bedroom where her bath was soon to be ready in the ensuite.

Not so long later, Alexia was unwinding in the hot water with her head resting back against your shoulder. You were sat behind her, not in the bath, but rather on the step-stool that belonged to your children when they decided they wanted to brush their teeth with you and Alexia. Carefully, you had tied her hair into a loose plait, choosing to wash it another day when her head wasn’t quite so tender and throbbing with pain. She seemed calm as your fingers gently traced mindless patterns on each arm of hers that rested on the edge of the tub. The room was pitch black and peaceful, no words being shared and despite the ache of your back in your current position, you couldn’t picture a better way to end such a traumatic day.

Though you were reluctant to do so, there were just a few things you wanted to get off your chest.

“I’m proud of you, Ale. I hope you know that.” Your voice was so low, she wouldn’t have heard you if it wasn’t right beside her ear. She made a noise of confusion, caught off-guard by the sudden sentiment. “You were in so much pain today, it was such an awful experience for you, and you still were the best parent I could ask to have by my side.”

One of her hands moved from its place and took hold of yours, bringing it to her lips to kiss your palm.

“Always.” She replied, mere minutes away from succumbing to the exhaustion that had overtaken her.

“But please, all I ask of you throughout this is that you take this injury so seriously, okay? More serious than any other injury you’ve had. Let me help, don’t be stubborn, and rest.”

“Sí, I will.”

“Promise me that, Ale.” You demanded, though the fear and concern seeped through your tone clearly enough for Alexia to understand the importance of her next words.

“I promise.” The taller woman felt the tension leave your body after she spoke, goosebumps rising on her skin with the relieved sigh you let out. “Gracias por todo.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You cautiously wrapped your arms around her, crossing them over her chest, and turned to kiss her jaw. “I love you. I was so scared earlier. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The admission felt even more sacred given the darkness of the room. Even if your voice was hardly intelligible outside the bubble of intimacy that had formed between you both, Alexia heard every word and cherished them deeply.

“Do not worry about that. I’m here, m’not going anywhere. Not without you.” Hearing her say those things provoked your emotions, the heavy combination that had collected throughout the day reaching its peak. Tears quickly formed in your eyes, and Alexia frowned at the sniffles that echoed off the tiled walls of the room. “I love you, mi amor. I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Please never do that to me again.” You cried quietly, leaning back a little and ducking your head down to muffle your cries in her shoulder. Alexia sat up and turned then, not caring about the way it sent her head spinning once more, and reached out for you. It was awkward, but you buried your head in her neck and let her hold you, wrapping your own arms around her body without a care in the world for the water dripping off her skin. “I can’t take it Ale, I can’t.”

The only thing she could do was hope that her embrace was enough to quell your anxieties, because your tears were rubbing off on her and she couldn’t quite find the words to comfort you. What happened earlier had terrified her too, worried that the head injury was serious enough to have impacts on her life and consequently her family, though thankfully that turned out not to be the case. Still, that terror remained, subtly simmering in the background and waiting for its moment to boil over, which was quite obviously this moment here.

It was a day to forget, that much was true. Yet, the silver linings from it were something not to be forgotten anytime soon.

Not that you or Alexia would hope for anything of the sorts or similar to happen again ever, there had been glimpses into your children’s souls and how wonderful they were turning out to be. They showed qualities you only could have ever dreamed of for them to have, and they only proved those things further during Alexia’s recovery. Anaís was adamant that she wouldn’t return to football until Alexia did, both out of solidarity and of understandable fear. Oriol donated his favourite teddy to keep Alexia company through the days she spent in bed, and was constantly asking if she needed a magic hug to make her feel better. That was yet another habit that he had picked up for the pair of you, and whilst the ‘magic’ description was something thought to be made up, Alexia couldn’t deny that there was some truth in the name after receiving one from him.

People had told you, since you were young, that it was important for family to stick together. You hadn’t realised how true that piece of advice was until you had children of your own, but it might be the biggest understatement of the century. Having your children in your arms and the love of your life by your side was all you could ever need to get through just about anything life threw your way.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso fic #woso community #woso #woso imagine

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dizzydaisychains · 6 days ago

Text

Competitive Dad Sylus Takes on Family Sports Day: Part 1

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Warm up

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me!”

Sylus blatantly ignores his daughter (lovingly named Rosie due to the faint tinge of red that always colours her cheeks) as he locks in, adjusting his headband as he starts aggressively squatting. Ten reps at a time. He’s the only parent that’s wearing actual sportswear: a nylon tank top and shorts that go above the knee, complete with matching socks and a pair of high performance sneakers (it's making Rosie cringe).

And of course you’re there too, a cooler bag full of snacks that Sylus had prepared in advance, because apparently winning starts with nourishment.

You try to hold back your laughter at your daughter’s mortified expression as Sylus continues to squat like there's no tomorrow and Luke and Kieran start practicing their family fan chants, both of them waving red and black pom-poms in the air.

The other families are ogling at the Qin family’s eccentricities, but Sylus couldn't care less. This is war. He’s not walking away today with anything less than a gold (much to his daughter’s dismay) and he’s going to have to do it without his Evol (sports day rules apparently).

Not that it matters. He doesn’t even really need his Evol. His physical strength and sharp wits are enough. Plus, he has you and his little girl as teammates. A guaranteed victory is on the horizon.

“What’s the first event? Javelin? Hammer throw? Perhaps some sort of sparring?” he asks, moving on to arm stretches now that his body is starting to feel a bit more warmed up.

“Errr…darling…I think it’s the sack race first,” you say, reaching out to pat your husband’s shoulder as Rosie continues to send Sylus the stink-eye.

“Seriously, Dad! This isn’t like an Onychinus thing…it’s supposed to be for fun!"

Tutting, Sylus crouches down and places his hands on his daughter's shoulders as he gives her a serious look.

“You’re a Qin, my little petal. And Qin’s don’t lose.”

Rosie groans as Sylus blows the whistle that’s hanging around his neck, calling for a family huddle so they can go over the game plan.

It’s going to be a long day.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Event 1: Sack Race

Cursing, Sylus clutches onto the handles of the old potato sack that’s much too small to support the weight of a six-foot-two man. The other parents wave to their family members on the sideline. Sylus, on the other hand, puts on his blue-tinted sports sunglasses and takes a deep breath as he zones in on the finish line 200 metres away.

“Go Boss! Go! Destroyyyyyy them!”

“Luke! Kieran! Shut up!”

“Rosie! Don’t tell your uncles to shut up like that!”

Bang! The starter pistol fires, and Sylus starts hopping like his life depends on it, making sure to take advantage of his weak competition by using his elbows to knock them out of his path. They fall into the mud with a yelp as Sylus yells at them to eat his dust.

It only takes seconds for him to cross the finish line, his competition practically nonexistent.

Punching his arm into the air in victory, he smiles in satisfaction, until he sees an angry, goblin-like man marching up him, a yellow card in his hand.

“Disqualified!” the man yells as he shoves the yellow card into Sylus’s chest.

Sylus feels his eye twitch. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got my eye on you, handsome silver-haired man,” the referee says, getting right up in Sylus’s face, except, he’s too small, so he has to settle for staring up into Sylus’s chin.

The referee marches off without another word as Sylus’s jaw drops in disbelief.

From the sidelines, Luke and Kieran cup their hands and boo at the referee's decision while you laugh and Rosie hides her face in her hands.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Event 2: Dodgeball

Sylus fumes as the referee blows the whistle for the second time and holds up another yellow card.

“I didn’t even throw it that hard this time!” he argues as Rosie aims a kick at his ankle, begging him to just tone it down a little.

"One more foul, handsome silver-haired man, and you're out!"

Grumbling, Sylus squeezes the ball in his fist as he cracks his neck, ready to knock out another poor unfortunate soul.

Meanwhile, the opposing team are fearing for their lives, trembling in terror as they hide behind each other, praying that Sylus doesn’t aim for them next.

“Please can I serve this time Dad?” Rosie asks, trying to spare her opponents from her dad's wicked aim.

“No need, my little flower. Leave it to me…just wait until they feel the full force of a ball from the leader of Onychinus…”

“I think they already have, Dad.”

