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akampana · 2 years

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“You said I had nice lips? Who says that” for Cù alter and Artoria ?

I read you’re earlier story about the two of them being friends in high school and the part about her jumping from the balcony and Scathach driving away like a mad woman was just perfect

(A/N): U have no idea how happy it makes me that ppl like my cutoria stuff its literally mostly just me out here filling up the tag ;_; aaaaaa

funny how things turned out____________

Words: 4k

Characters: Cú Chulainn Alter | Berserker, Artoria Pendragon | Saber

Ship: Cutoria

Tags: FWB to Lovers?, College AU, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Fluff with light Angst, this is as comedic as things get with me

_____________

“Arturia,” Cú voiced, extending the vowel just long enough for it to be suspicious. Five feet away, the addressee groaned with her entire being, much like she usually did after a full body workout. There was no escaping for her now, not when the tattooed delinquent used that stern, deceptively sing-songy tune. She might as well have chained herself to the couch, because come hell or high water, Arturia was not going anywhere.

She knew exactly what he would ask before he asked it. Much as she liked to maintain the poise and grace she had grown up practicing, the business major would gladly throw it away if it meant she could hightail it out of here. All she needed was an open door. Maybe even a window. She’d survive a drop from the second floor, right? Scáthach’s house didn’t go up too high–

“‘Turia,” the young man repeated, snapping his polished nails in front of her eyes. The tattoos that ran down his shoulders and arms rippled as he tensed, the beginnings of irritation crawling up his expression.

“Ya gonna make this difficult?”

Arturia bit her lip. She’d known Cú had a short temper long before they began…whatever this ‘not-relationship’ was, but for the most part, she hadn’t evoked that side of him too often. It helped that her presence naturally tended to project a sense of tranquility, but obviously that little talent couldn’t help her now.

With one last longing look at the window, the woman finally shook her head, accepting her impending doom.

“Good,” he said, bringing a half-finished cigarette back to his slightly upturned lips. Maybe it was the sadist in him, but every time he successfully coaxed his hard-headed shortstop into submission he felt like a god. Doubly so, if he earned the bonus of a pretty little blush on her cheeks. Triply so, if the aforementioned blush was a result of anger.

“Well?,” he encouraged amusedly, knocking pizza boxes, records, and several wrappers of his sheets before perching the petite ball of rage upon them. “Gonna tell me why the bitch couldn’t stop laughing all day? Her cackles hurt my ears. Like a fucking banshee.”

Arturia grimaced, trying and failing to turn away because his palm demanded she look up at him. He’d just confirmed her fears. Apparently, the news of the afternoon’s incident had traveled far enough even Cú’s clingy ex-turned-reluctant-friend had caught wind of it. Then again, she supposed Medb Bombshell might’ve had a hand in orchestrating the entire scene, considering she was all up in their business for twenty hours on a good day. She could only pray the news would fly over the entire student body’s heads, but honestly, she’d be lucky if it stayed within the confines of her college.

“Who else have you heard from?” She was stalling.

“Arjuna, Hans, Emiya. Answer the question.” He knew she was stalling.

Cú shoved his thumb between her teeth before she could chew on her lips again. She colored five hundred different shades of red as he stifled a low chuckle. He was only helping. There wouldn’t be much there for him to kiss later if she kept up that stupid habit.

“Come ooooon. What’s that thing ya always say?” he asked sarcastically, boldly playing with the soft muscle that lived behind her canines. “Rip the bandage off so it hurts more yada yada…”

“Nghfft–That’s not how it goes,” she shot back, smacking his hand out of her mouth like a baby batted away an offending toy.

There was some merit to following Cú’s advice. At least the issue would finally be over with. Yes, she’d suffer for a while, but surely telling him would finally bring relief to her heart. The poor thing nearly suffered several attacks whenever someone in the vicinity pulled out a phone. Besides, she’d rather he heard the whole story from her than over the campus internet community. Damn social media and its accessibility. Damn it all to hell.

“Do you…” the sophomore murmured, a far cry away from her usual confident tone, “Do you remember the other day? In the locker rooms?”

Cú’s grin turned feral. Oh yes, he remembered. He remembered quite well. He hated rugby (because his ex enlisted him for one), but it came with many benefits like a scholarship, an endless supply of sports apparel and Gatorade, and most importantly, keys to a large and thoroughly abused locker room that he and Arturia took full advantage of. Tuesday's itinerary even included a long and very steamy shower, if the junior recalled correctly.

“Ya were mad yer lips got all swollen,” he answered, pure glee lighting up his ruby irises as he took another drag of his cig. The moment had been completely unplanned. Arturia had just somehow decided to visit him after a class presentation, which meant she’d been dressed in businesswear. Suits hadn’t really been a turn-on for him up until the other day, but he was glad to say that since then, he’d joined the men of culture who praised ties, slacks, and pencil skirts. Honestly, she should have known better than to show up looking all pretty when he was fresh off the field. He got so excited he had to bully the freshmen out of the showers to her great–but short-lived–disapproval .

He hummed, reliving the pleasant memory. “Yer a real brat sometimes, y’know. I’m bloody sure I did real good sticking my tongue down your throa–”

“Alright–Alright!” Arturia cut him off, beet red, waving her hands in front of his face. Oh, how he loved upsetting her composure. He really ought not to derive so much pleasure from getting a rile out of her–as small things tended to lash out all the more violently when cornered–but he couldn’t help it. She was so reserved most of the time. So much so that he was sure no one else had even seen the various degrees of her happiness, but he was getting sidetracked.

His not-girlfriend sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you remember that, then I am quite certain you recall why I had to leave right after,” she paused, not really expecting Cú to have paid that much attention in their high. When he gave her a stare blank as a piece of bond paper, she said, “Jeanne invited me for an pre-recorded radio interview for one of her electives earlier that day. I accepted, thinking she had selected me as an interviewee so I could speak about my major.”

Arturia then paused and reached into her skirt pocket for her phone, where a video was already waiting when she unlocked the screen. Clearly, she liked the idea of showing him the said video as much as she liked accounting, which was…well, not much.

“They hadn’t the time to properly brief me, thanks to our…rendezvous, so I was rather unfortunately put on the spot when they asked the questions,” she explained, dropping the phone into his waiting hand. She was shaking like a leaf, something very uncharacteristic of her, but Cú’s curiosity trumped his concern. He pressed play.

The clip was only about a few minutes long. In frame was Jeanne, sitting across Arturia at what seemed to be one of the university’s many cafés. It was clear that his jade-eyed partner had tried her best to freshen up her appearance, but with her damp hair, skewed tie, and lack of concealer on her neck, it was clear she hadn’t done the best job. Still, to most, including her interviewer, Arturia could pass for being extremely lacking in sleep, hence the disheveled mien. More discerning eyes, however, observed her subtly puffy lips and knew it was only another set of lips that could make them that way.

“Oh?” Cú snickered, hardly believing there existed solid evidence of the straight-laced Arturia Pendragon getting some. And fresh out of it too. No wonder Medb was hysterical.

“It gets worse,” Arturia groaned, tucking her head into her arms and knees like a perched bird. “So much worse.”

“So, Ms. Pendragon, you are in a relationship, correct?” the phone chimed in Jeanne’s unmistakable French accent. She’d asked it just loud enough that half the café was suddenly at attention, including a familiar pink-haired blogger.

“I wh–Jeanne? I believed this was a serious interview, I–” Arturia quickly shot back, but her voice was drowned out by the former’s shy and equally embarrassed insistence.

“It is, okay? Please a-answer the question!” she interjected, basically force-feeding Arturia three mouthfuls of microphone while the latter tried to swat the offending device away.

“Yes? N-No–I…do not know?!” she hurriedly answered, obviously surprised at how strong the devout catholic had gotten over the last few months. What in the Lord’s name did they do at Christian Youth Camp? Arturia, still physically exhausted from her…prior activities barely had a chance.

“Oui, then,” Jeanne insisted, and for some reason Cú felt his heart skip a beat, even if Arturia wasn’t really…hm. “Moving on!”