“Nonsense. That was me just warming up…”

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cosmiclily · 4 months ago

Note

hihihiii - i love ur well and looking after urself btw i love your stories smmmm. i have no idea if ur taking requests but if u are i was wondering if u could do a domestic vi x fem reader one. im not entirely sure if a plot line but i was think they have 3 kids (twins a boy and girl and a newborn daughter). but could u add some like cute moments with vi and the twins and then vi with her newborn daughter :))

eeee - tyy ily stay happy 🧡🧡

❝ in the quiet moments ❞

• vi x f!reader

wc: 1118

notes: this is so so so cute !! 😭😭😭 thank you anon for requesting it, feel free to request more family stuff i loved it! ily too 😚 mwah

Juggling three kids, a dog, and a demanding job while keeping you happy had been a mission for Vi lately. Since the birth of your newborn daughter, it felt like the two of you had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone spend quality time together. You were constantly tending to the baby, while Vi spent her days acting as referee for the twins and trying to prevent the family dog, Rex, from destroying the house.

It wasn’t easy, but she never complained — not when she had to sit for two hours pretending to drink tea with a bunch of stuffed animals, not when Rex tracked mud through the kitchen again, not even when she had to lie about how Connol had broken three vases in a week (He definitely wasn’t playing soccer inside the house!). She just kept pushing through, like the human embodiment of stubbornness, because she loved you, the kids and the life you’d built together, no matter how chaotic it got.

“Baby, do you know where ‘Licia put her pink sock? She said Connol hid them somewhere, and I hate to bother you, but I can’t find them,” Vi whispered from the doorway, her voice laced with exhaustion but still careful not to wake Lavender, who had finally fallen asleep in your arms. “I looked everywhere. I swear, Rex probably ate it.”

You gently laid the baby in her crib, brushing your fingers across her cheek as she clutched her tiny blanket with an iron grip. Despite your exhaustion, watching her sleep brought you a quiet kind of peace — the kind that made the chaos of the day feel almost worth it.

“Come here” you whispered, beckoning Vi over with a tilt of your head. She hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the hallway as if the twins might burn the house down in her absence, but eventually, she stepped closer.

“Look at her face,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into your side. “Breathe for a second. I’ll go handle the little animals outside while you soak in the baby peace.”

Vi let out a soft laugh, leaning into you and pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “You’re too good to me” she murmured, her voice low and grateful.

You kissed her cheek in return, giving her hip a playful squeeze before slipping out of the room to hunt for the missing sock — and, more than likely, break up whatever disaster was currently unfolding in the living room.

As you made your way down the hall, you could already hear the twins arguing, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of accusations.

“I didn’t hide the sock!” Connol yelled.

“Did too!” Felicia shot back. “You said she couldn’t be a princess if she only had one sock!”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you prepared to mediate yet another sibling showdown.

After the crisis was finally averted — apparently, the missing sock had somehow ended up in the grown-ups' laundry basket, buried beneath the endless mountain of clothes neither you nor Vi had time to fold — the house finally settled. The twins were fed, the dog had finally calmed down, and miraculously, everyone was sound asleep.

For the first time all day, you and Vi had a quiet moment to yourselves.

“God, I don’t remember Powder being that loud when she was their age” Vi groaned, collapsing onto the couch beside you like her entire body had turned to lead.

You chuckled, shifting closer until your bodies were pressed together, your head resting against her shoulder. “That’s probably because you were a kid too,” you teased, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw. “Your memory is clouded by childhood innocence.”

Vi snorted, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you even closer. “Or maybe I just blocked it out for self-preservation.”

“Today was something, huh?” you murmured, absentmindedly tracing patterns on her thigh.

“Yeah,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. The dark circles beneath them told the story of a woman who hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months, maybe even years, but as she spoke, her expression softened. “And to think we get to do it all again tomorrow.”

She tilted her head back against the couch, exhaling slowly, her fingers pressing on your shoulders, a makeshift massage. But then she looked down at you, voice quieter now, lower, like she was confessing something secret.

“But I don’t regret a single second of it.”

You lifted your head to meet her gaze, your chest tightening at the warmth in her eyes. Despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos, despite the sleepless nights and never-ending to-do lists, she still looked at you like you were the best decision she ever made.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. “Neither do I.”

For a while, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, letting the quiet stretch between you, soaking in the rare stillness of the house. The only sound was the occasional rustling of blankets as one of the kids shifted in their sleep down the hall.

Vi let out a soft groan, shifting beneath you. “We should probably go to bed while we have the chance” she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

You hummed, running a lazy hand up her arm. “Or…” you trailed off, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Vi arched a brow, smirking. “Or?”

“Or we take advantage of this very rare moment of alone time…” you murmured, tilting your face up to press a slow, lingering kiss to her neck.

Vi chuckled, her fingers tightening around your waist. “Tempting” she admitted, “but if one of the kids wakes up and walks in on us, we’ll both regret it.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping against her. “Why did we decide to have so many children?”

Vi laughed, her chest vibrating beneath you. “Because we’re idiots.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah. But we’re idiots together.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Damn right we are.”

With a sigh, you finally forced yourselves up from the couch, hands lingering on each other as you made your way to the bedroom. Vi let you walk ahead, only to wrap her arms around your waist from behind and squeeze you tightly, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Love you” she mumbled, voice drowsy but sincere.

You placed your hand over hers, fingers intertwining as you leaned back into her embrace.

“Love you more.”

The chaos would start all over again tomorrow — the arguments, the messes, the exhaustion. But right now, in this fleeting moment of quiet, with her arms around you and your family finally at rest, everything felt perfect.

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes #anon 🧑‍💻

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starsofarda · 6 months ago

Text

So, here's some thoughts about a fic I willone day write. Many thanks to @starshadeemilyart for helping me with brainstorming a few ideas.

I do not have a title for this yet. I will call it, at the moment, "The Feanorians' adventures in the Shire".

Bullet points seem like a good idea, so I am sticking with that.

Feanor gets kicked out of Mandos, Namo has had enough of this guy moping over the tortures of his sons and adamantl requesting to be sent back to Aman.

As a punishment Namo kicks him out, but sends him in the Shire, together with his sons, Fingolfin, Fingolfin's sons/daughter and Thingol. They are at the Grey Havens and Cirdan is refusing to let them leave ME. Arson/Kinslaying is stopped by the arrival of Gandalf.

Gandalf is tasked with taking care of Feanor & co. Gandalf will be happy about the task until Feanor opens his mouth and it is an insult. Gandalf also opens his mouth and it is another insult.

It's suddenly Gandalf "I preferred white" The Grey vs Curufinwe "Get thee gone from my gates" Feanaro in a battle of who can sass the other out first.

Someone interrupts them, maybe Gwahir has come reminding Gandalf of the task at hand.

Moment of Fingon calling Gwahir "Thorondor" and Gwahir saying "no, that was my great grandpa, I am Gwahir, current king of the Eagles". "Ok. You were not supposed to have such a short life?" "Apparently it's punishment for saving you all." "We are sorry!" "Oh no, we chose this, no probs mate"

Anyway, they are all in the Shire and it's during their travel to Hobbiton that they see what appears to be a bard, all dressed in black, sad and looking like a withered stalk. He is singing the Noldolante and they see it's actually Maglor

Cue family reunion, cue everyone gets filled in on what happened since their death.

Somehow they also start learning Westron bc having Linguistics Georg over there is actually a good thing.

They finally arrive at Hobbiton and Bilbo has come back from the Lonely Mountain and his house is being put on auction and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has already stolen the infamous silver spoons.

Feanor is reminded of his exile at Formenos and enquires CALMLY.

As in he shouts a loud "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE WHY ARE YOU DEPRIVING SOMEONE OF THEIR HOUSE?!"

Which also prompted Bilbo shouting as well: "I WAS GONE FOR 5 MINUTES AND NOW MY HOUSE IS ON AUCTION, ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE TAKING POSSESSION OF MY MATHOMS AND MY BELOATHED IN-LAWS HAVE STOLEN MY PRECIOUS SILVER SPOONS"

Cue explanation on what is a Mathom. Feanor, as crown prince and king, takes it well.

"GET AWAY FROM HIS GATES YOU FIENDS! AND YOU! GIVE HIM BACK THE SILVER SPOONS, I WILL FIGHT YOU!"

To which Lobelia replies like the refined lady she is. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, I STOLE NOTHING, YOU WILL BE BEATEN BY MY UMBRELLA OF DOOM!"

Fingolfin, Thingol, the SoF, Fingolfin's sons are like trying to not be perceived, but they are being served tea and biscuits to enjoy the fight, bc this is an EventTM in the SHire and evveryone is treating this like a rooster fight.

It's at that point that some of them decide "fuck it, we might as well."

Maglor becomes the announcer, Celegorm is the referee, Curufin is the one building the ring, the Ambarussar act as PRs, Caranthir starts taking bets.

Maedhros is crying sobbing on Fingon's shoulder and saying something like "I want my mum, I probably deserve all of this, but by Eru Allmighty!", Aredhel is now in the Hobbit Ladies Gossip Club, Turgon, Argon and Fingolfin still try not to be perceived.