However disarmed Jeanne’s statement made him, it had done the same to video Arturia tenfold. She was a stuttering, red faced mess, the pixels on her cheeks practically the neon of night clubs. Even her present self, who was deep in her seventh unladylike groan of the day glowed a red he would never wear, and he was the one sporting crimson face tattoos and an obscene amount of piercings. To make the situation worse, the café’s entire customer base decided to coo and whistle at her. Poor Arturia looked like a tea kettle right at the brink of boiling. Any moment she was gonna squeal.

Over the hollers, Jeanne apologetically continued the interview as Arturia tried her best not to hyperventilate. This was way too much emotion to handle for one day. She’d blown her quota out of the water. It was back to stoicism for the next week, creative electives be damned.

“What do you like most about your boyfriend?” the frenchwoman asked, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to be revealing anything about her interviewee’s sexuality, and certainly not about Cú.

“I-I mean girlfri–S.O.! Your S.O.!” she followed up, smacking her head. Arturia probably wouldn’t be mad at her for this, but still, her guilt suddenly skyrocketed. Her last fumble finally pushed Arturia over the edge. Her kettle was boiling. Glass overflowing. Balloon bursting. Their uninvited audience was now at the edge of their seats cheering for the poor business student to answer.

Brain sufficiently fried, Arturia scrambled to for a lie, brain desperately latching onto the closest available memory.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Cú screamed, doubling over onto his dusty carpet with two tattooed arms clutching his rapidly undulating torso. The phone had fallen from his hands, forgotten in the sudden out-of-character fit that had forcibly overtaken the tall delinquent’s body like a possession. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he banged his fists on the floor, trying and failing to suck in enough air to breath.

“You–HA!--You said I had nice LIPS?!?! WHO SAYS THAT?!?” he shouted at his horribly cringing not-girlfriend, chuckles erupting between every word. He was pointing at her like a kid bully now, rolling around on the floor like an idiot, sharp teeth on full display. And like the bullied, Arturia puffed up her cheeks and groaned.

“You know, Cú,” she warned, her serious tone completely flying over the head of the manic wheezing hyena currently making hilarious love to the carpet. “You do hold some fault in this situation–”

“Why? ‘Cause of my nice lips?” he countered, breathless but still shaking from the adrenaline rush.

“Nice lips. Nice lips. Nice lips,” her traitorous phone chimed in unhelpfully in her voice, sending the rugby team’s ace onto another level of mad glee. For the nth time, Arturia groaned.

...

Later, when he had finally calmed down (special thanks to Scáthach for banging at his door with a noise complaint), Arturia found herself tucked under a stone-faced, but obviously happy Cú, who had convinced her the exams were a worry for another day by literally pinning her under his weight. He was still replaying the stupid video, but the hilarity had long passed.

“Yer fucking lucky this was a campus radio gig, shortie. Ya looked like an ugly tomato,” the older one teased, flicking her nose with a polished fingernail.

Arturia smacked his hand away, but to his dismay, she didn’t take the bait. A shame, he was looking forward to her scathing, hifalutin, meticulously worded comebacks. She also tended to speak with a thicker Welsh accent when she was annoyed. Instead, she looked over to the side, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It was funny, ya gotta admit,” he said, irritation rising as he realized he might have to apologize. He hated apologies. He didn’t make fun of her that much, did he?

“‘Tisn’t that, Cú,” she replied, eliciting a subtle sigh of relief from the unwilling jock.

“Ya gonna make me ask?” he muttered at her silence.

Arturia bit her lip. He really had to get her out of that habit. The poor flesh wouldn’t be able to stand both her fidgeting and his teeth. Sighing, she met his eyes with serious forest orbs. It was the kind of gaze she used during her presentations in class, but softer. Fonder.

“I thought you’d be more cross with me,” she admitted, glancing at the phone to clarify what she meant. Honestly, he had no idea what the brit was on about. Logically, she should have been pissed off, considering he hadn’t let the issue go for what, three hours? Four?

As he met her gaze with one uncomprehending, she lightly pushed on his chest. They both sat up, facing each other on Cú’s rickety bed.

“You were adamant about not wanting to be attached to me when this started. No labels, we agreed,” she said, putting her phone, with the interview thumbnail still displayed upon it, between them. “This interview implies otherwise.”