That until Thingol, out of spite, goes to Caranthir and bets against Feanor.

RIP Thingol, King of Bad Choices.

Gandalf is watching the drama unfold with the same glee he pulled Bilbo together with the Dwarves and doing absolutely nothing.

It's Feanor and a forging hammer against Lobelia and her umbrella.

It's a choir of "fight fight fight!" all the way.

Yes, Maglor is making introductions WWE style.

It still ends in a draw, but Bilbo gets back house and spoons and mathoms, bc the Hobbits as a whole deem him enough trouble if he has not only Dwarves, but also Elves around. Anyway, Mad Baggins now has a bunch of Elves with a lot of pent-up rage and a lot of free time.

DW, they are useful to the entire Hobbiton and they learn the way of the Hobbits. Somehow they start getting along.

Russingon wedding happens in Hobbit fashion, like the two are now clothed not with Elvish robes, but with carefully tailored suits like any gentleHobbit. There is a lot of crying.

CeleDhel wedding happens, but mostly so that if Eol ever gets reembodied he can fuck off immediately. Also, they are good friends and when Maeglin gets reembodied as well he can maybe have a slightly better father figure.

IDK these last two points seem like a natural consequence.

Thingol and the Gaffer become good friends, gardening reminds him of Melian, maybe he's finall making one (1) good decision.

And then they see that Elves are abandoning ME, at this point Gandalf tells them about Sauron, the rings and the whole deal.

"And who made the rings?" "The ones for the Elves was Celebrimbor, the others was Sauron."

Curufin: "And pray tell, WHERE IS MY SON."

Gandalf: decribes Celebrimbor's death as reported in the chronicles

The rest of the family reacts in the same way

In the meantime Bilbo has adopted Frodo and Frodo reminds them of little Tyelpe and they are going to throw hands

Maedhros just says: NO OATHS THIS TIME NO OATHS. OATHS BAD.

And well.

Ideas so far were to have them go to like Dol Guldur and have a fight off with Orcs and Nazguls, I am still undecided whether I want them to know about the One Ring. Oh well.

I'll probabl post something else once I figure out more stuff

Thoughts? Comments?

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #the silmarillion #feanor #feanorians #thingol #hobbits #bilbo #gandalf #crack post

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scarletwinterxx · 5 months ago

Text

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

293 notes · View notes

wetpussyju1ce · 27 days ago

Note

Close asshat cousins Jax Teller and Benny Miller swinging at one another (or others wink wink) in the ring for babygirl's giggles, smiles, hands, body, WHATEVER, would be so HILARIOUS and hawt at the same, mama—I mean, WHAT.

WHO SAID THAT.

Vanilla Milkshake

Jax Teller (SOA) x fem!reader | Benny Miller (Triple Frontier) x fem!reader

/!\ the smut only happens with Benny. Jax has a crush on reader.

+18 mdni

10.5k words

tw: Jealousy, Protective Jax, Not Beta Read, Banter, Flirting, Making Out, Strength Kink, Frottage, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Vaginal Fingering, Coming Untouched, Fighting, Attempt at Humor, Aftercare, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Soft/Sweet Benny, Bathing/Washing, Jax Teller and Ben Miller are Cousins, Dom/sub Undertones, Teasing, Scents & Smells, One Night Stands, Out of Character (possibly because it's been a while since I watched the movie, and I'm almost done with s1 of soa and It's been a while since the last ep I watched), Crossovers

summary: Jax invites the prettiest girl in town to a fight, where she meets a handsome stranger that makes her feel all sorts of exciting things. Jax's not too happy about it, especially since it feels like a personal betrayal, considering the stranger's his damn cousin.

Reader is referred to as Tangy (nickname by Jax because she smells good, like tangerines), pronouns are she/her, genitals are referred to as hole and pussy.

a/n: this is for my baby @reveluving <3 I really hope I was able to deliver what you wanted. Also im sorry for any spelling mistakes. Thank you for pulling me out of writers block. Sometimes I felt a little rusty writing this, so I hope it doesn't show! :) Here's another one for the garrett girlies! Cheers!

Charming is usually quiet, especially at night. But that is if you aren't anywhere near the Sons of Anarchy.

Every week or so, the Sons gather up to throw a boxing match, usually just to bet to try and make some money, drink a shit ton of booze and watch their friends get the shit beaten out of them. They tend to get really rowdy, and immediately scatter if the police ever showed up, which doesn't happen as much as it should for some reason.

It also means that people from out of town show up looking to make some cash on their fighters as well.

Jax used to fight, a lot, when he would burn with excess energy and would try to get in as much trouble as physically possible. And when he couldn't for whatever reason, he'd beg to be put in the ring and come out with two black eyes, a busted lip and a shit-eating grin on his face. It satiates him for a good three weeks until he gets the itch to punch and get punched until he sees stars.

Jax's special girl never comes to these things, but tonight he invited her. She agreed after he assured her there would be a bench for them to sit, apparently she didn't want some drunk idiot stepping on her shoes or spilling his beer down her back, not like Jax would let it slide if that ever happened, she may not be technically his girl, but soon (he hasn't even asked her out yet).

That night outside, behind their local gym, the boxing ring was set up and a generous amount of people were in the audience. The girl was sitting with her bag in her lap, and Jax was sat with his body angled towards her, their knees and shoulders touching. He really didn't need to be that close but apparently, how else is he meant to sit to be protecting her? It was strategic! Totally innocent and very serious because he'd hate for anything to happen to her, and especially since he likes to feel the heat of her body radiating off her and to be so close that he can smell her fruity shampoo off her hair and see the shimmer of her lipgloss.

She was so damn adorable, she was frowning a little too, clearly concerned about the health and safety of the fighters.

"Hey," Jax couldn't help but smile, throwing his arm around her shoulder and squeezing her to his side.

"What?" She said, still staring at the referee explain the rules to the two men before they start punching each other.

"What're you looking worried for, baby?"

She shrugged and finally turned to look at him, Jax watched her inhale sharply and squeeze her thighs, lifting and dropping her bag back on her lap, trying to pretend like his little pet name didn't make her tingle. "Well, I don't see the appeal in getting your shit rocked for sport,"

"Well, it's for sport,"

"Yeah, but it can't feel good the next day,"

"Sure, but it's like— It's like sex, it can feel good, but, if can also hurt so bad it feels good," Jax spoke right in her ear while the audience shouted and cheered around them as one of the men hit the ground with a thud, dripping with sweat and a little blood from his brow.

"Sex and getting punched by Mark the lumberjack is not the same," She rolled her eyes and huffed when Jax leaned down and dug his teeth in the crook of her neck. She wasn't really annoyed and Jax knew that, so when she pushed his face away with her hand, he laughed and licked her palm making her squeal in juvenile disgust, "Jax! Ew!"

She made a show of wiping her wet palm on his thigh, over his dark denim while he laughed.

The girl sighed and Jax quickly planted a kiss to her cheek, "Sorry,"

"Get me a drink, I'm thirsty," She said and Jax immediately stood up, "What do you want?"

"Whatever's good," She shrugged and Jax nodded, "Alright, stay here,"

She had a small smile on her lips when Jax turned around and left to go fetch her a drink. When he was out of sight, she turned back to the fight and opened her bag without looking, when her fingers felt plastic she dug her fingers inside it and finally glanced down. After a couple of seconds of looking around, she grabbed a lollipop, the one that was Sour Apple flavoured. She looked back at the fight right as the two fighters are trying to choke each other out.

When she couldn't open the package with her fingers, she huffed and started gnawing on the plastic covered hard sweet. The plastic finally ripped and she pulled it apart with her fingers, shoving the wrapper in her bag and right as the lollipop hit her tongue, a dark figure obstructed her view of the ring.

With her tongue out and the round green lollipop on it, she slowly trailed her eyes up, and when she couldn't make up a face she shoved the lollipop in her mouth and moved it to inside of her left cheek, then grabbed the bench with one hand and the other on her bag as she leaned back, tilting her neck to make out the face of the idiot blocking her view.

When her eyes readjusted to the change of light, she just glared up at the man until a weird feeling fluttered in her stomach, "Do I know you?"

"Uh, no, I'm sorry if I scared you," A deep voice answered and the body finally lowered to her level, squatting right in front of her.

The man was ridiculously tall, if she had to guess, maybe as tall as Jax, or maybe a little taller. His hair was blonde under his backwards cap, the same as Jax, his eyes were even of a lighter colour, not the same as Jax but pretty close, a grey-green, the type of colour that constantly changes with the sunlight, sometimes it's green, other times turquoise, or perhaps grey? Or grey-blue? Who the fuck even knows, they're pretty eyes and they're staring straight at her as if he knew something she didn't.

"You don't look awfully sorry to me," She said, squinting her eyes at the man.

He chuckles and the sound goes straight to her stomach in the form of traitorous butterflies, he was handsome. The man had a boy-ish charm to him, the sheepish look fits him like a damn glove as he rubs the back of his neck with one of those huge manly hands. His bicep bulges at the movement, and his short-sleeved button up wasn't even horribly tight that it'd look it'd burst at the seams under the pressure of those muscles, but she could still see how strong he was.

He wasn't massive by any means, he didn't look like he was on steroids, he looked homegrown, and that was bad, really bad because the girl was a sucker for homegrown and homemade things, including men if that even makes any damn sense.

She almost squeals when she realises he caught her staring a little too long at his bicep, and she whips her eyes below his chest, trying to bury her feet in the dirt, and that was a mistake because she can see that his thighs looked really good in those stupid cargos he was wearing.

She swallows a mouthful of sour apple flavoured saliva, and takes the little stick from her mouth, licking the sugar and lipgloss off her lips.

"You got one for me?" He smiles and his dimples pop, making her stomach flip as she starts rummaging in her handbag without a second thought.

"Which one do you want?" She asks and this time tries very hard to keep the eye contact steady, he bites his lower lip, still smiling, "Which one are you having?"

"Sour Apple," She replies.

"Sour Apple it is," He nods and finally stands to his full height.

She's almost worried he's just about to leave, even though she came here with Jax, but it's not like she's Jax's girl, or they're even really talking, the man just likes to uhh— Doesn't matter, they haven't even fucked because she knows how much Jax goes stupid for sweet pussy, so if he wants to date her, he has to prove himself responsible and capable. So for now, she can play with other boys, it won't kill him (just a little).

"Can I sit?" He nods at the empty spot next to her and she nods.

Once he sits, he tries to make a little bit of space between them, out of respect of course, but there isn't much space with people on both sides, and the man has stupid broad shoulders and long legs, so that doesn't help much either. So their bodies are pressed from shoulder, to down their hips and thighs.

She hands him his lollipop and he accepts it with a whispered thanks that makes her flush a little, his voice deep and pleasant, making her tingle every time he opened his mouth. The man immediately brings the plastic covered hard sweet to his mouth and rips the plastic with his teeth, pocketing the wrapper and she smiles a little as he pops the sweet treat in his mouth, humming, "I'm Benny, by the way,"

"Tangy," She answers with the nickname given to her by Jax, the one that was quickly adopted by half of Charming because he can't keep his mouth shut. It's not like she hates it, she thinks it's cute, it's just that he tends to get a little carried away when he's face to face with a pretty girl, I mean, he did admit to be a sucker for a pretty face on more than one occasion, so when he thinks he likes a girl, he's probably just in love with what's between her legs, and Jax tends to confuse that a lot. So as much as Tangy entertained the man - a little attention from a handsome fella never hurt a gal - she was aware enough to know she had to keep him waiting on her, just to see if her effect on him will wear off and maybe he'll realise he actually loves her, or he just loves being with her. She was a pretty girl after all, and a lot of guys do want to be with her, and Jax is not immune to the feeling you get when a gorgeous girl wants to be seen with you.

"Tangy? Your mama saw you in that hospital and decided to call you Tangy?" Benny teased and Tangy made a face, scrunched her nose, "No! It's a nickname!"

"Aw, alright, and what does it mean?" He grinned, leaning a little closer.

She shrugged, "It means tangerine,"

He frowned, confused, and held his chin in his free hand, "Why?"

"Cuz I smell like them,"

Benny stares at her without saying anything and her eyes fall to his lips, realising his lollipop was long gone, and he was now chewing on the little white plastic stick. He must be one of those people who chew on lollipops because they're too damn impatient. He takes it out of his mouth with his left hand and leans in, grabbing a strand of shiny hair between his fingers and Tangy holds her breath. Benny doesn't break the eye contact when he brings the hair to his nose, inhaling.

His eyelashes flutter and he gently lets go of her hair, "Well, if I'll be damned, you do smell tangerine sweet,"

Benny doesn't straighten up, instead his head is still tilted down and super close to hers, Tangy can feel his left hand on the bench behind her back, and she could smell cologne and Sour Apple and just feel how warm he was, or maybe she was the one burning up, hard to tell.

His stare was intense and she didn't dare to speak. Her heart is beating fast in her chest and she feels a little vulnerable under his gaze, like she was naked, in a good way, in a thrilling way.

She was wearing an off shoulder mini dress with boots, but Benny was looking at her like she was lathered in cream and sprinkles. Tangy gulped and watched how Benny ever slowly brought a hand up, to give her a chance to pull back or run away if she didn't want him to touch her. But Tangy sat still, looking at him with huge Bambi eyes until he caressed her naked shoulder with his knuckles. She shivered and his eyes looked darker then, his pupils blown as he leaned in even closer, tilting her chin up with his thumb and index finger, "Jesus, look at you,"

His hold on her chin trembled a little and he looked a little pained. Tangy frowned in concern, "What?"

Benny laughed, finally pulling away and took his hat to run his fingers through his hair and put his hat back on. Tangy watched him pull at his shirt to try and cool his skin and started pulling down at his short-sleeved button up, as an attempt to cover his crotch.

Tangy looked a little confused until she saw his red ears, "You okay, Benny?"

"Hm, yeah, I just—" Benny cleared his throat and ran a hand down his face, looking at her with heavy lidded eyes, "Wanna get outta here?"

Tangy didn't say anything, she looked down and thought about it. That would be a dick move to just flake out on Jax like that, but also, where the fuck was he, anyway?

"I came here with someone…" Tangy said, sounding apologetic.

"Where's he then? He's your boyfriend?" Benny asked and Tangy shook her head, "He's not my boyfriend and he left to get me a drink,"

"He's taking an awful lot with those drinks, it's not nice to leave a lady hanging like that," Benny said and stood up then, looking around and back down at her.

Tangy was almost tempted in making an excuse for Jax, but he was taking way too long with those drinks, God knows what he's up to, and she wasn't his old lady or his damn pet, so if she wanted to up and leave with a hot stranger, she would.

"Ah fuck those drinks," She grabbed her bag in her right hand and got up, pulling down at her short dress down, bringing Benny's eyes down at the movement. He tries not to stare, acting cool and dragging his eyes further down on the ground. But even then, he can't wipe the grin from his face. Tangy notices, because of course she does, "Benny,"

"Hm?" He lifts his eyes to her pretty face and his heart skips a beat when she sticks her hand out, palm facing up. Benny doesn't hesitate to place his bigger hand in hers. As soon as she grips his hand, she turns around and pulls him through the benches and the crowds while he's smiling from ear to ear like a damn fool.

His own name rings in his head like an echo too, her voice was pretty and his name sounds so good coming out of that mouth. He'd love to hear her say it again and again right in his ear until he can hear it even in the dark of the night, when he's alone in bed.

Benny's a little distracted staring at her soft, smooth thighs when her back hits his firm chest and he quickly stops in his tracks, his hands on her shoulders now.

"Oh, hell no!" Jax is standing right there, with two beers in hand as he glares at Benny. He looks a little disgusted too.

Tangy doesn't say anything, instead she crosses her arms over her chest and steps a little backwards, and Benny realises she was trying to mold her back to his chest, to make sure he wasn't going anywhere, and he'd rather break both legs before he even gets the chance to suck the sour apple flavour off her lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jax is pissed, glaring at Benny and Tangy realises they must know each other, so she whips her head, hair hitting Benny's chest.

"Sightseeing." Benny rolls his eyes, "I came here to check on my favourite cousin,"

"Fuck you, Benny," Jax scoffs and Tangy looks at him and back at Jax in shock, "You're cousins?" No wonder they look similar.

"I love you too, Jax, now, I'll come say hi to your mom later in the week, I'm busy right now," Benny says and grabs Tangy by the arms, about to herd her out of the place.

"Busy doing what, you unemployed asshole?" Jax seethes.

"First of, I'm retired, you dirtbag! And I'm—" Benny just looks down at Tangy, Jax clenches his jaw and Tangy knows he's about to punch Benny in the face so she raises a finger in the air, "Don't you fucking dare, Jackson!"

Jax freezes in place and Tangy glares at him, "I'll be leaving with Benny now, good night,"

Tangy doesn't wait for him to speak when she grabs Benny by the hand and pulls him away from the man. Benny's a smug bastard and he doesn't even have to look back to know that Jax was furious. So Benny squeezes the hand in his and grins when the prettiest girl he's ever seen looks over her shoulder and smiles back at him.