Cú’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Even if Arturia had not directly confirmed whether he was her boyfriend or not, Jeanne’s poor phrasing of the question certainly alluded to it. She was right. He just…didn’t notice. It wasn’t that he was too caught up in the comedy to realize it either. They must have watched the video at least twenty times now. Twelve repetitions in, he wasn’t even audibly chuckling anymore.

He should have noticed. Relationships had been a touchy subject for him following the possessive disaster that was his last. Even though he’d forgiven the ostentatious pinkette following her decision to finally see a shrink instead of terrorizing men, he couldn’t forget how…controlled he felt back then. After Medb, it had been one night stands, fleeting fancies he cut off before he could get too attached, and a bunch of other people he didn’t even remember.

Arturias recounting of their agreement, though brief, was rather suitable. It had been a few weeks after Cú (his older brother, not himself, who knew Arturia through his boyfriend) had introduced them at a frat-hosted formal dinner. Before they even had their foot in the door, he slammed down a full dictionary’s worth of words detailing his boundaries and what the two of them wouldn’t be. Frankly, Cú was surprised the short girl didn’t run away that second. Hell, he still couldn’t believe she came back when he texted the following night. And again the next week. Before he knew it, he was a junior and she was still around.

Now, she didn’t even have to knock when he invited her to his house. He climbed through her dorm window. She brought him soup when he got sick. He got her pizza. She helped him study. He took her to his games. They watched movies. They got groceries together. They both sucked at cooking.

Fuck. Had he been tricked into a relationship?

“Are you angry at me after all?” she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. As red clashed against green, he realized he was a complete fool for ever letting that thought cross his mind. He hadn’t been deceived at all. Arturia was too stupidly good to even attempt such a thing. She kept Jeanne’s devout catholic tushie in her posse, for goodness’ sake. Even if she somehow hated him, he doubted the blonde would ever manipulate him like that.

So what, then? Had his brother set him up? Was this all some elaborate plan Medb concocted to coax him back into her arms? Some drama Hans’s theater friend had arranged? Or maybe...

Maybe Cú had just stumbled across the kind of person that he wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with–that he wanted to be in a relationship with. Everything had just fallen into place so naturally, he never stopped to question where this…this thing was going.

“No,” he stated after a tense period of silence. His attempts at nonchalance failed miserably. “Wasn’t yer fault, idiot. I ain’t blaming ya for that.”

Come to think of it, he’d never actually asked the tiny woman across from him her own opinion on coupling up. He’d just shoved his own views into her hands a year ago and she accepted them. Good god, he was getting a migraine from all this nonsense. Since when did he care so much anyway? He wasn’t supposed to. She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a solution to his cravings.

Then, the scene suddenly dawned on him. Arturia was here this afternoon because he had asked her to come, but it wasn’t a booty call. Hell, it had been hours and he hadn’t even thought of coaxing her clothes off. He’d invited Arturia because he wanted her around, because he wanted to hear what Medb told him about straight from her mouth, because he wanted to see how she’d react. Why would that have mattered to him? Unless he–unless…

Oh, fuck.

“‘Bout you? Aren’t ya even a bit pissed off you’ll be known as my “girlfriend”?” he asked, not knowing why sitting this close to her suddenly felt awkward, when he’d literally been in her pants just the other day. She tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy, as if the answer should have been obvious to him.

“That is not what you want, of course I’d be quite irate–”

“But what do you want?” he interrupted impatiently, refusing to break their eye contact. She was such a pain sometimes, this tiny girl, always going on and on about what was right and what was proper, and what was appropriate and what was polite, jeez. Even in his less rebellious alternative days he wasn’t quite so straight and narrow.

His question made her stiffen, and for the first time in the many months he’d known her she looked like she wanted to curl in on herself like a wilting flower.

“I do not think it wise to discuss this,” she answered hurriedly, shuffling off of the bed to find her sneakers. “We have made the terms of this arrangement clear before. I apologize for bringing it up–”

Cú grabbed her wrist with the same grip he used on footballs, preventing any chance of escape. Even when the blonde pulled on her arm, she knew it was futile. She should have known better than to broach the subject. She’d just been too distracted by the video she didn’t realize she’d tripped into her own trap. It was impossible to get away now.