That night, Benny led them to his truck and opened the passenger door for Tangy, she climbed and buckled herself in. She immediately noticed a lot of things when the man got in the truck and turned the ignition on. She couldn't see the truck that well in the night, but once inside, it was clear it was a new truck. It was modern and spacious on the inside. She wasn't a car person by any means but she has an inkling that this vehicle must've cost him a pretty penny, if the heated and comfortable seat she was on was anything to go by. Benny had a friendship bracelet hanging off the rear view mirror too, with "BENY" spelled on the beads, clearly made by a child who can't spell very well. It was cute.

Tangy grinned and leaned forward, thumbing at the bracelet, "Cute, made that yourself?"

Benny snorted, "Is that a military joke?"

"You're in the military?" She asked, genuinely surprised.

"Not anymore, retired," Benny answers, "Aren't you gonna ask where I'm taking you?" He's now on the road, driving past the gym and the parking lot.

"Probably back to the motel where you're staying," Tangy answered with a shrug and Benny was surprised she got it right, "Yeah, that's right," He chuckles a little.

"Benny?"

"Yeah?"

He sees her shuffle in the corner of his eye, and he quickly glances at her, Tangy is now facing him and looking at him with her teeth in her lower lip. Benny just blinks at her and then looks back at the road, waiting for her to speak. "I'm not promising anything tonight, I've got limits and I expect you to respect them,"

"Of course," Benny nods.

Usually he goes straight to foreplay and fucking on one night stands, he's never had anyone really talk to him before, maybe some dirty talk, but never like this.

"So, Benny, all I ask is for you to listen and do what I say, that is if you're comfortable, of course," She speaks steadily in his rumbling truck and Benny shifts a little in his seat.

"Alright," Benny nods.

"You think you can do that for me?" She asks right in his ear this time and he shivers, "Yes, ma'am,"

"Okay," He feels her grin against the side of his face and she presses a quick, sticky kiss to his cheek over his stubble.

He inhales sharply and presses his foot a little harder on the gas pedal, trying to get faster to the motel.

Once they get to the motel, Benny's room is at the end of the building, Tangy is barely inside the room when Benny immediately drops to his knees and grabs her thighs in his big hands, squeezing and nuzzling his face on the soft skin, scratching her with his facial hair. Tangy squeals, dropping her bag on the floor and taking his hat off, throwing it on the floor and grabbing his blonde hair tight in her hands, she pulls and Benny moans, the sound travelling up her legs right to her pussy.

His head is thrown back and his Adam's apple bobs, then he blinks quickly and looks back at her, he looks so desperate on his knees, with his eyes shiny and his hair mussed up, the tips of his ears were red and his chest was rising with each breath he took. Tangy tilts her head to the side, staring at the man at her feet as he ever so slowly drags his hands higher up her soft thighs, the calluses on them making her breath come out a little shaky.

Benny doesn't drop the eye contact when he slowly pushes the hem of her mini dress higher and higher up her thighs, with every millimetre of newly exposed skin, his hands are migrating closer and closer to the back of her legs where his fingers make contact with the swell of her ass and the soft fabric of her panties. Benny closes his eyes and pushes his head closer, burying his face right between her legs, right on her covered pussy as he groans and paws at her ass like a starved man.

Tangy lets him. Her hands on his hair as a makeshift leash as he shakes under her, breathing her in like he's never had pussy in his life.

Benny starts moving his face around, absolutely shameless in the way he tries to bite the fabric of her panties to try and pry them off, his beard rubs on the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, making her hiss, "Benny!"

She pulls at his hair and he looks up, gaze heavy and a little stupid, "Hm?"

"Your beard's scratchy," She says with a small smile, enamoured with the big man at her feet.

"I can shave it," Benny blurts out without thinking and Tangy gapes at him, surprised.

She sees the moment his brain comes back online and he realises what he just said, flushing a pretty pink, "Uh, I mean— I could, if you wanted me to, it grows fast anyway,"

Tangy starts laughing, bringing a hand to her mouth, trying to control her giggles while Benny watches her with big honest eyes. He's smiling too at least, loving the sound of her giggles due to his antics.

"No, uhm, you don't have to shave anything, honey," She says in between giggles, shoulders shaking.

"Okay," He nods, his thumbs simultaneously rubbing at her skin while he just waits for her to tell him what to do.

"Benny, baby," She coos and bends down a little and cups his face in both hands. Benny holds onto the back of her legs, over her boots and she kisses his forehead, then the bridge of his nose and finally his mouth. Benny's insides are turning in excitement, his groin is tingling and the hairs at the back of his neck are standing straight.

He raises a little higher on his knees, neck bent back to accept everything she was giving him. And Benny was over the moon when he realised her mouth still tasted like sour apple and everything he's dreamed of in dark barracks, rainy days curled up under mud and stone, and scorching heat hugging the back of his sweat slick neck like a noose. She tasted like heaven in the flesh.

When Tangy pulls back, her lips are wet with spit and she speaks right in his mouth, "Take me to bed and kiss me like you mean it,"

Benny does just that, quickly getting back on his feet and lifting her body off the ground with his hands on her ass. Tangy immediately wraps her legs around his hips and puts her arms around his shoulders. The bed was just three steps away, but the raw display of strength made it so that her pussy throbbed with every step he took with her in his arms.

Benny makes quick work of dropping her on the bed on her back, she bounces a little on the old mattress and she's still got her boots on.

Benny practically rips his shirt off and she's glad he's not wearing anything underneath it. Her eyes zeroed on the light hairs on his chest, he doesn't waste time when he gets on the bed and hovers above her body, grinning when her hands go straight to his pecs, shamelessly feeling him up.

"You like whatchu see?" Benny murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

"Yeah, I do," He can hear the smile in her voice and he feels her hands trail down his back, running over his skin, making their way to his cargo's waistband, he feels her grab tight on the fabric and pulls. Benny gasps when he feels her knee between his legs and her hips lift off the bed, grinding onto his.

Benny locks their mouths together then, making out with her like it was the last time he'll ever do it, sinking his body as low as he could without squishing her under his weight. She was warm and soft, and smelled so heavenly. She did smell like tangerines. In truth, as soon as he first stood in front of her, he could smell her, he just didn't say anything, and boy was he glad, because then he had an excuse to get close to her.

He also knew she was with Jax that night, before he even spoke with her. He didn't even contact his cousin to let him know he was dropping by Charming for a short visit. He planned on surprising Jax over at the fight and have a beer with him, maybe even jump in the ring if they felt like it. But as soon as he saw Jax with Tangy his plans were scrapped.

He watched Jax look at her with a hunger akin to a lion who hasn't eaten in weeks. He also knows that in no way she was Jax's old lady, if she was, the news would've already made it back home, no way Jax can resist the temptation of mentioning her, especially with how gorgeous she clearly was.

Benny just wanted to say hello, but he was a bastard, and when he saw Jax get up and leave, he had to strike. He knew if Jax was around, he won't really have the chance to talk to her properly. Especially since his cousin was a greedy motherfucker. And who wouldn't? When she was sitting right there, looking like an angel in her mini dress and boots.

And now he was asked to take off the same dress and boots in the darkness of his motel room. Benny doesn't need to be told twice when he grabs the hem of the dress and pulls it higher and higher, over her head. His breath hitches when his eyes land on her naked chest, and then down to her panties, baby blue with tiny lace trims. Benny slowly lets the dress drop down on the floor, by the bed, and he holds her hips in his hands before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

His gentleness surprises her a little, but she quickly recovers and wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him in closer. He smiles in the kiss and pulls away, she makes a sad noise and he quickly pecks her again, "I have to take your boots off,"

"Okay," She sighs, as if his attention wasn't 1000% on her, and her alone. Tangy lays back down on the bed and lifts one of her feet up. Benny chuckles and takes it in his hand, unzipping her boot to reveal white socks. He drops the leg, drops the boot beside the bed and takes the other one off, this time Benny kisses the side of her knee, then bends the leg towards her, she gasps and Benny places a warm kiss to the inside of her knee.

"What're you doing?" Her laugh was breathy and a little shaky as he peppers her legs in kisses.

"Saying thank you," He murmurs against the meat of her thighs and opens his mouth, digging his teeth in the flesh a little to feel her jump.

"Aw, you're so sweet," She bites her lower lip and holds his hair in one hand.

Benny stares at her when he closes his mouth and lets her leg go, then he starts unbuckling his trousers off and tries to push them off his hips while he's on his knees between her legs. He tries to get them off and huffs when they don't fall off in half a second.

"You need to take your boots off," Tangy smirks and Benny grumbles, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress as he pulls the laces of his boots loose. He tries to toe them off multiple times, which takes him longer to take off rather then just making sure his laces were loose enough, now at this point Tangy was watching him on her side, her head resting on her hand while she laughs.

Benny was flushed in embarrassment as he slips his cargos off and throws them across the room, making her squeal and laugh even louder.

Benny never felt so clumsy or just plain stupid on a one night stand before in his life. So he's struggling a little here, his heart was hammering in his chest and his dick was hard as a rock while the prettiest and sweetest sight was right there on his bed, half naked, and laughing at him. Benny takes a deep breath and runs a hand down his face, running his fingers down his short beard as he tries to breathe a little, to calm down.

He feels the mattress dip next to him and the sweet scent of her hits his nose, he closes his eyes and sighs when she wraps her hands around his chest, from behind.

"You need a minute?" She asks, her breath hitting the crook of his neck as she squeezes her body to his, her bare chest to his muscular back and Benny shivers. His hands grabs hers and she hums, pressing in even more, curling her body over his back and now he can feel her thighs press at his back, she was warm and her sweet, fruity scent was enveloping him in a cocoon he almost never wants to come out of.

Benny remembers she just asked him a question so he tilts his head up, looking at her upside down, "How about you give me another kiss?"

Tangy smiles and she leans down, kissing him, her chin to his nose. Her lips were soft and Benny was addicted.

At some point, Tangy ends up on her back again with Benny on top of her, and this time he was kissing her all over her neck and chest. He goes lower and lower until he reaches the waistband of her panties. She grabs his hair again, he humps the mattress and shakily slips her panties off. And once they're off, something in Benny's brain shifts and he drags her towards him by the legs, she yelps and he doesn't say a word, eyes stuck to the tantalising sight of her wet pussy.

He pushes a pillow under her hips and gets in the sniper position between her legs. She barely gets a warning before Benny locks his mouth over her hole and filthily sucks her lips. She tries to talk to him, to maybe ask him to slow down, but all that's coming out of her mouth were debauched moans and sighs. Her hands were holding onto his hair firmly as he ate her out with a passion and drive like no other. She squirms in his hold and Benny just holds her still with his hands, no shy with using his strength to push her down and harder on his face.

Tangy was too engrossed in trying to keep her soul in her body instead of flying straight to space to even notice the cacophony of noises Benny was making against her pussy, and out of it too, playing it like a musical instrument. Even with a mouth full of pussy, he was still desperate, so desperate he couldn't even take his hands off her skin to jerk himself off. Instead, Benny was humping the bed faster and faster, his eyes watering with how much he wanted to come, but mostly have her come in his mouth.

Tangy was panting, trying to take in oxygen more than the pure pleasure that was coursing through her veins. Her back arched off the bed and she was frantic, eyes watering with the rush of pleasure, "Bennnnnghhhh,"

She tried pulling at his hair to catch his attention, to warn him, that she felt like she was about to make a mess, "BennyBennyBenny—"

But Ben didn't look up, didn't slow down or even stop, if anything he went faster, harder, pushing his tongue in as deep as he possibly could inside her, his nose knocking her clit and his facial hair rubbing her in her most intimate places. Tangy couldn't even call his name another time because when he finally pulled off, he pushed a finger inside and the sound her pussy made was so wet and filthy she turned her head to the side and tried to bury it in the pillow. Benny didn't waste a single second and immediately started thrusting his middle finger in her slick hole, and when he deemed her wet, and loose enough, he shoved another and went to town.

Benny held his body up with one muscular arm as he fingered her faster and faster. He wasn't giving her even the chance to breathe or process when her trashing got more frantic, so Benny quickly lowered himself back down and sucked her clit in his mouth while fingering her. Tangy's body couldn't hold on anymore and her thighs closed around his head, squeezing him as she loudly came. She throbbed and squeezed tight around his fingers, spilling warm juices and even then, Benny didn't slow down, her breath hitched and she clenched her jaw, eyes unable to open back up as she started squirting all over his face, sobbing with her whole chest.

Tangy's body was tingling all over, her cells singing with pure, zesty pleasure. Her skin was warm to the touch and slick with sweat, her ears were ringing and her eyelashes were wet and clumped together. The bed's old, cheap sheets felt like silk at her back, and the rickety mattress felt like the softest, cotton candy cloud. And she never felt so naked before. So when her soul settled back in her body and her brain came back online, she opened her eyes with difficulty and when she met Benny's honest eyes, she smiled.

Benny grinned, his facial hair darker with her slick, panting and his hair a mess from her abuse, sticking in all directions.

Tangy tried to get up but her body failed her, not moving a single inch, so she sadly whined, desperate for a kiss and a cuddle.

Benny somehow was able to read her mind and hovered over her body, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then on her mouth.

He smells like her.

He smells like her pussy and her body lotion.

Tangy has never tasted or smelled anything so right before.

Tangy stays over that night, not like she even had a chance to get her legs to work. And Benny was over the moon, so excited, like a kid on his first sleepover.

She complains about being sticky when she's half asleep and Benny's in the bathroom, washing his face, but he catches her scratchy voice still. Once he's done, he goes back in the room and gathers her in his arms like a baby, sits her on the toilet seat and tells her to go ahead and pee. Tangy is still naked, and frowns at him in confusion and in sleepiness, "What?"

"I'll wait right here," Benny says with his arms crossed over his chest.

The woman whines, resting her head on her knees, nothing happens at first, and then after a minute, the sound of a light trickle gets heard. She lifts her head back up to look at Benny, she's pouting now, "Can you look away?"

Benny doesn't tease her like he wants to and instead turns around, slipping his ruined boxers off and throwing them in the hamper. He grabs his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth right as he hears the sound of the toilet flushing. He glances behind his back and she's still sitting on the toilet seat, looking at him like a kicked puppy, "I can't stand,"

Benny's heart squeezes in his chest, but also he feels his ego inflate and it feels so damn good.

He quickly leaves the bathroom and comes back with a new spare toothbrush, still in the packaging. He opens the thing and runs it under the sink, squeezing toothpaste on it before offering it to the girl so she can brush her teeth. And she does, after thanking him in a small tired voice, once he's done brushing his own teeth, he grabs her arm and throws it over his shoulder so he can help her up. He helps her get to the sink where she spits and rinses her mouth, once she's done and the toothbrush is next to his in the little cup hanging off the wall, Benny gets them inside the shower.

"Am I heavy?" She asks while Benny fiddles with the water tap and water starts trickling down the shower head.

Benny turns his head to look at her while she's pressed to his side, arms wrapped around his neck, "Ain't nothing heavy about you," And he says it so gently, so softly, as if he always knew her, and that makes her want to cry a little, but she doesn't.

"How hot do you like it?" Benny then asks as he fixes the water.

"Really hot," She says and Benny grins, "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, we only have mildly hot, and just a little hot in here, which one would you like?"

Tangy grins against his chest and squeezes him tighter, "I'll have it the hottest it gets,"

"Okay," Benny kisses her on the forehead and turns the hot water to the max, waiting for it to heat up a little, and when it does, he walks them a little closer to the wall, under the water spray.

"Water pressure's shit," Tangy mumbles and Benny snorts.

"Water pressure at my place is much better, it's strong and got all sorts of fancy settings," Benny says as he grabs his body wash and the loofah, he holds it out for the woman when the thing's all covered in foam.

"Why're you telling me about the water pressure at your house, mister?" She starts rubbing the loofah all over her skin, starting with her neck, arms, chest and then down her body while Benny watches, well, mostly holding her up because her legs were still shaking like hell after the mind numbing orgasm he pulled out of her.

"I don't know," Benny shrugs, staring at her breasts while she soaps them up, "Maybe I'm trying to give you an incentive to do this again with me,"

"What makes you think I want to do this again?" She raises a brow and Benny rips his eyes away from her nipples to look at her face.

He makes a face, like he thinks she's trying to be funny, but then he says, "Okay, raise both of your arms right now,"

Tangy frowns in confusion, and when she realises if she even lets go of his neck with her other hand, she'll eat the floor, she glares at him and slaps his chest with the soapy loofah, "Do my back,"

"Alright," He chuckles and grabs the loofah. She hugs him, chest to chest and Benny covers her back with soap all thanks to his long arms, and because he's a little shit he goes the long mile to cover her ass too, taking longer than he should, just squeezing the flesh in his hands like she was his own personal stress toy.

"Benny, what's wrong with you?" She whines, trying and failing to push him off when he's the only thing keeping her standing.