Arturia quashed the giddy feeling that bubbled to the surface when they locked eyes. It had been getting stronger the last month, almost too strong to bear. Logic told her she’d be wise to end this “arrangement” with him before it got worse, but like an idiot, she stayed.

When they started this all, she only agreed because she didn’t think she could fall for him. He was crass and rude and terribly serious and on top of all that, he was the younger brother of one of her friends. Even physically, they looked like the worst match, with his alternative style and her plain preferences. But that also made him a good secret. No one would ever suspect anything between them, and she could deal with the aftermath of her last relationship in peace.

Within the third month, however, she’d stopped thinking of her ex entirely, even if she still saw the archer quite often in athletic meets. On the sixth, her attention had shifted completely, the grayish eyes that haunted her dreams replaced by piercing ruby ones. On the ninth, Cú had become more than a bandage on a wound, or a salve to a burn. His room had legitimately become her home too, untidy as he liked to keep it.

She’d been wrong and terribly shallow to evaluate him with what she saw on the surface when they first met. He was a soul that lived in the shadow of his brother, a bit bitter, but still seeking for the chance to prove himself. He wasn’t unkind, just frank and a little harsh with his criticism. Like her, he was still trying to redefine who he was after being with someone who thoroughly changed him. It made him grumpier than most, but who could blame him for that? She, of all people, who was still trying to unlearn the impossible desire to be who others expected her to be, knew exactly how difficult finding oneself could be.

In knowing him, in learning more about him, in spending more time with him, her feelings had grown without her consent, slowly spreading throughout her consciousness like grass in a fertile field. And though she’d kissed him more times than she could count, though she knew his body more than she knew her own…she began to crave holding his hand and staying for breakfast the morning after, and evenings like this, where they simply enjoyed each other’s company without the passionate need to reach for the rubbers in his bedside table.

But that’s not what he wanted.

“I want something you can not give me,” she declared, pulling on her arm to get free, “And I accept that–”

“Damn it,” he interrupted, roughly yanking her toward him til he captured her mouth with his. His arms locked around her back as he pulled her body as close as he could. He tangled his fingers in her hair, anchoring her to him so she couldn’t leave.

“Damn you, shortie.” His voice was low, the words whispered between heated breaths and quiet whimpers. Arturia’s will to escape melted like ice in the summer sun, her attempts at pushing at his chest whittling away with every moment that passed. Cú didn’t know what it was, but something had reached forward and latched onto his heart and hers, never again to let go. As he deepened the kiss, he knew his life was about to change once more, irreparably, irrevocably, but he knew neither of them had the strength to resist it.

“Give…” Cú huffed breathlessly, pulling away till only their foreheads touched. Arturia stared at him with eyes full of guilt and sorrow, both emotions he hoped he’d never evoke in her again. But there was love in her sea-green eyes, Cú could feel it, warm as she had been to him all this time, he was sure of it.

The man spent so long wallowing in the murky depths of his last relationship, he didn’t recognize the sunshine disguised in pressed clothes and blonde hair. Now that he did, he wasn’t letting her go. He didn’t care if it was selfish.

“...Give me time,” he demanded, weaving his fingers in between hers.

The junior knew how unfair he was being, asking her to wait, but it was necessary. Cú wasn’t ready. He had a mountain of leftover baggage to unpack before he could even think of asking her to be his. They’d been helping each other out in their arrangement, but there was no way in hell he was saddling her with the brunt of his issues.

With her free hand, Arturia touched the soft pads of her fingers to his lips, soothing the rough, chapped skin. She could hardly believe this conversation had all started with a stupid video. It seemed to matter so little now.

“Alright,” she whispered, unknowingly echoing his thoughts. She still had more healing to do herself, but she was glad she didn’t have to do it alone. She moved slowly, leaning in for another kiss. “Besides…I believe I need some time too.”

________

wheeee hope you liked this! im super fond of college au cutoria. it just seems to fit them so well. Also omg im happy u still remember that fic, anon its been a while since i posted that ahahaha

anyway, hope yall are doing great, get some sunshine, stay healthy mahdudes

-akampana

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