"Appreciating you, baby,"

"Well hurry, I'm tired,"

Benny does hurry up and washes her legs and feet without her having to ask. He washes her hair too fo good measure and he washes himself as fast as he could with her cheek squished to his arm and her weight on his side.

They're done sooner than later and Benny does a quick job of drying them. He, of course, carries her back to the room and places her on the chair next to the bed. He changes the sheet as fast he could, itching to just hop in bed and go to sleep with her in his arms. He throws the old sheets next to the door and he contemplates getting under the new sheets naked, but decides against it. So he quickly slips on a new pair of boxers and fetches the woman one of his clean t-shirts out of his duffel bag, the softest one he could find.

Tangy hums in satisfaction once she's enveloped in soft cotton and then in warm, muscular arms and finally under the sheets with Benny. The man lays on his back and he pulls her closer by the waist, so she could rest her head on his chest, her hair was still drying but it didn't bother him as he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head.

He relaxes on the mattress, and his eyes fluttered shut, ready to sleep when he felt her move a little and call his name, "Benny?"

"Hm?"

"Did you get to come?" She sounded confused and a little worried.

Benny cracked one eye open, "Yeah, why?"

"What- When? I don't remember," She said and he could hear the pout in her voice.

"It happened right after you squirted on my face,"

"Oh,"

Her voice came out smaller then, she sounded shy and that made him smile.

"Good night, sweetheart," He said, squeezing her arm once and closing his eyes back up.

"Night, Benny," She yawned and nuzzled her face on his chest.

The next morning Benny drives Tangy back to her place, and she tells him to be a good boy and wait outside for her. Benny listens, even though he really wants to go inside. He's leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets when she comes back out, after 20 minutes, dressed in a new outfit.

Benny straightens up like he's back in the army, high on alert, eyes glued to her and only her.

She decided to swap the mini dress and boots with a cropped t-shirt, low-rise jeans and a pair of converses. Tangy grins and walks right past him to get to the passenger' seat, "You promised me breakfast, come on!"

The diner they end up in is at least a hundred years old, the type that's run by a local family and got waitresses who know everyone and everything going on, and the food happen to be really delicious.

So Tangy and Benny get settled in a booth by the windows by an older woman with gorgeous braids falling down her back, "Hey, sweetheart, who do we have here?" She greets Tangy and raises her eyebrows at Benny, who's already got the menu in his hands.

"That's Benny, my friend," Tangy answers with a glint in her eye, and Benny looks at them with a small smile.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure, honey," The woman nods knowingly and fully turns to Benny, "First time in town?"

Benny puts the menu down, "No, ma'am, I just haven't been here in a couple of years,"

"The military does that to you, hm," She nods and Benny nods in understanding, arms crossed over his chest and leaning back in his seat.

Tangy looks at Benny then back at the waitress, "How did you know?"

"I just know these things," She shrugs, "Welcome back to Charming, Benny,"

Benny tilts his head in courtesy, "Thank you," He glances down at the name tag on her chest, "Thank you, Jamila,"

Jamila grins and looks at Tangy, a hand over her mouth, "He's handsome, girl!"

Tangy laughs and Benny grins, "I like your name, it fits you,"

Jamila and Tangy stare at him. Jamila pops her hip out, "Is that right?"

"Yeah, it means beautiful in Arabic," Benny nods and Jamila squeals, "It does! How did you know?"

"I just know these things," He shrugs, mirroring her previous words and Jamila giggles, throwing one of her long braids behind her shoulder.

"Tangy," She turns to the woman, "You have to keep him. Marry him, tie him down, don't let him leave Charming,"

"Uhhh," Tangy feels her skin warm up as Benny laughs, head thrown back and all.

"I'm just joking with you, unless," Jamila smirks and looks between the two with a knowing look.

Once Benny and Tangy calm down a little, Jamila takes out a pencil out of her pocket, and a notepad, "Alright, do you know what you two want or should I give you time to decide?"

Benny looks at Tangy, "What do you want to do?"

Tangy smiles, "I'll be getting two sunny side up eggs with cherry tomatoes on the side, please,"

"Hm, alright, how about you, baby?" The older woman turns to Benny, who smiles, "Can I have a stack of pancakes, and a cup of coffee, black, please?"

The waitress nods, jotting down their order, "Coming right up, lover birds,"

"Oh, can I have some water too, please?" Tangy says and the waitress nods, "Yeah, of course," She then leaves, going straight up to the counter to shout their order to the kitchen.

Benny sighs, relaxing a bit in his chair, staring at Tangy sitting from across him, "So,"

"So?" Tangy repeats, playing with a napkin and not meeting his eyes.

Benny crosses his arms over the table and leans forward on it, "How are you feeling?"

Tangy looks up at him, "I'm okay, you?"

"Better than okay," He licks his lower lip, his eyes falling down to her lips then back up at her eyes.

"How long are you staying in town for?" She asks, resting her cheek in her palm.

"A week until I have to leave and go back to work," Benny answers.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a boxer," Benny says and Tangy makes a 'ooh' sound.

"Like professional?"

"More like semi-professional," Benny answers with a small smile.

"Jax fights too, sometimes," She says ripping the napkin in half with one hand and Benny feels the corner of his mouth twitch at the mention of his annoying cousin.

"Illegally," Jax adds and she nods, "Well, yeah, he's fucking crazy but he's good at it,"

"I don't know, last time I saw him fight was when we were ten and it was behind the dumpsters by the Goodwill with some other kids," Benny sighed and Tangy snorted, "He told me about that, didn't mention you though,"

"Well, he did fall on his head that day," Benny says and Tangy chuckles, the sound making him smile.

"Did he mention how when one of the older kids threw him in one of the dumpsters, he grabbed a rat and threw it at them?" Benny says and Tangy squeals with laughter, shoulders shaking.

"No!" She laughs and Benny laughs, "Yeah, and I had to pull him out of the dumpsters and we beat them up before a cop saw us and we had to run home,"

The two keep giggling like children, Tangy's feet intertwined with Benny's under the table, but really, his legs were too long and Benny had no choice but to have her legs between his, their knees touching. Their food came soon enough, with a smiling Jamila who poured them coffee and water. Benny thanked her with a charming smile and she couldn't resist ruffling his hair.

They ate in relative silence, comfortable to just focus on their food and hum when the food was especially good. It wasn't anything special but for some reason it tasted much better than what you could make at home. Maybe it was just because they were having a great morning, and someone else was doing the cooking, whatever it was, Tangy and Benny were having a great time.

However, their peace didn't last long when the diner's door swung open with a ding and a shadow was cast over their table.

"Morning, Jax!" Tangy greeted with a smile, not feeling guilty in the slightest for leaving him yesterday at the gym.

Jax looked her up and down, then looked at Benny, who kept on chewing the last remains of his pancakes with a raised brow. Jax then sits on the bench, next to Tangy, "Move over,"

Tangy sighed and grabbed her empty plate, moving further into the booth as Jax sits right across from Benny, "You betrayed me,"

"Okay, I didn't, though," Benny shrugs, not giving a rat's ass while Jax glares daggers at him.

Tangy looks around, noticing that the patrons are looking a little uncomfortable with Jax glaring at his cousin like he pissed on his bike, so she rolls her eyes and raises a single hand, catching Jamila's attention, "Can I have a vanilla shake?"

Jamila nods and Tangy smiles, "Thanks!"

"You knew she was with me that night and you still went ahead and took her," Jax points an accusatory finger at him, speaking in a low voice.

"She's not with you though, not her boyfriend," Benny crosses his arms over his chest.

"He didn't take me, I went with him," Tangy glares at Jax.

The two ignore her as Jax glares at Benny and Benny just raises his chin in defiance, daring his cousin to do something about it.

"You're leaving Charming today," Jax says and Benny bursts out laughing, "Oh, oh, or what? You gon' run over my foot with your bike?"

Jax growls and leaps across the table, grabbing his cousin by the collar, making Tangy jump in surprise, "Hey!"

Benny smiles at Jax, and holds his wrists in his hands, "Go on, I dare you,"

"No! Jackson Teller! You want to break someone's nose, you do it outside my diner!" Jamila glares at them, pointing at the door with Tangy's vanilla milkshake in the other.

Jax stares long at his cousin before he pushes him back and gets up from his seat, leaving the diner with his hands in his pockets.

Benny then shoves his hands in his pocket and takes out a couple of bills, sliding them under an empty glass and gets up, "Benny, what are you doing?" Tangy asks, a little worried.

"Don't worry about it," Benny grins and follows his cousin outside.

Jamila comes over to the table, counting the money left and hands Tangy her shake, "You alright, honey?"

"Yeah," Tangy nods and thanks the woman, following the men outside the diner, the door closing behind her with a ding as she watches Jax run his hands through his hair in frustration, "Okay, what did you?"

Benny looks a little surprised, "Excuse me?"

"Last night,"

Benny snorts, "Oh buddy, I wouldn't tell you in your condition,"

Tangy has never seen Jax move so fast before in her life, he throws a neat punch to Benny's jaw, who stumbles back with a grunt.

She doesn't even gasp, but she does wince at the hit, cold milkshake held with both hands as she takes sips while watching them fight.

Benny quickly gets his bearings back and he buries his hands in his pockets, taking out his wallet, keys and phone, handing them to Tangy. She takes his things, and looks behind her to the stairs by the diner's door, she sits down on the side, so people can still come and go without stepping over her. She puts his things next to her and looks up at Jax who throws his kutte over her lap without saying anything.

The two men start circling each other with their fists up, Jax looks pissed and Benny looks amused, "That really grinding your gears, Jax, didn't it? I never knew a girl like that would even look your way and look how things played out for me. I never, and I'm being serious, never tasted anything better than what's between her le-"

Jax lunges at him and this time tries to punch him in the stomach, Tangy tries to keep up but they're fast and Benny wraps his arms around Jax's midriff and slams him on the ground. He gets on top of him and tries to punch him in the face as Jax uses his arms to protect his face. He suddenly raises his hips and throws Benny off balance, he even kicks him with his knee on his ass and Benny falls forward on his hands. Jax rolls from under him and gets back on his knees, wrapping an arm around the man's neck and pulling.

They're really going at it, kicking up dirt and pebbles, but Tangy can't help but notice that even though they sometimes hit each other in the face, Jax's not really trying to really hurt Benny. She's seen how he fights when he tries to kill someone, and it isn't a pretty sight, so it's relieving that Jax is not looking to seriously injure the man but to just drag him through the dirt for getting his hands on her before Jax could, because sure, Benny doesn't know, but Jax knows that he hasn't even gotten the chance to taste what's between her legs, the closest he got was kissing her and feeling her up over her clothes. So Jax was pissed, knowing Benny met her for one day and managed to get personal with her body. It pissed him off.

So Tangy sips more of her milkshake, enjoying the sweet drink on the stairs, sitting pretty while they pull and punch at each other in front of the diner, giving the patrons a free show behind the windows.

She looks down at her drink, pulling out the straw to bring the bottom of it up to her mouth, liking the bits of ice cream stuck to it, she tries to be careful but a chunk of ice cream still falls on her chin and on her chest, over her t-shirt. She whines, bringing a finger to scoop the ice cream off her chest and lick it clean. She looks up then, freezing with her finger in her mouth when she meets Jax and Benny's eyes, the two staring at her while panting, knees covered in dirt and hair mussed with sweat. Benny's left eyebrow was quickly swelling up and Benny's got blood down his chin, from his nose.

A laugh bubbles out of her throat in disbelief and she takes her finger out of her mouth, swiping the sweet ice cream from her chin with her finger, to then suck it off with a hum. Jax blinks out of the hypnotising sight before Benny and punches him in the shoulder.

Benny doesn't even wait a second before kicking Jax square in the ass and Jax shouts. He jumps to grab Benny by the hair, about to headbutt him when Tangy's laugh distracts him, he turns to look at her and she's almost on the floor now, hunched over with one arm over her stomach, laughing with little tears at the corner of her eyes.

"Let go, asshole," Benny grits through his teeth and Jax lets go of his head with a grumble.

She keeps giggling as Jax rubs at his ass and Benny tries to wipe the blood off his chin with the back of his hands and failing. Then the door of the diner opens behind her, she looks back and Jamila's standing there with two towels and two ice packs. Tangy thanks her, grabbing them and handing the woman her empty milkshake glass.

"Get them home before they scare off all of my clients," Jamila says, tilting her chin towards the two men.

"I will," Tangy nods and Jamila sighs, turning around and going back inside the diner.

Benny and Jax squeeze themselves next to her, on both sides of the small stairs, she makes a face, "Guys, you're sticky with sweat,"

None of them care as they try to sit as much as possible on the stairs, which doesn't work. She's squished between them and Jax glares at Benny, "Move over,"

"No, you move,"

Tangy sighs and wraps the ice packs in a towel each, then hands them to the men.

Benny starts wiping the blood off his chin and nose, and Jax hisses when he presses the cold towel to his eyebrow and immediately takes it off his brow to wipe his forehead and neck.

"No, Jax," Tangy sighs, grabbing the towel off his hands and holding his face in one hand, and holds the towel to his brow, "You have to keep it on so it doesn't grow to the size of a golf ball,"

Jax licks his lips, staring at her like she just told him she'd heal him with the wave of a wand, then because he's a little shit, he glances at Benny without moving his head and smirks at the other man.

"Fuck off," Benny glares at Jax while holding the towel to his nose.

"Stop that," Tangy huffs, leaning down to kiss Benny on the forehead, and before Jax even has the chance to open his mouth and complain, she smacks a sweet kiss on his forehead too.

The two men melt at the same time, calming down while Tangy holds the towel to Jax's forehead, and checks on Benny from time to time. They eventually calm down and Jax takes the towel from her hold and pulls his shirt up, to look at his red side, and he pressed the ice pack to the area. Tangy looks at Benny, who's running the towel on the back of his neck and when he meets her eyes, he grins and winks at her. She rolls her eyes and stands up.

"Where're you going?" Jax immediately asks.

"Nowhere? Calm down," Tangy puts her hands on her hips and looks down at the two men sitting on the stairs.

"So, did you get that out of your system? Or should I expect you to fight everyday that Benny's here?" She's looking at Jax, but really, she's talking to both of them.

Jax leans back a little on the stairs, "Oh, I'm good,"

Tangy doesn't really believe him, but she looks at Benny, and he flashes his pretty dimples at her, "I'll behave, but you can't blame me if I have to fight anyone for you,"

The woman gapes at him, speechless, and Jax looks at him, "What's wrong with you, dude?"

"What? Look at her and tell me you won't fight anyone for a chance with her," Benny throws his hands in the air and Jax can't fight him on it. He already has fought for her, now and then, behind her back because he can't stand anyone talking about her like she's a piece of meat and not do anything.

Right in that moment two men show up, wearing kuttes, not like Jax's, so they have to be out of town. They're walking up to the door of the diner but their eyes are glued to Tangy standing there. One of them shamelessly lowers his sunglasses down his nose and looks her up and down. She glares at the men and crosses her arms over her chest, moving away from the door and that's when she sees Jax and Benny look at each other and stand at the same time.

Her heart jumps in her chest at the menacing look they were wearing, and especially when Jax slips his kutte back on and moves to stand next to her, snaking a hand around her waist to hold her.

The two strangers don't get in the diner even when Benny and Jax got off the stairs, staring at them without saying a word. Tangy's getting a little nervous when the men stare at Jax's kutte for a long time, and back at her face.

When no one moves or speaks, she moves and walks away from them and the diner, throwing a, "I'm going home!" over her shoulder. She was not interested in being in the middle of a fistfight, or worse, a shoot out.

Luckily Jax and Benny both run after her, "Hey, wait!" Jax calls, but she doesn't stop, trying to get away from those men as far as possible.

A hand grabs her arm and she yelps when she hits a firm chest.

"I'll drive you home," Benny says and Jax frowns, "I'll take her home,"

Tangy wants to groan but Benny says, "I said it first, though,"

"I know where she lives," Jax glares at him.

"I took her home so she could change this morning?" Benny scoffs.

"You can't even remember how to spell your own name, Benny," Jax snarks and Tangy looks at Benny in confusion, he immediately flushes, "I was six! And it was one time!"

"Don't believe him," Jax whispers to Tangy, like Benny wasn't right there.

"I'll kick your teeth in, Jax, I swear," Benny threatens and Jax grins, "I'd love to see you try, boy scout,"

Tangy's head is starting to hurt standing in between these two, so before they start fighting again like they're in elementary school she grabs both of them by the arm, "Enough!"

Jax and Benny's mouths click shut and they look at her with big eyes.

"Rock, paper, scissors. One round. Whoever wins drops me home." She says and when Jax opens his mouth, to probably complain, she raises her brows and he doesn't say anything, shoulders slumping and holding his fist behind his back, Benny mirroring him.

Jax throws scissors and Benny a rock.

She's swept off her feet by Benny then, who spins her around and is cheesing like he won the lottery. And if a small grey cloud could materialise on top of Jax's head and rain on him, it would.

(i remember @anime-lover-forever-1127 asking to be tagged for any jax fics, this is technically a crossover fic, but if it's not your cup of tea, just ignore it, much love <3)

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